Bobby D'Angelo
What would baseball be without the Yankees? What would Batman be without the Joker? What would Greek row be without PIKE? Somebody has to be the evil empire. Somebody has to wear a visor and do curls on top of their roof as they catcall bi-sexual girls that haven’t gotten off Twitter since 2019. Some people might say that those guys who make “frat guy” Tik Toks draw their inspiration from PIKEs; those people are absolutely correct. Truth be told, I think PIKEs are more self-aware than people give them credit for, which is amazing for a group of guys that watched The Big Short one time and thought they could beat the system via Ethereum. The average PIKE intramural player claims they were a torn labrum away from pitching for the Cardinals and a healthy ankle away from playing for coach Cal. PIKEs are the most athletic fraternity, hands down. Drinking is SAE’s sport; Sports are PIKEs sport.
Most PIKEs have access to their Dad’s boat, the rest post pictures from their friend’s Dad’s boat. PIKEs are interesting because they can give you a thirty-five minute schfeel on the dangers of Red-Leaf pre-workout into your body and then turn around and buy Columbia’s best export from a guy whose Snapchat name is David devil-emoji. Speaking of Snapchat, that’s where most lines of communication run through with PIKE- and I respect that. PIKE “you up” messages disappear like pages about our country’s relationship with Saudi Arabia on the 9/11 Commission Report. PIKE brotherhood is not like a lot of other fraternities. Between the testosterone and amount of 5’9 guys that wish they weren’t, some chapters have weird caste-like orders. Sort of like an episode of Real Housewives Of Orange County with creatine shits. That’s not even me talking shit; that’s just calling a spade a spade. On the real, I know a lot of PIKEs, and I like a lot of PIKEs. The only reason I’m going at them this hard is because
1. They can take a joke
2. They know who they are
3. They know they are arguably the best house in America.
