#Harvard Crimson

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Dion J. Pierre

Harvard University professors announced the founding of the school’s first “Faculty for Israel” group in a new op-ed for the campus newspaper.

“Israeli students and faculty are targets of pervasive anti-Israel hatred,” Jesse Fried and Matthew Meyerson wrote in the Harvard Crimson, explaining the need for such a group. “At Harvard, students have disrupted an Israeli professor’s lecture, an undergraduate has reported that a professor forced her to leave a classroom after she said she was Israeli, and an outside law firm engaged by Harvard found that another instructor discriminated against Israeli students on the basis of their national origin and identity.”

They added, “The message is clear: Zionists are not welcome,” and discussed the fits of antisemitism that have come over Harvard University students since Oct. 7, including an incident in which pro-Hamas students flooded a messaging forum with antisemitic tropes. They posted comments such as “we got too many damn jews [sic]…supporting our economy” and “she looks just as dumb as her nose is crooked.”

Harvard Faculty for Israel’s founding comes at an inflection point in the history of Harvard, whose reputation as the finest institution of higher education in the US has been besmirched by a series of crises which called into question not only the competence of its school officials but also the quality of the faculty and students being selected to share in its prestige.

Just this week, the Crimson reported, a Jewish student’s mezuzah “went missing” and could not be found by its owner for “several hours.” Later, Harvard University police found the prayer scroll “three doors down from the student’s room,” leaving the victim, Sarah Silverman, resolute in her belief that it was returned once a police investigation of the theft was launched.

In response, Harvard Chabad Rabbi Hirschy Zarchi implored Harvard to “recognize” the incident as a “hate crime.”

He added, “To tear down a mezuzah is to send a message of intimidation and erasure. It’s not just a matter of vandalism; it is an attack on the very identity of the Jewish community at Harvard.”

Meanwhile, the Crimson — a paper which has time and time again published articles which took as fact accusations of racial bias and just two years ago endorsed the boycott, divestment, and sanctions (BDS) movement which aims to destroy the world’s only Jewish state — saw it fit to note that there is not “any evidence” that a crime took place.

[eretzyisrael]

by Matt Lebovic

“[Harvard] contributed to Nazi Germany’s efforts to improve its image in the West,” wrote historian Stephen Norwood in his book, “The Third Reich in the Ivory Tower: Complicity and Conflict on American Campuses.”

“Harvard’s administration and many of its student leaders offered important encouragement to the Hitler regime, as it intensified its persecution of Jews and expanded its military strength,” Norwood wrote.

Conant “was not just silent” about antisemitism, said Norwood, but “actively collaborated in it.”

In May 1934, Conant was publicly mute during the visit of the Nazi warship Karlsruhe to Boston, some of whose crew members were entertained at Harvard.

The next year, Conant permitted Nazi Germany’s top diplomat in Boston to place a wreath bearing the swastika in a Harvard chapel, according to Norwood.

Throughout the 1930s, Harvard tried to keep out Jewish refugees — and especially Jewish professors — as demonstrated in research on European scholars who attempted to flee Hitler.

Conant did not speak out against Nazism until after the Kristallnacht pogrom in November 1938. Three years had passed since the Nuremberg race laws stripped German Jews of citizenship.

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

The Social Network (2010, David Fincher)

29/08/2024

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Alan Dershowitz

Published: Dec 21, 2023

The Harvard Crimson has refused to publish a letter I wrote critical of president Claudine Gay’s testimony in Congress.

The paper published an article Dec. 12 by law Professor Charles Fried providing a legalistic defense of her claim that those who call for genocide against Jews cannot be disciplined without considering “the context.”

Here’s my response:

--

The problem with Charles Fried’s defense of President Gay’s “Context matters” statement is he fails to acknowledge that for Gay, context apparently matters only for genocidal threats against Jews.

Context does not matter for microaggressions against blacks, gays and other minorities protected by the diversity, equity, inclusion bureaucracy that she has long championed.

Under the DEI regime, admissions have been withdrawn, lectures canceled and students admonished — at Harvard, Penn, MIT and other universities — for their speech without regard to the context in which they were said.

Fried fails to see the broader context of the double standard employed by so many universities — including Harvard — against Jews and other minorities that are excluded by DEI.

Yes, context matters, and in this broader context, Gay was wrong to brag to Congress about Harvard’s commitment to free expression without also telling it that Harvard’s selective application of free-speech standards earned it a last-place rating for free speech by the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression.

It is in that context that Gay’s new and selective double standard for protecting the free speech of Jew-haters should be evaluated.

It is to be hoped that Gay’s new contextual standard will in the future be universally applied to all speech at Harvard and the DEI bureaucracy will henceforth be denied the power to censor and cancel expression that is directed against protected minorities.

--

Despite my forward-looking and positive conclusion, the editorial board wrote that it is “not interested in publishing it.”

I think this is the first time in my 65 years of writing letters to the editor that one has been turned down.

And this one is from a professor who has been on the Harvard faculty for 60 years and has published numerous articles and letters in the Crimson.

It’s a telling irony the paper that reassured its readers “Free speech is the guiding principle of this Editorial Board” refuses to publish a letter calling for less censorship and viewpoint discrimination on campus.

That reflects Harvard’s double-standard approach to free speech: contextual free speech for the enemies of Jews and their state; censorship for supporters of Israel and critics of Harvard.

By refusing to publish my short reply to Professor Fried, the paper didn’t deny my free speech.

It denied Crimson readers’ right to hear all sides of a controversial issue — because the Crimson decided to shut down the marketplace of ideas.

When the media refuse to publish legitimate criticism of the institution they cover, the checks on the biases of that institution are weakened.

In light of this pervasive double standard, it’s not surprising so many Jewish students feel that Harvard does not value and protect them.

In recent years, the Crimson has become the megaphone for anti-Israel and antisemitic extremism on campus.

It’s also become the censor of pro-Israel and balanced views.

Last year, for instance, the Crimson’s editorial board called for support for the boycott, divestment, sanctions movement against Israel.

In its editorial, the paper explicitly distanced itself from a 2002 editorial that called divestment too blunt of a tool and the comparison to South African apartheid offensive: “In the past, our board was skeptical of the movement (if not, generally speaking, of its goals), arguing that BDS as a whole did not ‘get at the nuances and particularities of the Israel-Palestine conflict.’ We regret and reject that view. It is our categorical imperative to side with and empower the vulnerable and oppressed.”

It then goes on to paint a false picture that pro-Palestinian viewpoints are being suppressed on campus.

The Crimson of today writes, “We have a certain community-wide tendency to dismiss opposing views as inherently offensive and unworthy, straw-manning legitimate arguments and obfuscating difficult but necessary discussions. Yet civil discourse and debate, even when trying, are fundamental steps towards a better reality.”

But it does not apply these standards when it comes to Jews.

Harvard students, faculty and other readers should make their voices heard in the name of veritas and the open marketplace of ideas.

Competing Harvard newspapers and media should be established to ensure all reasonable views can be heard.

The Crimson is part of the problem of growing antisemitism at Harvard. It does not serve the Harvard community well in this time of deep divisions and hate.

Alan Dershowitz is professor emeritus at Harvard Law School. His latest book is “The War Against the Jews: How To End Hamas Barbarism.”

==

The antisemitism is bad enough, but then their defence for that is a value they clearly don't subscribe to or support.

[wutbju]

It started when Bob Jones University had its federal funding withheld due to a different policy monitoring its students’ romantic lives — a policy that university President Bob Jones III had apparently ended just hours before being asked to defend it on Larry King Live in 2000.

“We stand against the one-world government, against the coming world of anti-Christ, which is a one-world system of blending of all differences,” said Jones, defending his university’s right to ban interracial dating. “The Bible is very clear about this.”

“There is a religious freedom issue,” he added. “That’s all we ever fought for.”

This supposed Biblical clarity was the grounding for the policy in 1970 as well, when the IRS stripped BJU of its tax-exempt status over the ban. In response, outrage from the religious right coalesced into political groups such as the Moral Majority, whose platforms have come to define the American religious right.

[thecapitolradar]

Source

Rumor has it that the Harvard Crimson will be deep-sixing a piece from now-Senator Tom Cotton's days as a contributing writer.

The far-Right Arkansas Republican wondered What do women want? <yawn>

The answer? Something called "covenant marriage".

Yikes!

We almost feel sorry for his donors.

[davidsaulacosta]

Harvard Stadium

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Dion J. Pierre Dozens of anti-Israel student groups at Harvard University, along with several allied campus groups across the US, have issued a set of demands to Harvard President Claudine Gay and given her until Monday to respond, adding further fuel to what’s become an explosive situation at one of the world’s most elite universities over the Israel-Hamas war. Earlier this week, students protested on campus and issued the list of demands, which included the reinstatement of a student proctor who three weeks ago participated in mobbing a Jewish student and screaming “Shame!” into his ears.  According to The Harvard Crimson, the campus newspaper, the university had suspended indefinitely Elom Tettey-Tamaklo, a second year student at the Harvard Divinity School, from his role as a proctor over his involvement in the incident, video of which went viral earlier this month. Tettey-Tamaklo reportedly has been ordered to vacate free housing he received as compensation for holding the position, which gives graduates the opportunity to mentor freshmen. This week, the students also demanded that Gay commit to pursue no disciplinary or punitive actions against “pro-Palestinian students and workers engaging in non-violent protest.” The letter came as, according to The Harvard Crimson, eight undergraduates students had been summoned to hearings as part of disciplinary proceedings against students who last week occupied University Hall on campus for 24-hours. The third demand in the letter to Gay was for Harvard to “disclose [its] investments in the internationally recognized illegal settlements in Palestine and divest from those holdings” — an apparent nod to the boycott, divestment, and sanctions (BDS) movement against Israel. The BDS campaign seeks to isolate Israel from the international community as a step toward the Jewish state’s eventual elimination. “Harvard University continues to attempt to silence the voices of those who refuse to watch idly by as crimes against humanity are committed against the Palestinian people,” said the letter containing the demands. “The university continually wants to ‘affirm their commitment to protecting all members of our community from harassment and marginalization.’ However, they are currently attempting to fire a Black first year proctor, Elom, for standing on the side of justice.” The letter additionally chastised Gay for earlier this month condemning the popular anti-Israel chant “from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” — a slogan that has been widely interpreted as a call for the destruction of Israel, which is located between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea.

Now we will find out who is in charge at Harvard, the administration or the spoiled, little, terror-supporting, Jew-hating motherf***ers,

[eretzyisrael]

by Kevin Downey Jr.

The anti-Semitic students who "appropriated" Harvard Yard with tents, signs, and—if Harvard is anything like Columbia —spendy, organic snacks for the wealthy, gluten-dodging street urchins calling for the death of Israel reportedly got a wake-up call they didn't expect: a master-blasting by automatic sprinklers. 

Harvard Crimson: 

Sprinkler Struggles Continue — 4:05 a.m. As protesters spend their first night in the Harvard Yard encampment, the biggest threat to their stay has not come from administrators or Harvard University police officers, but the Yard’s sprinklers. Two more sprinklers turned on at the edge of the encampment near Massachusetts Hall. The sprinklers began to hit tents on the edge of the camp before protesters rushed over to covered the sprinklers with buckets and sit on them. Sprinkler Turns on Inside Encampment — 3:50 a.m. A sprinkler has turned on within the encampment, in the middle of the tents. A protester covered it immediately with a bucket, and is now seated on the bucket as a puddle forms around it. There is little movement among campers. “Yellow team needs to come now,” a protester said on a phone call when the sprinkler turned on. Sprinklers Disturb Sleeping Campers — 2:20 a.m. As temperatures dipped to 36 degrees, sprinklers near University Hall have begun to turn on — though none on the grass within the encampment. There is movement throughout the camp as protesters seem to start preparing for more, distributing buckets around various points of the perimeter.

Oddly enough, there doesn't appear to be any video evidence corroborating the soaking, just the burbs above from the Crimson, Harvard's student newspaper.

WEEP-O-RAMA! Harvard's precious lambs will probably call this an attack by "automatic assault sprinklers" trying to "genocide" them.

The hilarious (alleged) dousing took place on Wednesday. 

[makingqueerhistory]

Harvard's Secret Court: The Savage 1920 Purge of Campus Homosexuals

William Wright

In 2002, a researcher for The Harvard Crimson came across a restricted archive labeled Secret Court Files, 1920. The mystery he uncovered involved a tragic scandal in which Harvard University secretly put a dozen students on trial for homosexuality and then systematically and persistently tried to ruin their lives. In May of 1920, Cyril Wilcox, a freshman suspended from Harvard, was found sprawled dead on his bed, his room filled with gas--a suicide. The note he left behind revealed his secret life as part of a circle of (cut young) homosexual students. The resulting witch hunt and the lives it cost remains one of the most shameful episodes in the history of America's premiere university. Supported by legendary Harvard President Lawrence Lowell, Harvard conducted its investigation in secrecy. Several students committed suicide; others had their lives destroyed by an ongoing effort on the part of Harvard to destroy their reputations. Harvard's Secret Court is a deeply moving indictment of the human toll of intolerance and the horrors of injustice that can result when a powerful institution loses its balance.

(Affiliate link above)

[ccwpidsblog]

please please please — r.sukuna

⭐️: nsfw 18+ in which he’ll never let you leave.

cupids arrows: i suck at summaries so just read

You guessed annoyed was the right word for this situation—a safe, polite choice for the chaos bubbling inside you. There were sharper, more colorful words sitting on the edge of your tongue, tempting you, waiting for release. But you promised yourself, long ago, that you wouldn’t stoop to vulgar language to express your frustrations with him. No, annoyed would do just fine.

A deep frown creased your pretty face as you stood outside the county jail, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Your fiance strolled toward you with the swagger of a man who believed himself invincible. Sukuna. Pink-haired menace, king of smug grins and bad decisions. He moved like he owned the damn place, bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, probably having spent the last hour bragging to the guards about his inevitable freedom.

The closer he got, the hotter your blood began to simmer—not the good kind of heat that once set your heart racing, but a slow, steady boil of anger that threatened to spill over.

He reached you, unbothered as always, and pulled you against him without warning. His strong hands settled on your hips, tugging you flush against his chest. “My pretty girl” he murmured, the low rasp of his voice sending a shiver down your spine—one you despised feeling right now. His face buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, taking in that signature scent of vanilla and coconut that he claimed was his favorite. He squeezed your ass for good measure, like you weren’t scowling at him.

When he finally leaned back, those crimson eyes met yours. He noticed the way your brows pinched together, the furrow in your forehead, the tension pulling at every inch of your face.

“Tch.” He rolled his eyes, kissed your forehead as if that might smooth over your irritation, then flicked it softly with his fingers. Before you could bark at him, he grabbed you by the waist again and hoisted you onto the hood of his car like a doll.

“Fix your fuckin’ face,” he said, tone gruff, like you were the one causing problems.

Your lip curled in disgust. “No.”

You sounded petulant, childish even, but you didn’t care. He sighed heavily and tilted your chin up, trying to pull you into a kiss. You turned your head away, hopping off the hood and making a beeline for the driver’s side door.

He followed, of course, because Sukuna never let you have the last word. He yanked the door open for you with a dramatic flourish, standing there and looming over you for a moment before shaking his head and slamming it shut behind you.

Sukuna Ryomen was a piece of work.

Quick to anger. Always in and out of jail. Rude beyond reason with a tongue sharper than glass. He lived his life the way he wanted—rules and consequences be damned. And despite all of that, you loved him. How, you still weren’t sure.

It didn’t make sense. You were complete opposites.

You were a law-abiding citizen, a woman who had worked hard her entire life. You graduated seventh in your class from Harvard Law and carved out a successful career as a private, highly sought-after defense attorney. Yet somehow, all that prestige and polish meant nothing when it came to him.

Time and time again, you’d find yourself standing before a judge, legal arguments at the ready, fighting tooth and nail to keep Sukuna from rotting behind bars. Lowering his sentences, dismissing charges, outmaneuvering prosecutors—all to clean up messes he created.

Tonight, though? Tonight you were done.

You were tired. Tired of his cocky smirk and uncaring attitude. Tired of bending over mountains of paperwork, sacrificing sleep, just to make sure he didn’t throw his life away. Tired of waking up in an empty bed because he decided a night in a jail cell was somehow more appealing than being next to you.

You made excuses for him constantly. To yourself. To your friends, who rolled their eyes every time you said, “It’s just his culture…he was raised that way.” You weren’t fooling anyone, though—not even yourself.

You hadn’t spoken since the drive home. The silence stretched between you like an invisible wall, growing heavier with every passing second. Sukuna sat on the edge of your bed, legs spread wide, his muscular arms crossed over his chest as he watched you move. His sharp gaze followed every step you took along the dresser, every rustle of your pink satin nightgown as you tied your hair up for the night.

His patience was wearing thin. You could feel it.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” he asked, voice laced with irritation. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it tonight.

You let out a slow breath, keeping your back to him. “I’m just tired, ‘Kuna.”

“Tired, my ass.” The bed creaked as he stood, footsteps heavy as he walked closer. “You’ve only said twenty fuckin’ words since we got home. Cut the shit, princess.”

Your eye twitched at his condescension. You tugged at the strings of your bonnet, steadying yourself. “I just want to sleep.”

The tension in the room thickened like smoke. Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his body going rigid. “You got somethin’ to say? Say it now.”

Finally, you turned to face him. Your exhaustion bled through every word. “I just want to sleep, Sukuna. Can I do that? Or do I need to stay up and watch you all night—make sure you don’t run off and land yourself in jail again?”

He scoffed, a dry, humorless laugh. “I don’t need you to do shit.”

Your voice cracked like a whip. “Well, I can’t fucking tell, Ryomen! Who do you call when you get in trouble? Hm? Because it sure as hell isn’t your brothers or your broke-ass buddies, Toji and Gojo.”

His mouth opened to fire back, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“It’s me. Every. Damn. Time.” Your voice shook, hands trembling as you jabbed your finger at him. “Everything I do for you is because I love you, but there’s only so much I can give, Sukuna.”

His confusion deepened as you reached for your left hand, fingers brushing the diamond ring he gave you years ago.

“We’ve been doing this for far too long,” you said softly. “I’m not that young, naive girl anymore—the one who used to follow you around while you beat the shit out of guys who owed you money. I’m a lawyer. I have a reputation, a business. I want to get married to a man who doesn’t have me fearing I’ll lose him every single day.”

Sukuna ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. He didn’t yell. Didn’t argue. He just stood there, staring at you like you’d ripped the ground out from under him.

He always knew this day would come. It haunted him every time you visited him in jail, every time you posted his bail, every time you cleaned the bruises on his fists. It was like a ticking time bomb he’d chosen to ignore.

But after seven long years, he realized something else—it was far too late for you to leave him.

“Kuna, please!” Your protests came out muffled, his large, calloused hand clamping over your mouth without mercy. You weren’t sure how he’d managed to tie your hands so quickly, leaving you utterly at his mercy, but not without a fight. The evidence was clear—faint streaks of blood from the bite marks you’d left on his forearm, and the bright outline of your handprint blooming red across his cheek.

He didn’t care.

His weight bore down on you, pinning your legs against your chest until your knees nearly touched your ears. Every inch of his massive body pressed into you, forcing you to take him as he bullied his way through your slick, trembling walls.

“Shut it with your bitchin’,” he growled, his voice low and gruff as it rattled through your chest.

“I’ve heard enough of it.”

He huffed, his grip tightening around your trembling ankles as he drove into you with rough, punishing strokes. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, his movements calculated to leave you breathless and aching. This wasn’t how he planned to take you tonight— no, he had intended to ease into it, to love you nice and slow, for old times’ sake. But you had pushed him, testing his limits with the sharp, frustrated words that always seemed to fly from your mouth when you were upset with him.

“You gonna be a good girl,” he growled, voice low and menacing, “and take it like you always do.”

His tone made your breath hitch, each word sinking deep as he claimed you fully, leaving you no choice but to surrender to him.

You let out a string of curses and helpless squeaks as he rammed into that devastatingly sweet spot, each thrust pulling another whimper from your trembling lips. Drool spilled from the corners of your mouth, trailing down to join the salty tears streaking from your misted eyes.

“Can’t… I can’t—” you choked out, voice catching between broken cries.

He hissed sharply, a large hand cupping your cheeks, squeezing them together until your face scrunched in his palm. His crimson eyes burned into yours, wild and unrelenting. “You can, and you fuckin’ will,” he growled, words rough and ragged. “You think you can leave me? Are you crazy, girl?”

There was something more behind his voice now—an edge of desperation that cut through the roughness, raw and trembling. And suddenly, your tears weren’t just from pleasure.

“You’re never gonna leave me. Ever,” he whispered fiercely, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna get it together for you—I swear I will. I’ll be the best husband, the best dad, the best everything for you.”

There was a crack in his voice, barely noticeable but enough to send your heart reeling. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you, arms locking you in a crushing bear hug. Yet his hips never faltered, his movements still deep, steady, and merciless.

“I fucking promise, baby. I promise I will,” he grunted against your ear, the words vibrating through your bones.

“Please, please, please—” you squealed, the tension coiling tighter and tighter as your body arched into him. Your peaks crashed down together, a shared release that left you breathless, hearts pounding in unison.

The room settled into a quiet stillness, the kind that only comes after the storm, as Sukuna’s arms wrapped snugly around you. Your cheek rested against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a sense of calm. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles along your bare back, a silent rhythm that grounded you in the moment.

“You okay?” he murmured after a beat, his voice softer now, rough edges smoothed by the lingering warmth between you.

You giggled softly, shifting slightly as your fingers skimmed the deep, faintly red marks you’d left on his back. Your touch followed the crescent bite marks on his shoulder, evidence of your earlier resistance. “I should be asking you that,” you teased, your voice light with humor despite your exhaustion.

Sukuna huffed out a short laugh, the sound low and rumbling beneath your ear. “Tch. I’m fine,” he replied, though his smirk gave him away. “I barely felt it.”

You rolled your eyes and lightly trailed your nails down the expanse of his back, earning a faint shiver from him despite his tough words. “Oh, really? Because these marks tell a different story.”

“Don’t get cocky now,” he shot back, grinning as he tilted his head to look down at you. His crimson eyes softened when he caught sight of your smile, your face warm and glowing in the soft light. “You fight dirty, you know that?”

You shrugged with a smirk of your own. “You started it.”

He let out another low chuckle, one of his hands coming up to cradle your cheek. “And I’ll finish it, too, every time.” His thumb brushed tenderly over your lips before he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

There was a lingering pause as his lips lingered against your skin, his voice dropping to a murmur. “But I meant it, y’know… about getting my shit together for you.”

Your teasing smile softened, your heart squeezing at the sincerity in his tone. You let your hand drift up to his face, fingertips tracing the faint marks you’d left on his cheek earlier. “I know, Kuna,” you whispered. “Just don’t say it—show me, okay?”

His eyes met yours, steady and unwavering. “I will,” he promised, his voice quiet but firm.

You offered a small smile, leaning into his touch as you pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. “Good. Because as much as I love leaving marks on you… I love you even more.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a grin as he tightened his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. “Yeah, yeah. You’re stuck with me, princess.”

You rolled your eyes again, but your smile betrayed you as you nestled closer to him, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along his chest.

For the first time in a long time, the silence felt peaceful—comfortable, even. And as you lay in his embrace, the world outside didn’t seem so overwhelming.

For now, this was enough.

[genderkoolaid]

I used to dream of passing, expecting that it would solve all of my problems. What I did not realize is that once I passed, I would be confronted with the difficult task of deciding if and when to disclose my transness. And unfortunately, there is no convenient how-to manual for trans people like me.

[kennedycore]

John F. Kennedy goes for a practice swim during his time on the Harvard University swim team, March 1938.

"Kennedy, who graduated in 1940, swam for Harvard when his father was U. S. Ambassador to England. And, of course, the photographers would come down to take pictures of swimmers, and the first fellow they always wanted to get hold of was Jack Kennedy. And Jack would hide. Always hide in the shower room. And it took tremendous efforts to finally bring him out to have his picture taken," his swimming coach told researchers for the Kennedy Library." - Garret Epps, The Harvard Crimson