2014 Senior Roast

Tutor Cortright Roasts the Class of 2014

Select parts 1 or 2 from the list on the right. If you desire a closer scrutiny of the script,  just scroll through the text window below the video.

Part 1

 Scroll through the text of the roast

To the

Integral Class of 2014

Certain Master Spirits
of
Anglophone Poetry
and
Traditional Melody
proffer these
Anatomies Versical;

In which their persons are offered up
as Cautionary Tales for the edification
of lowerclassmen.

Why is it that men strive for folly,
'Neath inauspices ne'er too jolly?
"Too brief our lives," we often say,
"To spend our days in idle play."
Yet gaze we must at things
forgotten,
At distant stars, divine begotten.
So in love these gifts we give thee,
All for naught,
And peace we bid thee.

 G. C., S. A. C., M. S. et alii
(Integral Class of 1975)

 

 


Shane Blunk . . .
who was Good . . . and suffered for it!

 

The chief defect of student Blunk
Was not that he would do a bunk,
On Paper Day, Hernandez-wise,
Or make Shimizu count his flies;
Nor readings did he Sumner-ize
'Till tutors groan'd and roll'd their eyes:
He always did just as he should;
He was intolerably good.

More: quite beyond the Program's bourne,
And friendly as a summer's morn,
All robed in his felicity,
He'd sell the rubes on SMC.
So unexampled ran his fame,
Administrators knew his name,
And wondered, musing inwardly,
"Could this kid be a threat to me!?"

Our hero, innocent of guile,
Continued to excel and smile,
As forces of unseemly bent,
Assembled with malign intent.
The crisis fell upon the day
That Joe Zepeda rose to say:
"This Blunk's a splinter in my eye;
FOR I'M THE PROGRAM'S NICEST GUY!"

The tutors' oligarchic three,
Known by their acronym, "IC,"
Assembled with assorted deans,
To meditate on ways and means.
Up spoke the craftiest of all,
The Bane of Juniors, Lex Doval:
"Zepeda lusts for SB's head;
I say: Exile the schmuck, instead."

"On plea that there's a school of note,
Uproot him to someplace remote,
Where Winter fastens on the land
With unrelenting, icy hand,
Where pancakes masquerade as crepes
And wine is made from CONCORD GRAPES . . .!
We'll show no mercy to this one:
Let's pack him off to Bennington!"

(With apologies to Hillaire Belloc, Bard; and with reference to
Cautionary Verses, "Henry King: Who chewed bits of String,
and was early cut off in Dreadful Agonies")

 



Jean-Marie Garcia . . .
who failed as fruit-fly procuress . . . and was scarred for life!

 

Garcia raised such sickly flies,
They marched in troops to paradise;
In ranks her blighted vials stood,
(Detroit boasts better neighborhoods)
Ten "mansions" almost fruit-fly-free,
And each one labeled "JMG;"
It seemed her presence in the room
Could seal the little creatures' Doom.

Or so she thought, as late one day,
She sought the Tutor out, to say:
"Beshrew my heart!"—such was her style—
"I've labored over ev'ry vial,
And still I cannot make out why
My 'whites' and 'wilds' live but to die;
O! Tell me: why is Heaven bent
On scutt'ling my experiment!"

The Tutor heaved a single sigh,
And gestured to a workbench nigh,
Where Mickey Sumner, dutif'ly
Addressed a superfluity
Of 'whites' and 'wilds'; his enterprise
Had left them breeding—well—like flies.
The Tutor murmured, "Jean-Marie,
They hump for him, but not for thee!"

Ah! Heavy in the air, they hung,
Dire words; Garcia's heart they wrung!
"Drosophi-prophylactic, me?"
So rang the knell, for Jean-Marie.
O Fate Unnatural! Unkind!
How dis-entuning to the mind!
To wonder, "Am I such a prude
As leaves a fly, 'Not in the mood'?"

(With apologies to Hillaire Belloc, Bard; and with reference to
Cautionary Verses, "Matilda, Who told Lies, and was Burned
to Death ")

 


 

Dolan Kay . . .
who was given to conflicting Muses . . . and undone by them!

Two Muses fell on Dolan Kay,
From Lennon and the Bard.
They battened on his brain one day,
And shook it good and hard!
Exclaiming to his inward heart:
"Take this! O mortal voice!
For 'tween us two thou wouldst not choose,
henceforth hast thou no choice!"

And thus, poor Dolan, dual-possessed,
Played out a blasted youth:
The sum of his sagacity,
Was one chord and half-truths!

Thus:

If music be the food of love, play on
Ah! in Strawberry fields, forever!
Give me excess of it, that surfeiting
The appetite may sicken and so die,
As Maxwell's hammer falls upon its head!
That strain agen! It had a dying fall—
Like Rocky Raccoon, back into his room;
O! It came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
Of Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band,
That marches o'er a bank of violets,
Tramp'ling and stif'ling ardor. Enough, no more:
Hath not the beat now that it had before:
Y' know, it's three weeks—I'm goin' insane!
Y' know I'd give you ev'ry thing I've got
To possess a single mind . . .

MORAL

From Dolan Kay's misfortune, learn:
Allot your leisure hours,
To song Zepeda wouldn't spurn,
And lyric that empow'rs,
A taste for all things excellent.
But on the other hand,
For dancing try KSMC
(it's on the FM band).

(With apologies to Hilaire Belloc, Bard; and with reference to
Cautionary Verses, "Franklin Hyde, Who caroused in the Dirt
and was corrected by His Uncle")

 


 

Omar Hernandez . . .
who enjoyed premature success . . . and reaped its consequence!

Hernandez no one could advise:
He didn't seem to realize
     He'd struck his colors, nearly.

Whichever tutor took in hand
To guide this wayward gentleman
     Was self-rewarded, merely.

No fact for Omar's close review
Could overcome "1-7-2"
     Which had debauched him, clearly.

For t'was his stellar L-SAT score
And marked him pre-inheritor
  Of satisfactions high;
But nemesis lurks in that "pre,"
Which signifies but "what may be,"
  If nothing goes awry.

MORAL

Hernandez' confidence reposed
In triumphs that might be supposed
     Securely in his way;
Assuming that he'd paid his dues:
How if that same 1-7-2's
     His program GPA?

(With apologies to Hilaire Belloc, Bard; and with reference to
More Beasts for Worse Children, The Python")

 

 


Natalie Franzini . . .
who aspired to be a leader . . . and became a footnote!

 

The nicest girl the tutors knew
Was Natalie Franzini, who
Never lost her cool, or swore
Whilst demonstrating at the board;
Who never showed the signs of wrath,
Protested she was fond of math
(To which, however, she preferred
The parsing of Hellenic verbs);
And sought, because she thought it nice,
To visit every reading twice.
And as for finding paradigms
     Unappetizing, au contraire!
She often, of the tutors grace,
Would beg them, with a quite-straight face,
For extras, if they did not mind,
and of the most recondite kind.

In seminar she always tried
To take a viewpoint broad and wide,
And in her inventions be
The watchword of grave courtesy.

Her written work was always fine,
And in Don Rags she took the time
To thank her tutors in addition
For wise and helpful admonition.

She never did a thing 'twas rotten,
And in six months, was quite forgotten.

(With apologies to Hilaire Belloc, Bard; and with reference to
Cautionary Verses, "Charles Augustus Fortescue, Who always Did
What was Right, and so accumulated an Immense Fortune")

 


 

Shannon O'Leary . . .
who read voraciously . . . but spoke oracularly

The Tutor muses . . .

Ms. O'Leary, shedding light
In the seminar this night,
What prelucent thoughts or dreams
Inform thy startling enthymemes?

What deep matter, by what art,
Hath been fashion'd in thine heart,
That we, whose fortè is swift surmise,
Are all disarméd with surprise?

Does the impress of the text
Stir a vision in thy breast?
By what means shall we approach
To the argument you broach?

What the manner? which the words?
In what genus fall thy terms?
What the figure? How essay
To grasp it in a formal way?

Ms. O'Leary shedding heat,
By thine incandescent speech,
What prelucent thoughts or dreams
Inform thy startling enthymemes?

(With apologies to William Blake, Bard; and with reference
to "The Tyger")

 


 

Jacquelyn Antonini . . .
Who took up politics . . . and blasphemed!

Tutors, let's salute the Fates!
Antonini graduates!
Libertarian she be,
Foe to evr'y tyranny.
Tutors, all intolerant,
Of mere superficial cant,
And offended ev'ry week,
By some wretched Über-Geek,
Favor candor and forgive,
Everyone in whom it lives;
Pardon fallacies, conceits,
Lay high honors at their feet.
Tutors who, on this excuse,
Pardon Sumner (and his views),
Freely pardon Jackie, too—
Even though she's led to think
Honest Abe might be a fink!
And democracy's a stew
In which wretched tyrants brew.

Focus, Jackie, mildly vexed,
On the crucial, telling text;
With your unconstrainèd voice,
Pose the exegetic choice;
Settle on the thing to say,
Speak your true mind, come what may!

(With apologies to W. H. Auden, Bard; and with reference
"Ode on the Death of William Butler Yeats")