A Holiday Hit List

THE semester's done early, your three papers completed,

Your Mac is still sizzling, though your room is unheated,

It's four below zero, the Quad shuttle's exploded,

Trump's bought your plane, where your bags have been loaded.

Dear reader, you've pored through news analysis and editorial,

You've seen three-part features and galleries pictorial.

As you shelve your last sourcebook and head for the gate,

Take with you our offerings for Yuletime '88.

To students, a center, where we all can gather,

North House dwellers can finally meet those from Mather.

Going there could easily become a habit;

Besides, we need another building named after a Cabot.

It sure beats the garden in back of the Fly,

Where SWAT holds barbeques to berate and decry.

To the insects, we give flypaper to attract women galore,

But only if it's posted out by the front door.

To MCAD we wish all possible aid,

And when all else fails, a large can of Raid.

FOR Derek, our friend, though rarely we speak,

A job offer suitable to your talents unique,

We hear there's an opening in a Yard nearby,

Where your pro-labor record you needn't deny,

Where protests and squabbles would still keep you awake,

The Law School deanship we suggest you retake.

Should you apply, your chances look pretty;

We know you have a good friend who's on the committee.

THE seven white men--oh wait, make that five--

The Corporation needs two members sure to revive.

We give you a woman and minority peer

So that different ideas you'll be able to hear.

To the Board of Overseers we give a loud voice,

And to the alumni who elect them, a genuine choice.

For Harvard the White Knight, takeover artist extraordinaire,

A package of cigarettes to poison the air.

An endowment past $5 billion is coming your way;

After all, we spend hundreds to be here each day.

TO Matina Horner, who is leaving our midst,

We give tenure at a school that doesn't exist.

For Archie C. Epps and L. Fred Jewett,

A keg to ban and a swat team to do it.

After 17 years of organizing, we give HUCTW a rest

And a voice for all workers to get things off their chest.

To Anne Taylor, an ear open to advice,

And to both parties, pacifiers, so you all play nice.

TO the profs in FAS, who teach us so well,

We offer some offices instead of a hotel.

To Dean Spence we give new faculty, young and homegrown,

And no more minorities here just on loan.

FOR the K-School faculty, all experts and purists,

A trip to Washington as more than just tourists.

To your beloved dean, a public service medal

For all the worthy donations he tried to softpedal.

Though you're leaving your job, Graham, we know you will linger

So we proffer your post to your good friend Steve Singer.

Dick Thornburgh, who unlike most, went with the winning bunch,

We leave you fond memories and a brown bag lunch.

O Med School faculty, whose deeds are at times nefarious,

We give you a stern lecture from one, Richard Marius,

And a course at the B-School in which to enlist

All your budding joint venture capitalists.

A bridge for the Law School, to cross its large schism

(Though it's sometimes been nice to see real radicalism),

A knife for the brie at the next office sit-in,

And a job interview schedule all students can fit in.

Clare Dalton, to whom the Law School was untrue,

Plenty of evidence and the chutzpah to sue.

Dershowitz, our counsel, a chef oh so fine,

A pastrami sandwich that costs less than $7.99,

And an appointment with a rebbe who won't mind saying

That you can be selling when you ought to be praying.

FOR the UC, a slumbering giant recently awoken,

Reps who are more politically outspoken.

To student activists we give a new cause,

To Wall Street-bound seniors, we offer a pause

To consider careers selfless and inspiring;

Besides we've checked--Goldman Sachs isn't hiring.

For all students, advisers without apprehension,

And for women, only desired attention.

AT the Quad, whose white stripes students once played on,

For Myra Mayman, a picnic table to get laid on.

Students at Lowell deserve a rambunctious hour;

For Mather residents, saltpeter and a cold shower.

To RTM, whose hacker daring did inspire us,

We give you immunity from the litigious virus.

To our ever-winning icemen, NHL status we give

For making the opposing goalie look like a sieve.

To Tom Yohe, one more year of eligibility;

For the rest of his team, just some win-ability.

FOR the Duke, whose liberalism Bush tweaked,

An assortment of gifts from the Harvard Boutique:

A campaign well-thought out and cleverly planned,

An Estrich who won't bury her head in the sand,

A good job at a good wage and a balanced budget

(If the reports aren't true, John Sasso can fudge it).

For Senator Bentsen, a place in which to stew;

It wasn't your fault--what could you do?

For Jackson, words that will inspire the electorate,

Speeches so stirring and phrases that don't rhyme.

GEORGE Bush, who chose a V.P. most detest,

We give you good health and a bullet proof vest,

Kinder, gentler policies, also, if you would deign,

As much heed to social issues as you gave in the campaign.

For negative advertising, which got you where you are,

We'll bring the feathers, you bring the tar.

J. Danforth Quayle, young V.P. so excited,

Tickets to the inaugural, else you'd not be invited.

For the rest of your days, a schedule so untaxing,

That you spend all your time on the golf course relaxing.

To Brennan, Marshall, Blackmun and Roe,

There's only four years, one month and four days to go.

TO Reagan, a movie contract, fine-printless and rich;

Four more years of acting should not be a switch.

The deficits you left us were presents so strange

That for fruitcake and socks we'd be happy to exchange.

For Nancy, a good horoscope predicting tomorrow

The arrival of designer dresses you won't have to borrow.

FOR Bill Bennett, a stereo, a loan, a pound of hash,

A "Guide to the Core" and a course book to trash.

To Allan Bloom, a Greek Temple or two,

In which you can blast "My Generation" by the Who.

TO Gorby, who's trying to change Russia's style,

We offer a Big Mac, a Coke and a smile.

To Arafat, suddenly in Reagan's favor,

We give a firm handshake, but no visa waiver.

Manuel Noriega, whom Bush treated so nice,

We give you a guest spot on "Miami Vice."

TO Mort and Geraldo, who try hard to please,

We give you each other as interviewees.

Martin Scorsese, whose film riled a nation,

We ask you to lead us not into Temptation.

FOR Sorrento, as always, the king of the hill,

A guard full of fresh faces, who won't make you ill.

To Brian, a year with these happy young pups

Full of four-figure press runs and two-color sups.

Liz, we give an alarm for your office and car,

A trip around the world and budgets that will go as far.

To Lorna, a short list and a funny cartoon,

For Elaine, no complaints and a happy honeymoon.

Kenny, a year of clean Crimson habits,

And Bogey, a new stomach and many fresh rabbits.

To the Lampy some chickens-in-resident,

A chair all your own, not carried by our president,

And guest appearance by Sam Kinison;

To Phil Weiss, lots of coal lumps and leftover venison.

THAT'S our list; please excuse the rhyme and the meter,

And we offer a final wish to you, dear reader:

Though it's been said, many times, many ways,

Have a pleasant holiday; see ya in 17 days.