Letter from the Editor

To the dean of admissions at Stanford University:

I hope this death threat letter finds you well.  It has been several painful and distressing weeks since our last communication event, and I feel things ended on a bit of a sour note, what with the whole “rejection” letter business. (I’m sure you’ve had a stern chat with your manservant whoever sends your outgoing mail over that one)!

Nevertheless. I’m now quite composed and ready to be civil, rest assured.

I’m glad you received my gift basket! It was, of course, in no way intended to sway your opinion on the matter of my acceptance into your fine pretty okay college. I would never insinuate that bribery affects individuals of your caliber.

And relax! The sensual massage oils and books on Kama Sutra were a joke. My mom didn’t want me to send them, but I’m still convinced you guys have an actual sense of humor over there in Palo Alto. I bet you’re ROFL-ing even as I write this.

I wanted to briefly address some of your previous “concerns” over my not being “university material.” (Whatever that means, amirite)?

While it’s certainly true that I haven’t achieved the highest GPA and honors during my time at Whatcom Community College, I think if you’d just take the time to reconsider my application you’d see that I have been, to this point, quite the underachiever.

And yes I know that I “have never lived anywhere other than my parents’ basement,” or done any “extracurricular activities whatsoever,” or “finished a homework assignment that wasn’t in crayon.” But I think you’re missing the big picture here.

I believe in myself. And honestly, doesn’t that count for more than a few lousy “college-level requirements?” I mean, Stanford was my safety school for crying out loud!

It was quite unnecessary for you to mail back that art-book of pictures I made out of my glued-together toenail clippings. And that jar of my own tears. Those were yours to keep!

That’s twice you’ve given me the sweet, sick sting of rejection. But I’ll keep my head high. You might be a soul-crushing sadist, but me? I’m an Orca. Now and forever, (apparently).

We have a lot of fun here at the Horizon. But in all seriousness, I’d like to genuinely congratulate our Whatcom graduates! The rest of you will hear from me again. Onward to summer!

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