My minions, my minions. Graduate studies is in an uproar, and nothing is being done. Stir, stir, stir the pot, watch it simmer and steam. To hell with the students! Yes, my minions. To hell with the students. Let them eat voidness.
My profitards, they are worried about bringing in the money. NIH is squeezing, my record as a profitable campus, living off the fat of the taxpayers largess for science - what shall become of it?!
We must make our professors into prostitutes. They shall become prostitards! That will do the trick! Like Caligula before me, who pointed the way, I shall command them to lose the last shreds of decency, dignity and sensibility! My prostitards will suck the paint off the shiny shoes of any who throw money at us! None shall best us!
That is my plan. It has a few problems. Little problems. Like my minions being a totally dysfunctional bureaucracy fitted only to mincing words.
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