Ah yes. Admit weekend. Swarms of lanky to-be freshmen wander the vast campus, not yet bulked by Arrillaga’s famously appetizing and totally nutritious triangle codfish. This reporter takes great pride in welcoming Class of 2027 the traditional Stanford way: fucking running over ProFros at full speed, unprovoked. These are the hallowed grounds that produce the successful, rich, and powerful (not you though, you’ll come out exactly how you came in: screaming and crying like a little pig for slaughter).
This year’s incoming class is no different. Grace DeMorgan ran a charity providing education for underprivileged tadpoles in the polluted waters of Chesapeake Bay. Teaching advanced calculus and Shakespeare to these tadpoles, DeMorgan proudly boasts a score increase of 100%. Unfortunately, high tech complex mathematics techniques tells us that 100*0 is still 0. Additionally, analysis of Plato’s arguments for humanity did not stop these underprivileged tadpoles from becoming fish bait for Big Milk Corp.
Of course, every year comes with its own sections of nepotism fetusi.
Upcoming Class of 2027, all eyes are on Squeak, Burble, and Bang, triplet heiresses to the famous Rice Krispie Cereal. Scandal surrounds this trio, as their respective fathers (Snap, Crackle, and Pop) allegedly paid off $4 million to cover a massive cocaine scandal trading ring headed by the goofy triad in high school. Some call it drug cartel, Stanford calls it business entrepreneurship. That’s what makes it famous.
Diversity evidently continues to play a large role in Stanford’s admission decisions. This year welcomes the first ever mermaid prospective. Cleo (pronounced: cleorrrrrr) joins us from the Great Barrier Reef, the highly privileged, gated community located in the heart of Cleveland, Ohio. Unfortunately, Stanford’s infrastructure is ill-prepared for this new class addition.
“She’s been demanding fresh sea water in all the dining halls, and a fish at every meal. Fucking beheads those fish. It’s not even sanitary”