Oh boy, it's school time again! The summer got really tedious, flying first class from city to city, staying in four-star hotels, attending luncheons, and speaking to all those wealthy alumni. Most of the time, they barely pay attention to me. They just sit there, stuffing their faces and farting. They seem unmoved by the great things we’re doing for minorities. How rude! Fortunately, when I mention football, they open up their wallets. Some of those old stories about the clapper work, too. They’re such kneeslappers!
Even so, I have my work cut out for me, trying to convince the alums that old Nassau hasn't changed. (Do you have the same problem at McGill?) Lucky for me they only come to campus for reunions, and by that time we’ve gotten the students out of here. I can’t imagine what they’d say if they saw some of what the kids are doing these days – especially those students in the LGBA. If the alumni saw some of those signs for Gay Awareness Week . . . I hope they never hear that the Office of Religious Life sponsors things like that.
Personally, I think the kids should lighten up. I mean, what’s the big deal about closets? I get locked in the closet from time to time. I shout too loud at the TV during Jeopardy! (“Pointer Sisters!”), or I don’t chew my food properly, the wife locks me in the pantry until I’m sorry. I kind of like it in there, though. It’s quiet, and no one notices when I suck my thumb. If those boys would just behave, I’m sure they’d get out eventually.
But the alumni don’t know anything about that stuff, so the money keeps pouring in. Good thing, too, because I’m thinking of asking for a raise. I mean, how am I supposed to live on $310,000 a year, eh? I work so hard – dinners, travel, speeches, all the tough stuff. Or maybe I should get a cut of what I’m bringing in. I’m sure that some economist wrote something about how that would be a good system. Incentives, and stuff. Gee, I wish I understood what most of those economists were saying!
Speaking of raising money, I think the 250th Anniversary Fund is going to reach its goal soon. I think it’s because of that neat slogan we’ve got: bisesquipquaniwhoseewhatsit. I don’t know, I don’t speak Italian. I hope the next one goes as well. We’re going to call it, “250 plus 3.” A real zinger, eh?
It’s been pretty quiet here so far this year. If you remember, this time last year the whole place was going bonkers. Some army guy wrote a letter to the ‘Prince’ about the gay kids (those crazy kids!) that got Janina and the Handler girl all worked up. Then they go off half-cocked and respond to it in public. All of a sudden I have thousands of alums wondering what the hell kind of operation I’m running here. Almost got the fundraising off to a bad start.
Good thing I managed to convince them that Janina was in her moon, so she just wasn’t thinking straight. That calmed the boys down again, thank the stars. They didn’t even notice when I decided not to look in to the complaints that some students brought me. Something about tolerance. (What hooey. I let the Mexican guy who was complaining, that Alex kid, into my office, didn’t I? I think that’s pretty tolerant.)
They actually bought the reason I gave them. “I just don’t have the time,” I said. (Pretty nifty, eh?) Fortunately they forgot that comment, so now no one’s even mad that I’m chairing that new National Biosphere Committee thingy that the President appointed me to. I think they want me to live in a big plastic dome in Arizona. I was scared at first, but Bill was very persuasive.
Me: “This is Spanky.”
POTUS: “Hello? Hal? It’s Bill here.”
Me: “Mr. Bixby! I thought you were dead!”
POTUS: “No, no, no, Bill Clinton. I’m the guy you voted for in
’92.”
Me: “Oh, hi, Bill. How are you doing?”
POTUS: “Gotta make it quick, Hal. Secret Service is bringing the
twins in the back door.”
Me: “OK, what can I do for you?”
POTUS: “Well, Hillary has this idea about a new Bioethics
commission. We were going to have Al chair it,
but bioethics is dull enough as it is. So Hillary
thought that you might be interested. And you know,
Chelsea is starting to think about college, and she really likes
Princeton. Very fond of some of those Cap and Gown boys. So we
figured . . .
Me: “Sorry, Bill, can't do it. Only time I went camping Ranger
Rick got us caught in a hurricane. Just don’t have
the time.”
POTUS: “We’ll pay for airfare and hotel bills.”
Me: “Not going to happen, Bill. Last time I left the office, I
came back to see it full of students, all chanting
something about new classes. When I asked them to
leave, they pushed me around and called me names.
POTUS: “I’ll pay you a salary and give you free food.”
Me: “Damnit, Bill, how many times do I have to tell you? No no, a
thousand times no!”
POTUS: “I’ll even arrange to have the commission meet in ClubMed
Hawaii for a week.”
Me: “Boy, I sure do like coconuts . . .”
POTUS “Great. We’ll work the details out later.”
Me: “Alright Bill, I’ll talk to you later.”
POTUS: (fading away) “Hey, go get me two Big Macs . . .”
I don’t know why he’s always pestering me about stuff like this. Don’t they have any Americans to chair Presidential commissions? Every five minutes, I get a call saying, “Peter Jennings can’t make it; can you help us out?” And why do they call Jennings first all the time? What’s he got that I haven’t got? I could take him. Those smart suits won’t mean diddly in the squared circle. I’d hogtie the vodka-swilling Newfie.
Uh-oh. Nancy Malkiel’s pounding on the door again. I’ve got to go hide under the desk. Write you next month.
Your Pal,
Hal