Oct. 5, 1957

Dear Bob,

While sitting here listening to Sibelius' Symphony No. 4 in A minor, op. 63, I can not help but
think of the impotent defense you put up for r. & r. (rather than cause myself to vomit, I shall
heretofore refer to that music as r.& r., and the lower case letters are not unintentional).  And
as far as D is concerned, I think you have taken too much for granted in his case also.

In order to present a potent case to support my contention that r & r. is not music, I shall refer
to The American College Dictionary's definition of music:  "an art of sound in time which expresses ideas and emotions in significant forms through the elements of rhythm, melody,
harmony, and color."

I shall not insult your intelligence by showing you how r.& r. violates every one of these ideas.

But enough of this, lest someday our descendants be hounded into turning over to mankind these letters which rival only the debates of Lincoln and Douglas in lucidity, sincerity, and potency.

We are right in the middle of our pledge period, and I saw my first action as a
brother-screwer last night.

I was assistant night editor at the press for the Dartmouth last night, and as a result
was busy until four a.m.  When I finished there, I decided it was a nice time of day to go
around and see some of the brothers.  I went to get some fellow pledges out of bed,
and five of went to see what mischief we could get into that night.

We finally decided (at five a.m.) that our pledge master wasn't being very kind to us,
so we went over to the dorm in which he lives on the first floor, I climbed in thru his
living room window.  He has two room-mates, so I knew that if he ever caught me I'd
be thru.  I spent about five minutes squeezing thru a half-opened window, for I was afraid
to open it any further.  Once inside, I went and opened the door for the others, and we
proceeded to move out as much furniture as possible.  This took about ten minutes, and
I was really surprised that they didn't awaken.

Of course, the preceding isn't all there is to our pledging period.  We also have to serve
as valet for one of the brothers, perform menial tasks about the house, spend ten hours
at the house once in a while so that we can wake the brothers up for their classes, and
get dumped on after each weekly meeting.  And I'm actually paying for all this!

Now to refer to the incident which dominated the latter half of your previous voluminous
letter.

While it is true that P did chew _ _ _ the first day we saw her,  I don't recall ever seeing
her chew it again.

The point is that she chews _ _ _ when she is alone, but not among people.  There is as
I see it, nothing wrong with this, for it is not the chewing of _ _ _ itself which is bad, but
rather the obnoxiousnesses which arise because of the practice.  and since the normal
person is not irritated by his own obnoxiousness, he indulges in them when alone, however
it is a thoughtful person who refrains from  such practices when others are present.  Even
I find the need of chewing _ _ _  in private on very rare occasions.

(In the last two paragraphs I have inserted _ _ _ instead of that word, for I am just a
struggling college student who is unable to perform experiments which have already
had disastrous effects on others.)

We have had two football games already and have won both, as may already know.

We're having a big weekend here next Saturday when we play Brown, but unfortunately
it doesn't look like I'll have a date, and so another horny weekend.

The enclosure will speak for itself.  It looks as if we'll have to find some other way of
getting to the continent.  / Letter refers to unavailability of jobs with World's Fair in
Brussels./

I bought a phonograph turntable and play my records thru my radio, and it works fairly
well.

I'm going over to the house now before the keg runs dry, and so I'll close for the time
being with the thought for the week:  Drinking gives one's kidney a chance to relax.

Tom