Friday, February 3, 2017

February 3, 2017

Dear DIary,

Turned on MSNBC today to watch a little Rachel Maddow.  What a charming man.  So easy to listen to, even when he's reporting bad news.  And let's face it, there's a lot of bad news out there.  Mr. Maddow was going on about some terrible rioting at U.C. Berkeley, where young boys and girls were yelling and fighting and lighting things on fire.

I think that's despicable.  Our universities are places of learning, not intolerance.  College is difficult enough and from what I hear, these days it's taking longer than four years to graduate.  You could tell because many of those students in Mr. Maddow's on-scene video were in their thirties and forties! Poor dears. Their struggle is real!  You think it's easy to be in your forties living in a shit box apartment with three other roommates who split a cup of that horrible Japanese instant noodles for dinner? That takes a lot of checks from George Soros dedication to the cause!

I know how difficult those college years can be.  I didn't have any problem, but getting Chelsea into a decent school was a real project!  She's no beauty queen, so there was no way she was going to "charm" her way past the admissions board, if you get my meaning.  I tried packing her into a tight dress and heels for the interview, but to be honest, she ended up looking more like a potato in a Wonder Bra.  Plus she walks like a stevedore and for some reason, always has a little bit of food stuck in the corner of her mouth, which is actually pretty disgusting.

Oxford and Cambridge wouldn't touch her, even though she's technically a legacy, seeing as she's Webb's Bill's daughter.  If you ever have a few thousand hours to kill, you can ask Bill to bore you about his Rhodes scholarship, where he raped studied all kinds of things, but mainly focused on how how to drink ale.  I'm fine with that.  All work and no forced sexual intercourse play makes Bill a dull boy!

Those rioting Berkeley kids reminded me how dejected Chel would get when her rejection letters arrived.  The mailman would just back up the truck to the front porch and dump them in a pile.  No matter how good the bribes her grades were, school after school always came up with some excuse why they couldn't take her.  Okay, I'm her mom, so I know I'm biased, but she really isn't that stupid. A little slow, maybe.  It took her twelve years to learn how to tie a bow, but even Miss Ellen, her nursery school teacher, remarked how well she could recite her ABC's.  I think that was when Chel was nine or ten.

We hired a tutor for Chel's SAT test, which we thought would help raise her scores.  Unfortunately, he left town after cashing the check, which meant Chel had to take the test herself after all.  That didn't turn out so well, so we ended up sliding a fat check to Stanford and wonder of wonders, she got in.

It cost the Foundation a million bucks, but what's money for if you can't buy nice things?  The downside is that she met her Jew husband there, but everything comes with a price, I guess.  Besides, if you adjust if for inflation, we got a better deal than Amy Carter.

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