From: The BPI Squirrel
To: BPI Budget Committee
It has come to my attention that the Janitor Professor of Astrology, while taking a break from his duties as the Professor of Astrology Janitor, visited France. Apparently this was to research last week’s Kossascopes. (More)
So I get stuck in a pet carrier in the baggage compartment without a movie or even those tiny bags of peanuts, then spend three days in a tree with no hotel room or even a press credential, to relay already-broken news from a conservative conference, in my staff role as BPI’s roving correspondent …
… and the Janitor Professor of Astrology goes to France to research Kossascopes?
This is unacceptable. Admittedly, it wasn’t exactly a pleasure trip for him. He jumped out of a perfectly good airplane (that part I get), while it was flying (that part I don’t get), with a parachute (my cousins the flying squirrels pack their own), and landed on a moving high-speed train. This was “research?” How, exactly, did that help him know what would happen for me or anyone else this weekend?
And did that “research” come out of the budget for BPI’s state-of-the-art High Energy Meta Mojo Elucidation Detector (HEMMED) Lab? I hope not. They found my garden gnome when no one else could! What if someone steals it it disappears again? Will the HEMMED Lab still be able to find it for me?
Take a look at the logo for this esteemed institution. Whose picture is there? The Janitor Professor of Astrology’s? No, mine. Who hosts Furthermore!, our campus soapbox? Me. Who hosts Campus Chatter? My cousins. (I would but it posts while I’m feeding the baby.) There’s a reason BPI’s sports teams are The Fightin’ Squirrels, or would be if we had sports teams.
I’m not asking to go to France and jump out of an airplane, while it’s flying, with a parachute, to land on a moving train. That’s nuts, and not the kind of nuts I like. I’m just saying that with the money you spent on that “research,” I could get a seat with a movie and a bag of peanuts when I have to fly, and a hotel room when I get there. Or you could have saved the money on the parachute rental and let the Janitor Professor of Astrology hold onto some of my flying cousins, who pack their own parachutes. I’m sure they wouldn’t drop him on purpose.
Hold on. Pootie the Precious sent me something on my Blewberry.
Oh. The Janitor Professor of Astrology didn’t go to France. It was a joke.
Sorry. I guess I should eat breakfast before I read. I was hungry, and you know how I get when I’m hungry….