The outrage was quick and abundant.

Acting BU President John Silber is “big mouthed,” “ignorant” and “senile,” screamed Alissa Ferro on the Daily Free Press’s Editorial Page (“Silber shooting mouth off again,” Sept. 10, pg. 9).

Silber is “entirely out of touch with BU’s student population,” read a letter that took three people to write(“Gay acceptance rating obviously false,” Sept 10, pg. 9).

Even the DFP itself got into the action, calling our leader’s actions “disturbing,” while urging the student body to rise up against Silber’s decision to ax BU Academy’s Gay/Straight Alliance(“Wrong move, Silber,” Sept. 10, pg. 8).

Have we not learned anything in our pursuit of higher education? I sure have. I am now in my senior year at Boston University, and the one thing I have learned is that John Silber hates me. Oh, and it’s not just me. John Silber hates you too. I have never been as sure of anything as John Silber’s hatred of the students he is supposed to be acting in the best interests of.

Every year, he pulls some bonehead maneuver in an effort to make us realize that he hates us. During my freshman year, way back in the last millennium, he gave an exclusive interview to the DFP in which he said that students could “rot in hell” if they wanted to change the guest policy. He has regaled us with countless sound bites in which he calls his student body “sex-crazed,” apparently the motivating factor behind the archaic guest policy. He has also insulted us in the mainstream press, referring to the legitimate student furor over the policy as a “tempest in a teapot” in The Boston Globe.

The only reason his latest actions are unique is because they have come a whopping one-week into the new school year. How could a man be so cold-hearted when it is so hot outside? My friends, I will tell you.

Not coincidentally, BU matriculated its largest ever freshman class this year.

That’s right, a record-breaking amount of kids who will one day hate John Silber. Silber knew that all of these kids would eventually hate him. After all, he sure does hate them!

It was really just a matter of time before these young minds figured it all out, so Silber had to make a decision. He probably though, “should I let them figure out that I’m a big old meanie all on their own, or should I do something so bizarrely stupid that it’s right their in front of their faces?”

Since we are all so preoccupied with getting laid, we may have missed out on Silber’s misadventures. That is why he decided to go with the “do something stupid, John!” line of thought.

He started out in good form. At the matriculation ceremony, he gave the freshmen a speech that laid out their days for them. He told them that they should study 70 hours per week and generously allotted them 6 hours per day for “fun,” referring to study as “leisure.” Sneaky!

A little too sneaky perhaps, because the young, fresh faces did not quite act with much fervor against his speech, which could have been written by an overprotective mom.

His next move was a little more blatant. He decided to cut 450 BU jobs, including about 50 faculty spots. This was a good move on Silber’s part, because it will make classes even bigger. Surely the students would not accept that. Also, he probably thought that his claim that the University was doing this to save money would not sit well because he really hasn’t shown spend-thrift ways in the past. Hotel Commenwealth, anyone?

But poor John Silber still could not get his message across. What could he do next? Oh, I know — pick on a bunch of high school kids!

Which brings us to his grand finale, the dictatorial command that BU Academy cut its Gay-Strait Alliance club. Of course, Silber had to make up some claptrap about “sexuality” as his reason for cutting the group, but I know better. It was just an easy way to get the freshmen to hate him. People hate ignorance, right?

John Silber probably loves gay people. Heck, for all I know he could even be gay himself. But what I do know is that I see right through his latest faux pa. Cutting the Academy’s GSA was just a stunt — a ploy to let you all know how it’s going to be around here.