THE DIARY OF A DANGEROUS MAN
Oct. 12. Sometimes I think I will destroy this University of Paper Cards, where clubs are trumps. Then again it does not seem worth while. Better to let the place sag as it does today, rotting from the top down.
I went this evening to a gathering at the largest and most luxurious of the clubs here, the Union, to hear for myself the sort of fetid propaganda the capitalist directorate are putting into the mouths of this puppet faculty. The doormen refused to let me in simply because I could not show a membership card. Another proof of their preposterous caste exclusiveness! Luckily I know so well the capitalist mind, that I was able to write a full report of the talk to the comrades in New York, notwithstanding.
Oct. 14. It is sickening to see the shameful way the individual is trodden down in this debauched oligarchy of witlessness. At the Fogg Museum this morning, while I was cutting out four illustrations from a book in the library one of the students across the table looked up and threatened to report me if I did not desist. I cleverly conceived an explanation which proved satisfactory and went off with the prints, but the insolence of the thing humiliated me. To have one's very actions questioned,--it's preposterous!
Oct. 17. An interesting occurrence in the subway. A young woman got in at Central Square and, as the seats were all taken, a man opposite me rose to give her his place. I beat her to it. These people will learn in time my contempt for this decadent civilization. How pleased Upton Sinclair would have been!
Oct. 18. I have been careful not to talk with the men here in order not to contaminate my ideas, but today I heard a typical remark made by the man next me at the Georgian cafeteria as I leaned over to exchange my meal check for his. He was saying to a friend.
"You know I think a man coming to Harvard with the preconceived belief firmly fixed that the college was secretly educating everyone to be a Shaker would see only the things which confirm him in his belief!"
What poppycock! The undergraduates are so many goldfish in a transparent bowl, opening their mouths to suck in what is thrown at them in the guise of food. They swallow everything. This is a good figure; I shall copyright it.
In answer to a question on which the President's Committee of Thirteen did not ask our opinion before making public their report.
The present undergradute problem is not how to get out in three years; it is how to stay in for four.
MOTHER GOOSE AND MOTHER ADVOCATE
Hocus pocus hickory mare
Heresy here and heresy there,
Hokum pokum over it goes;
Appleton Chappleton overflows. --SIMPLE SIMON