First of all, let’s be real: This crazy bitch could get into any frat party she wanted. The last time she was rejected by a man, that man was excommunicated by the Catholic Church. No doorman would want to turn her away (unless, of course, she was trying to get into AEPi). Once at the party, there’s no telling what kind of shit this Iberian bombshell would do. It’s safe to assume she’d still be looking for a rebound after her messy split from King Henry VIII, and considering that he was a fat sack of shit, she would probably have pretty low standards. Sex-deprived Northwestern students would be falling all over each other for the chance to hook up with this royal slampiece.
4. Gustavus Adolphus
At the ripe age of 17, most of us were engaged in very mundane activities – applying to colleges, trying to power through senior year, dedicating 5-8 hours a day to Sporcle, etc. Gustavus Adolphus? At age 17, he was the commander of the largest army in recorded history up to that point. Setting aside the all-consuming fear I have of this Swede, he would be an excellent addition to any party environment. Between in-depth explanations of battlefield tactics and incredible first-person military accounts, he would presumably inflict fatal wounds upon at least 15 obnoxious douchebags and impregnate at least 35 Thetas.
Okay, we all know the guy was a total bitch. However, a high level of bitchery does not prevent a high level of frattery. In fact, it probably encourages it. Therefore, while General McClellan may have been largely responsible for thousands of Union casualties at the Battle of Antietam due to his ill-advised decision not to deploy the entire army, there is little doubt that the man known far and wide as the most popular Union general would be able to throw down like my redneck relatives at a Hank Williams Jr. concert. Additionally, McClellan’s post-war career in New Jersey politics was certainly the foundation for the collective heinousness of the Jersey Shore cast.
2. Bill Clinton
I have yet to meet someone from Arkansas who couldn’t hold their liquor, and if there happens to be an Arkansan who can’t, it sure as hell isn’t William Jefferson Clinton. To begin with, it’s universally understood that the length of one’s middle name is directly correlated with his or her greatness. Think about it – there are Ross Benjaminfranklingeorgewashington Packinghams, and there are James Earl Carters. Furthermore, almost everyone likes Bill Clinton. And for the few that don’t, they wouldn’t have to deal with him long before he mysteriously disappears with an overly-intoxicated freshman girl.
We must acknowledge an absolute truth: Russians can drink anybody under the table. Any doubts I had about that fact were dispelled when I read War and Peace. Even so, Peter the Great makes all other Russians look like an Orgo study group when it comes to plasterability and general badassery. If this boss motherfucker were at a frat party, he would make even the broiest Sig Eps and Lodges look like prepubescent flautists as he takes 45-second swigs of grain alcohol while giving a detailed account of the time he murdered his son on the basis of his son being a pussy.