Feature Interview:� An LSU hazing victim speaks out.

�������� � The Problem of Hazing (or A Lesson for all Humanity)

by

phil cranner

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Hazing has existed as long as there have been colleges.�A more traditional American form of hazing during the early part of this century was to force new college students, all students, to wear beanies and perform humiliating acts. Hazing all college freshman ceased soon after WWII when war veterans used their GI bills to go to school. Upper classmen made moronic attempts to haze these war heroes, only to discover that it was not such a good idea to haze young men who had just been out killing people.

Now hazing has moved exclusively to the Greek organizations and for this reason it is more difficult to detect, since it occurs in more limited circles. This problem of hazing was highlighted recently when a college student at LSU died from acohol poisoning at a hazing party in a bar near the university.

Today we speak with this hazing victim from LSU in an exclusive interview from the hospital where the student was admitted after funneling two gallons of Jim Bean in a half hour. Jim Bean is very potent spirit popular with college students and other youth.

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I began, "Tell us what exactly happened and your reflections upon your own participation in the hazing procedure that left you nearly dead of alcohol poisoning."

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"Well, I didn�t know what to expect, that was for sure. If you want to be in a Frat you have to be hazed, whether it is condoned by the university or not. Listen, chief, no one expected that they would try to kill me. So I am suing everybody, including my parents for sending me to a highly esteemed party college. They knew better. I am suing LSU, because they knew of the party. I am also going to sue you after you print this article. Everyone is so stupid."

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"I think the public has been made aware that it is being sued, and they rightly agree with you that the public in general acted negligently by your act of getting under the funnel to have hard liquer poored down your throat. But what bothers me is that there is a minority that feels you and you alone are responsible. I mean, there were vomit stations placed inside the bar where hazing students went to throw up before being put under the funnel again, so to speak." He seemed iritated by my speaking so I stopped to let him think a moment and respond.

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"Look chief, we all know how good drinking is. It is so good. And I mean, you know, how could the public let them do that to me. Now I am sick and have these hospital bills." He paused, tearing up. "At first, I didn�t blame anyone, I felt that I was the stupid one. But then I talked to my lawyer and he convinced me of the truth: that this is a stupid world and that it can and will pay for the stupid things that happen to me. It is not my fault, you know, chief. I like alcohol, I heard that it is a good cure for constipation, and well, you know, it is so good, and I thought that a couple of gallons of hard liquer wouldn�t hurt me, because I trusted those unknown Fraternity members I was with. They are so loud. . . and full of life, you know, and they get the chicks-- two gallons wouldn�t hurt me if they said it wouldn't."

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"Did you ever begin to question your own reasoning?" I asked.

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"Well, a little, after the third time I had vomited and two men began to put me under the funnel again. I couldn�t walk, but I thought everything was going to be alright. One Frat looked at me and said something like, "Hhhuuuuuuuuuumme. Drink! Drink! Little Faggot---grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Put it to ya, huh. GRREEE!" And something in his voice reassured me, I think a certain kind of love, you know what I mean, so I didn�t protest. I mean, I had seen him open a beer can using his Jimmy, if you know what I mean. Respect, that is what it was. I wanted to drink some more, no matter how sick it made me. They seemed like such a fine group of young men."

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"I also hear that you are suing the President of the United States. How did you decide that the President was at fault? It seems like such an ingenious idea"

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"Well, you know, chief, Hail to Him. My lawyer suggested this and said we should get something from the President. He knows and I know he is right. I am going to be sitting pretty after all this and I know I deserve it, since the world is so stupid. That communist bastard will pay too for what he did. My lawyer is good; he is, or was, a Frat member."

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"Do you still want to be a member of a Fraternity?" I asked.

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He laughed and then:

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"Yes and no. Chief, after I sue all the fraternities, I am going to start my own fraternity. But my fraternity, while being fun, is going to be humane. I want to be a icon for children to look up to, like Tiger Woods, that golf player, a spokesmodel. Of course everyone knows that if you are a good golf player, you automatically are a spokemodel for the youth." I nodded my head in agreement. "And my lawyer,who is a frat member, told me that I am in the same league . . . In my fraternity I am going to teach them safety in there events, you know. I will teach them from my experience that funneling should be safe, you know, by using smaller funnels and having more sanitary vomit stations. I had to vomit in trash can! Can you image the health risks. I think that maybe I got the Ebolla virus or something from a trash can, and the doctors here mistakenly diagnosed me with acohol poisoning."

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"And you are suing the hospital too?"

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"Yep. They are stupid. And the trash can manufacturer. They are stupid."

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"Oh, what a tragedy," I interjected, looking upon this young hero in awe and respect. I teared at the eyes a little and grabbed his infirm and weak hand. "You are going to make it through this, I know you will." At this, he became a little confused and started wobbling his head back and forth, crying. He momentarily forgot who he was and where he was at because he yelled, "Yes sir coach!! I am going to make it. Yes sir! I know, run back then go for the touchdown. It all depends on me. What�s that? OK! Yes sir, coach, I will shut up."

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The doctors and nurses ran in and injected him with something to put him asleep. They escorted me outside with grim and angry faces and told me that our patient needed to rest for his television program tomorrow. I heartily agreed and left the building feeling that something had changed inside of me. Suddenly, I became aware of myself and wanted to give the poor lad the shirt off my back right then and there, but reason took hold. He is going to get these things when he sues me, and, besides, he doesn�t have any need for my money yet. He can spend it when he is feeling better.

I walked along the Mississippi, feeling both hollow and full of something mystical and spiritual. I saw the water flow, the ages pass with the blinking of an eye. And then I wondered, like an arrow from the dark, I was hit with a magical and depressing thought. I wondered, "How many people have lived down through the ages, suffering like this poor lad, becoming heroes, only for humanity to forget the challenge they brought to the human intellect, the revelations?" It saddened me immensely; I felt the earth shatter in pieces, my heart broken.

phil cranner is a writer for Weiner Pooh @September 1997

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