Prestige and Mobility: Macaroni Mascots

Look at our last names. All right, welcome back to this paragraph. You know what kind of guys we are. We probably slick our hair back and eat spaghetti at home EVERY NIGHT. “Mamma mia,” right? Looks like we just found a bigot.

But you are not the only bigot in the history of this soiled university. This university was built by people who hate people like us. Some people say things change, but Sacco and Vanzetti still sounds a lot like Chiappini and Bilotti to us. Oh, we’ve heard the jokes: “Hey, Linguini Breath,” they say, “are you going to put some Communion hosts on your host-eroni pizza?” Sadly, we do not cry marinara sauce, but real human tears.

We took a break from people hurling meatballs at us in the dining hall to bring you this column. We have all heard about the controversial mascots: the Washington Redskins, the Notre Dame Fighting Irish, the Atlanta Braves, and the Chicago Bears (yeah, we’re throwing up right now too). But you probably neglect abuses when they’re close to home—domestic abuses, we’ll call them. You just want to go through life neglecting the pile of stegosaurus manure in your own backyard. That’s right: The Harvard Crimson. [1] “But wait!” you snivel. “That’s not even a mascot! That’s just a color!” Yeah, right, and Chris Brown is just Usher with an edge.

When you attend your 1.7 football games a year, you are probably delighted by the antics of the biggest bigot of them all—the faux John Harvard who prances around, flaunting his hatred of southern Europeans and their culture. He wants you to love him, but he doesn’t want you to think about how disgusted he is that there are Harvard students in the stands whose surnames end in vowels, and not vowels that are only sometimes vowels (so-called “weekend warrior” vowels), but work-a-day, knock-around vowels, the kinds of vowels that built this country.

Ol’ Jack Harvard and his Puritan scumbag brosephs came to this country to get away from people like us and have tried to keep us out ever since. NEWS FLASH: we’re back! Assholes. We brought our swarthy demeanor and our bocce balls. Get used to it. To these ol’ bluebloods, anyone who doesn’t get a boner at the mention of Plymouth Rock doesn’t belong in this country. NEWS FLASH: This is a melting pot, or a salad, or a taco salad, or a Cobb salad, or a lobster bisque with a light garnish—depending on your culinary and ideological persuasions.

However, Italians don’t just tear things down without a plan. We build them up, so they can lean over due to soil erosion. We have substantive ideas, and we were humble enough to scrap those that only honored our culture: Vespas, the Pope, “The Lizzie McGuire Movie,” Rocky Marciano/Rocky of “Rocky” fame, and Chef Boyardee. Even after discarding those, we have some great ideas that will represent Harvard much better than the Orange reactionary we currently have.

The Harvard Clocks: Nothing is more scary to Harvard students and other Ivy Leaguers than Time.

The Harvard Viswanathans: We didn’t steal your playbook, we “internalized” it. Why mess with success?

The Harvard Salem the Cats: Sassy, classy, and @fassy.

The Harvard Assholes on Parade: That’s about all you are. Next joke. I said, NEXT JOKE.

The Harvard New York Liberty: Combining the discipline of Rebecca Lobo, the brand recognition of Sheryl Swoopes, the sound fundamentals of Diana Taurasi, and the unbridled passion of Chamique Holdsclaw, these troops of Our Queen Drew Faust will blow through opposing dudes.

The Harvard Registrars: Kane brings the pain! [2]

The Harvard Shia LaBeoufs: Watch out for this one. He’s up and coming.

The Harvard Facebooks: Our only source of human interaction. We’ll poke you where it hurts.

The Harvard Mustangs: Vroom, vroom [Anti-lock brakes noise].

The Harvard UHS Physician Assistants: Malpractice or your money back. Co-sponsored by Room 13 and the Kevorkian Institute for the Advancement of Terminal Illness.

The Harvard Rebels: We know how to rebel. We come in here wanting to be doctors and work for NGOs, but we rebel and become I-bankers. You can try and kill us, but we have no souls.

The Harvard Israelis: Just kidding, though we dare Alan Dershowitz to debate us.

Real Americans are ready to move past these pasta and anti-pasta politics. Remember our great Italian-American heroes: Giorgio Washingtino, Silvio Berlusconi, Giovanni Adamsi, and Alexandro Hamiltini. If they were on our campus today, they would twirl their large handlebar mustaches and say, “Send your votes for Harvard’s new mascot, along with pictures of your ‘figure,’ to prestigeandmobility@gmail.com!” [3]

[1] The nickname, not the paper, but yeah, the paper too.

[2] By “pain,” we mean “fascism”.

[3] We’re hoping for a total of nine breasts.