As it turned out, Mac was correct. The college on the common had no interest in running a rural outpost, they simply needed to keep the college on the hill on its feet while they made plans to strip it of all its usable parts. Colm was the perfect interim; his cantankerous approach to any issue proved to be a perfect diversion, his intermittent charm sufficient enough to assuage the curious, deflect the angry and unnerve the feint of heart.
While overseeing the little college’s day to day operations, the death rattle eventually grew loud enough so that even Colm, who held out some hope that he might actually be named the college’s eighth president, had to concede that he’d been played. A reasonable man would have accepted the reality of the situation with some anger, but ultimately with a grudging acknowledgement that financial duplicity is now at the core of higher education.
But Colm has never been a reasonable man.
And so Colm, Mac and Turdling decided to draw on the rebellious spirit that is at the heart of Vermont’s history. Like three dyspeptic Green Mountain boys, they decided to commit career suicide, designing and implementing a plan that would guarantee their expulsion from the louche fraternity of empty suits, timid academics and self-absorbed cabinet ministers who run the college on the common. Our heroes realized that they weren’t bound by any loyalty to an elite nursery school for the spawn of striving Babbitts (the college on the common), so they decided to act out of a devotion to the principles of the college on the hill (Mac), a belief in the importance of a liberal education (Turdling) and the desire to monkey fuck the fraudulent (Colm).
It all started with an email.