Our mouths are bloody because we’re so angry about those Yalies coming to our turf Saturday. [1] Also because we’ve been chewing on nails. They’re going to bring their boomboxes and obese dogs, and they probably have some sort of scheme to shut down our Student Union. But Prestige and Mobility won’t let any Yalie past, present, or future build us a Student Union, so that he could step foot in it, soil it, and then shut it down. In fact we’d personally go back in time and kick that Yalie’s ass if that had happened. We hate them that much.
This rivalry is old. It’s even older than some of Harvard’s most famous internal rivalries, like the Crimson versus the Lampoon, the Hong Kong Restaurant Bar and Lounge versus 8,000 years of beautiful Confucian tradition, the Chickwich versus the food pyramid, the Harvard Voice versus Spare Change, Dorm Crew versus people who shit everywhere, the Isis Club versus True Love Revolution, and Lucy Caldwell versus journalism.
To scoop up the dirt on these Yale chumps (or as we like to call them FAIL chumps...because they didn’t get into Harvard), we went straight into the mouth of the ass—that’s right, we went to Yale (or as we like to call it, JAIL...because you’d have to lock us up to stay there). [2]
We were unimpressed. First, it’s no surprise how dumb they are; their library only had a basketball court and a bunch of free weights. Then their dining hall only had chalk to eat, and they apparently make them eat at desks! (How do you eat like that?) These Yalies even stooped so low as to send some of their goons (presumably from New Haven Community College...or WAIT, isn’t that Yale?!) dressed in HUPD costumes to chase us down. As we ran off Yale’s campus, we saw the final mark of shame. They couldn’t even get their sign right! It said “Welcome to the Harvard Quadrangle”! Idiots!
Shortly afterward, we ran into Yale’s president. He was pleading for donations with a well-worn Au Bon Pain cup and a cardboard sign. Looks like the market has been tough on Yale’s pitiful endowment! What can you expect in this economy though, right?
In short we didn’t learn much from our trip to Yale, but we know what to expect from these Yalies. They’re going to be different from you. I mean, almost as different as Leverett Tower G from Leverett Tower H. They’ll be wearing patterned scarves instead of solid colors and talking about how they study esoteric subjects like “economics” and “government.” Oh, and they’ll be drinking INFANT blood.
Most of all, in your encounters with Yalies, don’t let them get away with giving the business to Our Queen Drew Faust. If they say one word about her green initiatives, penchant for Civil War inventresses, or cutting-edge hair style, you must immediately challenge them to a fisticuffs. Be prepared. These Yalies always like to fence their way out of conflicts and will probably wield épées.
Of course the best way to stick it to these sons of Eli is to engage in Harvard’s most time-honored traditions: not going into the actual game, throwing up on an HUPD officer, not knowing the rules of football, and wearing your team colors (blue?). And if we lose, remember: they still have to dodge bullets during their celebratory parade in New Haven—and screw it, we’ll just say they have chlamydia on juicycampus.com.
[1] This is our house.
[2] Safety prison!
