We Interviewed A Fratstar

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Earlier this week, we started getting emails from a self-proclaimed fratstar named Carrington Ponsonby. He insisted that his voice should be heard on our website, and that he was going to “Eff you guys up with some wisdom, jah feel?” I agreed to do an interview with him, and headed out to Texas Panhandle College, which Ponsonby insists is “on the come-up, probably right there with A&M and Baylor in five years or so.”

The school was in a small town of about 3,000 people, situated in a completely flat and featureless landscape, save for a few buildings here and there. The college itself was incredibly small, and it was very easy to find their “Greek Row,” which was made up of five dilapidated houses that looked like they had been abandoned before the turn of the century. As I parked in the brown grass across from the Zeta Sigma Theta “house,” a man of about 25 walked out of the house toward me, stopping once to pull his jorts up to his waist. He was about 5’7″, and had blonde dreads hanging down to his upper back. He introduced himself as “Jaxon,” and I asked him a few questions.

TFM: “So where’s this Carrington fellow that I’m supposed to interview?”

J: “That’s me, brah. I use that name as an alias cause it’s baller as fuck.”

TFM: “Fair enough. So this is your house?”

J: “Yeah bro, that’s my crib. We’ve improved this place a lot the past year, got satellite TV and shit.”

TFM: “So is this all there is to Greek Row out here?”

J: “What you see is what you get, fam. There’s three other fraternities and one sorority, but nobody fucks with us because we’re too fucking real for these mark-ass haters.”

TFM: “Interesting. What’s the current size of your house?”

J: “Sheeeit man, we’ve got T-Bob, John Boy, Bubba, J-roc, and some other fools. We got the best brothers in that Nor-Tex life, and we go hard in the PAINT.”

TFM: “Awesome. So what are your parties like around here?”

J: “Glad you asked, fam. Shit gets crazy out here. We hit up the liquor store, stock up on forties and Sailor Jerry, and get it poppin’ back here. Our boy T-Bob, he’s also a DJ called SWVGLORD, and he kicks out the dopest tracks. We invite a couple bitches over from the quad, and shit gets wild. This one time, John Boy drank like a whole fifth of Dragonberry Bacardi all to himself, he threw up ALL OVER this chick bruh. Shit was NUTS.”

TFM: “Sounds interesting indeed. What else do you do for fun around here?”

A stupid grin began to spread across his dumb fucking face.

J: “Well, let’s just say we’re all about saving the trees. It gets a bit sticky around here. I guess you could say we’re 4/20 frie-”

TFM: “You smoke pot. You smoke, is what you’re saying.”

J: “Yeah, that’s right fam. We only blow on that dank shit, blaze it up fat all fucking DAY.”

TFM: “So how would you rank your house among the other two here on campus?”

J: “Top tier, fam. At least upper-middle tier. We started from the bottom like my boy Drizzy, but we can’t even hear the haters from all the way up here at the top. We had like two kegs in here last week.”

TFM: “Right. What are your views on the current election?”

J: “It sucks that Bernie is out, man. I’d really be about that free college, tuition is like five racks a year at this school. And if you want to be in the frat life, dues are another $180 a semester. You gotta hustle out here, man, and Bernie is all about respecting the hustle. I don’t mind Trump though, he seems like he’s on some other shit.”

TFM: “What about gay marriage?”

J: “I don’t care what fags do, man. Long as they not trying to feel up on me and shit, nam sayin’?”

TFM: “So you really consider yourself a “fratstar?”

J: “Yeah, absolutely. You say my name, you gotta put some respeck on it. I really want to work for you guys though, I can’t write so good but I could take y’all on some next level shit. I feel like y’all need someone to keep it real with all the fratstars out there, you feel me?”

TFM: “Sure, yeah. We’ll uh… give you a call. Thanks for your time.”

J: “Check out my SoundCloud!”

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