Hi! We're Red Bones, and yes, we exist! You probably haven't heard much about us because we like to keep it on the DL, and also kill anyone who finds out too much. But now that we have been outed by one of our own (may their name become tenfold anathema, and may their memory be blotted from the Earth), and our presence, rituals, and documents have been leaked to the student body by The People's History of WashU, we have taken it upon ourselves to ease students' understandable anxiety that a cadre of Heralds of the New Order of Babylon controls their campus.
How did Red Bones (also known as the Seven) begin?
The Red Bones are autochthonous: we belong to Campus as surely as Campus belongs to us. We are sprung from the Earth like Thebans, and the Earth is our mother, father, all in all. Every year, when we receive our new Names under the Crimson Banner of Beelzebub, we bare our flesh to her in the Hollow of the Sacred Cave.
The first to receive the calling of the Seven was our Holy Founder Josh, allegedly a Yale graduate, who by circumstance obtained a rabbit key to all buildings at WashU. A celestial being then called the Holy Josh to found Red Bones. That being was definitely Pot.
And so Josh gathered Six Other Bros unto himself, and thus formed the Seven. And together they were bound upon the Altar of Baphomet with most holy vows, and also by shared beliefs that Ernest Hemingway just understood them and that The Dead Poets Society was the Best Movie Ever Made.
Pictured: Josh
Then they went to Uncle Bill's.
Not all those who wander are lost. - J.R.R. Tolkien
How do we select initiates?
If male:
Do they have a prominent bookshelf, preferably with lots of David Foster Wallace? Do they have a satchel? Are they comfortable tearing open the jugulars of any who betray the Red Bones with naught but their white, young, and gleaming teeth?
If female:
Do they look like Emma Watson?
All:
Are they white?
Do they like to eat at Uncle Bill's?
Our Principles:
Red Bones seeks to foster "community" through WashU, the student body, ourselves, ourselves and our hot RAs, our hot RAs and our other hot RAs while we watch, and Set, God of the Chaos Primordial. We believe that one's life should be spent unflaggingly in pursuit of knowledge, service, and that really tacky thrill that comes with being in a shameless ripoff of Yale's Skull and Bones at a university that, itself, is a shameless ripoff of Yale.
We listen to a lot of music that you probably haven't heard of, like Gotye before he was famous. We actually chant "Gotye" as we dance the Devil's Jig around our Goat of Satan, who is named "Goatye," and whose energy and lust we channel as we fornicate with the Devil Himself in Forest Park, on the exact spot where Gotye once performed at Loufest.
Our code:
- You are not allowed to not know.
- You do not get to make yourself wrong. (Because if using innocent Uncle Bill's waffles for sexual purposes is wrong, we don't want to be right.)
- Do what you say you are going to do.
- Always tell the truth.
- Go with your gut.
- There are no coincidences.
- Be that which you would become.
- Dead Poets Society is the best movie ever, and The Godfather is second-best. Good Will Hunting is third.
- I like good music, the kind you can only hear on every classic rock station in America.
- Being "in silent anticipation" for literally everything.
- Uncle Bill's.
- Hail Satan.
Be the change you wish to see in the world. - Gandhi
Our Rituals:
One of our rituals is to recite our most important text: "Shepley Nights: the Ballad of the Seven." Before viewing this, we humbly ask that non-members pause for self-reflection and respect, much as you would cover up and maintain a respectful silence when visiting another's a place of worship. This Ballad is a cornerstone of all Red Bones literature, which also includes a book of half-finished slam poems and the lyrics to Kansas' "Carry On My Wayward Son."
SHEPLEY NIGHTS: THE BALLAD OF THE SEVEN
On a moonlit night, we arise from the South 40,
Singing bold music of flesh and evils,
Not rap music wherein girls are called shorty.
And we eat at Uncle Bill's.
We are the last of the poets and philosophers,
Seeking life's meaning in the shadows of the hills,
Bathing in Satan's burning aquifers,
And we eat at Uncle Bill's.
Rise, Death! Come, Odin! Fly, weak Gods!
We're all mad here - Lewis Carrol.
The true Ubermensch is here, he smiles, he nods,
And we eat at Uncle Bill's.
We are the heirs of Beowulf and Buddha,
Delivering the world from ills,
We like Socrates but mostly impressing plebs
And we eat at Uncle Bill's.
Our other rituals include stalking potential initiates, spying on them, sending them cryptic notes with copypasta Kierkegaard quotes, blindfolding new members and driving them to a secret Seven House under the cover of darkness, humiliating them, and stealing their clothes. We truly believe that all of one's effort should be towards the betterment of society, which is why we devote almost all our energy towards elaborate ceremonies that take almost a year to complete. About half our budget goes toward really shitty wax seals.
Purges/Punishment of Traitors to the Great God Baal:
It has come to our attention that one of us - even as we speak - has betrayed our number. We ask them to think long and hard about the unspeakable pain we shall inflict upon their flesh when they are known - and they will be known. Students will disappear. No crime shall go unpunished. Infinite is our consciousness, and infinite is our wrath.
Shoot for the moon; even if you miss, you'll land among the stars. - Billy Joel
