These arrogant, smug, rich pampered pukes in the middle of the college admissions scandal — they’re even more obnoxious than you think.
I read the entire 204-page affidavit the FBI filed in support of the criminal complaint, and it’s like being locked in a windowless room with 12 or 15 of the Democrat candidates for president. They ooze smarminess, entitlement and sanctimony, and as stupid as they are, they are absolutely positive that they are the smartest, most woke people in the room.
Let’s go straight to the affidavit. Meet Agustin Huneeus Jr. of San Francisco. His daddy owns some vineyards in the Napa Valley. His below-average daughter has been trying to get into USC in one of those water polo scams. It’s the usual thing — “fraudulent SAT score and a fabricated athletic profile” — including a photo of somebody else playing water polo. Hey, who cares, right?
Cost: $250,000.
After the FBI flipped the head of the racket, William Singer, the G-men ordered him to call Huneeus last November. The feds were rolling tape as Singer told him how to explain all the payments he was making to the fraudster.
Singer: “Okay. So what I want to make sure is that you and I both on the same page … .”
Huneeus: “Dude, dude, what do you think, I’m a moron?”
Um, yes, Augie, that’s exactly what we all think you are.
Meet Devin Sloane, he’s in the water business somehow in LA. In 2017 his son wanted to go to USC, and the water polo scam price was the customary $250,000. Only one problem: the high school guidance counselor flagged the mediocre kid’s application, noting that the high school he attended didn’t have a water polo team.
That didn’t bother Singer, he was just going to rewrite the application to say that the kid participated in summer water polo leagues in, oh, how’s Serbia sound? Portugal? But Daddy Devin Sloane was outraged that some crummy high school guidance counselor would flag his kid’s scam.
“The more I think about this, it is outrageous!” he emailed Singer. “They have no business or legal right considering all the student’s privacy issues to be calling and challenging/questioning (my son’s) application.”
How dare they catch Mr. Devin Sloane cheating! Don’t they know who he is?
Then there’s Felicity Huffman, the moonbat actress. The scheme was to have her daughter take the SAT at the location Singer controlled in West Hollywood, where they could bring in a ringer for the stupid kid.
But then another one of those meddling high school counselors got involved, and suddenly Huffman morphed into another TV character — a cartoon dog named Scooby Doo. She emailed Singer: “Ruh Roh! Looks like (my daughter’s high school) wants to provide own proctor!”
All these people have more money than God. But they can’t stop chiseling. Take Elisabeth Kimmel, who sold her family’s TV stations in the Midwest a few years back for $325 million. Yet she paid Singer $275,000 out of her own Meyer Family Charitable Foundation and then listed it on her tax returns as a charitable contribution.
Ruh-roh! Do you suppose the IRS will read the affidavit? (It’s on page 145.)
Then there’s John Wilson of Lynnfield and Hyannis Port. He wired $1 million last fall to Singer. He wanted to get his two daughters into Harvard and Stanford.
Do you suppose the G-men will refund his million bucks?
In 2014, after Wilson’s dullard son got into USC, he wrote Singer inquiring about the $220,000 fee:
“What are the options for the payment? Can we make it for consulting or whatever from the (scam foundation) so that I can pay it from the corporate account?”
I’m not a tax expert — are companies now allowed to pay bribes out of corporate funds?
Finally, there’s Gordon Caplan, co-chairman of the New York law firm where Wendell Willkie, the Republican candidate for president in 1940, once practiced.
He’s busted, of course, charged with conspiracy to commit honest services fraud. But unlike the rest of the Beautiful People, at least Caplan was worried about the legal jeopardy for himself and his dimwit daughter during the crooked standardized test. Here are some of his comments in phone conversations recorded by the FBI last summer:
“If somebody catches this, what happens? … I’m not worried about the moral issue here. I’m worried about the, if she’s caught doing that, you know, she’s finished … Keep in mind I am a lawyer. So I’m sort of rules-oriented. Doing this with you, no way — she’s taking the test. It’s her taking the test, right. There’s no way any trouble comes out of this, nothing like that?”
No, no way, no trouble. What could possibly go wrong, Mr. Caplan? Ruh-roh!