The below linked article entitled "St. John's University in Queens and scandals" was reported by "Long Island Catholic".
You fooled me there a minute Otis. I thought the link you provided was to an article in the venerable Long Island Catholic about the FH imbroglio. Instead, the link you provided is to a blog post by some nobody who read the Crisis article, which Crisis article was a bland rehash of the New York Magazine article, which NYM article - if it's like every other item that appears in the print media - is somewhere between a half truth and a brazen lie.
Which is not to say I don't appreciate your diligence in scouring the bowels of the internet to find blog posts by people who've read articles rehashing other articles about other articles about other articles that present unproven allegations. Especially this guy, he seems to be a keen observer of modern life. Take for example this vignette from the "Personal" section of his blog:
"I went to a barbershop with my Dad when I was a kid. I am not sure why but at some point we started going to a chain unisex salon and was usually unhappy with my cut. There was always a long wait, usually with few choices in reading material to pass the time -most of the magazines were for women, and the haircuts ranged from bad to ok, depending on what woman cut my hair, all for a high price. A couple of times I got my hair washed in a sink by a woman who had "European Style" armpits."
That's some evocative prose right there, and riveting. I was on the edge of my seat wondering whether the narrator would end up with or without a cow lick. On the one hand, you'd hope the writer as a young lad did not suffer taunts and calumny from the other children because of the shoddy hair treatment he received; he might have been scarred for life. On the other some young men with recalcitrant hair did all right with the ladies - Alfalfa as you may recall was linked romantically with the adorable Darla, much to the chagrin of Whitey and Froggie; also Sampson wooed Delilah. I read breathlessly to the end and was relieved to discover that the narrator finally settled on a new barbershop, where "the guys doing the cutting were manly men, all from some indeterminate country where men are still men." He gets his hair cut there to this day and someday hopes to "get up the nerve to have a real shave with a straight razor, which is a specialty of theirs." I can only hope that if he does find the courage to get a shave he does not get his throat cut so that he can share the experience with his many readers, because it sounds hair raising. (Sorry, I couldn't resist. LOL!!)
It being a slow new morning I googled the phrase "European Style armpits" used by the important commentator on the alleged scandal at Saint John's whose thoughts you kindly shared with us this Sunday morning. Did you know that there are only six occurrences of the phrase on the entire internets? Two are by a Toledo radio station in untoward reference to the oft maligned former Mouseketeer Britney Spears; two are used to describe what seems to be some sort of odious sounding child's doll, not unlike the troll doll of which I was no fond as a child and still am today - "lidless eyes, voluptuous double chin, european style armpits, jelly belly, prosethic veins" - and two by our boy hero discussing his haircuts. As someone who considers himself to be something of a prose stylist I can't tell you how hard it is to find just the right word, and how distressing it can be when you've found just the right word to find out that someone's found it before you did. In fact I half suspect that hacks like James Joyce and Anthony Burgess made up their own languages out of such frustration. I mean, what the hell does this even mean.
“Well, well, well, well. If it isn't fat, stinking billygoat Billy-Boy in poison. How art thou, thy globby bottle of cheap, stinking chip-oil? Come and get one in the yarbles, if you have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly thou.”
Yarbles? Glooby? And don't even get me started on that stupid Jabberwock. Frumious bandersnatch? Slithy toves? Jubjub bird? No thanks. That's why your boy is so refreshing. When he sticks three words together as no one else has stuck them together before in the history of the English language we know exactly what he means. European Style armpits. I can almost smell the stink from here.
