Yo! Dudes, wha’s crackulatin?
Subject: The most-ultimate college entrance essay ever
Date: Jan. 22, 2009
Dear admissions office,
I am applying for a position in your incoming class of 2009, eager to add to your fine university’s long history of academic excellence. Congrats on all your university has achieved through the centuries. Most of all, your football team really rocks.
But this letter isn’t about you, it’s about me and what I can bring to your renowned campus, where I hear parking can be a real hassle, unless you’re like a quarterback or something. Honestly, that’s what I hear. My tendency in the past has always been to park anywhere I please. I hope that won’t be a hassle. Some people collect coins; I collect parking citations.
That is not to say that I am a discipline problem, no way. In fact, my buddies say I have good people skills and get along well with others. That’s not true. I get along GREAT with others, except those idiots at work who say I talk to (or should it be “too”?) much and aren’t respectful of their personal space. Truth is I adore other people. In dealing with others, I like feeling their hot breath on my forehead, that’s how close I usually get. It’s why I’m so adept at guessing what people had for breakfast. I think that shows a curious nature (applied sciences?).
I know these essays are vitally important. I know they’re often the determining factor in getting into one of the elite schools, for which I am no doubt headed. Thing is, from what I can tell, you can go a really long way on raw ego alone. Look at Trump, for example. No Copernicus, that guy. (Dude, your hair is made of what . . . nylon? I’ve seen less netting on a tuna boat.)
As you may be able to tell, I didn’t get a lot of tutoring or special help with this essay. With me, what you see is what you get. Besides, you know how sometimes you prepare and prepare for things, and then it turns out that you’re actually overly prepared? That has never, ever happened to me. I swear, I just go with the flow, know what I mean? I’m pretty sure I’m going to major in philosophy. Or teach. Or race Ferraris.
See, I’m mostly a humanist. I love helping others and having them love me in return. I feel a special kinship with dogs, horses and any other animal you can place a bet on. My skill with numbers is best displayed by the way I “invest” at Santa Anita. I once made 300 bucks on a trifecta there. If I don’t major in philosophy, I may lean toward economics.
Or I may go into feature films . . . but nothing behind the camera. That’s for losers. When you meet me, you’ll realize I have one of those faces that could just light up the big screen. The other night, I had this dream. David O. Selznick reached down from heaven and tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, kid, go get my car,” he said. One thing led to another, and suddenly I was a star. Not a big star but one who gets steady work well into his 50s. In fact, I’ve been mistaken for Clint Howard on several occasions and that old dude who used to play Matlock. And once, for Lassie. (Joke!)
So, I hope this exercise has told you a little bit about me and what I’m all about. You should probably check out my Facebook page. My “friends” are Socrates, Abraham Lincoln and Lee Marvin. Admittedly, I’ll be older than many of your incoming freshmen -- and some of their grandparents -- but I think you’ll find no one as eager to learn as myself (me? I? yours truly? them?). Because, while my resume is a little short on the upper-level maths, I’m a whiz at languages -- particularly English. And I believe I would mix well at alumni gatherings, where I am glad to wear the mascot suit whenever the regular guy is sick or passed out.
That’s just the way I roll.
Yours in all scholarly pursuits, Chris