All Donors Matter: I’m No Longer an Organ Donor Because I Hate Liz Magill

When I graduated from Dear Old Penn, women stayed out in the boondocks of Bryn Mawr. 

When I graduated from Dear Old Penn, grabbing women by the pussy was the next best thing since throwing sliced bread. 

When I graduated from Dear Old Penn, the Ed School still looked like an ed school. 

When I look into Liz Magill’s bluish gray eyes, I don’t see Dear Old Penn. I see Liz Magill’s face. Behind her fundraising resumé, I don’t see anything (I am legally blind). Back in my day, we protested women being allowed to distract us in class. But today, that same fervor is not being applied to issues of similar moral significance. Shame on Liz Magill for letting women enroll in classes other than Nursing and for not having absolute dominion over students’ free speech. 

I shan’t stand for this. I shall sit! I shall sit in front of my Macintosh 128K and relinquish my donations. There you have it California DMV, I am no longer an organ donor! Shame on Liz Magill! Aren’t you ashamed? Now, if I die in combat – as I drive my digital billboard truck – there is no way that anyone at Penn or Liz Magill (we’re both Type O) will receive my bleeding heart, my “BRN” eyes, or my fat ass. We all must do our part and what better way to pledge allegiance to a cause than to refuse to shed your blood for it? Some pussies, like a certain founder of a certain woman’s secret company, choose to relinquish their dollars from these institutions of lower miseducation and to them I say: blood is thicker than billions. 

We donors must make clear where our hearts are: not in the body of an ailing, but earnest student or former clerk to Ruth Bader Ginsburg.