In 1984, Stanford University denied me admission to the school of my dreams because I was white. It was one of the worst days of my entire life, and it permanently altered the arc of everything which followed. It is thus heartening to me – – although a little late, nearly 40 years later, to read of this decision:
Specifically, the high court has made it illegal to consider race in admissions. (I guarantee you, virtue-signalling colleges like those fuckers at Stanford WILL do it anyway, just not explicitly, but hey, I’ll take what I can get).
I’ve written about college admissions many times here on Slope. Here is one germane snippet:
Many eons ago, when I was actually approaching college age, the question as to whether or not I would go wasn’t even considered. Everyone in my family had gone, including my parents, and I had it all figured out: I was going to get accepted into Stanford, along with my girlfriend, and we’d attend it together and have a grand old time. We talked about it incessantly, knowing without a doubt that this was Our Destiny.
The acceptance rate back then, about 12%, seemed like a pretty high hurdle (those of you in the back snickering, please refrain; I realize the acceptance rate these days is 4%). I was pretty much a “B+” student, and my test scores were good, but not amazing. However, I had the unusual distinction of being a high school student who had his own software company and had about ten published books under his belt, so my achievements were unusual enough that I thought it would make up for these deficiencies. (My girlfriend, who had no such distinctions, had better grades than me, and somewhat better scores, but I figured her admission was less certain than my own).
Well, you can probably guessed what happened. She got in. And I didn’t.
Getting that thin envelope in the mail on that April afternoon was, to that point, the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I rushed over to my girlfriend’s house and, finding no one at home, just sat on the porch feeling miserable, waiting for someone to arrive so I could tell them the news. Tears streamed down my face until there was nothing left. I don’t quite remember if she got the yearned-for thick envelope that very day, but she probably did, since all the decisions were sent at once. It was a terrible blow for me, since the clean, simple future we had worked out had suddenly gone up in smoke.
As they say, if you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans.
This chart tells the picture beautifully:
I’m not stupid enough to go on at length about this topic, but I will at least say that, on behalf of all the kids out there applying to college – – – I am pleased to know there will be at least a SEMBLANCE in fairness in the decisions reached from now on. What happened to me was absolutely immoral, and I’ll never stop hating Stanford for it.
Oh, and in case you want to know what this enfeebled king of virtue-signalers thinks………
