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Franken-Lies-And-the-Lying-Liars-Who-Tell

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"No problem," Harvard said absentmindedly.<br />

"Count me in," I replied. "From now on call me ‘Professor <strong>Franken</strong>.’”<br />

"No," Harvard said, "you're not a professor. But you can run a study group on <strong>the</strong><br />

topic of your choosing."<br />

"Great," I said. "I've got <strong>the</strong> perfect topic: Write My Son's Harvard College Application<br />

Essay."<br />

"No," <strong>the</strong>y said. "Harvard students already know how to write successful Harvard applications,<br />

Al. We want you to teach <strong>the</strong>m something new."<br />

Harvard was right where I wanted it. "How about if <strong>the</strong> topic is: How to Research My<br />

Book?"<br />

"Sure," Harvard said. "Most of our professors teach that course. Why, in <strong>the</strong> Biochemistry<br />

department, most of <strong>the</strong> graduate level courses are-"<br />

Harvard was boring me. "I gotta run, Harvard. Thanks."<br />

From among <strong>the</strong> seven hundred students who applied for my study group, I chose<br />

fourteen intellectual heavyweights. Some undergraduates, some from <strong>the</strong> prestigious Kennedy<br />

School of Government, and one from <strong>the</strong> Harvard School of Dentistry, just in case. This<br />

was Team<strong>Franken</strong>. Like <strong>the</strong> X-Men, each had his own special power. <strong>And</strong> each had a story.<br />

There was Bridger McGaw, a Gore campaign veteran still sore from getting burned in<br />

Florida. Madhu Chugh, with a mind as insatiable as her name is unpronounceable. Emmy<br />

Berning, an ultra-feminist with a stunning resume-and a figure to match. Ben Kane and Ben<br />

Wikler, "<strong>the</strong> Bens," Team<strong>Franken</strong>'s gay gladiators, whose fierce love for each o<strong>the</strong>r fueled<br />

<strong>the</strong>ir ceaseless advocacy of justice for gays, lesbians, <strong>the</strong> transgendered, bisexuals, and manon-dog<br />

enthusiasts, such as Pennsylvania senator Rick Santorum. <strong>And</strong> <strong>the</strong> rest.<br />

There were fourteen in all. Tough, smart, and deeply committed to coming to my<br />

Cambridge apartment once a week to eat a delicious hot meal cooked by my wife, Franni.<br />

I felt like I had fourteen children. My fourteen Harvard research assistants. <strong>And</strong> like<br />

every good parent, I loved each in a different way. Some I loved like <strong>the</strong> irrepressibly mischievous<br />

child who doesn't do his homework. O<strong>the</strong>rs I loved like <strong>the</strong> good, deserving child<br />

who does all of his homework, mows <strong>the</strong> lawn, and ghostwrites <strong>the</strong> chapters. <strong>And</strong> still o<strong>the</strong>rs<br />

I loved "more" than <strong>the</strong> rest, <strong>the</strong> way a parent secretly chooses favorites and undermines <strong>the</strong><br />

self-confidence of <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rs.

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