I am going back to my old fraternity house this weekend for an alumni clean up day. One of the stipulations put down by the Politburo/college admins is that we can’t have any alcohol. In fact, bottles are banned in general and the six-pack max is stricly enforced…on alumni. I went to an alumni event a couple years ago and they told us we couldn’t be outside. On the back deck. Attached to the house. Look up the word “draconian” for reference. That said, my generation of miscreants may have helped speed this police state mentality up a bit. When I was there, we routinely tossed bottles at a rival frat house next door. Why? I say, “Why not?” One time I walked out and my brothers chucked about 40 bottles into their bottom hall door area. As we walked back in, one lone bottle flew back and hit our house. My very roid rage friend who was 5’4″ and 255 pure muscle (so musclebound he wiped between his legs due to limb length vs. upper body mass issues) said, “No one tosses bottles at our house!” He ran next door immediately. My buddy said, “Should we help him?” “No, I think he’s got it under control.” The next five minutes were filled with screams, noises of stuff getting kicked, and general chaos. My angry friend emerged, followed by two guys carrying cases of beer, the sacrifice offering of peace to appease the gods. They set the beer at our feet and Rage Boy immediately dumped one out and fired the bottle back at the opposing frat house over the heads of two very dejected young men, who were out of beer and pride. This was on a Saturday at about five p.m. and absolutely nothing about this surprised me. I am friends with a lot guys from that fraternity, but I think they were secretly planning on setting fire to our house, which coincidentally, I saw a guy do to their house bathroom with liquid cintronella and paper towels. College – building the leaders of tomorrow. Sometime I’ll tell you all about the guy that used to get naked and hide behind the pop machine to jump out at students going to dinner (no, unfortunately, not me) or the time I ran from the cops in my boxers barefoot through the woods b/c my “friends” tried to hijack a bulldozer.