Parietal rules are back!

Nice half-century run the American university had not concern-trolling its coeds. The age of sorority girls making their own adult decisions is drawing to a close because *RAPE!*. Granted, the main precipitating incident was the Rolling Stone rape at UVA, one that Todd Akin would surely deem illegitimate, and the National Panhellenic Council isn’t a university organization, but universities charter sorority chapters that operate under its dual jurisdiction rather than the sole jurisdiction of their host institutions.

And of course the Panhellenic Council is run by supercilious busybodies. How could it not be? It’s a national junta of women in *LEADERSHIP* positions over other women under the auspices of exclusive private societies that are utterly masturbatory in their scope and purpose. (Don’t try to redpill me and say that its fraternity counterparts are better because they’re run by manly men. They aren’t. They’re just a slightly less catty mob of ugly high-hats.)

Much of the activity of sororities is devoted to gaslighting members and non-members who might do business with them about exactly where and how provocatively sisters straddle the fuzzy line between Madonna and whore. There’s an understanding that sorority girls are sexually available, but not too sexually available, because that would be slutty. One wouldn’t want outsiders doing business with them to think that they’re common prostitutes; that would be too honest. (Again, “fuck yeah brah you tapped that skank!” is just a different sort of noxious officiousness.) Similarly, Greek women are expected to be drunk, but not that drunk, because the sunshine of their honesty would overpower the organizational gaslight. (What the fuck must real Greeks, the kind who speak Greek and live in Greece, think of this bizarre nonsense?) A proper sister cannot take the Rob Ford tack: “Shit, partner, musta been drunk if I smoked a fucking crack pipe. Jesus.” She must pretend to be at least somewhat abstemious around the bottle and the cock, not because her mentors in the organization are concerned with her wellbeing and hope for her to live a well-examined life of moderation and good health, but because they’re the mothers superior of orders devoted to crass socioeconomic influence-peddling. At their worst (and they’re often at it), sorority leaders are exactly what prurient sexual authoritarians luridly imagine madams to be.

The National Panhellenic Council threatened to discipline members of its affiliate sororities at UVA if they attended Boys’ Bid Night. All the something-or-other in the Western world, girls chase boys chase girls (look that shit up if the Top 40 details are that important to you; I can’t fucking remember, and honestly don’t fucking care). It’s just that at UVA, girls will be punished by private associations for taking part in the chase without permission. It’s the biggest chase of the year, apparently, Boys’ Bid Night, and chicks were flippin’.

But why wouldn’t they flip out? These are young ladies of the night, or more accurately of the swing shift, since most of them aren’t quite living on the night shift (on the night shift), or getting enough of the Commodores to understand that this is actually a coherent essay: these girls like to party, and some nosy henpecking bitches with national oversight authority over their sororities are concern-trolling prospective rape victims who haven’t been raped yet but who might get raped on a campus internationally notorious for a false gang-rape accusation, threatening to punish these women if they dare attend the year’s big party. One must fight for one’s right, and these girls at the grassroots are ready for a fight. Saturday night’s all right–mercy, I need to stop right now, because what comes next is easy like–you know, or maybe you don’t, but if you don’t, you don’t know that this essay is still coherent. Mostly.

Friends, Romans, Commodores: these young ladies were quite unhappy with the intrusive concern-trolling of their social lives by agents from the mother ship. And they were right to be pissed. Panhellenic had been taken over by Young Turk totalitarians. We’ll punish you for being reckless because we told you not to go that party? This ain’t self-determination, folks. This ain’t liberty. The buried lede here is that many things about Greek life are antithetical to liberty. Greek life is about submission to the tastes of the mob (as opposed to life in Greece, which is about submission to Brussels, and to the damned Huns again). At least the women under their private authority at UVA had the self-respect to call them out on their assertion of tyrannical prerogatives about what they might do individually in their free time. Most of them must have had no idea about the Magna Carta’s upcoming 800th birthday, but they managed to celebrate it appropriately through, if not their eternal vigilance, their occasional protest. The idea is that if the sheriff is being an asshole, flip her the bird; double bird if she’s some bitch from a private umbrella council with no legal authority over anyone anywhere.

That’s what the National Panhellenic Council is. It’s like Reno 911, but with nicer uniforms and more self-importance. Americans defer to the “authority” of mall security “officers” who dress up like state troopers and are probably, as embarrassed as I am to say it, my fellow police academy rejects. We might as well start somewhere in standing up to busybodies pretending to have real extralegal authority over other people.

How’s PT going, Blart? You sure it’s just the wall that got you disqualified? None of the other 260 disqualifiers? Cool story, bro.

Oh, I can’t go to that party because some liar said she got raped and I might get raped, too? Bitch please.

These Panhellenic bitches could be made to melt down like Ceausescu in December if women they presumed to govern flatly refused to recognize their authority and, if forced by institutional harassment, brought the real legal authority of the courts down on them. There are strict legal limits to private social control, ones that people who threaten to privately punish those under their authority for butthurtful transgressions can’t be expected to understand. Panhellenic is all like, l’etat, c’est moi, bitch. If this attitude affects matters beyond the narrow, immediate scope of sorority wankery, the courts will disagree with the private lawgivers of the National Panhellenic Council. Sororities are influence-peddling organizations, so the possibilities for tortious adverse ramifications are real. Perhaps the Panhellenic Council is preparing to offer first-fruits unto the trial bar in this matter or similar ones. Don’t be surprised if it is. Some bitches deserve to get sued. Some bitches get sued. There is righteousness in our broken world.

It’s the Madonna-whore thing again. The girls at UVA were a bit too whorish for Panhellenic’s taste. They wanted a taste of that frat bro strange. Boys’ Bid Night, also known as Men’s Bid Night (just don’t call it Man Scouts of America; that would be an affront to men, and to normal Americans), caused much clutching of Panhellenic pearls. It was too rape-sexy. Legitimately so? Probably not. It’s just girls being girls, and boys being boys. Frosh, senior, or supersenior, it was sophomoric behavior, but not particularly dangerous. The Rolling Stone rape hoax gave Panhellenic an excuse to act as an organizational cock-blocker, but in becoming so bumptious, Panhellenic lost hearts and minds. It’s losing the ground war. Make an imperial power lose the ground war badly enough, and its officials will start acting like Westmoreland and his commanders-in-chief: “Viet Cong ain’t got shit on us! We have choppers!”

It all depends on how jealously the people guard their own liberty. Guard it jealously enough, and no bitch at national will be able to guard your vagina.

Why do sorority girls fancy fraternity boys so? To paraphrase my Wyomissing homegirl Taylor Swift, he wears Abercrombie, I wear Dockers; he’s wicked alpha, I’m a beta motherfucker. That sort of thing. I almost certainly have no more than one degree of separation from Taylor Swift, although you wouldn’t know it to look at either of us. And by Dockers, I actually mean twenty dollar generics from Bi-Mart. I just thought of that; most of my Dockers are worn out by now. I guess I have shitty thread game. At least I charm the hell out of MILFs and spinsters from time to time, and sometimes even twenty-year-olds.

Most fraternities and sororities are bullshit, and socially pernicious bullshit at that. They cockblock the shit out of beta males who might otherwise get somewhere sexually; Ivy Peters is fictional, but his story is true. But at least the sorority women at UVA demanded that they be allowed to make their own adult decisions about whether or not to attend fraternity bacchanals when their mothers superior presumed to make that decision for them.

Even so, the parietal rules are on track to become more restrictive, not less. A people who insist on acting like children will be treated accordingly, and the loudest people on campus are nowhere close to reaching a sophomoric level of maturity.

Have fun, kids.

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