Will the Cavalcade of Oversexed, Social Climbing Ivy Leaguers Never End?

This week, New York Magazine strengthens its iron grip on the sexual narratives of upwardly mobile Ivy League females in New York. That’s right, the people who brought you “The Overserved Ivy Banker Chick” would now like you to meet “The Single College Girl Obsessed With a Yale Law Student“:

7:30 p.m.: Best friend gets a call from an acquaintance inviting us to a party at her older brother’s apartment. He goes to Yale Law School — we’ll be there.
11:05 p.m.: Party is okay. Talk to some fellow Ivy Leaguers who spurt intellectual justifications as to why they’re using their education to make exorbitant amounts of money for themselves rather than bettering society.
11:37 p.m.: Introduced to acquaintance’s older brother. He mentions something about opera, and I feign interest because he’s pretty cute. He then proceeds to quiz me about some esoteric English composer in order to make me sound and feel like a total idiot. Determine that he probably wants in my pants.
12:42 a.m.: Suspicion confirmed when he challenges me to a game of darts. Just as I’m about to shoot my first dart, I feel his arms wrap around my waist and he whispers in my ear, “How’s your concentration now?” I’m immediately aroused.

Yale Law sounds like a total douche. College Girl, save yourself for someone better! Like your hospital co-worker who sexually harasses you in all the right ways: Read the rest of this entry »

Ragtime September 30, 2008: The Rich Get Richer, Penn Gets Poorer

Woody Allen Thinks You Are a Barbarian

Leave it to Woody Allen. Every time you think that old cliche about out-of-touch, vaguely pedophilic, liberal New-York-slash-Hollywood weirdos is a thing of the past, he bursts onto the scene with some groaty story about sexing his stepdaughter, or sexing Scarlett Johansson, or this, in a recent interview with New York Magazine:

NY: Do you have a theory about why the culture keeps getting coarser?

WA: The country has, over the years, moved to the right. And it’s possible that accompanying that move to the right, you also get a lessening of taste. But I don’t know if what I’m saying is true, because I have shown some very good films—Bergman, Fellini—to kids from good schools like Yale. Bright kids. And they were not impressed. You know, it wasn’t as though I picked out some kid from the Midwest who’s a churchgoing barbarian. Those same kids that you see in the movie house doubled over with laughter over fraternity toilet jokes are very often kids from Columbia and Yale.

Now, this post could dovetail into an enlightening discourse on the state of modern cinema, or of intellectualism, or of Midwesterners, churchgoers, and frat brothers at Ivy League universities. Instead, we would like to take this opportunity to showcase a bunch of YouTubes of people lighting their farts on fire. Enjoy! Read the rest of this entry »

Ragtime September 29, 2008: The Loneliest CCSC Candidate

Keggy the Keg and the Jacko that Cried Wolf

The day after I wrote about Keggy’s kegnapping, Deadspin reported that Keggy had been found, albeit “suffering one torn off eye and a badly damaged nose.” Since I was in a rush, and because blogs are particularly renowned for their reliability, I took Deadspin’s word for it and emailed Jacko Editor-in-Chief Dylan Kane that I had heard of Keggy’s glorious recovery, and that I wanted to hear about all of the juicy details relating to the incident.

He replied:

Um, definitely not! Who told you that? No, Keggy is still missing. I might as well give you the rundown, I never did over the phone:

We last saw him safely sometime over the summer. July, maybe? Definitely late June he was here.

He must have been missing by the end of August, because the room he was in got reassigned from patriotic, American, apple-pie, penis-joke-based publications (like us) to the international students’ orientation crew (not so much) at that time, and the people who did said reassigning say he wasn’t in there at the time they took it over, which was more or less the end of August.

He was locked to the table with a bike lock, which we found there, undamaged, without Keggy. So either someone knew the combination, or we were lazy and left it, like, one digit off from the combination. We really don’t know.

The mechanics of wearing a giant plastic cylinder are complicated. We use a modified frame pack inside, with some pieces of wood to support the top of the keg. It’s incredibly uncomfortable, but it beats the alternative, which is having no support and resting the keg’s entire weight on your upper shoulders and top of your receding hairline. It also comes with a costume: green tights, green t-shirt, white shorts, orange high-tops. So whoever took him took ONLY the shell. They can’t possibly wear the costume or look much like Keggy, because they left all that stuff behind.

So Keggy is, in fact, still M.I.A. After hearing that I re-read Deadspin’s post on Keggy and realized that the blog had mistaken Keggy’s current kegnapping with the Sigma Nu kegnapping incident in 2003. Since Jacko’s site only mentions the first incident (without a date) it’s easy to see how such a misunderstanding could arise.

Read the rest of Kane’s email after the jump.

Read the rest of this entry »

Future of United States in Hands of Two Dartmouth Kids (and a Harvard)

Can three men really put the economy back together? Of course not. But to a large degree, it’s Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson, Chairman of the Federal Reserve Ben Bernanke, and President of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York Timothy Geithner who are engineering our response to the Market Meltdown™.

But what do we know about these men? Can we find out anything about them from the various newspaper profiles they’ve appeared in this week?

Um, yeah. We can find out a lot about them. But I’m only going to note their college affiliations: Paulson is Dartmouth 68′ and Harvard business ’70. Bernanke is Harvard ’75 and MIT ’79 (econ PhD). Geithner is Dartmouth ’83.

I know what you’re thinking: “But Harvard’s only a lesser Ivy.” Not to worry; McCain is pitching in.

In case you haven’t been reading the newspaper or watching television, the startled-looking bald man in the above picture is Paulson.

Ragtime September 26, 2008: Would You Put Lipstick on a Live Bear?

Bastion of Elitism Confronts Citadel of Homophobia
In which the Future of the Military Hazes the Shit Out of the Future of Wall Street

This past Saturday the Princeton football team + marching band traveled to Charleston for a game with the Citadel, the military college of South Carolina most famous for the institutionalized sadism of its hazing process.

Things took a terrifying turn for the surreal, however, when the Princeton University Band (PUB), which apparently had not been instructed that certain parts of the Citadel campus were considered sacred ground, unwittingly traipsed down the Avenue of Remembrance, setting off a round of physical attacks as well as vicious homophobic taunting.

The Prince has the story (with, like, 500 comments): parts of it simply have to be read to be believed. One cadet yelled at students, “‘Cut your hair, long-haired faggots’ and ‘You go have fun in college, I’ll go fight the war,” while another shattered a bandmember’s clarinet. Mayor Daley’s thugs Citadel cadets proceeded to spit on the Yippies scramble-bandies, shove them against trees, and generally conduct themselves like typical Southern gentlemen.

Some, however, fault the Princeton University Band for its provocative antics in the Citadel’s conservative atmosphere. Reports abound of band-members “humping” each other as part of their half-time performance. (Them’s fightin’ pantomime!) Pig-headed belligerent Ken Burger opines for the Charleston Post and Courierier that the “the entire Corps of Cadets should be given a medal for standing up for their school.” And Underside points out that the most prominent members of the Band, some of whom were directly involved in the weekend’s altercation, have a history of eye-catching agitprop and radical affiliation.

Yet others explain the conflict as a clash of cultures. Read the rest of this entry »

Fact or Fiction? Dartmouth’s Sorority Sister Enthusiast

A tipster directs us to this particularly charming yarn in the current Freshman Issue of the Dartmouth Review, in which pseudonymous writer Preston Q. R. Primrose regales us with his Penthouse Forum-esque quest for the “Real Dartmouth Seven.” He of course means sex: “a licentious visit to the seven sororities” all in one night. Allow us to recap.

Much like Odysseus, “Preston” and his “bros” kick off the evening by pregaming in the basement. Luckily, within an hour and a half a KDE senior booty-calls our young hero. By his own timeline, eight minutes after getting said text he has scored “one down, six to go.” This is a red flag that maybe we have an attempt at satire on our hands, kids, because… eight minutes (remember! that includes travel time and foreplay)? Is that really the example we want to set for the freshmen?
Read the rest of this entry »

Ragtime: Mostly Stuff About Girls and Tits