“Hey, asshole … you stepped on my shoe … now me and my 40 to 50 frat brothers are going to prove that all our penises combined … are bigger than yours.” This little snippet of conversation was recently said by an unnamed patron and attendee of State Street’s Uncle Tony’s.

Being an educated student of Binghamton University (this is just a dangerous assumption made by someone who assumes that if you bother to read the paper, you get it … and by no means assuming that everyone that attends is, in fact, “educated”), you probably know that the above quote is not direct, but rather a mere interpretation of a situation; the situation that is most commonly attributed to the bar scene Downtown.

Every stumbling BU student on State Street has a change in attitude toward people in general when they consume the proper amount of alcohol, so it’s not unusual for the occasional emotion to get out of hand. We have a lot of them; some good, some bad, some entirely inappropriate … they all manage to come out and play when we are under the influence of alcohol (or whatever else you’re into).

However, the emotion that we are addressing here is not simply one that results in a good drunken cry or an over-dramatic and highly uncalled for heart-to-heart with the kid from your English class whose name you don’t even know. The one I speak of is the kind that results in bruises, bleeding, being escorted out of the bar and, in extreme cases, broken bones.

Everyone is entitled to a sporadic drunken slip-up, but I find myself asking very often: What excuse do the boys Downtown have when they repeatedly lose their ability to control themselves and start violent brawls that disturb the peace of innocent by-standing drinkers and/or end up hurting themselves or someone else?

I know the quote in the beginning of this article undoubtedly pointed the finger at fraternities, but it would be very unfair of me not to acknowledge the non-greek morons who share the same monkey-like violent tendencies as some frat boys.

At the end of the day, having no control over where a boy’s fists go has nothing to do with whether they belong to a fraternity. However, undeniably so, frats tend to be more conducive to starting a fight because of the pact mentality they possess (i.e. It’s okay to provoke some kid who is twice my size and call him a “pussy” because eight of my frat brothers are on standby).

A common reason for a bar fight to start is over a girl, usually stemming from jealousy. Well boys, let me tell you a little secret that your little pea-brains can’t seem to grasp. For those of you who are trying to impress a newly acquired object of affection by showing off your alpha male instincts, most likely she won’t be impressed and will just roll her eyes and leave. In the best case scenario, she will be completely turned off (which means your big head has stupidly ruined your little head’s chances of having fun tonight). And for those who have girlfriends, there is no deterrent for getting laid like an injury either acquired or given to someone else, no matter how committed she is to you as a girlfriend.

Bottom line, guys: you’re not bettering your chances of getting laid by beating your fists to your chest, roaring on your hind legs and swinging at some other unnecessarily hostile drunky (this is clearly proved by Dave Chapelle’s “When Keepin’ It Real Goes Wrong”).