What Would Michael Do?

Jared is taking this elective class on how non-profits work, or um, something like that.  Anyway, his assignment for the weekend was to write a grant proposal for diabetes research stuff.  It was simple:  All he had to do was write a proposal on behalf of a fake organization.  It’d take a few hours max.  Buuuut my little brother could care less about school right now because he’s dating some gorgeous girl and he’s absolutely obsessed with her.

Despite her questionable taste in shoes, she’s okay I guess.  I haven’t spent enough time with her to really form a real opinion.  But I *do* hate that she doesn’t push him to do his homework before putting out or whatever it is that they do.  Anyway, he comes to me yesterday and says, “Hey, I have a date with Slutbag (she’ll be called slutbag in this blog from now on, methinks)… do you think you can do me a HUGE favor?”  I said sure.  Of course, right?  He says, “I know you’ve written a ton of grant proposals… do you think you could write one for me for school and then I’ll change it up and stuff?  PLEASE dude, I promised Slutbag I would take her to dinner and to the movies today.  PLEASE?  I’ll do you a favor later…C’mon, it’s not like you have anything to do.”

He should have stopped before that, right?  “It’s not like you have anything to do.”  During an attempted manipulation, like the one that was in progress at that point, I would have gone with flattery.  But, he also had a point.  I was bored and I’m sorry to say that I actually enjoy doing those kinds of things, so I agreed and he went off with Slutbag.  He agreed to my one condition of making sure that he looked it over and changed it so it could look a little more like he wrote it.  And that was that.

Okay, I’ve been in an academic setting for a long time now and have written countless proposals in the last 10 years or so.  After helping to secure a grant for The Chomsky Lab (haha as we tend to call it), he (Chomsky) once told me, “You have a future in this.”  You can’t tell Noam friggin’ Chomsky that he’s a douchebag, because he’ll likely write a book about it.  But I was a little annoyed that he didn’t see any of my potential in Linguistics or Economics.  Instead, with his powerful words, he could have doomed me to a life of grant writing.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s kind of fun.  There’s nothing like that feeling you get once you get notice that you’ve gotten a grant.  But just not what I want to do for the rest of my life. 

Anyway point is, I wrote the proposal quickly.  I was quite proud of it.  And when Jared stopped by later that night, he took it and was very appreciative.  There’s only one thing.  After finishing the proposal, I looked it over and I kept thinking about how my brother’s going to fuck up if he keeps on putting everything over school.  He needs to learn.  He needs to graduate.  He needs to get his priorities straight.  So, um, teehee, right in the middle of the proposal, I wrote out, “I’m a fag who loves to have penises rubbed on me.” 

If he chose to read it through and fix things, then he would have caught it and deleted it.  If he chose to forget about the conditions to which he agreed, then he is fucked.  :-p

I’m a horrible person, I know.

Let’s see what happens! 

Huzzah!