PARTING SHOT: No Place for Yale In Wally’s World

During my time here at Harvard, I have entered the thunderdome with the best of them. When I went to Yale my junior year, for example, it was also the weekend of my 21st birthday. As soon as I stepped foot off the bus on Friday night until getting back on said bus Saturday eve, I was never a sober boy. In the process, I urinated (twice) on the statue of Eli, broke a bathroom stall door, stole a Yalie’s hat and rubbed it on my butt, and repeatedly yelled, “I am the destroyer of Yale! Bow down before me!”

Why in the world did this happen?

In my heart of hearts, I know Yale is not that much different from Harvard—it’s a good school with smart people who I’m sure will change the world just as much as we will. Well, they did let George W. in, so okay, that legitimately makes me hate their stinky Bulldog guts.

But other than this glaring malady, what motivates me to hate them with such a passion that I literally get so riled up I break their faces big time every time I’m there?

As I will prove in this, my last and final Harvard essay, it is because Yale takes dumps on their own chests.

As a result, they smell really bad. As a result of this result, they don’t get chicks (or dudes) and no one hangs out with them.

Let me tell you something about skills. Harvard has many skills to pay many bills, for example: motorcycle-flipping skills, ninja skills, dragon-loving skills, eating skills, playing-sports skills, farting skills, friendship skills, monkey skills, and chicken- parmesan skills.

Here’s the list of Yale’s skills: pthhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

I just farted on them with my farting skills, thereby, destroying all of their skills.

A thousand and one Yalies walk into a bar, and they’re like, “Barkeep, give me a beer, pretty please.” And the barkeep is like, “Sorry, can’t give you one old Eli.” And the Bulldogs are like, “Oh why not, good sir?,” and the barkeep says, “Because you go to Yale.”

Snappppppp!!!

I’m sorry, I have a foggy memory sometimes about popular culture. ‘How High,’ one of the greatest movies of our time, was shot in New Haven, right? Oh, what’s that you say? It takes place at Harvard? Harvard is the most kickass thing ever as a result.

So, you know how much our administration stinks and is totally unresponsive to the student voice—from the Corporation to all the bureaucratic bologna in between?

Well, yeah, well that’s the same at Yale and any other elite university...so, yeah, that’s just a bummer for us all.

Did you know that ‘Yale sucks’ is the most widely used English phrase in Thailand?

Did you know that one time, Yale decided to do something cool and it failed?

Did you know that I went to Yale once, farted, and I killed the one flower that was living there?

Did you know that if you spell Yale backwards, it spells Elay, which is Turkish for butt nugget?

I heard this story from a senior who graduated a couple of years back. He was talking to me about how it was before, in the time of no time. Everything was everything, as the elders once foretold it would no longer be. Chicken was egg, up was down, pizza was tree. That was a cool story he told me.

Yale made it to the Olympic games and got disqualified. Why? Because they were robots and robots can’t play in the Olympics.

Yale gave steroids to A-Rod and Manny Ramirez, and they said, ‘Take this, it will ruin the game of baseball for millions of Americans, wouldn’t that be awesome?’ Thanks, Yale, thanks a lot.

Basically, Yale has taken a big dookie all over themselves with everything they do, and I’m sure glad that I never have to see them again. I mean, geez Louise, just do it in a bathroom and not on your chests. That’s disgusting. You should know better.

The end.

—Staff writer Walter E. Howell can be reached at wehowell@fas.harvard.edu.

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