Dear Mr. Glen Taylor,
I started hearing of your generosity and philanthropy at Minnesota State not long after I applied to go here, but I hadn't ever seen you in person until my sophomore year. Fittingly, you were walking into the Taylor Center to catch a men's basketball game. I remember standing in the front row of the student section and spotting you about 15 rows up from half-court, blending in with fellow fans and people who, you know, aren't worth $2.3 billion.
No matter, though, because that's the kind of guy you seem to be; a regular guy, save for the millions donated in good faith, the ownership of professional sports franchises, the Forbes 400 list. Your heart is always in the right place and your money goes to the right causes.
Consider mine.
I've been doing pull-ups on the poverty line now for most of my college years, but a recent setback has left me carless, drowning in massive credit card debt and unable to imagine a meal not comprised of Ramen noodles. I'm asking panhandlers for money at this point, Mr. Taylor. I tried selling my Social Security card on eBay, but countless identity thieves told me it wasn't worth it.
This is really the last resort, sir. I know people probably ask you for money all the time, but looking at some of the people on your payroll, you don't always say no to the undeserving. Consider some of the hacks on that NBA team you own: Marko Jaric ($5.5 million per year), Mark Madsen ($2.2 million), Justin Reed ($1.3 million). I can do things these three can't do, like pass, dribble and shoot. No, I kid. But seriously, my work with the lawnmower has been called revolutionary and I know grass. I've never been on your property, but judging by our climate, it's bentgras, right? Maybe fescue? (Here's some free advice, Mr. Taylor: Look into Princess 77 Bermuda. Beautiful. It's what they use on most professional playing fields.)
As a reasonable man, you probably want to know what it is I do that deserves any type of donation. How about this: I represent Minnesota State University just like you. Now I may not contribute large sums of money (aside from tuition), may not have my name etched in buildings - bathroom stalls, but not buildings - but I write these silly little columns now and then to make the kids chuckle. So, now and then, I make people happy. And that's what you do. I get happy every time I go to the Taylor Center. I'm in the door and I'm smiling, and I think to myself, "Thank you, Mr. Taylor."
I can do more than mow your lawn, though. I can clear your (rumored) helipad. I can wash your car, or truck, or entire fl eet if necessary. I can be your butler, your umbrella-holder, snow-remover. I can be your muscle, but I should warn you I'm not much of a fighter. I can even be your new general manager for the Timberwolves if you like. My fantasy basketball team is in fi rst place among 12 teams and despite my lack of experience, I'm already more popular than Kevin McHale. I'm an Orlando Magic fan, but I can sever my ties. But can I trade Kevin Garnett for Dwight Howard? Minor details, sir, we can discuss later.
Let me get to the point, Mr. Taylor: I need $4,453.34. This money will help fi x my car, erase my credit card debt, pay for summer school, textbooks, graduation, a date with this girl I wanted to take out on Valentine's Day but couldn't afford to and cold medicine to cure me for the third time this winter. Every remaining penny from these expenses will be donated - in your name - to MSU.
Please respond at your convenience, Mr. Taylor. I am completely serious about all of this. You may send one of your winged messengers or contact me via e-mail at andrew.miller-2@mnsu.edu.
Love, Andrew Miller
Andrew Miller is the Reporter Editor in Chief
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