Bothersome Bits of Harvard

PROBLEM: PEOPLE who constantly take pictures of the John Harvard Statue when I am trying to walk past it.

For some, reason, this always causes me to reflexively bend down and move my shoulders next to my ears as I pass in front of their cameras, as if I can some how render myself invisible by assuming bad posture. I wind up being photographed as a hunchback with a disgustingly pained expression on my face, and they wind up with photos that will surely be used at a later date for black mail purposes.

Solution: Install a pamphlet holder on the side of Harvard Hall that contains postcards with images of people standing in front of the statue. The faces on the cards will be cut-out, so visitors can paste into the holes the photograph of their choice--their own mug, or that of a well-known political figure, or Dom Deluise, or even a beloved household pet.

Problem: That annoying guy who stays in front of Bay Banks--or the book building of the Coop--and tries to exchange his hearty handshakes for money.

Talking more in five seconds than most healthy adults talk in their natural lifetimes, this guy is a boil on the body politic. It's for school children, he says. Stop shaking my hand, I say. No, you misunderstand me, it's for school children, he says. You're annoying, I say. School children, he explains. Shut up, I explain.

Solution: Harvard should offer a course in dealing with solicitors in the Square--something like; "Beggars 104: Vexing the Solicitor in a Post-War Industrial Economy. And Especially that Annoying Guy In Front of Bay Banks."

This course would address how to wait until the precise moment when the beggar is bothering the guy in front of you so you can shuffle past undetected. Students would also receive advanced training in various techniques of using large joy-buzzers, and how to crazy-glue that guy's hands to his cheeks.

Problem: People who like being yelled at by the me behind the counter at Tommy's Lunch.

This is bad, don't like this. Many find being yelled at by these men endearing, but just because it is consistent does not make it endearing.

IS IT ENDEARING that you are always the one who is trapped on the seat after discovering that there is no toilet paper? Is it endearing to roll over on the bottom bunk into the piping hot radiator? Regularly reoccurring events should not be confused with events should not be confused with events that are desirable. For some reason people seem to have trouble keeping this distinction clear.

I took a course in "Science A," so I am aware of how long it takes for a wavelength of light to travel from a cheese-steak on a countertop to one of those jelly-ball things in our skulls that allow us to detect such waves. The amount of time is exactly half the amount allotted to you before fire and venom spit horrifically from the Tommy's counterman in vehement objection to your negligence in retrieving your "food."

Solution: The Tasty.

Problem: The Action Man.

Enough is enough, jerk. This guy--who usually calls himself "Jean-Baptiste"--called every guy I knew freshman year to ask if they were interested in "some action." Now, two years later, he's still at it. I wonder what his wife thinks about all this.

Solution: Instead of trying to thwart his plans to find action, we should aid him in his efforts. What we need is "Operation Action Man."

I propose an official school-wide "Action Man Day". On this day anyone who wants action with the Action Man would be able to call a central operator between specified hours and leave his name and address. These names would then be forwarded to the Action Man via armored truck. The Action Man can then assume that everyone else is either shy or does not want to have any action with him.

Problem: People who say, "You go to Harvard, and you do `X'?" when `X' is something stupid like tripping on your shoe lace.

Solution: They should stop saying that.

Problem: You are typing on a Macintosh the final sentence of a 20-page paper that is due in two hours.

You have been working straight through the night, and are in an adrenaline and caffeine induced daze. Despite your hellish night, Your Mac remains happy. Your Mac is always happy. It always stares at you as if has just won the lottery. You hate this, but you dare not anger it. Only one more sentence...you are so close...so very close...

"Beep. System Bomb. O.K.?" smiles the Mac.

A THRASHING FURY swells within your trembling shell. With your face twitching furiously in all directions, you passionately smash your chair through the fourth floor dorm window and jump head first onto the cold, hard cement.

Overcoming the unfortunate agony of three broken ribs, you are soon ready to begin anew. Here is the worst part: The Mac won't let you continue until you tell it that everything is "O.K."

"It's not `O.K', Macasshole!" you cry angrily as the Mac smiles silently beside you.

It's like a messenger who comes to your door and informs you that your entire family was destroyed in a mining accident, and then stays by your side smilingly, refusing to leave until you tell him that it is "O.K." But striving to maintain at least a shared of dignity, you refuse to tell the Mac that its deed of pure evil was "O.K.

Solution: I.B.M.