Watch your six, watch your six, watch your six

The administration is watching you right now, and if you’re eating outside of Panda, I’m watching you too. Ever since Tailgategate and that powerfully pointed sex slideshow, Duke has been waiting for you to slip up so they can put you and your friends on probation ’til you graduate.

This was the worst year for me to come to Duke. I don’t know where Steve Nowicki’s hiding all the cameras, but I know that I have to take some extra precautions to stay under the radar. Just for now I’ve stopped stealing the Marketplace’s Captain Crunch, the only Pong I’ll play is on an Atari and I’m storing all my Crat in Sprite bottles until I can get a real handle on things. In pursuit of privacy, sometimes you gotta sacrifice a couple comforts to keep it real… I’d rather smoke weed in Wannamaker than K2 in K4.

The administration clearly cares more about thwarting my fun than giving me a decent education, or they wouldn’t have given me an econ 51 professor whose drawl makes me cry (and I’m not even going to mention her paintings). Instead, Brodhead has his finest staff members investigating my frat after some unknown rat reported us for “hazing.”

In my hood we had a saying about snitches—well two sayings actually: “snitches get stitches” was common knowledge. Then the old heads would always add, “Only thing worse than snitchin’ is snitchin’ to a b*** in the kitchen.” The last time I tattled on somebody to my mom was never, because I’m a man (when I’m not wearing Prada or a new dress). But apparently not everybody in my frat grew up in that ghetto university, as we’re on probation now because some weak pledge (obviously a snap bid) couldn’t handle the heat and went crying to his mommy.

Snapbid McTattletale told his mom about the night the older guys made my pledge brothers squeeze sponges full of whiskey into each other’s mouths. Obviously, this mom called up the school and reported us, as it’s a mom’s job to overreact to s***. But what was she really hoping to accomplish? Fraternities are the most trusted makers of men since that dude from “Mulan,” yet Duke won’t even let us test the guys’ manhood with a friendly game of Spongebob Squareshots? Thanks Duke, but if I wanted to associate with a bunch of tee totaling Squidwards, I would’ve joined an SLG.

So any old jabroni can have his mom effectively shut down my fraternity for delivering on the promises of college, but what happens if I try and submit a hazing complaint for the retarded amount of Wimbas that my Italian teacher has me slaving over at inappropriate hours? Duke does nothing, and my psychological torture continues.

I first knew something was awry when my new brothers told me stories of how they got in trouble for having a Thanksgiving-themed party last semester. Instead of showing them a little gratitude for giving homesick kids a chance to celebrate this important holiday, Duke punished them for gathering a bunch of hot Indian girls at a feast. It totally made no sense because this is Duke … there are hot Indian chicks everywhere, just check Perkins. But I don’t see the librarians getting forced to attend any sensitivity seminars.

My frat invites a couple Indians to come out and be sexy for one night, and the school calls it racist. But Steve Nowicki seems to have no reservations about roping off all the Indians on Central Campus next year under the new housing model! It’s obvious he’s just dividing the houses along ethnic lines to make it easier for the NYPD to keep an eye on Muslim students. (The NYPD’s jurisdiction now spans south all the way to Georgia, in case you haven’t heard.)