Hehe. Someone (not me) stole a $3,000 wooden map from the wall in the entry-gate to Yale's Saybrook College. This seems both indicative of the ridiculous notions of ownership and entitlement Yale inscribes upon its students, as well as the wealth and power of the institution itself for having a fucking $3000 WOODEN MAP in the first place. I mean, i'm sure some art major would have been happy to do it for free. $3000 would fund someone's summer research, pay my rent for seven months, or fund the efforts of a search committee to replace President Levin, who is clearly way too busy trying to exonerate George W(ar Criminal) Bush of any wrongdoing to effectively lead a university in dire need of change. The theft of this map also leads me to question the university's role production of this nostalgia (albeit gone slightly amok) which led to the aforementioned pilfering of the map in question. Why do we feel the need to possess these mementos of our inculcation with the values and customs of and initiation into the ranks of the global managerial elite (well, except for me, -- I'm an unemployed schmuck moving in with his parents at age 23 (or 22 and 11/12, but what's the difference?) How must this act, and the desire from a tangible object of collegiate nostalgia which presumably spawned it, be read in the context of Yale's significations of privilege, empire, and maturity or lack thereof?



That's enough for now.