Melting Snowflakes

Another Dartmouth tradition is about to be deep sixed ... the requirement that students be able to swim 50 yards to graduate ... see: Dartblog Entry. It appears that many snowflakes must melt when they hit water. Traditions are disappearing faster on the Hanover plain than they are being created. That makes for a bland four years. So sad.

Bile Green

This blog was originally published in Fletcher's Castoria.

Can Dartmouth sink any lower? For a rarity at the college on the hill, a conservative was invited to speak to the undergraduates. Apparently the college Republicans had invited Rick Perry, outgoing governor of Texas, to speak at an open event and he drew a number of anal-sex questions from the audience ... some of which were printed on a flyer that was passed out by a sophomoric sophomore, Ben Packer. A typical example was, "Do you [Rick Perry] dislike bootysex because the peeny goes in where the poopy comes out?"

Another green weenie in the audience, senior Emily Sellers, asked the governor if he might engage in anal sex for a large campaign contribution. Wow … such disrespect from seemingly liberal artists! And freshman, Timothy Messen, snidely queried if Rick Perry thought that homosexuals were equivalent to alcoholics. Obviously not everyone in the audience was so crass, but to read more of the details of this sour event see: Breitbart Story.

Because of a recent similarly scatological story coming out of Harvard ... see: UK Daily Mail Story, and an overwhelming vote of the Dartmouth faculty to abolish fraternities and sororities, I was commenting to my wife that college professors must live in a parallel universe ... and she agreed. They must have dispatched pedagogical space ships to bring some of their more naively insipid students along with them.

Obviously, the Dartmouth administration cannot and should not punish these miscreant students like it once attempted to stifle campus conservatives for "vexatious" speech. But it surely would be appropriate to embarrass them (and a few of the more notorious faculty members) in some public way.

Afterward: Here is a link to a related article: Powerline Piece.

Happy (at Dartmouth)

For a upbeat view of the old college on the hill please view: Class of '16's Jake Gaba's take on "Happy" (at Dartmouth).

(Tip of the hat to Rick Roesch).

Afterward: To see what happens to six Iranians who try this same lip-syncing trick ... see: Powerline Blog Video.

Pareto Principle

80-20

The Pareto principle (or the 80-20 rule) states that often 80% of the results come from 20% of the participants (or words to that effect.) See HERE. The exact percentages can often vary but the upshot is often the same … disproportionality. Dartmouth seems to have fallen into this same paradigm insofar as class attendance is concerned. Joe Asch has pointed out this imbalance in the popular Dartblog to which he often contributes. See HERE. He has also frequently lamented in this same blog how Dartmouth students are experiencing increased difficulty getting into classes of their first preference.

Now if, according to Joe’s above blog entry, 33% of the student sign-ups are in 63% of the available classes, then 67% of the student sign-ups are in 37% of the available classes! No wonder that there is (to echo Joe’s complaint) so much denial of student-requested first-choice class sign-ups. This also suggests to me that there may be a large number of somewhat spurious classes at Dartmouth with just a sprinkling of students (Native-American Studies, Gender Studies, etc.?). But, it is also encouraging to me that the vast majority of Dartmouth students are apparently eager to attend those classes in which they might learn something useful in their coming careers (Economics, History, Physics, Government, Chemistry, etc.)

Perhaps we should also pay professors based upon the Pareto principle – 37% of the professors should get 67% of the available faculty salaries … dependent upon the number of students they attract to their courses. I'm just half kidding.

Wales's Tails

Recently on Dartblog, Isaiah Berg mentioned that Dartmouth fraternities/sororities were playing the drinking game, “Tails” (see here). That rocked me back on my heels … as over 50 years ago at Sigma Nu we played a drinking game “Wales Tails” (in order to speed up the inebriation process.) May I assume that the current game is one and the same? To test this theory of tradition persistence I thought I would describe the game we played and see if it is equivalent to what fraternities and sororities are playing today.

The premise of this game was that the Prince of Wales had lost his cut-away tuxedo (his tails) and was trying to find it by accusing others at the table (usually from 4 to 7 others) of taking it. There was a pitcher or two of beer at the table and everyone had a plastic cup that was to be constantly filled with same. One person would be chosen as Prince (usually a senior) and he would begin by saying, “The Prince and [the number of players at the table, not counting the Prince].”

Then, “The Prince of Wales has lost his tails … Wales … tails … [a number] sir!” The number given would be the person being accused and it was the seat number of a person at the table counting counterclockwise from the Prince. This person was to immediately respond, “Nay sir, [and then the number of another person at the table … or ‘Prince’] sir.” This person accused was to respond in kind and this new person would offer up another culprit’s number (or “Prince”), until someone screwed up in answering at which point the loser had to take a slug of beer.

Now this seems simple enough, but there were a number of nuances that went along with this game:

   1) The Prince could declare a “tightening round” whereby the loser would have to chug-a-lug his beer instead of just taking a gulp.

   2) The Prince could declare a “rotating Prince” whereby the person accused automatically became the Prince and all numbers changed in kind dynamically counterclockwise around the table. This could get quite complicated really fast and pity the poor player who did not have all his faculties due to over imbibing.

   3) The person accused could call his own number (or “Prince” if things were rotating) and then respond with a denial and an accusation of another player … or even himself again, etc.

   4) The person accused could call another number but simultaneously turn to stare at another player who was not that number. This was called an “elementary head fake.”

This game would often go on until the wee hours of the morning … or the keg tapped out.

I Remember …

Ripples on the water are funny. Sometimes you throw a big stone in the pond … KERPLOP! … and there is very little ripple. (Competitive divers are judged on how little splash and ripple they make.) And sometimes a small pebble hits the water just right and it sends out a crescendo of wavelets. So it is with life.

In the book and movie Animal House, many of the brothers of the late 1950’s Alpha Delta Phi (AD) fraternity at Dartmouth were given nicknames: Bluto (after a character in Popeye), the Pinto (for the piebald coloring on his nether region), and Flounder (for his pale complexion and close-set eyes). The perpetual success of the Animal House movie has consequently engraved the representations of these characters on the American psyche.

This past weekend I attended my 50th reunion at Dartmouth and, among the many festivities designed by the college to encourage future generous donations was a moving Memorial Service for our 124 classmates who had “passed on” (out of a graduating class of around 650). This interdenominational service was very well attended and filled with prayers for the deceased and a few old Dartmouth songs. But one of the traditions that was herein continued was to read aloud the names of all our deceased class members and, as each name was recited, we who knew him would stand (or keep standing) and say “I remember [the deceased classmate’s name].”

Going through 124 names was a moving experience. Some got a plethora of responses … and a few got none save the minister's reading of their name. I stood and testified for Ned “Pat” Patrick (dorm-mate and our Freshman class President), Ned Nabers (a classics scholar in my freshman and sophomore dorm), Dick Reynolds (a fraternity brother and cool saxophone player in the Barbary Coast band), Mike Menaker (who snaked my date from Colby Junior College), Jim Sniderman (a fraternity brother), Robert Postel (a frequent seat-mate in class and aide in getting me married to my current wife), Jay Emery (a fraternity brother and all-around good guy), and Bruce Thorton (a fraternity brother). But it was the deceased (and unknown to me) Jessee "Nick" Fate who then made a indelible impression on me. After his name was read and his friends said in a cacophony, “I remember Nick Fate,” someone shouted from the back of the chapel, “FLOUNDER!"

Nick Fate has obviously left a very big ripple.

Walking Tall

My mother used to chide me, "You don't make yourself any taller by claiming someone else is short." Apparently, many opponents of Joseph Asch, in the current election for Dartmouth College's Board of Trustees, don't believe this platitude. The have been circulating many half-truths, innuendos, and even slimes besmirching Joe. I won't name these opponents but I'm sure most of you have received e-mails, letters, and even whispers to these effects. What I would like to do here briefly is tell you why I voted for Joe ... and ask you to do the same. If you have been a reader of Dartblog, you know that when Joe cuts himself, he bleeds green. (If you haven't, please link to http://www.dartblog.com/.) He clearly loves our college and has offered many suggestions in the hope of helping President Kim solve Dartmouth's current financial crisis, re-enfranchising Dartmouth alums, bolstering the academic and social experiences of our students, and recapturing what was once the glory of our sports teams. All, in my humble opinion, noble endeavors.

It would seem that this is what trustees are supposed to do and this is why Joe would be a valuable addition to this august body. But one thing most clearly distinguish him from his opponent ... he has committed to trying to restore parity to Dartmouth's Board of Trustees. "Parity" means that we alums would have the potential once again of having equal say in who represents us on this group. I can't see why this is a bad thing (like some who have been disparaging Joe of late.) I have never been able to follow the logic of those who decry an equal voice for us alums ... like we so recently had. To me, a self-perpetuating Trustee Board almost guarantees that we will dig more fiscal, pedagogical, and public-image holes at our college for our children's children. We might avoid this bleak outlook by taking this small first step and voting for Joe Asch '79 for Dartmouth's Board of Trustees. I have. And, if you do, I sincerely thank you.

George W. Potts '60

BEANIE BABIES

When I was a pea-green freshman at Dartmouth back in 1956, I had to wear a green beanie for months when I was in public. This was to identify me as a tyro and therefore haze-able by upperclassmen. The hazing I experienced was rather mild – carrying someone’s furniture, shining another’s shoes … no paddling, no sadistic stuff. I do vaguely remember that the Gauntlet was still in effect where freshmen had to run through a double line of seniors swinging belts. But these august upperclassmen were quite lenient and perfunctory. There was also Homecoming Weekend when the freshmen had to gambol around the center-of-campus bonfire. The official end of freshman hazing was Green Key weekend when we were welcomed as belonging. But this was all then part of the Dartmouth experience and I didn’t particularly resent it. This all lasted until 1967 when the administration made wearing the freshman beanie optional (see http://powerlineblog.com/archives/014377.php) and things, it seems, all went downhill from there (or uphill, depending on your point of view … see next paragraph). I don’t know when any form of freshman hazing officially ended (2001?) but I think the appearance of women on campus had a lot to do with it.

This brings me to the subject of hazing in general. I recall my Psychology 101 class telling me that hazing was meant to trip one’s cognitive dissonance and therefore cause one, the hazee, to embrace more fully the hazer’s institution (or occasionally to swing radically in the other direction and denounce the hazer). I do know that hazing seems universal and sometimes very brutal (e.g., the Russian military). Many sports teams (I presume, mostly male) also haze their new players (e.g., the Duke lacrosse team). And, of course, fraternities also have their initiation rituals. I can speak from personal experience here as I was the pledge master of my fraternity my senior year at Dartmouth. Now, assuming that the statute of limitations has run out, I will relate a few experiences. One of my most successful initiation rites was to send the pledge class to New York City on a scavenger hunt (a pastee from a striper, an elephant turd, etc.). I climbed into bed the following night to find the elephant turd neatly secreted under my covers and a gaggle of pledges guffawing outside my bedroom door. This task did bring this pledge class (at least those who went on the trip) very much together as a group … which made me feel like I was doing my job.

However, the actual initiation was something else. It was a bunch of sophomoric pranks (blindfold eating of spaghetti thinking it was worms, a little harmless paddling, Tabasco sauce on the genitalia, etc.) … all of which were pretty much standard fare for my fraternity. However, there was one pledge, now somewhat famous, who took great umbrage at this latter prank. I was even a little worried he would drop out of the frat house as a consequence. Am I sorry about my pledge master reign? Not fully, but I wish I had thought things through a little more and done more of the scavenger hunt and less of the Tabasco sauce type of thing.