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Spite Hate Mail: Regarding College Admissions Just read the latest almost-all-hanson hate mail section. Ohh boy... 4! Jesus... But anyway... in case you were wondering... Brown, Harvard, and Yale rejected me. I though I could at least get into Brown because I spent 7 weeks there this summer taking 2 college classes as part of their pre-college program and got A's. So it wasn't that I couldn't handle Brown, I'd already demonstrated I was qualified. But whatever. Fuck em all. I got into Stanford. The West Side is so much better. And they don't give a shit what your last name is or that you went to some shitty public school instead of some elite prep school at Stanford, all they care about is whether or not you're qualified. So... what do you think about a 500 word rant on why college admissions are bullshit? I mean, I fill out 50 forms, write essays, wait 5 months and all I get is a shitty form letter saying go to hell? I think it has possibilities. Although I should've done it this weekend when I was really pissed off. I didn't get into Stanford until yesterday, so I thought I was fucked. I spent the weekend pretty pissed. But whatever. Let me know if you're even remotely interested in publishing something like this. If you're not I'm sure you'll have no problem telling me to go to hell. That's what I like about Spite Magazine, brutal, ugly bluntness. Oh, and I checked out the redesign. It's bad ass. I totally approve. Switch everything over right now and delete all those bright colors as soon as possible. Take it easy, You're not going to find many people who will sympathize will someone who even has the chance to APPLY to Ivy League schools. Except here at Spite. I hate the Ivies, too, and think that everyone who went to them should go to hell. You REALLY want to hate them? Go to Boston in October and watch the Head of the Charles -- the annual CREW race among the Ivies. Man, there is nothing more sickening than watching a bunch of pampered old men, living in past glories that probably didn't even exist by watching young, boring people ROW down a still river. "That's it lads, " they yell. "Do it for the Crimson!", and you just sit there and hope you can get drunk enough to justify throwing up on their boat shoes. The old boys' network is alive and well, and you can damn well bet they're not crying over leaving you, me or anyone else out. They should all burn in a deep pit.
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