Cooperpalooza. MireGras. Moonstone. Maxwell’s Atlantis. Round Table’s That 70s Party.
Their puns are scary, their selectivity is confusing and their commitment to “inclusion” is downright amusing. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the circus that is Duke SLGs.
If you’re reading this on a Monday morning, barely able to keep your eyes open, congratulations! You survived this weekend’s seemingly endless gauntlet of SLG parties. A bewildering display of costumed hooligans, crowded sections and self-importance, SLG parties are all the rage here at Duke. But for members of the Class of 2022, who may not fully understand the unusual system we’ve contrived here, let’s ask the important questions. How did we get here? What should we do? And most importantly, what the hell is going on?
Confused? Yeah, so are we. This one’s for you, kids.
A good place to begin would be explaining the “open party.” Once in a blue moon, the selective groups on campus decide to feign interest in the lives of the unaffiliated plebeians that scavenge in the muck for social acceptance by throwing what they call an “open party.”
These are, in theory, supposed to represent the rare occasion when SLGs throw wide the gates to their luxurious bubble communities and allow the rest of us to enter and gaze with wide eyes at the carefully cultivated families inside. However, the reality is a bit different. It just so happened that this Friday, all the SLGs held their parties on the same night, thus conveniently splitting the burden of interacting with their fellow students. And just like rush, the result is that a hapless first-year couldn’t possibly have enough time to see them all. Call me Robert Mueller, but it smells like collusion to me.
And to top it all off, since SLGs aren’t supposed to be serving hard liquor (thanks, Daddy Duke) all these parties are BYOB. Which means that the Class of 2022 pregames hard, packs the C1 tighter than a clown car, and then unloads on West as a tsunami of boozy, bougie teenagers, sweeping away innocent upperclassmen as they cross campus. Yikes.
But hey, for all the damage that SLGs do to the Duke social scene, they can’t be all bad, right? I’m an equal opportunity critic, so let’s see if we can’t break down each of these parties, one by one.
First up is Cooperpalooza, aka PricePalooza’s obnoxious younger brother. Let’s start with the most obvious question: what the hell is a “palooza” and why is Duke so fond of them? The Urban Dictionary provides a definition: “Palooza. The art of throwing a very drunken extravagant party with a plethora of friends. Whoever is throwing the palooza usually adds their name as a prefix to the word.” Huh. So a palooza is a term used for a party when said party is being thrown by a group of especially self-important people. I guess that explains why they’re so popular with Duke students.
As the most selective SLG on campus (fun fact: this is not a compliment) Cooper can sometimes (often) exude a “holier-than-thou” attitude. 5/10 for trying so hard to be genuine that you become fake. 12/10 for DJ Buckmire’s masterful work on the aux. Incredible job, sir.
MireGras is up next, featuring the shameless appropriation of a time-honored New Orleans classic. Did they even have beignets? Who knows! The perpetually smoke-shrouded denizens of Mirecourt rented out Devine’s for an evening of debauchery that (they hoped) would put Fat Tuesday to shame. Unfortunately, renting out a Durham sports bar to host a Mardi Gras party at the end of September is just too many contradictions in one sentence.
In the words of one exceptionally drunk first-year I interviewed, the party was “beat as s**t.” Translation: the party was dead. Saving grace? Mirecourt generously covered the Devine’s entrance cost for the first 100 first-years. 7/10 for charity!
Moonstone! Not really certain how the name of this party relates to the group, since a moonstone is a sodium potassium aluminium silicate and a brownstone is a Triassic-Jurassic sandstone once commonly used in building materials (thanks Wikipedia!). I guess the kids in Brownstone just really love rocks? It’s cool guys, rocks are cool. Anyways, I have a soft spot for space-themed parties, so even though Moonstone doesn’t really make sense, I dig it. 8/10 for making me remember that time as a kid when I really wanted to be a space archaeologist.
The biggest mistake Maxwell made in hosting Atlantis was that they ran with the whole “Lost Continent of Plato’s invention” theme, rather than basing the entire party off the 2001 Disney movie by the same name. That movie was my childhood. In fact, I took a two hour break from writing this column just so I could re-watch the movie. Worth it. But Maxwell must not share my love for old animated movies. Instead, they opted for the classic water-related shenanigans: a kiddie pool with some inflatable animals, some paper-maché jellyfish with streamer tentacles, and lots of glow sticks (because things glow underwater, right, that’s like a thing?). 6/10 for breaking my damn heart.
Finally, we arrive at Round Table’s That 70s Party. I will admit, I never really understood my generation’s obsession with throwing parties themed around generations before we were born. Am I supposed to feel nostalgic? Jealous that I didn’t get to participate? Why is this important? Don’t get me wrong, the 70s were pretty cool. The beginning of ABBA, disco music, bell-bottoms, Watergate and the Fall of Saigon are all pretty important. But can we not let the dead rest? The 70s came … and went. Round Table: Breaking up is never easy, I know, but we have to go. Knowing me, knowing you, is this the best you can do? 6.5/10 for resurrecting the ghosts of decades past.
Monday Monday is thinking of that scene from T Swift’s “Look What You Made Me Do” music video, except this time it’s SLGs standing on a mountain of crushed independents, as cool lasers flash and snappy lyrics fly. Housing at Duke may not be inclusive, healthy, fun or equitable, but it sure is dramatic!
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