Net: Before we get …

Net: Before we get down to business, we must admit, we are …


Net: You’ve probably noticed by now that Net entries have become a mixture of anonymous and nonymous letters (nonymous?). At first, because signed letters were so unusual in our realm (to be honest, we broke into a rash), we only printed them if they were specifically signed.
But, as the practice grew more common, we relaxed. If we couldn’t find a pseudonym on a letter, we just printed the real name, assuming it was OK. Well, for now-famous fraternity member Kevin J. Mork, it wasn’t. Kevin, we apologize for exposing you to campus ridicule against your will, and we promise to never do it again. That’s the job of Daily reporters, not us. We’re sorry we overstepped our bounds.
In the future, if you want your real name used, please let us know. And please, if you’re using a pseudonym, put your name at the beginning of your letter, not in your address header as some of you have been doing. Consistency helps — and we’re all in this together.
And now, we’re on to …


Net: We were in a competitive mood last week, and all you letter-writers answered our calls for music trivia and fraternity stereotypes with aplomb. We’re holding our pop music quiz recognition tomorrow; today, we print the best fraternity/sorority letters we received.
We have to admit a slight change in our presentation. Our contest originally continued two categories: positive and negative stereotypes. We decided not to recognize any of the positive letters — frankly, they weren’t very funny or creative. It looks like the nays rule.


From God: As creator and supreme ruler of the universe, I sometimes feel obligated to let the world in on a few inherent truths. So in response to your contest, I hereby submit a divine summation of “truths” concerning the greek system, some of them lesser-known than others, and the sufferings fraternity members must eventually succumb to.
1. All frat boys still receive regular breast feedings from their mother whenever they return home. Net: You’re making us squeamish, God. What would Kevin J. Mork have to say about this? For this, I will make their lust for breastless sorority women insatiable. But, in the end, the sorority breasts will go from the minute things they are now to something more horrid than a 425 pound wrestler’s “man boobs.” (This is in addition to the usual somewhat larger sorority “ass.”)
2. All fraternity brothers live off others’ prestige and money, mainly their family’s, instead of their own. I have not blessed these men with enough creativity to actually think about earning on their own merits. For this, I will reward their hard work in becoming a greek leader by leading them to their true calling: Drivers and maintenance technicians for University Transit. Net: You better be careful, or we’ll sic Kevin J. Mork on you.
3. I can’t blame them for this, but I created all fraternity brothers with that dumb Wisconsin farm boy look. Net: Not in the case of Kevin J. Mork, you didn’t.
4. I also created them with the unexplainable urge to toss a football back and forth across University Avenue, always shirtless, in a vain attempt to look “cool.” Hopefully, this will work toward my goal of the stupid dying first.
5. I have cursed them with the inability to have a fully erect penis.
Have a wonderful day Network, and remember, most of you are going to hell. Net: Perhaps the writing is better there.
As you can see, folks, while our runner-up entry is laden with stereotypes, there’s a certain plodding quality to it — a turgidity, like a penis with no place to go. For true wit and insight, and our winning entry, we had to turn, as we have so many times, to Peewee. We present our winner …

From Peewee: I am a Frat Boy. I throw frat parties. I drink. I drink a lot.
I drink because I am cooler than you. I spend $1,500 a quarter of my parents’ money to promote my frat’s alcoholism. I like to fight. I especially like to fight randoms. I think if randoms were cool they would have pledged a frat. I am exclusive because I hate you.
I don’t go to class. I am hung-over during tests. I study at the bars. My B.A.L. is higher than my G.P.A. I am thankful my frat brothers will get me a job after I graduate.
I live in my frat house. My frat house is filthy. I think living among rodents builds character. I enjoy the smell of stale beer in the carpets. I cannot clean up after myself. I piss in the showers. I puke in the sinks. I throw garbage out of my windows. I break things.
I own many plaid button-downs. All my sweat shirts have my letters on them. All of my T-shirts are frat party T-shirts. I have one baseball cap. I live in my khakis. I wear Doc Martens. I use Polo Sport cologne. I play with my dog on the front lawn. I drink on my porch. I have a goatee. My hair is short. I am identical to my frat brothers.
I shack with chicks. I shack with a lot of chicks. I get them drunk. Chicks dig me ’cause I am in a frat. I do not like them. I will not remember their names. I only care about me. I will not call them the next day. I hide in the closet and listen while my frat brothers shack with chicks. I especially shack with easy sorority chicks. I shack with sorority chicks who shack with my brothers. I think oral sex is a good ice-breaker. I use penicillin.
I own a beer bong. I do keg stands. I shotgun. I do weird sounding shots like “Dead Nazi” and “Flaming Jesus.” I play drinking games. I don’t binge drink — I continually drink.
I am arrogant. I am a conformist. I am everything that is wrong with America.
I am a Frat Boy! Net: And we are proud to have you among us. Peewee, Kevin J., thank you for adding a little fun to our mundane Monday lives. Peace out, and hasta …