I had an article in yesterday’s Slate contending that an expensive MFA program is worth the money if it helps writers find success (and also, that we should start defining “success” to include things other than “being made a creative writing professor”).

My opinions drew much ire, especially from groups and institutions I criticized in the piece.

In an act of sincere contrition, I shall now sing the Possum Grape Community College fight song– the most sacred anthem of one of the institutions I maligned in the course of my editorial–  and so hopefully redeem myself in the eyes of my detractors.

Ahem.

Oh Possum Grape, Oh Possum Grape, your laurels ever high,

The pride of the Arkansan, may your spirit never die!

Just as Zeus created Helen via Leda’s swan-ly rape,

So shall we create enlightenment. . . ‘pon the shores of Possum Grape!

Ah, redemption.  It feels so good.