JOKE ISSUE: PROPAGANDA: Hey, hey, hey - Goodbye

Drew Faust, "I'm Outta Here!" Drew Faust, "I'm Outta Here!"[NOTE: This article appeared in the annual joke issue.] Drew Faust, "I'm Outta Here!"[NOTE: This article appeared in the annual joke issue.]So I'm leaving for Harvard. And everyone -- Judy, Bob and Butterfinger the family dog -- think it's because they gave me an offer Penn couldn't beat. Harvard or Penn, Penn or Harvard. You think it took a genius to make this decision? Let's be honest. You'd also rather be at Harvard. The only reason you're not there right now is because Harvard didn't accept you. Hell, the only reason you're here is because Princeton, Yale, Brown, Dartmouth, Columbia and Cornell also didn't take you. Still, people wander around wondering why I'm leaving. So let me clue you in. (For those who can't read, I have enclosed a drawing.) Let's talk office space. Penn "temporarily" kicked the History Department out of College Hall six years ago on the grounds that the building needed renovations. And so, I'm stuck at 3401 Walnut Street. I have an office in a shopping mall. What the hell sort of way is that to treat a genius? Meanwhile, Harvard's endowment is growing by $3 million a day. You think they ever have fundraising difficulties? You think their projects ever get delayed because there isn't any steel? I have news for you. When Penn gets told there isn't any steel left for its little movie theater, it's because Harvard has just decided to build a new neighborhood. Penn has wet dreams about owning West Philadelphia. Harvard has owned half of Cambridge for the last 300 years. Let's talk academics. There are three types of History students at Penn. The ones who will be lawyers someday. The ones who will be investment bankers someday. And the ones who will be housewives sooner rather than later. Do you know when the last future academic graduated from Penn? 1974. Nineteen seventy-four. You probably weren't even born yet. And what about the lines of black pants-wearing, pocket book-carrying, Douglas-faced sorority girls waiting outside my office to talk to me? If I wanted to teach on Long Island, I'd take a job at Hofstra. I am sick and tired of teaching the History of the South to JAPs who think this is the South. How could this possibly be the South when there aren't any black people around? The funny thing is, none of you have any idea that this ship is sinking. If any of you were smart -- if any of you actually had enough brains to get into Harvard -- you might have noticed a little pattern going on. WE'RE LEAVING. That's right, you pathetic undergraduate excuses for bankers. Every time you blink, four more of your teachers are headed off to teach elsewhere. Duke. Harvard. Princeton. Yale. One guy left for Johns Hopkins, for chrissake. You think he would have done that if things weren't in bad shape? Forget about minority retention. It just doesn't matter if your professor is black or white. If they're worth their weight in salt, they'll be teaching somewhere else next semester. And another thing. I hate you all because you don't remind me of me when I was younger. The kids at Harvard make me feel like a hippie again. They protest because grapes are served in the dining hall. They protest because the toilet paper in the bathroom is one-ply instead of two. Hell, they protest when it's cloudy. Here -- if you don't count Penn Students Against Sweatshops, Poverty and the Common Cold -- there are only two things that get students angry: the lack of alcohol and the fact that they can't stand at basketball games. Gee kids, I'm sorry. Really. Have my last lollipop before I leave town forever. And in closing, here's my two cents on the alcohol policy -- you might as well drink yourselves into a stupor because you're in no danger of saying anything intelligent while you're sober. I've taught enough of you in my time here to know that much.