Word: frats
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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When drinking is legal, they argue, it takes place in the open, where it can be supervised by police, security guards and even health-care workers. When the drinking age went up, the spigot wasn't turned off, it was simply moved underground--to homes or cars or frat-house basements--where no adult could keep an eye on things. When kids who are drinking on the sly do venture out, they often "pre-load" first, fueling up on as much alcohol as they can hold before the evening begins so that the buzz lasts as long as possible...
...rebel against his father--but eventually became the most dutiful son. He boozed and pranked his way through college. He went to a y-chromosome graduate school--in business, natch. He then dabbled in oil and baseball. He speaks the language of sports players and frat boys: inarticulate, abrupt and mostly a mix of self-deprecation and merciless teasing of others. Hence the nicknames for colleagues and journalists. Could anything get more guyish...
...pain, running his car into trash cans and confronting his father with the taunt, "Wanna go mano a mano?" Then there's the famous D.U.I. that came out at the end of the campaign. Just two weeks ago at Yale, Bush wore the no-sweat saunter of the frat guy who was so smart (or elite) that he could party and succeed. Bush grew up to become a Governor who drastically increased the penalties for teenage drinking in his state. Once upon a time, I was a little like the young W. But now I want my daughter...
...Yale with, who, whatever it takes, they want to help. And they'll be there whether or not the polls are up or the poll is down. So that part of the experience was good." Back then, Bush was still prickly about his reputation for being an amiable frat-boy who never cracked a book in college. "There's a great myth about how I didn't go to school," he said, scowling. "You know, I went to school, I studied hard, I learned a lot....There is a certain East Coast attitude...
...with his perky antenna-like tail and endearingly clunky legs, can be a chick magnet. If that doesn't impress, Calkins will sweep back his bleach-blond hair and rattle off the weekend's coolest parties in northern California. Still, Calkins isn't just content teaching his techno-pooch frat-boy tricks like kicking a ball or rolling over. He's into exploring Gibson's inner qualities: Calkins has backward-engineered his pet, methodically investigating his dog's software to see exactly what makes him sneeze or wag his tail...