Dear Dr. Franco James,
I read with great distress this morning of your plan to matriculate in the PhD program in English at Yale University. This would be where most people congratulate you on your acceptance. But most people are sycophants who mistake fame and physical attractiveness for innate character. I am not one of those people. I've known the truth about you ever since you made a campy joke of my alma mater, the US Naval Academy, in an Annapolis performance that by comparison gives Officer and a Gentleman the gravitas and dynamism of an Olivier stage romp.
This Yale thing, of course, would not be your first foray into the hallowed halls of academe. You dropped into UCLA, then dropped out, then back in. You almost gave a commencement speech there, then didn't. Then you went to my other alma mater, Columbia, for a master's in fine arts with an emphasis on creative writing, as well as a nap. At the same time, you also enrolled in NYU's Tisch School for acting.
And now, Yale wants you. To the list of earthly phenomena that mystify me—the riddle of Schroedinger's cat, the Second Law of Thermodynamcs—I now add this: The Ivies and other top-tier institutions shower degrees on you like so many Sony HD minicams in an Oscar-party grab-bag giveaway. And I must strenuously object. Please read the following appeal:
[Read more in the Riff blog]