Setting the curve on a college exam is like masturbating in the shower when you lived in the dorms: odds are nobody is ever going to find out that it was you, but you know what you did, you son of a bitch. The only difference between the two is that I didn’t set the curve 3 times a day my freshman year while choking myself with the power cable that I took off the television in the study lounge.
I’m not going to lie: if I did somehow manage to be the curve setter, I’d be absolutely ecstatic. In fact, I already have my celebration planned out. I’m not going to get into the full details, but I will say that it involves some Zima and a catheter that I converted into a funnel.
See, I can create hypothetical situations in which I become the first of many to fall victim to what I’ve dubbed wang chugging (everybody wang chug tonight!) because I know that at no point in the foreseeable future will I ever set the curve on an exam. This is why I highly respect my brothers that do. Getting the highest grade in your class on an exam, if you are in a fraternity, is FaF. If you are one of those guys that can just pump out A’s like the Fonz, then thank you. You are proving Greek superiority to the geeds in your class. Most of the time, however, the honor of best grade, along with the title of dorm-sponsored Halo 3 tournament champion, will belong to a God Damn Independent.
Needless to say the thought of a geed being better than me at anything confused, depressed, and infuriated me. How could this be possible? I sat in my room contemplating this conundrum for hours, stopping only to assign our no-arm pledge the task of giving me a shoulder massage. Not even the tender touch of his unexpectedly soft nubs could cheer me up. Then it hit me.
I actually do shit.
Take geeds. I’m not exactly sure what a geed does with its time besides annoy me, but I do know that ultimate frisbee once a week is the only for sure obligation that they have. I was told they are required to do it to appease their Geed God and that the weakest player is sacrificed and his remains turned into a fixed-gear bicycle. Besides playing ultimate they have no requirements the rest of the week, and can devote this time to studying.
Now take fraternity men. You’ve got Chapter on Monday, Wine Wednesday, the weekend of Thursday-Saturday and football on Sunday. This means Tuesday is the only day any self-respecting fraternity man has to study without interruption. And with every fraternity member inherently having ADD, the constant interruptions of fraternity life can make this scattered studying extremely difficult.
I’ve also concluded that geeds’ dominance of the curve is due to their ability to pay attention in class on Fridays. While GDIs in class are busy paying attention and taking notes, every fraternity member is hungover as shit. And then Fail Friday’s existence further distracts this already disoriented group. I can’t quantify the amount of lecture time I’ve substituted with clicking the refresh button on the TFM homepage waiting for the fucking intern to get off his lazy ass and post Fail Friday.
But when it all comes down to it, we have subjected ourselves to this lifestyle. We could’ve been filthy geeds. Maybe we would’ve gotten some better grades on a few tests here and there. But as famous fratstar poet Robert Frost wrote, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”
Sure, we could’ve taken the geed road; what I picture as a dirt road, cut up by bike tread marks and littered with empty PBR cans. The one leading to a life of mediocrity.
But we didn’t.
We took the correct road. The road less traveled by. And it has indeed made all the difference.
It’s a TFM.