Recently, I read an article that centered on a Harvard professor’s anger after a recent grad whom he taught (Jared Kushner, the son of realllly powerful real estate developer) went out and bought the New York Observer — and then slashed the paychecks of the Observer’s freelancers, one of whom was the Harvard professor himself. The professor was pissed that Kushner, who most likely gave him attitude in the classroom, had the money and the audacity to do something that monumental, while the professor was making around $15,500 a year.
“When intellectuals act as clerks and students act as clients, how do college teachers differ from corporate accountants?” the professor angrily writes. “…the sedulous banality of the rich degrades teaching into a service-class preoccupation whose chief duty is preparing clients for monied careers.”
Big words (I mean, he teaches at Harvard. I think it’s a prerequisite), but what the guy is basically saying that rich students make him feel like he’s not doing anything except helping them learn how to grow up and screw the little guys. Rich kids make this guy feel like he’s nothing more than a stepping stone toward big conglomerate world domination.
He’s sort of got a point, but it’s a moot one, because…I mean…duh.
A lot of insanely rich kids grow up believing most of the human race is there to serve them. I attended undergrad at a private liberal arts college where Gucci purses and Prada shoes were perfectly in place at 8:30 in the morning, and you better believe there were some kids with major attitude in class. A degree was something they simply had to tolerate before Daddy or Mommy or Uncle Dearest would set them up in some prime position at whatever giant company their family owned. Read More »




As the 5th season of 

My friends laughed when I told them I had to go to a conference regarding women taking action in the media. “Have fun with all the crazy feminist man-haters!” they joked. I didn’t want to attend the conference because I knew my friends were right; who wants to spend the entire day with a bunch of angry women? Halfway between my apartment and the conference center on Saturday morning, I realized I was wearing my pink fleece and carrying a Prada bag. “Shoot! Do feminists wear pink?”
So I’ve got this issue, and I wonder if it’s just a
Everyone knows you really, reaally, reeeeeally want that big black Chanel bag.