In another life, I attended a prep school in mid-Manhattan (I'm not listing the name, my brothers and sisters know it and that's enough) as something akin to a duck-billed platypus.
My father was headmaster of the lower school so I was a 'scholarship child' in the upper school though I don't think I fully appreciated that at the time. I even attended 'tea-dances' as they were called; heavily chaperoned mixers with all girl-schools complete with live music from five and six-piece ensembles. Seriously.
My recollection is that for both tenth and eleventh grades, I shared a homeroom with the heir to the New York Times publishing dynasty, who was a good person with a great sense of humor. I was thinking about that sense of humor when I fell across an article from McSweeney's.
I only know about McSweeney's because of a very dear Facebook friend, C.R. Foster, who is also a superlative writer (you should check out their latest, The Rain Artist), has on occasion had short pieces in the magazine.
Not like the one I found. Anyway, I hope both of them can find it as funny as I did. Enjoy.
-bill kenny
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