Reposted here, since the JHU Newsletter pulled the article and the angry comments it inspired.
Local Bison Bear All at Phi Kappa Psi’s Annual Lingerave (Opinion Section)
By Greg Sgammato
Last Thursday, September 9th, Phi Kappa Psi hosted their annual Lingerave party, a celebration of scantily clad women and booming techno music. The event was by many accounts a success, but unfortunately featured a disproportionate amount of fat chicks.
Under normal circumstances, fat chicks at a Hopkins party are neither a novelty nor a major problem. The student body has become accustomed to seeing the occasional bison at Pike; as long as direct interaction isn't necessitated, most Blue Jays are content with simply letting the livestock graze.
Such a dynamic, though, is fundamentally shifted when certain parameters change. In the case of the Lingerave, clothing - the last defense against the hordes of 'grenades' that inhabit this University - was explicitly discouraged. And herein lies the source of the problem.
Perhaps the brothers of Phi Psi actually thought that most girls at their party would be attractive. To be fair, there certainly were plenty of good-looking ladies in attendance. The problem, though, was that these girls were, by and large, the ones who remained clothed.
Unfortunately for the rest of the party, those who were most adamant about letting it all hang loose had a few too many to let hang loose. This may seem counterintuitive; why would the biggest chicks wear the least clothing? These are girls who wear sweatshirts on sweltering summer days just to hide their - admittedly substantial - arms. The answer, of course, can be found in the staple of any decent frat party: alcohol.
Alcohol boosts self-confidence; anyone who has shotgunned a few beers or dared to sip on some jungle juice can attest to this fact. Such a phenomenon, though, is exacerbated when we throw fat chicks into the mix. When buffalo - especially those who frequent frat parties - consume alcohol, they undergo an extreme and sudden inflation of self-image.
In a matter of minutes, the girl whose leggings expose a glimpse into the darker side of humanity will equate herself to Megan Fox. She - though 'it' may be more appropriate - will flaunt it like she's got it, when in fact she never had it and probably never will. She will transcend 'sloppy' and become a force to be reckoned with, an 8-on-the-Richter-Scale Neuroscience major with no test on Monday, a full fridge and an empty bed.
Needless to say, a drunk plus-size is scary enough. Yet put her in an environment in which clothing is actively discouraged and we have added insult to an already egregious injury. The end result? Fat chicks running around the Phi Psi house wearing nothing but a bra and an unfortunate pair of shorts.
Such was the inevitable downside of the Lingerave. What's most disturbing about the situation - apart from the sweat - was that it could not have been prevented.
But, you say, certainly it could have been avoided. Not the case.
In analyzing this problem, we must enter the mentality of the fat chick. She knows that, given her current situation, she will not gain admission to a frat party of her own accord. No one in his right mind would, given the chance, admit a herd of rhinos to his party. So - and here is where the hippo is at her most wily - the fat chick will systematically befriend hot chicks.
Such a relationship is symbiotic and, as such, makes intuitive sense. Hot girls associate with fat chicks as a means to boost their level of relative sex appeal. Fat chicks hang out with more aesthetically pleasing girls to leech off the perks that come naturally with their biological success. If, in the near future, one determines a means by which we can separate hot chicks from the heavy, heavy burden of their larger peers, a Nobel will surely follow.
In any case, fat chicks and hot chicks often go hand-in-hand. When they travel together to a frat party, those brothers working the door are forced to let the elephants inside; to refuse them would be incurring the wrath of their hot friends. And once inside, the damage has already been done. It's only a matter of time until the mammoths monopolize the space on the dance floor.
In the future, one can think of at least one alteration to make; indeed, perhaps advertising a party as a "Lingerave" will bring about more bad than good. While seeing a hot chick in only her underwear is undoubtedly a treat, seeing a blimp without the welcome shield of clothing is a much worse fate for everyone at the party. A seasoned veteran should have the confidence to wait until the bedroom to see his girl without clothing; don't subject the majority to the tyranny of the - funnily enough - enormous minority.
There is, of course, one more option: get obliterated. You'll be surprised how far you'll go with a half-naked wildebeest.
Original link and text provided by Sara Luterman, Feminist Alliance: