The Washington Post helps embarrass the younger generation:
One night inside a George Washington University fraternity, a sky-diving, weight-lifting, energy-drink-swilling group of brothers gathers around the pool table, boasting about how, no matter what their college, government and parents might say, they don’t need any swine flu vaccine, thanks very much.
The men of Sigma Phi Epsilon, 30 of whom share 16 bathrooms and 15 bedrooms in a house on 23rd Street NW, don’t buy the idea that their lair is a perfect petri dish for spreading the flu. They view the virus’s threat as a media-concocted sensation, and they fend off their parents’ — and even their girlfriends’ parents’ — worries much as they do concerns over any other risky behavior, such as, for an upcoming frat event, parachuting out of an airplane. Their mindset: They’ll be fine. Even if they get the bug, they’ll still be fine.
“I don’t need it,” proclaims Sal Marchesano, 21, a senior, as macho laughter ripples across the recreation room, which is adorned with, among other items, a replica of a human skull and a mostly full bottle of hand sanitizer. “They would have to come here to give me the shot. No. They would have to come to my room. When I’m free.”
You tell ’em, Sal!
