“Stanford students are spoiled now,” said the nonetheless generous donor as he handed out his homemade stickers, “When I went here, we just rolled our weed in returned midterms and smoked it.”
After encountering him, the occupant of the alumnus’s former dorm room locked the door. “It was #awkward,” she confessed, “He had faxed these little pictures of Miley Cyrus’s face over to Green Library and wanted to tape them to herbs in the community garden. And he wanted me to ‘chirp to the other twits’ about it.”
The head of campus security acknowledged multiple complaints concerning the alumnus. “We try to be lenient with them. I mean, they have a hard time dealing with the downward spiral of life after Stanford. And he’s not actually distributing the drug. The one throwing fistfuls of the stuff off Hoover Tower was more of a problem.”
Remembering this other overenthusiastic figure as an acquaintance who had feigned abstanance from the sixties subculture and made something of himself, the first alumnus bitterly complained that he could, despite the conclusions of his professors and that straight-laced girl in sociology, conduct better studies about generational shifts thanks to his open association with drug culture.
“I can tell that there’s a sick sort of fetishization,” he said, “It’s not enough to get higher than Hoover Tower any more. The engineering students actually spend hours building elaborate bongs based on particle physics. I don’t think particle physics applies to bongs. But they’re high enough to try.”
When asked for a justification of his behavior, the alumnus reflected for a moment. “I have a lot of complaints,” he admitted, “But, at the end of the day, I just want the kids to be happy. The modern world’s complicated. Dispensary or dealer? How strong? You can’t lose track and be out of it for a final. That’s why you need the hashtags. Took a clever kid to come up with that, but I worry that they don’t have time to make the hashtags by themselves.”
