I didn't write this, but I did find it quite entertaining being that I'm a "frat" guy myself. Written in 1997 by Dan Green, a then current student and fraternity member, at the height of Penn State greek life, it could be called a creed to anyone who is, or has ever been part of a fraternity.

I'm a Frat Guy. I live in a Frat House. I go to Frat Parties. I fight. I especially like to fight independents.

I think that if independents were cool, they would have pledged a frat in the first place. I know that independents are jealous of my social life. I believe that I am more fun and am a harder partier than any GDI (God Damn Independent). I am exclusive because I hate you.

I run Dance Marathon. I am the brains behind Spring Week. I hope you enjoyed my Homecoming Parade last Friday.

I don't go to classes. I spend my days at Fastbreak in the HUB basement. I spend my nights at the Gingerbread Man (unless it's a Friday afternoon because I am at Cafe 210 West).

I spend my afternoons at BodyWorks. I will never go to the Lion's Den.

I buy my friends. I joined a frat to feel accepted. I couldn't make friends when I got to college, so I paid for them instead. I give more than $1,000 of my parents' money in social dues each year to promote my frat's alcoholism problem. I drink because I am cool. I drink a lot because I am cooler than you.

I haze my pledges. I make them eat sticks of butter. I make them drink soy sauce. I make them clean my house naked. I make them wear women's panties. I emotionally scar them for life. I abuse them physically until they cry for mercy. I then call them wimps. I later call them my brothers if they don't de-pledge along the way.

I am not an individual. I mimic the actions of my frat brothers. I drive a sport utility vehicle. I play with my dog on the HUB lawn. I wear brown Timberlands.

I will never commit to just one girl. I don't wear condoms because it doesn't feel as good. I believe that a girl gives up her right to say "no" if she is in my frat house after 1:30 a.m. I am shady.

I have no independent thought. I dress just like my frat brothers. I act just like my frat brothers. I talk just like my frat brothers. I strut just like my frat brothers.

I never study. I devise elaborate schemes to cheat on my exams. I don't buy books. I have a low GPA. I am thankful that my frat buddies will get me a job after graduation because I know that I can't get one on my own. I show up drunk for interviews.

I wear my letters. I billboard my frat on sweatshirts with huge Greek letter symbols. All of my T-shirts are frat party T-shirts. I own many plaid button-downs. I own one baseball hat. I live in my khakis. I wear beer goggles on weekends.

My frat letters are license to be a jerk.

I hide in the closet when my frat brothers hook up with girls. I think gang rape is OK if the girl "is asking for it."

I am loud and obnoxious wherever I go in public. I am twice as obnoxious one-on-one.

I live in filth. I enjoy the smell of old-beer-in-carpet. I prefer a dingy frat house to a clean apartment. I think living among rodents builds character. I leave the seat up. I can't clean up after myself. I rarely change my underwear.

I am a player. I don't care about what girls have to say. I only care about me. I will say anything to get a girl in bed. I will say even more to get a freshman girl in bed because I know she'll believe me.

I serve alcohol to minors. I urinate in public. I slip Rohypnol into unsuspecting girls' drinks at frat parties. I do keg stands. I play beer pong. I own a beer funnel. I don't binge drink — I continually drink.

I am everything wrong with America.

I'm a Frat Guy.