Word: frat
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...pseudo-war chant songs make rap sound melodic. Yes, the plot is thin and predictable and the execution as slick as a frat-party drag show. All that has little to do with why a featherweight send-up of the men's back-to- primal-nature movement ran a year in Chicago and has chugalugged onto off- Broadway. The show offers fans of the departing sitcom Cheers, wondering how to cope without their favorite palookas, a two-hour maintenance dose of Norm, the fat, idle, beer-guzzling oaf with the inexplicably likable stumblebum smirk...
...surrealist movie prank about a dinner party no one can leave. But, not to worry, it ends up as It's a Wonderful Life. And it has Murray, who, ever since his debut on Saturday Night Live in 1976, has been defining the would-be-hip U.S. male -- the frat fellow with wit. The cool jerk...
...more afraid to be square in his musical taste (his favorite sax player -- Kenny G?) than Maya Angelou was to be passionate, politically correct and perfectly understood in her Inaugural Day poem. At 13 balls that night, Clinton was like the college grind who drops in on frat bashes the night before the exam to show he's one of the guys, then sneaks back to his dorm to cram. Perhaps there is as much Nixon in him (the ambition, the intellect, the unkillability) as Kennedy (the charm, the recklessness, his position as centrist custodian of liberal dreams). He will...
...professor at the University of Virginia once said he thought students came to UVA with the sole ambition of walking up and down Rugby Road--a kind of frat row--drunk, and with cups on their heads. At Harvard, there are those who are as proud of soberly donning their black "FCS" hats (Final Clubs Suck) as those who delight in sporting their crimson "H" hats. Other walk around wearing "X" hats, while a few wear "XTS" hats. Blake said it well, "Without Contraries is no progression." Harvard is a hundred competing parades with only two shared themes: direction...
Turns out 14 Plympton St. was in less danger than I thought. But I wondered, what is it about the Harvard party scene that brings out the primal spirit in people? Is it that we don't have frat houses with big trenches to fill with beer? Is it that, in drunkenness, the neat divisions we draw in the day time blur and confuse us? I'm not sure. It reminds me of a scene I once saw on television: A man feigned injury on a New York City street. He laid there hours and none of the thousands...