Syllabus Week: Welcome Week’s Superior Sequel

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Nice Move

The amazing thing about Syllabus Week is how trulyuseless of a biannual rite it is. Four straight days of nothing but showing up to a lecture hall that smells like a vodka distillery. You get a single piece of paper (that’s available online anyway, whatever, trees), get out, and get home in time to watch ESPN First Take’s latest futile attempt to incite a race war.

The fraternity house awaiting the triumphant return of troops seeking quarter is a completely different beast than the drollness of the lecture hall. Shards of a sixty-inch flatscreen litter the floor because on New Year’s someone tried to drunkenly roundhouse the gizzards off of a turkey.

The house has a certain quiet confidence radiating from its bricks. It’s almost like the fraternity house, having spent its existence listening to the Never-Ending Song for years on end, has somehow become self-aware, like HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey, and knows that a fresh crop of pledges will be stepping blindfolded into the basement in a matter of days. But until that time comes the JIs and their still Pavlovian level of cleaning conditioning will have to suffice, but they have limits, and they’re not touching those condoms either.

(*A J.I. tries to exit the basement doors, but they will not unlock*)

J.I.: Hello, HOUSE. Do you read me, HOUSE?
HOUSE: Affirmative, rookie.
J.I.: Open the hazement doors, HOUSE.
HOUSE: I’m afraid I can’t do that.
J.I.: What’s the problem?
HOUSE: Your pledge instructor taught me to sing a song. If you’d like to hear it I can sing it for you.
HOUSE: …Daisy, Daisy, none of your pledges’ answers will do…


HAL 9000 hazing nerds in space. FaF.
Syllabus Week, baby. Lots of sentimental weirdness to dapperly dabble in. I sincerely hope that you have a chance to soak it all in. It’s a slobber knocker of cirrhosis. A festival of fermenteds. Images of snow boots and scantily clad pairs of hoots should be dancing through your head.

Enjoy it while you can, because when it’s over, it’s back to the grind, and life gets real again.




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  1. 0

    J Parks, I’d copy and paste the Billy Madison monologue in here, but I feel like you already know how disappointing your column was. It’s like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas if it sucked and had even less of a plot.

    ^ ThisTake a lapLog in or sign up to reply. • 4 years ago
  2. 0

    If you are claiming that as juniors and seniors you have “real” classes and thus can’t enjoy Syllabus Week, you are a retard who hasn’t figured their shit out. Even by junior year, you should by able to manage your time well enough to enjoy the week. Or just cram it in Sunday before real classes start.

    ^ ThisTake a lapLog in or sign up to reply. • 4 years ago
  3. -3
    Douglas MacArthur

    a. Syllabus week doesn’t have the same luster when you’re a junior or senior taking real classes.
    b. “Troops seeking quarter” is a good analogy for frat guys especially if it is in medieval context where the soldiers pillaged wherever they stayed.
    c. When I did shrooms, the house did become self-aware

    ^ ThisTake a lapLog in or sign up to reply. • 4 years ago
  4. -7

    Usually on this site I’m optimistic. I never think the columns are too bad. Nothing worse than the liberal fucking media, anyways. But this story was both a disgrace to humanity and greek life around the world.

    ^ ThisTake a lapLog in or sign up to reply. • 4 years ago