Dear Diversity Scholarship Program,
Merriam Webster’s dictionary defines “diversity” as a “range of different things”, and I, trust fund baby, multiple tennis court owner, and straight white male Francois Rothschild III of Beverly Hills am precisely a range of different things.
In terms of interests, I enjoy a diversity of humble hobbies such as polo, yacht racing, piloting my private jets, and watching my three butlers care for my million-dollar cloned chihuahua named after Bill Gates. Sure other people may claim diversity by simply being born half-Mexican and half-Chinese without any effort, but who else can say they slept with a hundred-thousand dollar prostitute while airborne over the South of France? Now, that’s a diversity of experiences.
In terms of culture, I frenched my Spanish tutor, so I’m basically European. I drank ayahuasca with my personal Shaman, so I have Peruvian tribal roots, and I even exotically smoked spiced chai hookah with a Saudi Arabian Prince, so I’m practically middle-eastern, habibi. Although I’m a straight male, I have watched Brokeback Mountain, so I’m essentially an honorary gay. Also, I once sat in a limousine with Neil Patrick Harris and he said I’m “cool”, so I’m practically part of the LGBTQ community. Yas queen! Again, that’s a diversity of experiences.
From summering in my gold-plated, diamond-tiled, Olympic-sized infinity swimming pool to wintering in my Switzerland estate, I have experienced a diversity of wealth, if you will. Although I appear White, the mansion I grew up in features distinctive Roman pillars, Persian carpets, and a Chinese chauffeur that culturally formed my identity. Also, my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, grandparents’ grandparents’ grandparents came from the ethnic country of Germany, so “Guten Tag!”. (I learned that one from Family Guy.)
As one-percenters, we are a marginalized group. In the same way Native Americans were slaughtered by American settlers (like my forefathers), I can’t drive my convertible Lamborghini down a low-income neighborhood street without receiving violent stares from judgmental eyes. In the same way that African-Americans are incarcerated at a ridiculously unfair rate, the Honolulu yacht club doesn’t have a big enough space for my yacht. Talk about being marginalized!
As a generous philanthropic humanitarian, I have stopped African children from doing drugs by personally snorting lines of cocaine in a Johannesburg nightclub. My family also charitably helps the European economy by maintaining several Swiss bank accounts. Furthermore, since I pay my dealer, who pays to feed his pet cat, I’m practically an animal rights activist. Also, while everyone else was busy working their day jobs to “pay rent” or whatever, I volunteered in the Caribbean to help with some natural disaster aid-foster care children-feed the homeless-cure cancer thing and lived on a measly allowance of $20,000 dollars a month. My extreme lengths for charity have nothing to do with the nice tropical weather, warm water, and gorgeous beaches.
Finally, while all of your applicants claim “diversity”, they are all applying for this scholarship for the unanimous unoriginal unappealing reason that they financially need it. I am the only diverse applicant, who is trying to prove to my brother that I can win this scholarship on a bet for a Rolls Royce. And, while every other typical derivative applicant typed their essays themselves, I dictated mine to our Italian possibly gay butler named Alfonso and had our Egyptian or Malaysian private courier named– forget his name– deliver it to you. That’s diversity!
Sincerely,
Francois Rothschild III of Beverly Hills
Danny Dalah – 1.14.2019
waxinghumorous 