M: It's Mozart spelled backwards--shit-wit! If you ever married me, you'd be Constanze Trazom.

C: No, I wouldn't.

M: Yes, you would. Because I'd want everything backwards once I was married. I'd want to lick my wife's arse instead of her face.

C: You're not going to lick anything at this rate...

***

M: Marry me!

C: Don't be silly.

M: Marry me!

C: Are you serious?

M: Yes!...Answer me this minute: yes or no! Say yes, then I can go home, climb into bed, shit over the mattress and shout "I did it!"

Yes, this is the man who wrote the Jupiter Symphony and The Marriage of Figaro. Do both passages demonstrate a mutual understanding of Mozart's bawdiness, or were the two texts separated at birth? You make the call.

***

Hard Up

In our relentless effort to track down the elusive "mystery mailer," a reporter conducted a phone interview with Hildegarde S. Freedman, who runs an introduction service for "distinguished intellectuals and professionals." The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. A metallic voice could be heard saying the words, "white male, 21, North House..."

"Oh no, someone is calling from Harvard University," Hildegarde cried to the reporter writing about the hundreds of copies of Harvard Magazine's personal ad column that had been sent to students.

It's like they say: there's no such thing as bad publicity.

***

Crimson CNN

While CNN correspondent Peter Arnett slaved away in his hotel room in Baghdad, providing what was then the only--albeit censored--reports from inside Iraq, he obviously hadn't forgotten the fairer pleasures of American academia. If you look carefully at a post-war photograph printed in a recent Boston Globe, you can discern the writing on Arnett's partially-obscured sweatshirt: "Harvard and Radcliffe."

P.S. Arnett's daughter, Elsa, is a graduate of Harvard and currently writes for the Globe.