Churlish Mr. Tart!
Our understanding is that you are again publishing your blog. I, Sue P. Cillius- founder of the Yale Women's League for Female/Male Understanding and Mandatory Vasectomies, am putting you on notice that your sexist thoughts will be closely monitored. We,female students of Yale, have perfected the "Mind Meld" (OK, the nerd engineering guys in the Star Trek club helped us, but there is no way we are going to let them watch us doing our laundry, like they think). With this instrument, we can tell when pigs like you are hiding their natural thoughts about woman's role in society- so stop hoping that woman with the short dress on your 9:10 commuter train is going to drop her latte again, so you can watch her bend over to clean it up.
As for "Churlish", look it up, you "Safety School" reject. We know you were not an old English major, Knave.
Sue P Cillious
Yale '14
Showing posts with label Yale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yale. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Friday, February 26, 2010
Dick Cavett Responds to "Going Rogue"
It is a very deplorable, very deplorable, state of affairs, when a book by Sarah Palin is given as much time in the news, as health care. C'est merde, as Satre might well have said that a dunce can command the national stage when I - Dick Cavett- am reduced to writing a blog for the Times and selling DVDs of my fifty year old show on the Shopping network. ($4.95 gets you the episode where Katherine Hepburn and I play Twister while reciting Robert Frost!)
I strain my Midwestern turned Yale graduate brain so much that I fear the creaking of grey matter slowing oozing through my ancient ears. How is it possible? How is it possible, as Emerson no doubt would have wondered looking up from his quill, that Cavett is old and finished: Am I such a joke that "dogs do bark at me on the street" (Richard III, Shakespeare), while Palin is like a Woolworth inspired Venus rising from the dark, damp streets of middle America.
I had my own show once where I played the sage to the high and sundry, the infamous, and famous, the artist and the cabby, the fruit and the veg table, the giraffe and the lion, the penis and the vagina, the moth and the flame.....
Well, at least the Times pays me a small stipend so I don't have to use my toaster for my electric shock therapy anymore.
I strain my Midwestern turned Yale graduate brain so much that I fear the creaking of grey matter slowing oozing through my ancient ears. How is it possible? How is it possible, as Emerson no doubt would have wondered looking up from his quill, that Cavett is old and finished: Am I such a joke that "dogs do bark at me on the street" (Richard III, Shakespeare), while Palin is like a Woolworth inspired Venus rising from the dark, damp streets of middle America.
I had my own show once where I played the sage to the high and sundry, the infamous, and famous, the artist and the cabby, the fruit and the veg table, the giraffe and the lion, the penis and the vagina, the moth and the flame.....
Well, at least the Times pays me a small stipend so I don't have to use my toaster for my electric shock therapy anymore.
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