Harvard, the Bud Light of universities
It was certainly a Kwanzaa to remember.
I am today announcing my candidacy for the Harvard Corporation – the board that has totally run Hamas on the Charles into the ground these past few decades.
You may say, Howie, you have none of the necessary qualifications – you didn’t inherit billions of dollars and you never had the luxury of checking the right boxes and having everything handed to you without ever having to break a sweat, or even crack a book.
All true, but there is an opening, apparently, for a 14th member of the Corporation, although it’s seldom, if ever reported.
From the Wall Street Journal last month:
“One faculty member, citing a carve-out in the Massachusetts Constitution that reserves authority over Harvard to the state legislature, asked Massachusetts lawmakers to consider installing a government official on the board to provide more transparency and public accountability.”
Transparency? Public accountability? No wonder state-run media in Boston have no interest in this story.
“A spokeswoman for Gov. Maura Healey said the governor is aware of the proposal and looks forward to reviewing it.”
Yeah, right. Maura is totally in on the Harvard grift. If you’re not part of the solution….
But the fact is, the Commonwealth could step in. And as wretchedly as the state is run, Beacon Hill couldn’t possibly do a worse job than the entitled swells who picked pampered plagiarist Claudine Gay to ruin the school’s already tattered reputation.
What Dylvan Mulvaney did to Bud Light, Claudine Gay has done to Harvard.
So put me in, coach, as John Fogarty would say. I’m tanned, rested, and ready to go.
I consider myself the “town-and-gown” candidate for the Corporation. It is true, I did not attend Harvard, but two of my daughters matriculated at Harvard Law School – the day care center, that is.
I taught a five-week course, or led a group, or something, at the Institute of Politics back in the late 1980s. The first day I had to cross a picket line to get to class. They were protesting me, I can’t remember what for anymore.
I have been both a renter and a landlord in the People’s Republic. On Prescott Street, I had a (rent-controlled) apartment with no heat. Then I owned a condo on Harvard Street. My tenants included junior Harvard faculty.
I still remember a call from one of my renters in the fall of 2004. The prof was complaining about a leaky faucet or toilet. He wanted it fixed by election night, because he and his fellow pablum-puking goateed trust-funders were planning a big victory party for John Kerry.
Like Harry Chapin, I knew it’d never be arranged. Either the plumber or the Kerry victory party.
But the point is, I know these people, very, very well.
And that’s why I should be on the Corporation. I even have a platform.
First, we put our money where our mouth is. You know Sen. Elizabeth Warren, the fake Indian, the first tenured woman of color on the Harvard faculty until she wasn’t… of color?
She has long proposed a “wealth tax,” which would require that individuals pay a certain percentage of their “wealth” every year – when she first ran for the Senate, it was 6 percent per annum on anything over a billion dollars.
I’m all in on it – starting with Harvard. Their endowment is over $50 billion. Six percent of 50 billion is three billion! Isn’t it time Harvard paid its fair share? It’s for the children.
Three billion a year is a good start. In a decade, we’ll have that endowment down to $20 billion.
Speaking of taxes, when I lived in Cambridge, I not only paid property taxes, but also my automobile excise tax. Which is more than you can say for the fake Indian, until she started running for the Senate. She thought excise taxes were only for white-eyes. Prentendian speak with big forked tongue.
Next, I would sit down with the editors of the Harvard Crimson, which is still a decent college newspaper. I would offer them a friendly suggestion.
Kids, I love how you guys have always put in the class of everybody in your stories, like when Rep. Elise Stefanik took out Gay and the UPenn president at the Congressional hearing last month, you id’ed her as “Stefanik ’06.”
I didn’t know that. Thank you for the information.
It’s time to take it one step further, though. I would also like to know the SAT scores of everyone who gets written up in the Crimson, just to put to rest those terribly unfair rumors about how the school is now overrun with unqualified members of the protected classes.
For example, I read a story last month about two “students” facing disciplinary charges for taking part in a “pro-Palestinian demonstration.” Their names were Kojo Acheampong and Prince Williams.
Could I get me a SAT check on those two young scholars? On all of them, in fact.
Now, we all know that Claudine Gay has been unfairly attacked. As another noted scholar, the Rev. Al Sharpton, pointed out on MSNBC when she got the job a few months ago (all dialogue guaranteed verbatim):
“The daughter of Haitian immigrants, Professor Gay is a widely admire higher educated uh hi-higher education leader and recognized as a highly influential expert on American political participation.”
How true, Reverend. And these charges of plagiarism – excuse me, “duplicative language?”
As the New York Times put it, “Often the language in question is technical boilerplate.”
Remember that, all you youths out there. If teacher catches you stealing somebody else’s stuff, just say it’s nothing but “technical boilerplate.”
As the newest member of the Corporation – the “community advocate,” as it were – I plan to offer an olive branch to all the silver-spoon rich bastards who’ve been looking down their noses at the likes of me all their jet-setting lives.
At my first meeting, I will commiserate with board chair Penny Pritzker. I will say, “Madame Secretary, I don’t believe for a second that your cousin Tom Pritzker had sex with Jeffrey Epstein’s underage victim, no matter what she said under oath in federal court.”
I’ve already reached out to “Dr.” Gay. On the Friday before Christmas I left her a message on her cell phone. I graciously offered her an opportunity to come on my radio show for a philosophical discussion about the differences between “inadequate citation” and… plagiarism.
In the spirit of the season, I closed by wishing her a “Happy Kwanzaa.”
Alas, she didn’t get back to me. Perhaps she was busy re-reading one of the endless slobbering puff pieces about her in the Globe. My personal favorite sob story ran Dec. 12:
“Harvard needs Claudine Gay as president more than she needs Harvard.”
Poor embattled “Dr.” Gay. But at least there’s one consolation.
It was certainly a Kwanzaa to remember.