On "Party Schools"

Every so often, as the years pass me by, I am tempted to consider how different my life would be if I had aspired to attend a private college with a prestigious reputation rather than the state university around the corner. Perhaps I would comprehend Chaos Theory, or Pavement lyrics, or the plot of Lost. Perhaps I would do my own taxes, or at least be able to effectively cheat on them. Perhaps I would work at Goldman Sachs, or perhaps I would meet up with my colleagues in the philosophy department to drink Glenfiddich and debate Heidigger on Sunday evening, rather than devouring two full hours of The Celebrity Apprentice.

And then something like this happens, something that reminds me of the true purpose of higher education, which is to squander the family's nest egg while sitting on a salvaged couch, listening to The Lemonheads, watching Elvis Presley films, manipulating cola cans in order to consume plant-based intoxicants, phoning the women of Kappa Kappa Gamma and conspiring to gather kegs of bargain-basement Wisconsin-based beer for outdoor tailgate parties that will most likely end with a regrettable coupling and the theft of at least one public sculpture:

Penn State University has been ranked the No. 1 party school in the nation by the Princeton Review.

The Princeton Review today released its rankings, which also give Penn State the No. 1 ranking in two other categories: students pack the stadiums (intercollegiate sports popular) and lots of beer (usage reported high).

Penn State also made Top 20 rankings in some other areas: students dissatisfied with financial aid, No. 2; jock schools, No. 3; major frat and sorority scene, No. 3; best athletic facilities, No. 3; best career services, No. 6; everyone plays intramural sports, No. 6; best college newspaper, No. 6; lots of hard liquor, No. 9; students study the least, No. 11; and least politically active students, No. 17.

That last paragraph is the best summation I have ever read of my own life from the ages of 18 to 22. And Penn State will, of course, back away from this distinction, due to obvious political concerns--but if I am being honest, I know a lot of strange and disconcerting and unhappy Ivy League graduates, and I know a lot of truly happy and successful and intellectual people who got through Penn State while consuming houseplants on a dare or passing out in the student section in the third quarter of a football game.

In conclusion, to paraphrase Homer Simpson, the moral of the story is: Never Try.