8 Fraternity recruitment to switch to sorting hat D 27 2012
ILLUSTRATION BY MEASE
espite notching another successful year of buying friends through the fraternity recruitment process, the Interfraternity Council (IFC) has moved to change the structure of recruitment for years to come. “The current system offers the first-years too much choice,” said IFC Vice President Marshall Davis. “We want to take the variability of choice out of the equation.” The new equation is designed to place first-years where they belong, rather than where they want to be. To do so, the fraternities pooled together all of their money and the crayon-drawn “Beta Bucks” that President Zach Johnston uses. After spending the majority of their money on candy, the fraternities bought a hat at Goodwill that is alleged to have sorting powers. “It doesn’t look like much,” said Phi Delta Theta president Andy Falcon, confessing about the tattered headwear over a piping-hot plate of brotherhood. “It was incredibly successful in the trials we did last week, though.” Testing of the sorting hat began on goldfish from the Hall of Science, most of which were determined to be Sigma Chi mem-
bers. After the animal testing created an uproar in the Whitman community, the fraternities shifted to testing on independent students. Gathered in the great Jewett Dining Hall, students watched the first human trial with great anticipation. First-year Harry Frotter walked boldly up to the hat with only one thought in his mind: “Anywhere but TKE ... Anywhere but TKE.” Although the hat thought Harry could have been great in Tau Kappa Epsilon, it conceded that he was a better fit in Phi Delta Theta. Despite only seeing a small sample size, the hat’s decision pleased the Greek community greatly. “If he’s not a Phi, then I don’t know what a Phi is,” said President Chrandrews of Tau Kappa Epsilon, adding that although he looks forward to peeing on his lawn, the first-year was “not [his] Frotter.” The optimism for a more efficient system than the sheep-herding ways of the past has the Greek system abuzz. The women’s fraternity system has even been perusing magic mirrors on Craigslist, and the Pan-Hellenic group has started an agency to protect the sheltered ignorance of the “Muggle community.”
Pinging hazing accusations Senior math major declares bring dead issue back to life he’ll graduate in 7 dog years A S couple weeks ago, investigative reporter Tristan Gavin brought forth several accusations regarding the forced “pinging” in which Whitman first-years are forced to engage. The hazing accusations have led to immediate action on the part of the administration calling for an end to the ancient tradition. Strange reports have begun surfacing all across campus, leading some to believe that pinging was in fact an ancient ritual to keep the restless ghost of Chief Hololsotetote from rising from his grave. Students and faculty alike might have seen the monument erected to him to the right of Lyman House. What people may not know is that he is in fact buried next to his entire army under the Amphitheatre. Further surprising many is the fact that Whitman was constructed on a millennium-old Native American burial ground. “I was lying in my bed, and I heard this banging and yelling seemingly coming from the ceiling. It was terrifying,” said one 2-West resident. Another sophomore said she saw zombies stumbling across An-
keny Field after Sigma Chi’s rave. “They had strange glowing halos around their heads colored neon pink! I had to hide on the ground to avoid them seeing me!” she said. Perhaps most frightening were reports of a strange gathering during one night last week in the Amphitheatre. “I was walking home and I saw a circle of what looked like robed figures standing in a circle chanting about something to do with The Pioneer! Something about initiation?” said a senior. It is clear there is something strange at work on campus. These reports of walking dead, strange gatherings and ghostly moans from within Jewett are certainly discomforting. Has investigative journalism gone too far? If the result is a rise in a long-dead Native American chief and his army, then I would have to say it has. Luckily, undercover informants have told this reporter that a certain detachment of students has been considering holding pinging rituals at least bi-weekly. If you happen to see this anti-zombie ritual, give these brave students a salute and carry on.
According to ancient legend, Chief Hololsotetote was buried on the land which is now referred to by the Walla Walla community as Ankeny Field.
Comic by Erika Zinser
enior math major Dhavan Cue’s thesis has had a serious impact on the greater math community and “also the world.” “We see the world through such a narrow lens, man,” he said over a couple too many “Hurricane Bernies” at the Green. Cue’s journey to his thesis started around a year ago when he took a girl on a date to the Humane Society. He was letting a dog lick his face, because “she certainly wasn’t going to,” when he remembered that old saying about dog years. That’s when he knew what he was going to write his thesis on. He ditched his date, got on his kayak, began paddling for home and began his work. “Yeah, that date didn’t go so hot ... but I got my thesis idea so it all worked out,” he said. “[One] dog year is equal to 1/7th of a human year,” says www.dogyears.com. The formula was so simple. X=7Y. He went to his thesis advisor, Dr. Clause, for approval of his idea. “Dhavan ... you’re barking up the wrong tree,” said Dr. Clause at first. But as Cue began to explain his idea of investigating time through a dog’s lens, Clause was intrigued. “Like, we’re all on human time, right?” said Cue to
The U.S. Army has been successfully using Cue’s thesis to test nuclear weapons.
Clause. “Einstein was talking about how time was the fourth dimension for humans, right? But there’s a different variable for dogs. We’re not in the same dimension as them, man! They’re on a completely different formula!” Clause apparently tried to reason with Cue by explaining that using “dog years” was just a way of explaining to kids that dogs don’t live as long as humans, and it wasn’t an exact science. But that night, after eating too many cookies, Clause was kept up by indigestion. He looked at his dachshund and wished the indigestion would pass quicker. “Around seven times quicker!” he said, and that’s when he realized Cue was on to something. Cue and Clause set out to work and developed a formula for life itself. The actual formula has yet to be revealed. “It’s pretty chill,” said Cue, however.
Cue’s concept of time remains popular around campus. A common response to “wanna hit this, dude?” is “nah, dude, that’ll put me on dog time,” meaning the world would speed up around seven times faster than normal. The “dog time” concept is also popular among soccer players, who manipulate the 48-hour rule, using dog years, albeit poorly. When asked why he was drunk at his soccer game, junior Mitch Swordselson confronted his coach. “I thought you meant dog hours. You [have] to specify this kind of thing!” said Swordselson. The “time” principle also can be manipulated with other animals. When Cue’s relaxing, he likes to joke that he’s on “sea turtle time, dude.” Sea turtles live up to 200 years, Cue explained, making their formula X=.5Y. Cue’s thesis will be unveiled at the national math conference this October.