Nah I’m playing, but you believed that shit right? Like many things at Yale, the weeklong audition process for Yale’s 15 different singing groups is absurdly intense and vaguely cult-like. Hordes of aspiring freshman and a handful of (not yet disillusioned) upperclassmen put their vocal prowess on exhibition for the likes of the Society of Orpheus and Bacchus, The Baker’s Dozen, Living Water, and a host of other potential Illuminati sub-sets whose names I can’t remember. Though they boast an array of stylistic differences and have varying membership types (single-sex, co-ed, gay, less gay) the rush processes for all of these groups have one thing in common, THEY DON’T STOP… EVER!
If you have spoken to a member of an acapella group in the last week , 90% of that conversation probably centered around how little sleep they’re getting and/or how long they were at rush for that day. You may have even heard about a host of Rush related “injuries” (e.g. broken snapping finger) that they’ve suffered during the arduous process. Though you will sympathize, chiming in with the occasional “I can’t even imagine!”, the truth of the matter is YOU DON’T GIVE A SINGLE FUQ! NOT EVEN A THIRD OF A FUCK!
So let’s make a stand, people!
When that suitemate of yours enters the common room in the same t shirt they were wearing three days ago with that tired look on their face, practically begging you to ask how they’re doing, just divert your eyes back to your laptop cause you three episodes deep into Cycle 4 of America’s Next Top Model and this is the episode where that girl faints.