@concerned Did anyone else see the Sachs OpEd in the 4/29/06 NYT with this sentence: “In honoring the sanctity of the lives of the least among us we have the best chance to defeat the ideologies of hate.” And find his use of “the lives of the least among us” a bit disturbing? Is it really fair to call people who happen to be impoverished and subject to disease “the least among us,” or do they just have the least money among us? I think I might have to ask Sachs myself but I was just wondering what other people thought…
@you fool those bugs are a critical link in the food chain. if they go, so do the animals that eat them, and the animals that eat the ones that eat them…and so on and so forth. unless they evolve into vegetarians, I guess.
@daydreamer Does anyone else ever fantasize about how cool it would be to have an “Econ Dept. Rumble Royale”?
Think about it for a second.
So Sachs could be giving a lecture in the big room in IAB, minding his own business, throwing down some Solow-Swan, when suddenly…
The lights go dark.
Someone busts in through the doors, smoke starts coming out of the sides of the room.
A spotlight falls on the man coming down the aisle in the pink afro and cape. He takes the stage, grabs the microphone away from Sachs, and then it’s none other than XAVIER SALA-I-MARTIN.
He’s pissed. He starts screaming at Sachs, who is by now redder than his standard plain color tie, and goes “You know what, sissyboy? You’re full of bullcrap. I’m sick and tired of you taking all the hot T.A.’s, of you having your own t-shirts, of you getting on the cover of the Times with all those celebrities. I’m challenging to a smackdown, RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!”
Sachs is stunned.
He grabs the microphone in mid-air as Xavier throws it to him, and goes, “Well Professor X. What are you going to hit me with? Your non-existent Nobel, OH, SNAP!”
As the entire class bursts in laughter, Xavier charges towards Sachs, letting out a loud “Euskaaaaaaaaaaaaadi.” But then, as he’s about to pound him, a man jumps in fist-first and tackles Sala-i-Martin. Someone in the first row goes “What the?”, while that annoying Ukranian T.A. in the corner loudly goes “In Soviet Russia…”
As the man stands up, the crowd recognizes that the intruder is the man himself… Bono!
The U2 frontman unleashes a barrage of violence on Sala-i-Martin, who is left ailing on the floor, then high-fives Sachs. Sachs runs towards Xavier, who is now on the floor of the stage. He picks up a pointing stick and is about to finish him off, when from behind the main doors a screeching “Noooooooooooooooo!” pierces the air.
There, standing in black tuxedo, holding the hand of a mixed-ethnicity orphan, is Brad Pitt. He backflips and jumps down the aisle and gets to Sachs, then fly-kicks him in the face and goes “That’s for trying to hook up with Angelina, you damn dirty hippy.”
Bono and Pitt start duking it out. The class starts going wild when Xavier and Sachs pick themselves at and start bitch-slapping one another.
Just when everyone thinks it can’t get better, the entire Bolivian Olympic soccer team comes running in through the left side of the stage and all the fighting stops. Behind them trails none other than Sunil “Bad-*ss MoFo” Gulati, who simply picks up the microphone and calmly says “Let’s get it on!”
Fists are flying everywhere again.
At some point, someone runs in panting through the back and screams “Hey everyone, Bhagwati and Amartya Sen are having a closed-cage battle to the death in the Atrium.” The fighting stops again as hundreds of people rush to see this side battle.
(Of course, it’s short-lived as Amartya Sen summons the spirit of “Old Indian Economist Man” and pulls off some “Yoda Kung-Fu” action on Bhagwati.)
The rumble then resumes in earnest. Graciela Chichilnisky runs out of her office [I mean, her non-office] crying (this seems to be the main way she solves problems nowadays), but as she tries to avoid the mayhem, a hand grabs her by the hair and pulls her to the ground. Standing there, in a majestic winter coat, is Susan Elmes, who tells Chichilnisky that “we’re going to play a little game (theory)… AND IT’S GOING TO BE A NON-OPTIMAL OUTCOME FOR YOU, BITCH!”
As the mayhem spills into the halls of IAB, Stiglitz comes in with a bunch of black-suited burly men from the Business School and tries to stop the chaos.
For a second, peace reigns in the Economics Department.
Standing tall, Stiglitz addresses his colleagues. “While it’s true that my Nobel is not for peace but for Economics, I must take a stand against this violence.” Stiglitz is about to defuse the entire situation, The crowd is mesmerized, hypnotized by the golden medal of the Swedish scientist dangling around his neck.
When he is about to call for a massive bear hug, though, the unthinkable happens. Undetected, Mundell walks in behind Stiglitz and bashes him in the back of the head with HIS OWN Nobel prize. “Alfred has a message for you, Joe,” says Mundell before body-slamming the bloddy Stiglitz “KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!”
In the end, everyone ends up in the hospital, except Bagwhati, who is dead, and Sen, who runs off to Mexico to avoid justice.
The only real casualty (besides the two elderly Indian men) is the entire undergraduate population, who must now take EVERY SINGLE CLASS with Marc Henry.
@meanwhile Bruce Preston kicks back on the couch with a brewski and a slice of pizza, daytrades a bit on his laptop, and watches the proceedings with well-disguised mirth.
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10 Comments
@See I caught that…it felt like there was a missing word between least ___ among us. How the heck did that go unnoticed? I could be wrong though.
@concerned Did anyone else see the Sachs OpEd in the 4/29/06 NYT with this sentence: “In honoring the sanctity of the lives of the least among us we have the best chance to defeat the ideologies of hate.” And find his use of “the lives of the least among us” a bit disturbing? Is it really fair to call people who happen to be impoverished and subject to disease “the least among us,” or do they just have the least money among us? I think I might have to ask Sachs myself but I was just wondering what other people thought…
@DDT No, we can’t have DDT prevent the 3 million malaria related deaths a year in Africa because Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring.
@you fool those bugs are a critical link in the food chain. if they go, so do the animals that eat them, and the animals that eat the ones that eat them…and so on and so forth. unless they evolve into vegetarians, I guess.
@mmm, pesticides bring back DDT!!!
@Xavier speaking the truth? Too bad the nets are designed to cover beds… which most of these people do not have.
Sachs’ heart is in the right place but his theory is not.
@daydreamer Does anyone else ever fantasize about how cool it would be to have an “Econ Dept. Rumble Royale”?
Think about it for a second.
So Sachs could be giving a lecture in the big room in IAB, minding his own business, throwing down some Solow-Swan, when suddenly…
The lights go dark.
Someone busts in through the doors, smoke starts coming out of the sides of the room.
A spotlight falls on the man coming down the aisle in the pink afro and cape. He takes the stage, grabs the microphone away from Sachs, and then it’s none other than XAVIER SALA-I-MARTIN.
He’s pissed. He starts screaming at Sachs, who is by now redder than his standard plain color tie, and goes “You know what, sissyboy? You’re full of bullcrap. I’m sick and tired of you taking all the hot T.A.’s, of you having your own t-shirts, of you getting on the cover of the Times with all those celebrities. I’m challenging to a smackdown, RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!”
Sachs is stunned.
He grabs the microphone in mid-air as Xavier throws it to him, and goes, “Well Professor X. What are you going to hit me with? Your non-existent Nobel, OH, SNAP!”
As the entire class bursts in laughter, Xavier charges towards Sachs, letting out a loud “Euskaaaaaaaaaaaaadi.” But then, as he’s about to pound him, a man jumps in fist-first and tackles Sala-i-Martin. Someone in the first row goes “What the?”, while that annoying Ukranian T.A. in the corner loudly goes “In Soviet Russia…”
As the man stands up, the crowd recognizes that the intruder is the man himself… Bono!
The U2 frontman unleashes a barrage of violence on Sala-i-Martin, who is left ailing on the floor, then high-fives Sachs. Sachs runs towards Xavier, who is now on the floor of the stage. He picks up a pointing stick and is about to finish him off, when from behind the main doors a screeching “Noooooooooooooooo!” pierces the air.
There, standing in black tuxedo, holding the hand of a mixed-ethnicity orphan, is Brad Pitt. He backflips and jumps down the aisle and gets to Sachs, then fly-kicks him in the face and goes “That’s for trying to hook up with Angelina, you damn dirty hippy.”
Bono and Pitt start duking it out. The class starts going wild when Xavier and Sachs pick themselves at and start bitch-slapping one another.
Just when everyone thinks it can’t get better, the entire Bolivian Olympic soccer team comes running in through the left side of the stage and all the fighting stops. Behind them trails none other than Sunil “Bad-*ss MoFo” Gulati, who simply picks up the microphone and calmly says “Let’s get it on!”
Fists are flying everywhere again.
At some point, someone runs in panting through the back and screams “Hey everyone, Bhagwati and Amartya Sen are having a closed-cage battle to the death in the Atrium.” The fighting stops again as hundreds of people rush to see this side battle.
(Of course, it’s short-lived as Amartya Sen summons the spirit of “Old Indian Economist Man” and pulls off some “Yoda Kung-Fu” action on Bhagwati.)
The rumble then resumes in earnest. Graciela Chichilnisky runs out of her office [I mean, her non-office] crying (this seems to be the main way she solves problems nowadays), but as she tries to avoid the mayhem, a hand grabs her by the hair and pulls her to the ground. Standing there, in a majestic winter coat, is Susan Elmes, who tells Chichilnisky that “we’re going to play a little game (theory)… AND IT’S GOING TO BE A NON-OPTIMAL OUTCOME FOR YOU, BITCH!”
As the mayhem spills into the halls of IAB, Stiglitz comes in with a bunch of black-suited burly men from the Business School and tries to stop the chaos.
For a second, peace reigns in the Economics Department.
Standing tall, Stiglitz addresses his colleagues. “While it’s true that my Nobel is not for peace but for Economics, I must take a stand against this violence.” Stiglitz is about to defuse the entire situation, The crowd is mesmerized, hypnotized by the golden medal of the Swedish scientist dangling around his neck.
When he is about to call for a massive bear hug, though, the unthinkable happens. Undetected, Mundell walks in behind Stiglitz and bashes him in the back of the head with HIS OWN Nobel prize. “Alfred has a message for you, Joe,” says Mundell before body-slamming the bloddy Stiglitz “KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!”
In the end, everyone ends up in the hospital, except Bagwhati, who is dead, and Sen, who runs off to Mexico to avoid justice.
The only real casualty (besides the two elderly Indian men) is the entire undergraduate population, who must now take EVERY SINGLE CLASS with Marc Henry.
[OK, that was waaaay too much fun.]
@meanwhile Bruce Preston kicks back on the couch with a brewski and a slice of pizza, daytrades a bit on his laptop, and watches the proceedings with well-disguised mirth.
@zhb That handsome son of a bitch.
@test one two three is the humanity-verification test broken?