Congratulations, JIs. You made it through pledging and you’re officially brothers. I’m just so excited for all of you. Just an all-around hardworking group of guys. Here, have a brew. Haha, no tabasco or dip spit in this one. Don’t sweat it. Wow, again, congratulations. Just so great to call you a brother. Now go get me a can of dip. Cope Mint. It’s that time of year.
JIs. Can’t live with ‘em. Can’t live without ‘em. You can’t quite use them as the indentured servants they were a week ago, but if you hand them a broom, chances are they’ll be stoked to do some cleaning. They’re brothers now! Brothers helping brothers clean. Just so cool. They’re also probably really happy to look back at pledgeship as “the best time they’ll never want to live through again” since their newfound PTSD is blocking out the time Chubbs farted in their faces while they did bows and toes. It’s a repressed memory now, but it’s going to be one hell of a night terror later.
As for initiation, you can’t blame them for being pretty giddy. Ritual is awesome, and I count it as one of the greater experiences of my young life. It’s a time for bonding and to really reflect on the path which led you to the fraternity. They just learned a plethora of things that only a select few know, and barring one of them being a total piece of shit, the fact that it’s kept secular just makes it that much sweeter. It’s what makes societies like us so damn cool. Everybody wants in on the action, but not everyone is invited to the show. Elitism. TFM.
For these newly initiated little turds’ sake, I really hope they’re looking back on their pledge period and ceremony with rose colored glasses. Unfortunately for them, it’s all pretty downhill now. Yeah, you get to really hang out with the guys in a non-domestic sense. Chances are Lucy the Lefty will even give you a congratulatory French handshake in the bathroom as she’s done for so many before. Now, however, there’s an even greater sense of responsibility. If you’ve fucked up before, the brothers could just kick your ass to the curb and refer to you as “that kid we balled” in passing. Now if you screw the pooch, Nationals is foaming at the mouth to yank that charter off the wall. You’ve got to be damn careful not to open that can of worms, or you’ll be swimming in so many “advisory visits” that it’ll make your head spin.
Along with the chance of being the asshole that shuts down a chapter, nothing’s really a surprise anymore. You’re looking at the same old stuff for a good while, parties where Dingo falls off the roof aside. The most exciting time of the year will be a new class of freshmen girls compared to a handshake and “welcome to the brotherhood.” If you’re man enough to get an Exec position, look forward to long nights of planning and trying to get people to show up to shit. I get it, Chunk, you want to watch hockey, but it’s fucking September and I’m not a moron. Show up to rush or take the fine. Getting all of your ducks in a row for things is nowhere near as intense as being blindfolded and told “trust me” before having a cool ass ceremony performed. Instead, you’ll be in the brother room just waiting to go home. You’re just playing “Where’s Waldo” with an old book. You know where he is, and it’s still cool to watch someone else find him, but it just isn’t the same.
Drinking for free is over, too. Yeah, the tabasco made that Natty go from warm to hot, but after four of those bitches you didn’t really care. Even now you might find yourself giving a cold one a little dash of Texas Pete, because variety and spices are, in fact, the spice of life. Unfortunately, you’re going to be fronting all your expenses at this point. By the time you’re as weathered in college as the seniors, chances are you won’t even relish someone saying “fucking shotgun it,” preferring a nice Irish Coffee as you sit in a comfy chair. What was once your preferred means of consuming booze as a pledge is now an abomination against your insides, and one that ends up damn expensive to boot.
So to all of you JIs out there, I again congratulate you. Hopefully this doesn’t take away from your successes, because one way or another you made it through a hell of a semester. You’ve got some cool new threads, a group of guys that will kill for you, and probably a nasty hangover as you sit in church on Sunday. You’ll still have a good time, but there will be just as many people screaming in chapter as there were in a lineup. This time, though, instead of sweet new insults you can add to your repertoire (still not sure what a fish dick is), you’re hearing a bunch of bureaucratic shit about how “IFC says we can’t use red anymore cause feminists won the lawsuit.” Look back at those dog days of pledging with excitement, little JI, because it’s all routine from now on..