Bollin’
Dear PrezBo,
You don’t know me, but I have been watching you for quite some time now, and, well, to be perfectly honest, I can’t live without you.
As a freshman here at Columbia, I recently stumbled into a strange, new world of tall, gray buildings and tall, lithesome administrators. Lost and confused, I had no one to turn to for answers to my frequent and burning First Amendment queries. Finally, after a semester under your supreme guidance, listening to your eloquent speeches, and gazing upon your muscular arms and broad chest, I have found a companion for life.
As would any connoisseur of all things fine, I was first attracted to you on a superficial level. How could I not be? Your gaze stops traffic, opposing counsel, and all visible light. Your chiseled features, reminiscent of the love child of Donald Trump and Philip Seymour Hoffman, are irresistible to even the most visually challenged.
Yes, you are physically a god among men, but I have quickly learned that you are much, much more than mere eye candy. Personally, I have been victimized by dictators upon occasion. They cut in line at the grocery store, they fart on the subway, they drown kittens at all hours of the night (I mean, honestly, people are trying to sleep). But with you by my side, the days of oppression will be over. I have witnessed your articulated sass trip-up even the most authoritarian line-cutter. Together, you and I will defeat tyranny. Divided, we will fall. United, we will fall… in love.
I have long been trying to capture your attention, but my attempts have been stymied by Columbia’s vast bureaucracy. The leaders of the recent hunger strike found my proposal for a fifth demand “irrelevant,” “childish,” and “mildly creepy,” and so I, the seventh striker, went largely unnoticed in my campaign for your love. Your wife hung up on me when I called your house, my posters of love were torn down, my bullhorn confiscated, and all of my plans for recognition were shut down when I was arrested for carving your name into Butler’s frieze.
But I remained undeterred. A divine stroke of luck, I was selected to attend one of your fireside chats. Unfortunately, my provocative question for discussion was rejected. I reprint it here for your own edification:
“Why do birds suddenly appear
Every time you are near?”
It’s a question you likely have been trying to answer yourself. Perhaps they wish to roost in your glorious mane. I would love to roost up in there. Or perhaps…
“Just like me
They long to be
Close to you.”
XO XO XO,
Your secret admirer,
[UNI redacted]@columbia.edu