What sets MTV's "Sorority Life" and "Fraternity Life" apart is that they depict events that actually occur, cameras or not, every year at the beginning of each semester on thousands of college campuses — events that are bizarre and difficult for the (literally) uninitiated to understand. If you were uninvolved, uninterested and largely unaware of "Greek life" in college, watching these shows is fascinating. You alternately feel like an anthropologist and a sociologist as you observe this strange subculture and attempt to understand its groups' motivations and dynamics. This scholarly feeling of detached superiority fades, however, when you realize the humbling irony of using knowledge retained from your liberal arts education's 101s to analyze the actions of a bunch of insecure college freshmen and sophomores. At this point you want to turn it off, but you have been sucked in and must see what happens next.

Recently beginning its second season, "Sorority Life" chronicles the rush and pledge process of a sorority; its newly minted counterpart does the same for a frat. Last season starred the Sigma Alpha Epsilon Pi sorority of the University of California, Davis. This year, the camera crews have relocated to the icy tundras of upstate New York's State University of New York, Buffalo campus, and the neighboring, MTV-sponsored, IKEA-furnished "pledge houses" of the Delta Xi Omega (DZO) sisters and Sigma Chi Omega brothers.

Last season's Sigma sisters were deeply and hilariously concerned with grandiose ideas like The Sacred Bonds Of True Sisterhood, and "what it means to be a Sigma." They performed their ceremonies and rites with a grave, portentous pomposity you might expect from Skull and Bones or the Illuminati. This year's Sigma Chi Omega brothers similarly place a great deal of emphasis on Brotherhood, their bonds, and their sacred, secret rituals — some of which are so sacred and secret they cannot be shown on TV. While their reverence may seem somewhat comical to an outsider, the premium they place on their loyalty to one another and the integrity of their organization is clearly sincere, and it is easy to understand how other like-minded students might pick up on it, and find it intriguing or attractive enough to want to join.

It is much more difficult to understand why anyone would want to join DZO, let alone subject themselves to the rigors of its rush process. It seems the sorority's sole purpose for existence is to legitimize and institutionalize a certain brand of cruelty and cliqueyness common among high school girls. The girls of DZO talk a good game, but they also talk a lot of smack, and the show's sharp, excellent editing juxtaposes both hilariously. Their catty hypocrisy is exposed from the very beginning of the first episode.

"We're looking for girls that are down to earth and interested in academics who know how to have a good time," sorority VP Amy claims sweetly. Cut to girls doing some special DZO toast with matching drinks at a bar. "We do our share of partying but that's not at the top of our list. We try to help out in the community," claims president Talia. Cut to DZO girls in matching T-shirts serving food, ostensibly for a good cause. "There's no typical look to a Delta Xi Omega sister," says "social chair" Janel. Cut to footage of the same Janel in different clothes saying "I mean, obviously, me personally, if someone has a really stupid outfit on or daisy dukes up to here, and like, got, like, [fat] rolls hanging out, I mean, obviously we are going just be like, 'no.' I mean 'what is this girl doing right here? I mean, uh-uh,' you know?" Janel's two-faced bitchiness proves to be the norm among the DZO girls throughout the episode, but she and Talia are definitely the worst offenders.

The whole point of joining DZO is getting to be friends with these girls. At an event billed as "a way for the sisters to get to know the girls who are rushing and the girls to learn more about DZO," rush chair Colleen explains the benefits of membership.

"When you join DZO, it isn't for a semester or a year," she says. "We are your friends for life. I can tell you that every single one of these girls will be at my wedding." She concludes by saying "we believe in each other and we believe in ourselves and that's what makes us DZO," an essentially meaningless statement that garners much applause.

The oft-repeated advice to rushees from the sisters to "just be yourself" is incredibly misleading. There are a million ways that rushees can inadvertently offend. To secure a bid, they must deftly navigate an invisible and unpredictable etiquette minefield, while making a visible effort to "impress." It is unclear exactly how to go about impressing the sisters, but a failure to do so is a frequently cited kiss of death. "If these girls aren't trying to impress us now," wonders Amy, "what kind of sisters will they be?" At another point in the episode, evil nursing major Janel recounts a specific instance of unimpressedness. "I'm sitting at the ice cream social and I see Nicole walk in wearing shorts and a sweat top and I'm just thinking, 'where is her interest in impressing the sisters who have to decide on giving her a bid?'" Where, indeed! "This is my sorority, and if you want to be a part of it, you have to impress me somewhat," Janel explains. (Nicole ends up getting a bid anyway.)

Another of the most egregious and oft-perpetrated offenses is the failure to say hi. However, it is important to note that saying hi incorrectly is even worse than not saying it all. At the first selection meeting, one of the sisters announces, "I don't know if I like Rachel. I said hi to her and she goes 'hi,' and I'm like 'this is my house.'" To the scandalized DZO sisters, this makes perfect sense, but to this reviewer, the bad 'hi' remains baffling, even after multiple viewings.

So basically, if you wear the right clothes; hide your fat rolls; kiss the right asses with appropriate frequency, sincerity, and fervor; try hard to impress and always say hi (but not in the bad way), you may be rewarded with the possibility of lifelong sisterhood with the snobby, duplicitous, capriciously cruel, yet community-service-oriented girls of DZO. It is truly unbelievable how badly the rushees want this. Whether they succeed in getting it, or even if they continue to want it remains to be seen.

What also remains to be seen is a lot of drinking and fighting and sex and drama and toga parties. The season is young! Tune in for an inside look at all that you were too cool (or too uncool) for in college.

— Alissa Rowinsky Wright (alissa@flakmag.com)