The profane social satirist donned tinted goggles, several bejeweled chains, a bright-red beanie and a sweatsuit to match—with the dubious academic title “Professor of Erbology” emblazoned on its back—to turn up the heat on an already-sweltering crowd of graduating seniors and hundreds of friends and family in Tercentenary Theatre.
Frankly opining on topics including sex, drugs, race relations and higher education, interspersed with the occasional “respect” and “booyakasha,” Ali G fulfilled the promise of First Class Marshal Shaka J.D. Bahadu ’04 to “drop some serious knowledge.” His remarks ranged from the unprintable to the very unprintable, drawing laughter and more than a few raised eyebrows.
By speech’s end, the faux-urban hip-hopper was crying “Police brutality!” as a Harvard University Police Department officer handcuffed him beside Memorial Church.
Before his mock detainment, Ali—who, despite his sometimes dim-witted persona, is the Cambridge University-educated Sacha Baron Cohen off stage—was eager to display his own depth of knowledge.
“Fings like ‘apple’ and ‘orange’ don’t start with a capital letter unless they start a sentence,” he informed the audience of hundreds.
But the comedian, who has centered popular television series in America and Britain around inappropriate interviews with unsuspecting subjects, was quick to praise the Ivy Leaguers before him.
“You is the most cleverest students in America,” he said, noting later that he considers this country to be among the greatest in the world, behind Jamaica and Thailand.
Waving his hands in mock-gangsta motions, the comedian enthusiastically lauded the wide variety of academic specialties at Harvard—from students who are “good at counting,” to historians who can tell “what did Lincoln give America, except for the towncar,” to English concentrators who have “memorized the entire alphabet from A to X.”
Ali was particularly interested in students of the law, whose help he solicited in avoiding drug possession charges after claiming to have smuggled several ounces of “the finest Moroccan chronic” overseas in his gastrointestinal system. He also hoped medical students would help cure him of the ailments thereby caused.
And though, unlike recent Class Day speakers like Al Franken ’73 and Conan C. O’Brien ’85, Ali could not draw on his own memories of golden undergraduate years on the Charles, he demonstrated a remarkable knowledge of Harvard’s rich history.
In addition to the ease with which he dropped impolite slang, Ali showed that he was as comfortable dropping the names of famous Harvard graduates—including such luminaries as “Lyndon Baines Johnson, or as he is known, JFK,” “President George Clinton” and “that really fit honey from Star Wars.”
Of the three mangled names, only the last—perhaps better known as Natalie Portman ’03—actually attended Harvard.
Ali made the actress a special focus of his attention, suggesting at one point that he might be found later on in a hotel room encouraging her to “play with [his] light saber.”
Towards the end of the speech, he turned to the topic of race relations. Baron Cohen, who is white, has caught flak for drawing heavily upon racial stereotypes in the past.
“Some of you has probably never even seen a black man before,” he said. “Allo.”