Rip owns a seedy bar in Colombus, OH that is ubiquitously known as the watering hole for underage OSU kids to come and get hammered.  Rip doesn’t necessarily feel proud of the direction that his bar (or his life) had gone, but he justifies his actions by saying that he is “providing a needed service.”  Rip is not a normally happy person.  However, Rip does have one annual joy.  When the OSU kids come back from Spring Break… he always makes sure to order extra cases of Red Stripe.  Once he sees the tanned, braided, shell-necklaced crowd come in and compare indulgent Caribbean vacations he puts the beers on special.  “Oh my god, I didn’t know that Rip’s had Red Stripe!” shouts one ATO brother to his friends, “Dude, I swear I drank like twelve of these fucking things every night down in Jamaica.  I got so fucked up!  You’ve never had one?  Fuck man, you got to try one.”  For the few weeks until finals begin, Rip feels proud of himself for his foresight, before the kids forget about Red Stripe and return to the standard Jaeger shots and Natty Light.