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UGA Frat Bro Snapchats His 110 MPH High-Speed Chase, Crashes, Is Still Very Frat

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NY Post- A suspended fraternity member at the University of Georgia led cops on a high-speed chase that he posted on Snapchat, saying he was “running from a cop” while topping over 110 mph, police said.

Hunter Ty Wilkerson, 19, is facing more than 25 charges, including DUI and attempting to elude police, after the Thursday morning chase that began in Athens when Wilkerson allegedly stole five traffic signs from the university’s campus. Police started to follow the teen in a Ford F-150 after he was spotted driving a 90 mph in a 35-mph zone at about 3:30 a.m., WSB-TV reported.

Wilkerson blew past three red lights before losing control of his truck near a police station and driving off the road, crashing into several parked cars, WXIA reported.

Police said Wilkerson was “sending out updates” during the 10-minute, high-speed pursuit using Snapchat.

Hunter. Ty. Wilkerson. Are you serious with that name? If you told a hardcore feminist to write a movie script about frat bros, that’s the name she would give to her protagonist. With a name like that, you almost have to feel bad for the kid. He never stood a chance. If your parents name you Hunter Ty, the world will expect you to become a dickhead frat boy. It would be like a parent naming their daughter Cassidy Cummz or Angela Anal. They’re not going to end up at the IRS, unless the scene involves a naughty tax collector willing to accept alternative forms of payment.

This guy is a complete cartoon character. Driving around campus on a Thursday morning in his massive pickup truck, ripping traffic signs out of the ground with his bare hands thanks to the 13 vodka redbulls he drank for breakfast. “I WANT TO DECORATE MY ROOM!” he sneezes angrily, to nobody since nobody can stand within 20 feet of him. He’s the kind of kid who headbutts your sternum instead of shaking your hand. Doesn’t matter if you’re a frail old lady. Realizing he was late for his court-mandated community service cleaning out the zoo’s gorilla cages (the judge thought he could learn how to manage his aggression by observing the animals), he zooms through town, going 90 in a 35. Fuck the world, right Hunter? Hunt? He can’t hear us over the hour-long Tiestö set he plays on repeat. He replaced the truck’s stock speakers with concert amplifiers on the day he bought the truck. They take up the entire back seat but again, nobody ever rides with him because he punched out all the windows with his fists to “GET SOME AIR IN HERE!”

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Finding the police on his tail, Hunter decides to snapchat his chase. “I’M GONNA SUBMIT THIS TO ‘COPS'” he screams, not realizing the irony of his statement (the tape will, of course, be submitted to the police as evidence). In short order, his truck loses control and he flies through the windshield–the only remaining sheet of glass in the vehicle. Thanks to his wrestling background, he tumbles and rolls to a stop, unharmed. The police cuff him as he screams “I WANT A LAWYER AND A FUCKING SCOTCH. TELL ONE OF THE SOPHOMORE PUKES TO FEED MY BOA CONSTRICTOR.”

Moral? Don’t snap and drive. Or name your kid Hunter.