College season is upon us, and I made the mistake of asking my cat, Stella, if she wanted to go. Yes, she wanted to go.
Stella, have you ever wanted to go to college?
No, but now that you mention it, yes. Can we tour the dining halls now?
Sorry, Stella, I was just making conversation. Cats don’t really go to college.
Oh, come on! I can change channels and preheat the oven. I belong in college — and the assorted cafeteria and dining establishments.
I can say for certain that college is not the place for you. For one, how would you even get in?
Easy. Just send ‘em 63 bucks and a picture of me sitting on a paddle. Done. Captain of the rowing team. A full ride to an elite school of my choosing.
That’s not how you get into college.
Sure it is. I saw it on BuzzFeed.
And I worry you’d nap during the lectures.
Everybody naps during the lectures. It’s long known that the human body can’t survive Intro to Philosophy without a good 30 minutes of flat-out unconsciousness. Cats require the full hour.
So how will you learn anything?
I imagine the information will just soak into me. Remember when I learned economics napping through The Price is Right?
I don’t think you learned economics.
Sure I did. Butter is $19.37 a pound.
I also worry you’ll want to join a fraternity.
I certainly hope so. I didn’t watch National Lampoon’s Animal House 17 times for nothing. Nobody is more qualified to take
down Dean Wormer than me.
You watched Animal House 17 times?
It’s on Hulu. We now subscribe to Hulu, by the way.
I also think you’ll quickly lose interest and drop out.
Of course I’ll drop out! All geniuses drop out when they get funded.
You mean you’ll start a company?
Sure. Some social-media thing where people send me chicken. Or I’ll invent a car that runs on … vacuum cleaners. Good for the environment and gets rid of all the vacuum cleaners. I’ll be the first cat ever on Fast Money. Just spitballing, here.
Those are terrible ideas.
How about a blood test you can do in the comfort of a 7-Eleven?
Didn’t Elizabeth Holmes try that with Theranos?
She couldn’t figure out the technology.
And you can?
Come on — it’s a blood test. Should I start wearing a turtleneck now and establish a mythology?
You’re right, my neck is too pretty. What if I wear a hoodie? Picture me on the cover of Wired. “The billionaire tech cat who has all your chicken.”
I can’t picture that.
Vogue, then. “How this monocle-wearing feline keeps Silicon Valley purring.”
That’s equally terrible.
You try writing a headline that doesn’t sound stupid.
I don’t think you’re cut out to be a tech genius, Stella.
Watch your tone. I still need someone to help shovel all the venture capital into the back bedroom.
Why don’t you go soak in some more economics on the couch?
Is it 10 a.m. already?! Let’s put a pin in this conversation until after the Showcase Showdown.
Have a nice nap, Stella.
I hope I dream about the Stanford cafeteria. Cafeteria dreams
are the best.