Wednesday Open Thread: Tales Of The Harvard Extension Cybertruck Test

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gonna tell my kid this was “qui-gon jinn” and “watto” in front of a podracer source: raceday.substack.com

You’ve all heard the saying that an infinite number of monkeys banging on keyboards would eventually produce Hamlet, although before that happens they are almost statistically certain to produce a version of Hamlet that is identical in all respects to Hamlet except the female love interest is named “Urkel” instead of “Ophelia”, and the famous phrase “country matters” is missing the letter “o”.

(I stole that, in its entirety, from this ur-Internet humor site.)

With this in mind, and given the remarkably prolific rate at which I expand this site, is it any surprise that I would eventually write… a defense of Jason Cammisa? Well, perhaps not a “defense” per se, but certainly a mildly exculpatory piece. Indeed, I’m preparing to do just that. First, however, we need to talk about the Harvard Extension School. Trust me on this.

Not our kind, dear

this idiot kept digging her own grave after this, too

The always-perceptive Rob Henderson wrote yesterday about a rather bizarre teapot-tempest, to wit: a conservative activist, Christopher Rufo, did most of the groundwork that toppled Harvard President Claudine Gay down to the ignominy of a mere $900,000-a-year job mouthing platitudes to simps, at which point the Establishment, in what it thought was deadly retaliation, wasted no time in pointing out that Rufo was not a “Harvard graduate”, but rather a graduate of the Harvard Extension School.

Henderson notes, among many other thoughtful insights, that

My impression of elite colleges is that they're kinda like VCs. 98% are upper/upper middle class strivers who either truly are or feel themselves to be quasi-impostors unworthy of being bestowed the brand name of their institution and 2% are true unicorns who bolster their alma mater’s reputation by becoming super successful founders or moguls or visionaries or intellectuals or presidents. Everyone compares themselves to that outstanding 2% and naturally feel insecure. And then lash out by going after, e.g., Extension School Graduates.

I’d suggest that Mr. Henderson is glossing over something important — namely, that his characterization can probably only apply to the 49.8 percent of incoming Harvard students who are white, or the 30 percent who admit that their parents clock a quarter-ticket or more every year. Almost certainly a lie, by the way; I’d bet some of my own “wealth” on the real number being higher. It’s also possible that many of these midwits think that their parents have 4,000 square feet in Connecticut and two LX550s because they make… $249,000 a year, which in the real world gets you a condo in the city and a used Sonata. But I digress, doubly so, because the real question here is

prestige of selection v. prestige of accomplishment

and it is the whole reason Harvard exists as it does in 2024. It’s also remarkably relevant to autowriting, as you’ll see below.

The American peerage

Humans are hard-wired to believe in a top-down ape-based hierarchy in which every ape knows his place. Who determines which ape sits at the top? In practice, it’s traditionally been a combination of available force and the will to use it — ask Henry Bolingbroke if you have questions. The stories that humans tell, however, often involve divine selection. In these stories, the gods, who are often little more than super-apes in thought and deed, select a king or warrior prince.

The king, having been selected by God, can then select his nobility as part of his privilege. He distributes privilege. Again, in practice this is often a bloody business, but it is “papered” as divine authority. This basic pattern continues unchanged to the present day, although today’s substitute for God is often “The Our Democracy” or its apparatus, e.g. the difference between “Afghan warlord” and “President of Afghanistan” is nothing but a formal selection by the United States, which possesses all the powers of the Old Testament God, at least from the perspective of the everyday drone-struck Afghan citizen. (All of the frailties, too.)

It must follow, as the niht doth the dy, (which is what you’d get from the infinite monkeys before they came up with the actual line) that all meaningful prestige and privilege in any functioning human civilization is the product of selection, not accomplishment. Accomplishment might get you to the point where you can be selected, but nothing more.

Which brings us to Harvard. Let me tell you the dirty secret of Harvard, MIT, and all the other prestige schools, namely: I could tutor any of you through graduation from any of them. The coursework just isn’t that hard. Yes, there are difficult courses available, but the same is true of Thee Ohio State University. If you can be a McDonald’s assistant manager, you can graduate from Harvard. (I assure you, however, that the reverse is not necessarily true.) Harvard wants its students to graduate and succeed. They are not the Navy SEALs, trying to Hell Week the losers out before they get someone killed during an operation supporting the warlord President of Afghanistan.

Let me tell you another dirty secret: the classes at Harvard Extension School are probably about the same as the “real” ones. Hell, the classes at Khan Academy at probably identical in value to the Harvard/MIT classes. You can go to “HES” or Khan, bust your ass, and come out ready to hold your own in any intellectual conflict with “real” Harvard grads. The idiot professor in the Tweet at the top of this article basically admits that. The “product”, namely the education, that you get at HES is the same as what you get at Harvard, or near enough it to make no difference.

So what’s the difference? Why is a Harvard degree the most prestigious mass-distributed accolade available, while an HES degree is a joke that will lead to actual HES professors “dunking” on you in public? Obviously, the difference is the

SELECTION.

HES students are not selected to any great extent — they merely “qualify” for it. Real Harvard students are selected. Their entire prestige comes from the selection. If you doubt me, change your resume from “I graduated from Iowa State with honors” to “I dropped out of Harvard in my junior year” and watch those callbacks materialize as if by magic.

Re-read the professorial quote above. It boils down to: Anybody can graduate from Harvard — but not everybody can get into Harvard, so the getting in is the important part, and we control the getting in. It’s an American peerage. Nobody “fails” being a Duke after they’re created as such, but no amount of accomplishment can make you a Duke until the King chooses you.

The power to create peers of the American realm is intoxicating. You can use it any way you like; it was once used to exclude Jews, then it was used to affirm and elevate them, now it’s being used to bully them. You can use it to demonstrate your powers of discretion, selecting only the hyper-qualified or most “socially correct” for Harvard. You can raise your standing further by performing a potlatch, giving the privilege of a Harvard admission to minorities or others who do not academically qualify, thus demonstrating your greatness of spirit. With an Imperial thumb you create future millionaires from paupers — and vice versa.

Going back to Rob Henderson’s point, you might feel like an “impostor” because you were selected for Harvard when you didn’t “deserve” it — but that’s the point of the exercise. Selection is power. What would the privilege of a Harvard admission be if you could automatically get in with a certain SAT score or list of achievements? At that point, it’s Texas Tech. Why, you might as well award Skull & Bones to any man who can do 120 pushups in two minutes!

I could go on, but you understand the point. Privilege and prestige come from selection, not achievement. Chess grandmasters are only twice as common as Nobel Prize winners, but we all know which group carries more weight. Why ? Because the latter is a selection. Christopher Rufo has the power to fire Claudine Gay — but she’ll sit in her office next year and make jokes about “the extension student”, the way von Hindenburg referred to Hitler as “the Bohemian corporal” a few years before said two-striper was the master of Germany.

I thought we were going to talk about autowriters

Oh yeah! I promised that we would. So let’s go back to this business about Jason Cammisa. Something about his Cybertruck “test” really raised the hackles of the automotive media in general, whether it was Matt Farah or the Car Twitter hivemind. I’ll admit that I have struggled to understand the kerfluffle. It’s hardly uncommon for Cammisa to fluff a new-to-market car like his very life depended on it, especially when that car is a Porsche or other high-priced vehicle with a touchy PR department. You might as well get angry with your humble author for working a Steely Dan reference into an entirely unrelated piece; why, I would exclaim with an injured expression on my face, it’s… what I do!

An ACFer with an respected position in the business suggested that I read this piece by junior journosaur and picture-book layout-er Ryan Zummallen. “Curious to get your take on it,” he said. Well, my initial take was: Why, exactly, is his Substack called “Race Day”, when it doesn’t look like he’s ever seen a green flag from inside the Armco?

Ah, but for me to ignore his work on that basis makes me no better than the oblivious Harvard lady above, so let’s give it a serious shot.

Who gets to call themselves a journalist is murky these days. In the automotive world it’s even murkier. We have close relationships with automakers, and rely on their invitations for access to cars. You can be critical, but it helps to play nice. Often that leads to not a whole lot of journalism going on.

Can’t disagree with that.

Cammisa is a talented presenter. He’s emotive, quick-witted and remarkably knowledgeable. His videos are innovative and incredibly entertaining. I’m a fan. But presenting is not journalism… This is a problem that automotive journalism runs into a lot. Often it presents the appearance of journalism, and relies on the prestige. But it struggles to deliver the goods.

I can agree with the second half at least; given the choice between watching Cammisa and cleaning the toilets in my house, I’ll pick up a brush. What I want to know so far is: Why is this complete and utter creature of the free-shit media, someone who wrote this puff piece for the Hyundai Kona and many like it, spitting on his hands and raising the black flag?

Cammisa was one of only three presenters hand-picked by Tesla to receive advanced time with the Cybertruck to produce videos… three is a remarkably small number…

Tesla has also invited additional skepticism upon itself… In 2020 it dissolved its public relations department completely, limiting the access of journalists to cover or even contact the company to answer questions…

Oh.

I’m particularly fixated on the fact that while most trucks have the highest tow ratings on their cheapest, stripped-out models, the Cybertruck is the exact opposite.

Oh. He’s just not a smart person, is he? When you add batteries and motors to EVs, as Tesla does for additional money, it will tow more. Also, with the sole exception of truck lines where there’s a single engine available, there is no pickup model out there where cheaper trucks tow more.

Some versions of the F-150 will do 14,000 pounds for under $40,000.

This could conceivably be true, but I don’t see how. You can’t get the 14,000-pound rating without the 3.5 EcoBoost and tow package. Right now, anyway, that’s Lariat, at a minimum, which is very far from $40,000. Maybe there’s a commercial PEP out there that gives you the 3.5 with vinyl seats. Stranger things have happened. But it’s got to be as rare as a tanker ‘66 Corvette.

Journalism would have been asking the questions the company didn’t want to answer.

How many questions did Ryan ask Hyundai about the Kona? Was Hyundai unwilling to answer any of them? Not a rhetorical question.

The excellent book Ludicrous by journalist Ed Niedermeyer outlines in detail the many ways Tesla built its brand on hype and fame rather than quality and transparency.

Maybe Ryan should ask Ed about his journalistic test of the Chevy Sonic, where he asked hard-hitting questions like “Can you cover a few more nights of hotel for me?” and “Can you pay to change my flight?” and “Can I get something to eat?”

Journalism is hard. The reasons that many automotive outlets don’t pursue it rigorously is that journalism is A) time-intensive and uncertain; B) pretty unsexy compared to glowing, brand-friendly reviews and; C) often outrageously expensive to produce.

True. Ryan, what have you done along those lines? Not a rhetorical question.

But that doesn’t mean you skip it. Or strip the word of its pretense.

I’m certain that’s not what he means, but I did recently refer to a RAV4 “eight-speed manual”. Everybody’s entitled to throw a gutterball from time to time. Ideally, it doesn’t happen when you’re tip-toe on your high horse, but hey.

Cammisa is not a trained journalist. He’s a trained mechanical engineer and holds a law degree. In reality he’s more like a tech personality or sports commentator… as a commentator you’re free to espouse how great you are at playing Fortnite, or your skills at hitting a fastball, or how fast you can drive around a track, and pass them off as credentials. That won’t get you far at The New Yorker or with a Pulitzer committee.

Has Ryan ever actually read an issue of the New Yorker? Did he read the Dan Neil piece that won a Pulitzer? Does he understand what the meaning of the word espouse is? Why is he using it here?

Frankly, I feel attacked by this piece, although I’m sure Ryan has no idea who I am. Not only have I repeatedly proved to be faster than some full-time pros and development engineers behind the wheel of 600-horse-plus supercars, not only have I set track records in five different classes, I also have dozens of Fortnite victories, several of which I obtained through the recherche route of “squad hunting”, in which you play solo against up to 24 squads of four players, and still win the whole fookin’ enchilada. I’ve appeared on relatively prominent Fortnite YouTuber videos, killing people who are at the top of the SBMM peak. When we talk about my wheel-to-wheel racing laurels, which include overall wins in six sanctions and eleven race classes plus podiums or special awards (e.g. VP Hard Charger in PWC) in seven more race classes, you need to understand that I did all of that while also winning Fortnite games, most often dressed as a giant yellow chicken.

I also made the American Journalism Review as a source and as an example of proper ethics, a distinction that perhaps Zummallen was too busy getting murked five seconds out of the Fortnite Battle Bus to achieve. I did miss the classical journalism training, perhaps because I was busy getting a classical education.

Oh, wait. Was this article not supposed to be about me? This isn’t the New Journalism? Sheesh. Let’s return to what Derrida called the “text”.

Unfortunately, Tesla and its Cybertruck have not earned the benefit of the doubt. They cannot be taken at their word. This is true of all automakers, yet Tesla in particular deserves an ultra-critical eye, as the brainchild of the world’s wealthiest man and, at times, his personal plaything to test unproven technology on the general public.

Oh, like nobody but Hitler Nazi Elon tests unproven technology on the public? Let’s talk about Full Self Driving, which is the poster child for Dr. Mengele’s Automotive Experiments; it’s been implicated in 17 deaths over the past four years. Pretty serious, right? Well, in about the same space of time, the brake system of the General Motors X-car was implicated in 13 deaths — but keep in mind that automotive data collection in 2023 is in a different universe from where it was in 1983. If you think the X-car brakes only killed 13 people, I have nothing but sympathy for your family and co-workers. Want more? Ford’s Pinto stacked at least 27 bodies by government tally.

Am I going too ham on the domestics? Kia and Hyundai racked up over 100 injuries in sudden fires — not to mention the people who died in, or in the vicinity of, their easily-stolen vehicles. The Feds say it’s at least eight deaths, but a quick search for “stolen Kia death” will get you more than that on page one.

Wait — as Joe Dart might say, it gets funkier. GM ignition switches killed over 300 people. The C/K GM trucks are implicated in well over 350 side-saddle fire deaths. The Ford Explorer killed more than 283 people via a bad tire choice and pressure recommendation. Takata airbags have killed at least 27 people. More than 90 people died in suddenly-accelerating Toyotas; the cause of that is still up for debate but, hey, it didn’t happen in the Honda Accord, did it?

You get the idea. Tesla is far from some corner case here. You’re likely safer in a Tesla than you are in many other recently-sold vehicles. So why does Tesla deserve unique scrutiny? Why is every autowriter out there railing about Tesla, the Cybertruck, and Jason Cammisa?

They hate us cause they ain’t us

Likely most of you will have put tab A into slot B by now. But in case you haven’t: Tesla’s crime is a crime of selection. By denying Cybertrucks to all but the most easily manipulated entertainer/influencers, Tesla has basically sent the rest of the business to Harvard Extension School.

Think I’m overstating things? You should hear journosaurs on first-look trips talk shit about the sad little people who have to wait for regular press-rotation access; they, in turn, carp about the bottom-feeders who rent cars or borrow them from dealerships.

When this industry congratulates itself — when it praises writers or promotes them or singles them out for special attention — the criteria never have anything to do with writing or driving ability. Rather, the mark of prestige in this game is…

selection.

The highest-status writers are the ones who get invites to everything. Who have access to Chirons and SF90 Spiders and Phantoms and so on . The Hannah Elliotts and Basem Wasefs and Georg Kachers. Can they write? Not usually. Can they drive? In most cases, not as well as the average SCCA rookie SRF3-er. It doesn’t matter. That’s not what makes you a somebody in the business.

Somebody Status is a matter of selection. By the PR people. By the agencies. By that Andreas Pfenngwise dork at Porsche who every year debuts some dorky-ass PORSH with additional forever-alone spoilers to the fawning adoration of lifestyle hacks who couldn’t get a Formula Atlantic around Laguna Seca in under two minutes and who probably think “pretense” is a complimentary word.

Here’s what frosts everyone’s wheaties about the Cybertruck thing: Tesla won’t do business with anyone but a few carefully-selected mouthpieces. Because they don’t need to. So Cammisa’s in — and you’re out. Complaining about journalistic ethics in this case is like the story of the guy who walks into a pawnshop and points a Taurus revolver at the proprietor, who grabs it out of his hand and examimes it.

“Oh gosh… I’ll give you $250 for it,” the pawn star says, thinking very quickly indeed.

“Okay,” the would-be criminal says, “but now you’re robbing me.”

Jason’s not doing anything wrong. He’s not trying to be the next Patrick Bedard. He’s more like a Mr. Beast tribute band that just happens to be kinda sorta about cars. If his brand of “content” has more appeal to Tesla than Ryan Zummallen’s, then so be it. I said it twelve years ago: When you start the ride, you don’t get to say where it stops. You can’t puff-piece the Hyundai Kona then get upset when someone else puff-pieces the Cybertruck. And guess what? Eventually you will all be replaced by some ChatGPT variant that reads the spec sheet and writes the review. ChatGPT isn’t really “artificial intelligence”, but that’s okay because what you’re doing isn’t intelligent!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to fire up and drop into Ashika Island, home of the CoD DMZ. I’ll leave you with the work of a true artist: it has 136 million views. Forget Jason or Ryan: the future of content is TIKO, whose genius could never be duplicated even by an infinite number of monkeys.