Under the pristine image of UVM, the deep rumblings of mutiny are emerging. Malcontents are whispering, “Those damn Vermont scholars…” They sit in their gutters, eating banana peels and omelets made from their own feces, and they watch us, the golden children, the scholars of the green mountains, walk around in our glory. “They get everything,” these flatlanders hiss while they waddle around with their hunched backs and absurdly long, yellow fingernails. “They get to pick classes first, they get scholarships – just because they’re from Vermont!”
The truth about Vermont scholars is that we’re really not that privileged. In fact, all we get out of the deal is complete and total control over UVM. Oh, and Burlington. Is it too much that we have access to a private jet? Is it ridiculous that we should get our own hot tubs and massages? Why should UVM’s money go into something meaningless, like teacher’s salaries or better dorms, when it could be going into something fruitful, like butlers for us? Sounds like sour grapes, guys.
You didn’t know we had a secret lair, though. You didn’t realize that we ran the school from an underground hideout where we sit around in big leather chairs, wearing our monocles and our suits with emblems, sipping expensive wines (the drinking age is 17 for us VT scholars) and doing our very cool secret handshake (I’ll give you a hint – think lots of fist pumps). Yes, we hang out down there, discussing such scholarly Vermont topics as sugar on snow and the symbolic meaning of “mud” season. Things that I’m sure people from Connecticut or New York or…I can’t think of any other crappy states off the top of my head, but you get the point.
In this lair, the brothers and I have plastic figurines of every UVM student and we play with them on our scale model of the campus. It’s here that we devise our schemes and decide how things will happen in the coming weeks. Sometimes I like to dress these figurines up in Barbie clothes and make them karate-kick each other. Another brother, Gary, sometimes comes over during these times and starts to make the figurines hump. I just stare at him until the awkwardness fills the room and the clatter of their plastic bodies fades away. “Really inappropriate, Gary,” I tell him. I mean, how childish can you be?
At this point, I bet the very few of you non-Vermont scholars that are actually capable of reading and/or comprehending are insulted. You’re thinking, this guy is obnoxious! You’re thinking, this guy is offensive! You would think that, wouldn’t you? Dummy.
I’m not implying that our elite group is better than any of you “regulars,” as we call you. No, I’m simply saying that you are the puppets, here to entertain us at our whim. Now, Vermont scholars are not gods-not by a long shot. We’re just your average, run-of-the-mill college students with heavenly authority and the ability to create or destroy all of you at our fancy.
Yes, to be a Vermont scholar does bring advantages. I won’t deny that. Like the time that kid cut me in line at the dining hall so I whistled to my bodyguard and had the cutter executed. Haha! Just kidding, friends. I would never do something like that. I only had one of his legs cut off and his family tortured.
Well, I’m off to the lair to play house with Gary and the figurines again. Who knows? You could be the father or mother this time! But please try and remember – we won’t hold this status over you lower forms of life. We will never make you feel subordinate or less cared for here at UVM.
On that note, I hope to see all of you there at our annual “non-Vermont scholar Auction” on Saturday where we will be auctioning off any non-Vermont scholars for Frisbees, bumper stickers and really cool bubble-making kits.
Bring your own refreshments. Oh… and your paperwork.
See you there!