"This is an outrage, Brother," English Professor Jerry Watts mumbled, as he reluctantly slipped into his thong in the crisp February air. Nearby a few professors from other departments were distinguishing themselves in the most unlikely of ways. As Russell Simmons, and other NYC celebrities who supported the charity event, stood by chanting, "Put 'em on the glass!" Philosophy Professor Saul Kripke along with Professor Stanley Aronowitz of Sociology could be seen doing exactly that: rubbing their man-tits all over the windshield of Simmons' '07 Escalade.
In the final installment of its "innovative" fund-raising efforts, not only did Graduate Center officials and faculty pull out all the stops, they also took off all their clothes. "New York is full of cars, and many of those cars are incredibly dirty," explained a university official speaking on condition of anonymity.
"Our illustrious faculty are here today to lend some of their luster to the cars of average New Yorkers," said another official. "At the same time, that dirty feeling the cars had is being transferred to our faculty. I mean, is there a better way to build solidarity between people than to have them suffer the same humiliating ordeal?"
"As everyone knows," said a shivering, goose-pimpled Douglas Lackey, the Philosophy Department's Hegel scholar, "there are two types of Bikini Car Washes. On the one hand, there is the amateur variety, typically employed as a fund-raiser by students at high schools. In this case, the pretty girls hold the signs on the street corner, while their male counterparts do the work. Talk about false advertising!
"On the other hand, there is the professional Bikini Car Wash, familiar to anyone who has watched Cinemax at three in the morning. Here you do get to watch sexy girls wash your car, but your conscience is troubled by the fact that your money, excluding tips of course, enriches another pervert like yourself."
After losing consciousness due to hypothermia and then being revived by paramedics standing by, Professor Lackey continued, "With this project we want to synthesize the happiest aspects of both these archetypes: on the one hand, the camaraderie, the enthusiasm, and the false advertising of the amateur kind; and, on the other hand, we wanted to make money hand over foot by exploiting sex-workers and pandering to the basest desires of the consumer."
But would it work? This question was haunting university officials as the day of the first wash approached. Insiders confirmed that there was a lot of concern that the project would fail both morally and financially. "Ethics can of course be put aside from time to time," said Joan Nix of the Economics Department, who looked fetching in her neon green Borat-inspired ensemble, "but as every thugged-out middle school child in the suburbs knows, 'If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense.'"
But the plan was allowed to proceed when it became clear that many fans of the GC faculty's UFC reality show and of President Kelly's grizzly calendar would be sure to wait on line to get a revealing glimpse of their favorite local academics.
As the frigid day worn on, this intrepid reporter caught up with Professor Watts again, "It's strange, Brother; in a way this makes me nostalgic for the struggles of my people. We didn't land on this Bikini Car Wash; this Bikini Car Wash landed on us!" After pausing to squeeze soiled water from his sponge, he continued, "But then this also gives a whole new, grotesque meaning to the old spiritual, 'No more water, the fire next time.' If we don't get that fire soon, those skinny white women from Comp Lit are likely to freeze to death!"