a few words on yale


Look – this is where flowers come from! Giant greenhouses in Connecticut

Yale surprised me. I expected another Harvard. Kids running around like hopped-up lab rats. Checking their iCal, going to the meeting. Checking their iCal, going to class. Checking their iCal… I don’t even think they have time to masturbate. And I don’t trust non-masturbators.

But Yale surprised me. All the boys I interviewed there confessed to watching porn. There’s no doubt that the visual portrayal of sex in our society is deeply problematic, but I just read that in a magazine somewhere. There is a naughty zest to New Haven, a piquant savor in the events and atmosphere. Much of the blame belongs to the gay sixth of the student population. Forgive the stereotyping, but I think it harder for gay people to be square, pen-pushing, resume-fillers than it is for straights.

Don’t get it twisted: Yale students still end up in business and finance. Perhaps less often than before, but the smart money says this proportion will rise when (and if) the economy recovers. I, for one, overheard a guy detailing at length the myriad things he had done to secure an internship that summer at an investing firm. He wasn’t sure he wanted to end up in finance, though.

“I want to, want to, like, you know, do something. Create something.” He tapped his interlocutor’s IMac. “Something new.”

“Our society depends on finance,” said his friend. “It makes the world go round.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but…”

Yes, you are right. Our society does depend on finance. But maybe it shouldn’t. As my mother always told me, if we all do one random act of masturbation daily, we might just set this world in a new direction…

I’m biking the rest of the way to Northampton today. Gonna take tomorrow off from the blog, so come back on Wednesday for the inside dope on Smith College for young ladies.

- Operation: College

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