I am proud to say that the very worst idea my fraternity ever had in all four years I was there was to add gasoline to our Ramble fire when it wouldn't light one year (picture a 75-foot-diameter circle of logs, cut fresh by us with chainsaws... okay maybe the gasoline was the second dumbest thing). Oh, and we may have discovered one night that the angle of our fire escape made for a damn good mattress slide.
Well, that and letting our brother Greg, a otherwise awesome member, be the ID checker for our Boo-Ha-Ha Halloween party one year as a gag. Greg, while a terrific upstanding moral man, is also blind from birth. Fortunately, we didn't have any underagers come into the house.
My fraternity actually spearheaded the movement in the Panhellenic Council to have three students who were responsible for hurling eggs and dildos at an LGBT Safe Space meeting barred from all Greek activity for the remainder of their collegiate careers.
Hazing I think is both overreported in some quarters and underreported in others. The worst we ever had to endure was a 200-question quiz about the fraternity's history (you weren't actually expected to pass, although a few did with D's) and of course the ritual Hunting of the Lace (a contest involving who can convince the most sorority members to give their signed panties over for bragging rights). But since one of those isn't torturous at all and the other involves consenting adults, I don't think we were ever in the clear.