Zealous and intoxicated acolytes burst forth from the embryonic vestibule of NSO chanting that they have big butts and bigger spirits, particularly reifying that they want that nut. It’s terrifying. Depraved. Positively condemnable. But where else to house the rowdy, vantablacked-out conga line of misfiring synapses, but the Kappa Sigma lounge, ye old faithful, oh captain my captain? There are no other choices. What? Go to SNU?! Why’d I go international when we got international at home??! But the post-verbal party-hopefuls inching their way to the Kappa Sigma turf for some necessary bacchanalia, had another thing coming.
Upon stepping foot on the turf, litter removal tools are swiftly dispatched and thrust into the arms of unsuspecting partygoers.
The Flipside caught up to the president of Kappa Sigma, Patrick Yeastman–featured in an article last year about his negative experience with a frosh while he surreptitiously manned the door at SNU in an incestual show of inter-frat bonding (eventually descending into being called a mixed fraction of an expletive, a bitch and a half). Patrick Yeastman, his loyalty into question, his postal nature being evaluated by the internal boards of sendiness review at Kappa Sig, IBS for short, needed big changes to be made. Specifically, they needed to show IFC, the inter-fraternity council, his parents, but most importantly his boys, that he could mean business.
In fifteen minutes, the turf, covered in natty light cans, marlboro cigarette butts, broken university furniture, and other paraphernalia associated which the tantric states of intoxication observable there, is made spotless. The partygoers are elated, but their jubilation is premature! The dancefloor ready, the freshman juicing their lemons once more, Patty Yeastman gives the go-ahead for all the trash to be dumped back onto the ground. Frosh grumble and acquiesce, only to be placed in a sisyphean struggle of cleaning the turf before it is dirtied again. Yeastman then peruses the partygoers, berating them for not being able to tell the difference between Marlboro and Camel cigarette butts. A visual dictionary quiz is released on Canvas to alleviate Patty Yeastman’s responsibilities.
Yeastman did not give many further comments to the Flipside, inviting our interviewer to play ‘Chell (NHL) and popping three zyns into his upper-lip, spitting into his empty phone case because there was no trashcan in the room. He considers his stunt a measure of ‘didactic philanthropy’ and encourages Frosh back in winter quarter for Down To Funk. He says it’s going be about consent. Maybe this time there’ll be a live demonstration.
