Dear DZ

Thanks to the Sorostitute (*warning, link NSFW), Brahsome still has some inside sources in the Wake Forest undergrad community.  We, regretfully, got our hands on the now infamous Riley Skinner naked pics long before they hit the interwebs, but made the executive decision not to post them because, well, dood-flesh just isn’t brahsome.  Especially dood flesh related to Brinson.

The latest gift from our fun-loving friend is an open letter from a Wake Forest Frat Star to the DZ sorority after they apparently crashed a Sigma Nu mixer with Pi Phi.  I sampled some sorority girls during my stint at Wake Law, but never had the opportunity with a DZ.  According to the Sorostitute, “They will let you stick it in any hole you want.” and “They are trashy, walking STDs.”  The old saying “Easy DZ” is pretty much applicable at any school in America, so I’ve found.  I can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing I never came across any of these lovely young skanks ladies.  Take the jump for the letter.

(Ed. Note: The email has been “edited” by adding things like “line breaks” and “paragraphs” in order to make it vaguely readable. No actual content has been changed though. Kthxbai.)

Dear high ranking member of a low ranking organization,

I am officially calling you and your sorority out for ruining our parties and that from this point on, you are banned from coming to any more of them. Last night was the tipping point. We scheduled a mixer with Pi Phi (not your sorority) and there was a sweet theme: Pool boys and Housewives.  Typically the logic follows that if there is a theme to a party, you dress the part. For example, when we had Jock Jams people wore jerseys and when we had Spring Break people dressed like they were ready to make some noise. So the idea for this party was that you, as females, would be the housewives. 

You could have worn a number of misogynistic slutty numbers (Carrie’s was by far the best outfit of the party), but that is not what you did at all. In fact, it’s truly amazing what you did: You all went to your closets and looked at your wardrobes, which apparently only consist of green I <3 DZ shirts, and said, “yes, I think this is the kind of slutty outfit I will one day be wearing as a housewife” (assuming you can find some pathetic fuck who will actually marry you). Then you gathered out front of Luter like some screening of a horror film for Night of the Living DZ Zombies, and for some unknown reason, our pledges actually picked you up (I don’t blame them, they’re young and haven’t quite got the hang of things yet).  

From there you began your disgusting assault and usurpation of our party that I was originally so excited for. Now for the most part, it really doesn’t matter that you come to the parties because other than the fact that you take up physical space, I and my frat bros possess the natural power to see right through your insignificant persons. But not even I could overlook the green cow pasture that you all created by wearing those god-awful shirts that gave me nightmares last night.

Everywhere I looked I was haunted by your presence and, no matter how loudly I said “All of these dz’s need to get the fuck out because they’re ruining the party,” none of you listened. Which is weird because I know you heard me since nobody else was talking to any of you. What’s most telling is that I, along with a few cool girls (Meredith Nelson thanks for redeeming the party last night), actually took time out of our precious evening of drinking to go upstairs and look for sharp kitchen knives by which we could murder all of you and bury you in the backyard. That’s right–as drunk as I was, I was still willing to stop partying for the rest of the night to bury your sorority and its t-shirts once and for all.

It would have been a tedious night, but well worth it in the grand scheme of things.  Since I didn’t end up committing DZ genocide, I am doing the next best thing in writing you this letter. If I ever see another DZ in an I <3 DZ shirt at one of our parties, I will put a knife right through that pretty pink heart and laugh as the blood drips, making a trail out the front door of the party and culminating in a splatter scene as I throw you into oncoming traffic.

Sincerely,
Carmen San Diego