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Dear Members of the FM Community: Over the course of the past week, the federal government has frozen billions of dollars of federal funding. I don’t know how I’ll pay for the upcoming legal fees, let alone the custom seat covers at Commencement. What am I supposed to do?
Sincerely,
A Panicking President
Dear Alan,
First, forget bake sales. The budget’s getting balanced when Harvard launches “OnlyFellows” — tenured thirst traps and late-night tutoring sessions in Widener’s stacks. Next, let’s be honest — CS50 is less a course and more a Netflix original. Put David Malan in charge of budget recovery: mandatory lecture ticket sales, rubber duck merch drops, and laugh tracks piped into Annenberg. And sure, you could cut free GPT-4 access for students to save money — but then who’s going to write our emails, cover letters, final papers, and breakup texts? Be serious.
— Sophia Zhang
Alan, I’m sure you know better than everyone the power of the Harvard name. That’s why the solution to the funding crisis is for us to copyright and license EVERY usage of it. Trump tweeting up a storm about Harvard on X? Copyrighted. The New York Times writing another article about the University? Copyright that too. Some poor unfortunate family in the Midwest has had the Harvard surname for generations? No one shall be spared. (If the situation is dire enough, we will also copyright the individual letters — ‘A’ would count twice.)
— Jona P. Liu
When the Cambridge Queen’s Head officially shuttered in May 2024, the pub’s last patrons — a mischievous trio of soon-to-be-dropouts — inscribed a message behind the plaque of Harvard-Yale scores. Few have ever been able to see the writing; attempts to access it are quickly kiboshed by a stern Crimson Catering employee. However, rumor has it that the ten-word clue is merely the first part of a massive scavenger hunt, spanning from a ski resort in Norway to the bathrooms at The Maharaja. At the end, guarded by a dragon, is a sum of money difficult to even imagine. President Garber, this is yours for the taking... if you dare.
— John H. Perkins
Dear Alan,
Thanks for reaching out. I’m sorry to hear that the federal administration froze those $2.2 billion: luckily, I’ve dealt with a freeze before.
Right before break last Thanksgiving, distracted by what must have been my seventh midterm of the semester, I forgot that I’d promised to help prep food for my family’s dinner. What they don’t tell you is that the food-safe way to defrost a turkey takes up to four days: unfortunately, the value of “slow and steady” is one I’ve ignored since the first time I had to study for exams freshman year.
After a frantic call to my cousin who “is into smoking things” — probably including turkeys — I pulled out the largest pot I could find, heated three gallons of peanut oil, and dunked the bird in. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it exploded. A nearby tree caught fire. I had a tense call with the fire department, who now have me on some kind of list. My family ended up eating leftover sides from KFC.
Still, we were fed. My eyebrows eventually grew back. And at least I have the memory of that turkey. So, Alan, if there’s anything I’ve learned about dealing with a big freeze: it’s to turn up the heat.
— Jocelyn E. Shek
Mobilize HUDS to ration food for one month: everyone receives a small loaf of bread, a grilled chicken piece, a flyby gluten-free wrap, and 20 grams of chocolate per week which can later be increased to 30 grams. Athletes can opt in for an additional grilled chicken piece, but only if they trade in their scooters.
— Nelli U. Rojas-Cessa
First order of business: build a photo booth around the statue. Tourists will gladly line up for the once-in-a-lifetime chance to have a picture with John Harvard for the small price of $5 per person. But wait, there’s more! Touching the foot for good luck comes with a surcharge of just $2 per rub. You could even expand this concept to other locations. The balcony overlooking Annenberg already hosts some tourists who gawk at us as we eat. Turn it into an official observation deck. Charge a fee for the elevator ride up, then install coin-operated binoculars. Take every last cent from the tourists who want to use my lunch as their Instagram post.
— Antonino J. Libarnes
Cut the Department of Athletics.
As the football team vacates Harvard stadium, those beautiful brutalist archways will finally be able to pursue their true calling: stagings of classical Greek drama. I’m sure the notably intellectual American people will be foaming at the mouth for an opportunity to engage with these incredible works of literature, and will note their relevance to today.
While the sea of enthusiastic would-be-spectators wandering Cambridge and Allston and spilling over the bridges to claim their spots at our stagings may become a disturbance for the community, we must take a lesson from the ancients and understand the necessity of making sacrifices for the good of the πόλις. The ticket sales alone will single-handedly revive the History & Literature department, and with concessions and souvenirs, we may even have enough to spare for lifesaving public health research! It’s time to bring Athens to Allston.
— Silvia L. Siegel-Yousef
Finally disprove Sonny Corleone’s accusation that an Ivy League man can’t handle getting a little blood on his suit. Take a page out of the book of the North End’s Angiulo brothers and start a mafia racket in Allston. After all, all those empty lab buildings have to be good for something, right? Bada-bing, Harvard’s financial problems go bada-boom.
— Megha Khemka
Have you considered selling merch?
— Chelsie Lim
I gotta be honest, Alan, rough couple days. Have you tried saving your change in a piggy bank? Look, Yardfest was great this year. But if you’re trying to tighten your belt, the entertainment budget has to go down without causing a morale problem. I don’t think anything will make Harvard students prouder of their university than to see their president headline Yardfest for free. Nothing makes you forget about your lost research funding like a 70-year-old man in a suit singing Nicki Minaj covers at the top of his lungs to a group of kids pretending they know how to have fun.
— Jack B. Reardon
