News
Garber Announces Advisory Committee for Harvard Law School Dean Search
News
First Harvard Prize Book in Kosovo Established by Harvard Alumni
News
Ryan Murdock ’25 Remembered as Dedicated Advocate and Caring Friend
News
Harvard Faculty Appeal Temporary Suspensions From Widener Library
News
Man Who Managed Clients for High-End Cambridge Brothel Network Pleads Guilty
Interested in making $205 a week in your spare time? Already have the sperm bank ad up on your bulletin board? Well, don't get your hopes up (you should excuse the expression) yet.
This is an exclusive club. Not just any Johnny-come-lately can qualify. But fear not--there's still plenty of excitement to be had. Ever dedicated to ensuring the satisfaction of our readers, The Crimson has compiled the following crib sheet for passing the Sperm 101 Oral Exam (administered over the phone). Included are the answers given by our upstanding crusading reporter.
The Questions:
1. How tall are you? "5 feet 7 inches" - "O.K."
2. Are you or your parents adopted? "No." - "Good."
3. What race are you? "White" - "O.K."
4. Are you enrolled in school? "Yes." - "Good."
5. Does anyone in your family have diabetes? "My grandmother." - "O.K." (pause) "And my uncle." - "Hmmm..."
6. Where did you read about us? "The Crimson." - "Uh-huh."
The Criteria:
Here are explanations of the odd-numbered exercises:
1. You must be 5 feet 9 inches tall if you are Caucasian. I was thus ruled out, but the conversation did not end there. No other ethnic groups have height requirements; the decisions about those donors are "subjective."
3. In case you're wondering, the sperm bank people are no racists. They now have a surfeit of Caucasian donors and are looking for "ethnicities" and "mixed people."
5. The check for diabetes was not accompanied by any other similar questions. Several other inherited diseases exist, but perhaps diabetes is the most common sticking point. So, if you want to be "Mr. Sperm", you'd better be disease-free.
The Cuts:
And here's how you go from rookie to redshirt to reserves:
1. Preliminary Analysis Appointment. You are not paid for this initial sample.
2. Qualifying Process, 2 months. 85 to 90 percent of prospective donors make the first cut and are "partially paid" for their samples over two months.
3. 9 months to 1 year--pay dirt (or seed). If you make this stage, you will be compensated in full for your 2 months of qualifying samples. Only 7 to 10 percent of the original field make it to the final stage. The prime criterion for inclusion? YOUR SEMEN MUST FREEZE WELL. If it doesn't, don't worry--you're "not abnormal." But no one knows what makes your sperm better in the solid phase than the next guy's.
Questions four and six leads us to believe that the Cambridge-California Sperm Bank, a privately owned organization, makes much of the fact that its donors attend prestigious colleges.
All of which makes the male members among us a little crestfallen. Sure, we go to Harvard and will probably lead happy successful lives. But do we freeze well?
Last week, Harvard officials announced a major new initiative to expand the women's athletic program. Officials said the effort featured a $250,000 annual pricetag--comprised of gifts from alumni and friends, earmarked specifically for women's athletics.
But the officials were unusually tight-lipped about revealing who the generous donors were. In an interview, all that Harvard Athletic Director Bill Cleary would say was, "You won't get the names if you ask me till the cows come home. You won't get the names."
Cleary did, however, indicate that the money had been solicited, adding that he himself had played a central role in the process, undertaking some innovative--and, he asserted, highly successful--methods of attracting contributions.
"Oh-ho! There are many ways to skin a cat," Cleary said. "These are tough times fiscally for everyone, not just us. You got to be a little creative, that's the way you can do things. You just gotta do whatever you can do to get it."
Asked to specify what he meant by being "creative," Cleary responded: "It takes effort. You got to beat the bushes, you gotta try to be creative in ways that can interest people, there are a lot of things to do, and that's my job. That's my job. But you know what, the bottom line is what counts. I never worried about how I looked when I scored goals as long as it went in the net."
Intrigued by the seemingly cloak-and-dagger methods Cleary hinted at, The Crimson decided to probe this further, taking the matter up with Harvard's most recognizable fund raiser: President Neil L. Rudenstine.
But even Rudenstine was puzzled by the question of what Cleary's "creative" fundraising approach might include.
"I really don't know that, no," the president said. "Fax instead of phone?"
Alas, the eleventh Undergraduate Council has reached its end--and with it, many of our favorite council-related institutions. Gone will be the days of "chairing" the council; from now on, council presidents will preside at meetings, and pad their resumes with more distinguished-sounding titles. Gone is the leadership of Michael P. Beys '94, who proved that to head a campus organization, one needs neither ethics, judgment, nor a good haircut. And gone from the council itself is Randall A. Fine '96, who generated more scandals in a single year than most four-year council vets can envision in their wildest dreams.
In honor of the outgoing council and its traditions, a dear friend has composed a special good-bye, to be sung to the tune of our national anthem:
Contra the UC (cantabile)
Oh, say, can the U.C.
Our great fund-sucking blight
Whose young punks should be jailed for their criminal scheming
Whose ill-chosen rock stars, played to crowds rather light
When the PR was botched, leaving termbillees steaming
And the stupid book fair, and the rigged race for chair
Gave proof all's not right since the Prabhu affair
Oh say let us end these outrageous displays
And depose Randall Fine and that scoundrel Mike Beys.
Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.