Attention, collegiates across the nation: You have a new God. Ye shall bow down and bask in the testosterone-infused radiance of John's manliness. Lo, true believers, come and bear witness as John of Tufts attempts to smash a full can of Most Consecrated Beer upon his mighty brow. He is Legend and none shall ever replicate his wonders. He is, truly, a man among men, the smartest of them all, and probably a chick magnet.

Or is he just a drunken, babbling swine on his way to giving himself a concussion. Seriously, John? Drunkenness might not even be an excuse for this one. The ladies must be lining up for a piece of this half-baked, evolutionary bundt cake. If for some God-forsaken, masochistic reason you are interested, take a number; the line starts at the bottom of the food chain.