Irony of Great Gatsby Frat Mixer Hits Junior Like a Ton of Fucking Bricks

In a burst of realization, Greg Martin (C '19) realized the extent of the irony of the Great Gatsby-themed fraternity mixer he was attending.

"I was talking to this girl about how much my bowtie cost when all of the sudden it hit me. F. Scott Fitzgerald would be rolling in his fucking grave," said Greg, adjusting the $75 suspenders that he will wear twice more in his life.

Martin, an Econ major, had been drinking heavily among his socially competitive peers, when the full brunt of F. Scott Fitzgerald's themes about the emptiness of glamour and the futility of aspirational living poured over him.

"This is literally a social-climbing, wealth-obsessed party in celebration of a book that warns against social climbing and decadence," he said, dumbstruck. "I mean all of it, right down to the glorification of an idealized and ultimately fictional past," Martin said, motioning to the paper "Jazz Age" decor taped over the windows. "You realize the 1920s had segregation, right?" he asked an uninterested party-goer in a tuxedo.

"And to revel in this whitewashed memory of a time of frightening inequality during our own age of growing economic disparity and unchecked greed..." he said as he helped himself to a Green Light Mojito mixed drink. "I mean Fitzgerald saw the Depression coming, but he never predicted Josephine's faux-flamingo flapper boa. Did they really think the book was about how good Gatsby's parties were?"