Wednesday, December 29, 2010

School Rivalry

So here I am chilling with my HBS peeps bitching about career, life, the universe and everything, and I hear one them has "dropped the H-bomb". Not familiar with the expression, my mind raced through a surprisingly long list of all profanities that yours truly is aware of. However, none of them that started with an 'H' made any sense, but then I realized the expression means telling someone that you go to HBS.

I like a couple of things about that expression. First, it's catchy. You say that and automatically your mind brings the picture of a mushroom cloud. Second, it captures the equity of Harvard, a very strong and powerful institution. Finally, you have to like the fact that the 'H' works nicely for both H-bomb and Harvard.

Now, we all know rivalry is strong here, so if they have an expression for telling people which business school they go to, we need ours and we need it fast. After much thinking, I have decided that our expression should be: passing the Cardinal doobie, hear me out on this one. First, think the image this expression brings to your mind, you and your friends chilling and passing a doobie, nice. Second, a doobie represents the mellow, laid-back GSB environment and the awesome state of California. Finally, this expression also refers to the Stanford Cardinals, because we kick effin ass.

So next time you tell someone you go to the GSB, you've just passed the Cardinal doobie, you pothead.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

The Ultimate Compliment

As I elbowed my way today through elCairo's epic traffic, I noticed the last thing you want to see when traffic is that bad: high-ranking police officers. Those, of course, only appear on the streets when one of them Party Members--yes, I'm going with a 'China metaphor'--is passing by. Before I knew it we came to a complete stop on my side of the road while the other side was becoming eerily empty for that time of the day... ah, yes, the armada approaches.

I truly enjoy watching those caravans pass by. The motorcycles whisking by, the uncomfortable big security dudes crammed in SUVs and the trucks with really big jamming antennas, really big, as in big enough to the extent even Freud would be uncomfortable around them. I wonder if the dudes driving these jamming trucks ever worry about sitting very close all the time to those antennas that blast high-intensity microwave radiation? Based on a very credible Southpark episode, I'd say those dudes should worry about ball cancer.

But I digress, I caught myself thinking how needing all of this security is really the ultimate compliment one could get. Probably an international award is a close second. Sure, people are thrilled to recieve the Nobel prize, but deep down they know that a bunch of bureaucrats went through a tedious screening and filtering process that ended up with an envelop with their name, ugh, it makes me sick. On the other hand, needing nine motorcycles with bigass dudes with Uzis as part of your flotilla tells you that you're so important/dangerous that people out there are actively planning attempts on your life and that is the ultimate compliment.

I'd enjoy being a Party Member, I know it.