Where’s the passion? No, not The Passion. That comes as the end of every Gospel. I mean where’s the zeal, where’s the drive, where’s the ardor and the ecstasy, the fervor and the fury? Where’s Stanford’s soul? It’s nonexistent, as far as I can tell. Stanford is a blackened husk of a place, a hollow shell, a shadow, a shade, a cavern in which not even a still, small voice is heard. Stanford is inanimate. Just look at their mascot. ...
