Initiations Makes Me Hazy

Initiations Makes Me Hazy

One of the most essential tools in a successful hazing is "The Hazing Gun," which shoots "Hazing Hollow point Rounds" at "everybody possible."

Initiation is one of mankind's oldest rituals, dating back to prehistoric times and possibly further if you are a Scientologist and believe that we all used to exist on the planet Gloupon-9 before the ghosts of space dinosaurs wiped out most of our species with atomic bombs and we were forced to hitchhike to Earth through volcanoes. There are initiations for virtually every aspect of our lives; if you're lucky enough to be one of the seven people who found a job this year, then you undoubtedly participated in a "new employee training course" which explained how you shouldn't open fire on customers even when they clearly deserve it. While many initiations are helpful and don't result in major injuries, some initiations unfortunately are not helpful and do result in major injuries, which is like almost the polar opposite of what we were going for here. Such an incident recently occurred in Northbrook, Illinois, a town which had its previous reputation as "the town with little to no initiation hazings" tarnished by a recent outbreak of violence and what I only assume is the result of drinking quarts of gasoline through a silly straw:

Initiation turned hazing investigated - Amateur videotape shot at the scene, of what was supposed to be an initiation for Glenbrook North High School junior girls, shows several students huddled together on the ground while others throw objects at them, including large plastic buckets. One girl walks behind the seated girls and slaps them on the back of the head. Another girl holds up what appears to be an intestine. At least one girl reported having a pig's intestine wrapped around her neck.

This clearly demonstrates the problem behind mob mentality which has fueled such tragedies throughout mankind such as when the Iraqis fed a bunch of Christians to lions (the animal, not the football team), the Salem Witch Trial (led by Judge Judy), and the storming of Doctor Frankenstein's castle by an angry group of people holding torches and pitchforks. No, I don't know what effect torches and pitchforks would have on a stone castle; maybe the villagers believed the stone castle could be burned and then stabbed to death with primitive farming tools. Regardless, it's always sad to see somewhat violent initiations turn into hazings, which are like mega-initiations. As you can tell from the CNN article, the Glenbrook North High School junior girls began their fun and frivolous initiation with such exciting activities as "sitting on the ground while people throw shit at other people," but soon escalated to new heights - DANGEROUS new heights - as girls began casually flinging pig organs around like Frisbees. According to Webster's Big Book of Initiations, it's acceptable to throw objects at high school junior girls as long as the objects weigh less than their head and are not a vital organ that some animal somewhere requires to live. This means that while you can throw volleyballs and bongs at junior high school girls, you cannot hurl giraffe skulls or medicine balls full of titanium. If you were to do so, your fun-filled "initiation" would turn into a not-as-fun filled "hazing." Well, it'd be not-as-fun filled for the victims; I'm sure the people lobbing cow lungs and steel I-beams would have a blast.

The recent news of violent initiation turned into mild hazing reminds me of the many, many times throughout my life that I have been a victim of hazings. The mere thought of all the pain and suffering I've had to endure throughout my years for cultural acceptance makes me weep like a schoolgirl. A schoolgirl that is weeping like a whole lot. If you could see me now, you'd be able to view the tears streaming down my face like a downpour of chubby rain. You'd also be able to see how handsome and well groomed I am ladies, so if you're looking for a single man who loves walks on the beach, abusing prescription narcotics, and unicorns, feel free to look me up... in the Book of Love.

Now I don't want to trivialize the Glenbrook North High School Junior Girl Pig Intestine Festival, but I've been through much more difficult and abusive hazings in my 26 years on whatever planet we're currently occupying. These violent initiations have spanned my entire life and increased in severity as time progressed. I'd like to take this moment to get all this emotional luggage off my chest and vent my frustrations here, on an Internet website, in an attempt to soothe the relentless demons plaguing my soul. Or should that be "the demons relentlessly plaguing my soul"? I don't really know at this point, but I blame hazings for my terrible grammar and lack of writing skills.

This type of hazing may look less painful and deadly, but let me explain something: that paddle has to be stored entirely in that person's ass for the first month of pledging.

AGE 1: BAPTISM. My parents used to be members of the "Let's Randomly Go to Catholic Church" club, so they decided that I should be Baptized sometime after I was launched from my mother's urethra during childbirth. During Baptism, the head priest guy shoved my entire body underneath a festively decorated church birdbath and began to read passages from a Bible. Unfortunately, the priest not only suffered from stuttering and severe dyslexia, but he was also illiterate and not even a priest; he was a homeless drifter who had recently stabbed the priest to death with a particularly sharp candelabra. As a direct result, I was trapped underwater for over six hours while he futilely tried to stammer out phrases such as "t-t-t-the g-g-g-g-good lord J-J-J-Jesus C-Crust s-s-sayeth 'b-b-b-bugs, GET THEM OFF ME, G-G-G-GET OFF THE B-B-BUGS!!!'!!!" After the first hour, my parents began to notice something was a bit "odd" about the Baptism and tried to ask the homeless man what was taking so long, so he responded by exposing his genitalia to my father and throwing a chair across the room with his free hand. Around the fifth hour or so, my parents began to get worried and tried to wrestle me free from my watery tomb, but the hobo had a very good grip on my head and they were unable to do so. Eventually the police came and I was extracted by using the Jaws of Life. The homeless man went to prison for a few hours but was eventually released on his own recognizance (the judge once saw him relieving himself in the gutter behind his house).

AGE 9: THE "CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE" HAZING. I loved the "Choose Your Own Adventure" series of books as a child. The freedom of deciding whether or not I wanted to open a door absolutely thrilled me, and the exciting consequences following such a monumental decision never failed to surprise me. The Lee's Summit Elementary School had a secret underground "Choose Your Own Adventure Club" which was very exclusive and held spooky midnight rituals every morning at 10:00 AM (we weren't allowed to stay up until midnight). The "Choose Your Own Adventure Club" got ahold of each and every novel days before the school library could put them on the shelves, so it was definitely a very high-powered and important social circle that controlled almost every aspect of grade school. When I attempted to join their club, the senior members presented me "The Lost Novel," a highly rare, out-of-print "Choose Your Own Adventure" book that only had six copies produced before the publishers realized the book revolved around a Ku Klux Klan member trying to rape and murder innocent black men and their pets. They handed me The Lost Novel, locked me in a dark closet with a poisonous Mojave Rattlesnake, and said, "if ye possess the skill to solve The Lost Novel, then ye shall emerge from the closet alive." Instead of trying to read through the stupid book, I used it to beat the snake to death. Needless to say, I was not allowed into the club.

Hazing in the 1920s. That hick in overalls was forced to superglue his hands to his head and run the gauntlet for 20 miles. Eventually he got some disease from coal mining.

AGE 14: HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN INITIATION. As you may or probably may not be aware of, I attended Rockhurst High School in Missouri. This wonderful establishment was, and currently is, an all-boys Jesuit school that specializes in teaching all boys about Jesus. While I am still a male, I unfortunately lost all my information about Jesus back during the great flood of '97, which is why I come across as being so stupid when talking about the subject of religion or virtually everything else. The hazing I endured freshman year was absolutely horrifying; I was forced to compete in a series of "American Gladiators" inspired events that had a distinct religious undertone to them. For example, I had to walk across a balance beam while seniors threw crucifixes and water balloons full of holy nitric acid at my head. Also, the balance beam was three miles long and made out of barbed wire. I passed the balance beam competition easily, but was disqualified in the round where I had to get inside one of those steel cage balls and ride down State Line Road without coming into contact with any official "non-holy" objects. I think my parents eventually bribed the judges to let me in. Either that or my gigantic, poofy, brick-thick hair scared them into submission.

AGE 19: KAPPA DELTA AUTOBOT FRATERNITY HAZING. The KDA fraternity was one of the most respected and elite fraternities at Vanderbilt University. For example, whenever they attended Magic: The Gathering conventions, they always had the best decks. I pledged KDA knowing how highly respected and esteemed they were throughout the college circuit, so it was no surprise that their hazing ritual was surprisingly harsh. One night while I was sleeping, they broke into my dorm room and placed duct tape over my eyes and mouth. I was then placed in a large burlap bag and dragged to an abandoned warehouse full of illegal Mexican immigrants who were paid $20 to beat me with stolen police batons. Eventually my roommate, who was tipped off to my abduction when the fraternity members sprayed him in the eyes with mace, phoned the police and they forced the Mexicans to cease pummeling me. Unfortunately, my fraternity brothers claimed to the authorities that I was hiding an automatic weapon inside the burlap bag, so they took the place of the Mexicans and proceeded to bludgeon me with their own batons until I became highly unconscious. I don't believe I ended up becoming a member of the Kappa Delta Autobots, but the police did give me an lovely bouquet with a card reading "sorry for the beating." It's okay though, because later that year Vanderbilt ordered KDA to break up after one of their members was killed during a particularly heated argument about dungeon mastering and the movie "Mazes and Monsters" starring Tom Hanks as "Robbie Wheeling."

AGE 25: ELECTRONICS WORLD OF ELECTRONICS SALESMAN TRAINING. With my highly smooth social skills and ability to sweat on command (and not on command as well), I figured I would be a great salesman at Electronics World Of Electronics, a chain of appliance stores up here in the northwest. After I paid the $45 application fee and filled out a notecard with my name and breast size, they herded me into a small, pale white room containing a plastic chair and television. An intercom instructed me to sit on the chair and watch the "instructional video" that they were about to turn on. I guess that means that in addition to the chair and television set, there was an intercom in the room as well, so add that to the list I previously mentioned. The lights soon dimmed and the video began presenting me with a series of pleasing colors, shapes, and music. Occasionally an image of Carol Channing would appear for a split second, shrieking "SURRENDER YOUR WILL TO THE CULT OF ED!!!" Mrs. Channing's appearance didn't really bother me at least until the third day, at which point I was kind of irritable and filthy. This was probably the least harmful and painful hazing I've ever experienced, and it also helped me understand how the glorious and powerful Ed should receive 90% of all the money I make and be granted the gift of screwing my girlfriend whenever he likes. All praise Ed.

Initiations are clearly a common, everyday occurrence that affects hundreds, possibly even more, of human beings each decade, possibly even less. While initiations may be as accepted and American as trying to beat up umpires at Major League Baseball games, these occurrences may take a sour turn if they escalate into hazings. To anybody out there reading this, I beg of you: when initiating people into your group or cult, please do not use pig intestines unless it's absolutely crucial to the procedure. There are a lot of pigs in the world who would appreciate having their intestines located inside their body, and there are just as many human beings who would prefer that as well. If we can cut down on these violent hazings, maybe some day Northbrook, Illinois will lose its newfound nickname of "The Most Popular Hazing City North of Skokie" and gain a better, more positive name such as "The State Formerly Known As The Most Popular Hazing City North of Skokie." All praise Ed.

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