(This columnappeared in the 4/5/04 joke issue)
You know, after 10 years at Penn, I think I've heard it all. There goes Judy Rodin, they say. Did you know she has more money than the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia? I heard that she feeds on the flesh of graduate students. She shot JFK!
Spare me.
I'm addressing you today in an attempt to clear up some of the misconceptions and slanderous half-truths that darken my good name.
Taking over The Daily Pennsylvanian's editorial page for an evening was easier than I thought -- all I did was send a few bottles of the good stuff to Eliot's apartment and, lo and behold, he didn't show up for work tonight. And as for security at the DP, it was nothing I couldn't handle. My right eye is an EMP converter and my left one is a laser beam. Since DP security consists of a wooden door with a sign that reads "Please don't rob us, we're tired, oh God, so tired," getting in was a cakewalk.
When I came here 10 years ago, Penn was the creepy drunken uncle of the Ivy League. Now look at us. We're elite, the darlings of U.S. News and World Report (the rankings that don't matter -- wink, wink). A few more things go our way, and all of a sudden Princeton could start to look pretty vulnerable in that top spot. In fact, if you all would spend a few less hours pounding beer and a few more hours at Van Pelt, there might be a Rhodes Scholar or two among you.
On second thought, nah.
When I arrived on the scene, this place was a war zone. There were shootings, assaults and worst of all, no Cosi! You brats couldn't fill out a blue book without your early afternoon double latte mocha-whatevers. And how do you respond? By bitching about my salary and concocting ludicrous conspiracy theories about how I'm taking over the world and lighting cigars with hundred dollar bills.
Please. That's chump change. And who really carries cash these days? I have my black credit card. Now that baby opens doors.
So I'm sure many of you are wondering why I chose to leave Penn just as we were getting respectable. First of all, when you've been through 10 Spring Flings, those ridiculous names they pick tend to wear on you. I mean, c'mon, "Testing, Testing, Is This Fling On?" Why don't I flip you the damn Flinger!
And another Fling. Wyclef? Shit, Wyclef was cool when I was in college. I saw him on a Verizon commercial the other day and I thought, it's like the man said: We all peak at a singular point in time, until we see the sign -- resign.
But it's not just Fling that's making me hang up my spurs. In 10 years here, the DP's been kissing my ass so hard it's threatening to do damage. I mean, there's only so much boot-licking I can deal with in one decade.
I'm sure some people are wondering what I'm going to do once I put Kerry in the White House. Some have speculated that I will go on to a bigger challenge at another university, like Cornell, and attempt to revitalize it. Not bloody likely -- I can do the improbable, but not the impossible.
Some seem to think a Senate run is in my future. "Judy," they say, "Specter is vulnerable and Santorum is too busy peeking into bedrooms and talking about man on dog with Associated Press reporters. Ed Rendell is ya boy! Go for it!"
All I can say about that is, no comment.
No, I need to take it easy for a while. Maybe dip into my secret account in the Cayman Islands. Purchase a small chunk of land and settle down for a bit. Like the last time, I tried to buy Florida, but G-dub was all, "No, we need some place to put my brother." Whatever. Maybe this time I'll just pick one of the states he's less attached to, like Massachusetts.
It almost doesn't matter what I do; I've already got the three best things in life. I mean, it's just like I was telling 50 Cent the other night in the club: It's all about Money, Power and Respect. Then we had to bounce cos 50 capped some dude, again. He's so crazy!
I mean, just look at me. I'm stronger than 151, tougher than compilers and more dangerous than a Pike brother at a flower show. I am Judy Rodin, and I am nobody's fool. You kids don't know how good you have it.
But I'm not bitter. I've had a good run. And I'm getting out of the game while I'm still on top. If you can't respect that, your whole perspective is wack --maybe you'll love me when I fade to black.
Peace out.
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