The Undergraduate Council for everyone's favorite self-important student body is currently electing a new president. With polls closing in just 36 hours, Harvard students (apathetic and otherwise) will surely end up with either a prank or a prodigal in office.  Ultimately, it doesn't really matter since the university administration will likely limit any big changes or new investments during the winners' term.

The primary contenders in Cambridge's latest slogan-fest include the Harvard Hooligan, that annoying kid from the YouTube videos in addition to  a few actual U.C. Reps.  While the more "serious" candidates deserve mention for the extent of their hypocrisy, the fake ones make for better blogging.  But seriously it's like a postmodern circus of Situationist proportions out there.  The Hooligan (a.k.a. Michael Koenigs '09) staged an assassination attempt during the bright-lights debate attended by approximately 9 people.  Hopefully, his freshman Alaskan-native running mate, Aneliese Parker '12, will step into his place.  Meanwhile, VP candidate Alexandra Petri '10 explained in an interview with On Harvard Time that her running mate was in fact the Invisible Man (à la Wells, not Ellison).  They seek to replace the U.C. with a Hapsburg prince.

Read about the follies of the more serious candidates after the jump.  Or vote now on the UC website!

Read the rest of this entry »

The A.D., one of eight all-male final clubs restricted to Harvard students (but not formally recognized by the University), owes the City of Cambridge approximately $17,000 in unpaid property taxes. That may seem like a lot - and to normal plebeians it is - but not when you consider the value of the glorified fraternity's building and land, which is estimated at an astonishing $3.6 million.

As a social club the A.D. is exempt from taxes, but because the organization generates money from space it leases to Adidas - a whopping $320,000 in 2007 - it must pay taxes on that income.

Nevertheless, the entire affair seems to be somewhat of a touchy subject among A.D. members and alumni, since after The Crimson left a voicemail message for Michael Madden - a Harvard alum listed as the vice president of the A.D. - it received an angry phone call from a man identifying himself only as Madden's representative threatening to take legal action:

“You are blinded by your hatred of final clubs. The Harvard Crimson should have other news besides the tax matters of the A.D. Club,” he said. “We are going to have to go to our lawyers if this continues.”

Later, Madden called to inform The Crimson that the back taxes had been paid and that everything was fine - that it was negligence more than anything else - but somehow, in the back of our skeptical minds, we at Ivygate doubt. Does anyone know something we don't? Email us at tips@ivygateblog.com.

What would you do if one day you were walking along Harvard Yard and suddenly came upon THE MEMBER'S MANUAL OF THE OWL CLUB FOR MEN??!! (For those of you who don't know, the Owl Club is one of eight final clubs at Harvard, boasting exclusive all-male membership, vast alumni connections, and a constant bevy of barely-dressed freshman waiting outside its doors on Saturday night.)

Well, if you were Garrett Dash Nelson, Harvard '09, you'd publish this gem on your blog "Legion," a blog fully equipped with snarky commentary and refreshingly witty insight about everything from politics to Harvard life. Like so:

The opening page to the manual is an appropriately button-up affair, but perhaps a bit too austere. For example, this owl is hocking potato chips and having a fucking awesome time doing it. This owl is peacing out with Abe Lincoln (!) and is also “wise to the monumental mischief of the Terror Twins.” By contrast, the Owl Club’s owl appears to have been “backed up” back up there for well over a century, standing on its anthropomorphic legs and stuffing its wings up its butt. And thus we have stumbled on our first ethnographic discovery: Owl men never poop.

Nelson and his fellow bloggers Jon-Mark Overvold and Maryellen McGowan take the most amusing selections from the Manual and proceed to tear it apart, all in good humor. In response to one rule listed in the Manual, "Alcohol and tobacco are the only drugs allowed on the premises. If any other drug is brought onto the premises, all members involved will be expelled and their names purged from the records," Legion writes:

That’s right PURGED FROM THE RECORDS. And what’s worse is, if you then break the mirror you were snorting coke off of before you were PURGED FROM THE RECORDS your collars (all of them) will refuse to pop for a period of seven years. Shackled to permanently flaccid neck accoutrements, exiled members then have little chance of spawning.

Highlights from the Manual analyzed and dissected by Nelson, Overvold, and McGowan along with comments about the article given exclusively to Ivygate by Nelson himself, after the Juuuump! Read the rest of this entry »

Removed from craigslist:

    Harvard senior seeking female companion - 22
    Date: 2007-09-17, 3:37PM EDT

    My final club has a reunion this fall, and my relationship of two years ended disastrously earlier this summer. I have an invitation for myself plus one, and am willing to show you a great time. It is a private party, in an extremely classy setting. There is no real way to describe how ornate the club is, but I guarantee that it will be the most upscale experience of your life. Think back to your high school prom, take away the terrible music, and multiply the experience by ten.

    You must be white, 5′6″ - 5′9″, young, blonde, attractive, and intelligent. You must be in school, preferably Tufts or Wellesley but BU and BC are acceptable (definitely not MIT).

    You should be able to hold a conversation, know when to be quiet, and polite in all your behavior. I have seen unruly guests embarrass members before, and I hope this won't be a problem. This event is black-tie, and I am willing to procure an evening gown for you.
    I hate to sound so harsh, but I have expectations to live up to. No Asian, overweight, or unattractive women please. Ages 18-22 only.

    Picture required.

See now I hate to sound so harsh, but believe me when I say you have already lived up to our wildest expectations.

Harvard's punch season is upon us, so now is as good a time as ever to revisit last year's Isis flap. (We'll say it again: we were born a year late.) Long story short, the Isis, one of Harvard's sororities, accidentally left its "punch book," a forum where sisters commented on each punch candidate, accessible on the web. Punchers got drilled for "fake smiling," having a "self-serving attitude," or "trying way way way too hard" -- and the whole world knew it. Cattiness abounded, reputations crumbled, hilarity ensued.

A Harvard tipster points out that one puncher -- you'll never guess who -- was described as "the NEXT BIG THING and it would be a coup to have her in the club," although she's "a little awkward. I thought so after the first event but was also suayed [sic] by her air of sophistication and fashion sense."

Awkward? Fashionable? THE NEXT BIG THING?! We'll kill the suspense and reveal, with the wisdom of hindsight, that Ms. Kaavya Viswanathan is now a proud Isis member. When this season's punch book gets leaked, we'll be sure to vet it for, uh, similarities to last year's.

What To Expect If You Get Punched:

• Your life will be ruined. Temporarily. Your relationship will end, you will be blackballed, your friendships and blocking group will be torn apart, and your internal discussion list will be printed in the Crimson. But losing everything is how you show commitment.
• Your schedule will be packed. Clubs hold three to four rounds, each marked by a punch event. They kick off in October, and elections fall on the Sunday before the Harvard-Yale game. Often 100-plus kids are invited to the first round, whereas clubs eventually elect 25 or so members. Some events come straight out of a tweedier version of Animal House: passing bottles of Goldschlager around schoolbuses; doing keg stands on the lawns of countryside estates; receiving lap dances after the second round.
• You will feel incredibly conflicted. Ha! Right. Sad as it is, there isn't much ambivalence. Guys really, really want to get in. (Actually, if you want to feel conflicted, get this: Not one of the eight male clubs has complied with the 1990 Americans with Disabilities Act. Did you shake your head at the injustice of a disabled classmate being stuck in the Quad? Well, guess what: He won't even get punched.)

What to expect if you are...

• Elected: Bliss. A job at the investment bank of your choice, a million dollars, a hot girlfriend, unlimited happiness, and endless social and professional success. Really, honest!
• Not elected: Your spirit will be crushed. Franklin Delano Roosevelt said that not getting into the Porcellian was the greatest disappointment of his life. And he had polio.

What's The Truth About Punch Season?

• Truth A: Getting elected is mostly a function of being fun and friendly. If the members enjoy spending time with you, they will want to keep spending time with you by electing you. Who believes this? The elected; the naive.
• Truth B: Getting elected is exclusively a function of being rich and beautiful. If you buy drinks for the members at Daedalus, they will fly you to Montreal, London or New York the weekend before final dinner. You can only be elected if you went to a handful of boarding schools or Manhattan day schools. Who believes this? The non-elected; the realists.
• Truth C: Getting elected means perpetuating an outdated, elitist, exclusive and sexist system. They promote inequality and are a stain on Harvard's otherwise enlightened campus. Who believes this? Progressives; WOOF.

Who Wins?

• About 15 percent of the male student body belongs to a final club...
• Thirty percent doesn't even know about them...
• And 30 percent doesn't really care.
• That leaves 25 percent feeling excluded, embittered, and thus compelled to buy into the tradition that they, like FDR, came so close to joining.

Part I: Warning: The Following is Rated H For Harvard
Part II: Meet the Players

The eight male final clubs dominate Harvard's social scene, each with its own quirks, stereotypes and rumored rituals. A quick rundown:

1. The Porcellian: Certainly the clubbiest and final-est of the final clubs, "the Porc" is also the oldest -- and more than a little upset that it's not 1850. A "Z-list" mecca, its dwindling membership is now limited to closeted rowers and purebred clotheshorses.
2. The Fly: One Park Avenue address in your family will suffice, but more Manhattan bona fides won't hurt. Flipped collar -- and no, it's not ironic -- preferable. Why are they so into I-banking when they have this much money already?
3. The AD: Lacrosse players abound, and freshman girls used to -- before the graduate board shut down their parties. It's a shame, because the house is just that beautiful. Punchees have to down a pitcher of beer at the first-round event.
4. The Delphic: Must be a member of soccer or baseball team, or have affinity for dirty, dark, crowded spaces. Otherwise, being heir to an I-banking powerhouse will do. Not a place to go if you are a girl who doesn't like getting touched by boys. Their tiny back-fence guest entrance does a fine job of keeping out unshapely guests.
5. The Owl: Rugby/football/hockey team membership and knowledge of 420 preferred. Ability to boot and rally a must. Like Uncle Lennie (wait, have we made this joke before?), kinda big and dumb, but harmless.
6. The Phoenix: Home of the large, the black, and the occasionally foreign, the PSK knows how to throw down. If their gratuitous shots make you throw up, they have a handful of empty bedrooms waiting just for you, baby, upstairs.
7. The Spee: Must have international passport and other Eurotrash documentation in order, plus access to nearby drug dealers. The most open of the clubs to guests. Jack and Bobby Kennedy belonged here, but alumni relations are so shoddy the Spee may not actually know they're dead yet.
8. The Fox: Mild obsession with interior decorating (their building is in a constant state of remodeling). Membership in at least one a cappella group helps.

Then there are two female final clubs:

1. The Bee: Wealthy, sporty and put together -- and now they have their own house! We think. They're renting from one of the male clubs, the concept of which is about as cool as leprosy at Harvard.
2. The Isis: The Bee's B-list. Still recovering from 2005 "Isis crisis," when the club's catty "punch book" was made public.

The supporting cast:

• The Hasty Pudding: Not to be confused with the pun-happy theatrical group. The Pudding is a special case: it's co-ed and punches members from every class. Most male members of the Pudding also belong to a final club, and the males elected as freshmen are leading contenders in the sophomore punch. (They'll likely be punched by five to eight clubs, whereas the average sophomore male might be punched by between one and three.)
• Other groups include the Seneca (similar to a female final club, only it doesn't punch), Sabliere, Pleiades, the Signet, and the frats and sororities.

Part I: Warning: The Following is Rated H For Harvard
Part III: Why You'll Hate Yourself in the Morning

You'd think that at a progressive-minded institution like Harvard, the symbols of pre-WWII masculist inheritocracy would be long abolished, or at least neatly swept under the rug.

Nope. Harvard's social Rosh Hashana arrives in October with "punch season," a frenzy of schmoozing, flattery and backstabbing that, for a lucky few, results in election to one of Harvard's selective "final clubs."

Quick translation for non-Harvard kids: Final clubs aren't quite like Princeton's eating clubs, though members may eat there. They're not quite like Yale's secret societies, though they are secretive. They're not quite like Dartmouth's frats, though they're essential to the party scene. Their privately owned clubhouses range from sweet to jaw-dropping. Thirty years after Harvard went co-ed, they remain single-sex. And most importantly, while you can "comp," or pledge, publications like the Lampoon or the Advocate, final clubs come to you.

Why do we care about punch? Think of it this way: the entire process, from the scandal to the secrecy to the backlash, encapsulates everything we love and hate about the Ivies. We plan to follow the process closely this year, starting with this here textbook-length primer: the IvyGate Guide to Punch Season.

Click below for more (links go live in 30 minutes). Alternatively, tell yourself you're above this sort of elitist crap, and then click.

Part II: Meet the Players
Part III: Why You'll Hate Yourself in the Morning

Harvard's punch season -- that painful, joyous, farcical orgy of social climbing -- is upon us. In the coming weeks, dozens of male sophomores will receive invitations to attend the "punch" rituals of the university's storied final clubs. (If you don't know or care about punch season at Harvard, don't fret: A handy guide is in the works. Caring is up to you.)

Thanks to the merry pranksters at the Lampoon, this year's season is already a joke. In an opening salvo, the Lampoon delivered fake punch invitations from the Porcellian (PC to you, chap) to various sophomore guys just as the PC released its real invitations. Confusion turned to glee and back to confusion as kids who neither went to Exeter nor gestated in a Rockefeller womb thought they had been invited to schmooze with the gentlemen (no girls allowed) of Harvard's most exclusive final club, only to discover they'd been had. Take that, commonfolk!

Expect cryptic envelopes from the other seven clubs to start sliding under select doors within a week or so.

Bonus: We hear Sarah Silverman is coming to play softball with the Lampoon. We'll enjoy watching the players run the bases while trying to hide their boners.

UPDATE 2:45 p.m.: We're hearing some amazing rumors that the Lampoon wasn't behind the fake punching -- the more likely culprit is an independent troublemaker trying to cover his tracks. A prank prank! God, you people take this stuff seriously. The Lampoon apparently pulled a similar joke a few years ago, sending counterfeit Hasty Pudding invitations to the homeliest members of the freshman class (the Pudding is known for having the most attractive members); does the Lampoon ever repeat its pranks? Well, count us among the snowed. Mazel tov, whoever you are!

UPDATE No. 2, 5:01 p.m.: The Lampoon writes: "Yeah, we had nothing to do with the PC prank. This year we decided to send fake invites for the Fly club, not the PC, so basically what I'm saying is I'm very sorry to all the sophomores who've been punched by the Fly, but your invites are fake." Hold on. Something's off. We're pretty sure the Lampoon is pranking us by claiming they pranked the Fly, to further confuse everyone about the rogue prankster's prank prank and gaaaaaaaaahhh!! We're not cut out for this shit!