Tuesday, October 18th, 2011,
(NEW YORK) – Douglas Andersen, the last known American who understood that you can be highly educated in a major metropolitan area, yet maintain at least a scrap of genuine masculinity and not talk like Richard Simmons getting tag-teamed by Michael Jackson’s zombie corpse and Mini Mouse with a strap-on, passed away yesterday. Mr. Andersen was 99 years old.
The retired professor of anthropology at New York University died peacefully in his upper Manhattan home surrounded by family and friends, according to sources. He will be terribly missed, said his grandson, 40-year-old Raymond Andersen, himself with three bachelor’s degrees and two masters degrees in Chinese History and International Relations, but seems incapable of speaking without a lisp in a whiney, high-pitched voice that makes one wonder if he’s about to launch into the air, showering onlookers with glitter from his rectum as he floats around the city with a neon pink halo over his swollen head.
Originally from New Orleans, Douglas Andersen first entered college in 1931 on a wrestling scholarship, but soon abandoned the lure of professional wrestling for studies in anthropology. Andersen was already an assistant professor of anthropology at Louisiana State University (never showing any signs that gaining an abnormal amount of education was making him speak like some annoying, effeminate tinkerbell) when he joined the Navy after America's entrance into World War II. Andersen fought in Guadalcanal and served two years aboard the USS South Dakota before being transferred to the Office of Naval Intelligence in Hawaii.
Still not speaking like some damn fruitloop, Andersen moved to New York in 1946 after being accepted as Assistant Professor of Anthropology and Oriental Affairs at Columbia University, where he completed his first doctorate in 1949. Andersen completed his second Ph.D. in International Relations at age 44, all the while maintaining his interests in wrestling, baseball, and poker; understanding that being “hip and worldly” did not somehow mean he had to leave his testicles back with his first bachelor’s degree.
Andersen became a civilian advisor to the U.S. State Department on Pacific Rim Affairs in 1961, transferring to New York University two years later where he would remain until his retirement in 1992. Author of fourteen books and many nationally published essays, Andersen’s last book, “How to Be Highly Educated in the City Without Sounding Like Some Pretentious Fag,” diverted from his usual concentration on U.S.—Asian relations and was consequently was not read by anyone remaining in or entering higher education in America.
Andersen’s wife, Martha, passed away last year. The two leave behind one surviving child, three grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren who have yet to realize that in this day and age, even if a man is heterosexual, he better raise those estrogen levels and his cadence if he wants to be considered part of the “urban elite” (and no, running 10 miles up Broadway and back to for the "Save the Baby Fire Ants Foundation" does not count as exuding manliness).
“Granddad did a lot in his life, but still died not knowing some basic pleasures,” said a mournful Raymond Anderson Monday. “He never got to know the pleasure of drinking 16 ounces of pure sugar disguised as ‘coffee’ from Starbucks. He never got manscaped, or got a pedicure, or knew the esteem of wearing a pair of small glasses adorned with ridiculously thick black frames. I feel so sorry for him. …We love you, grandpa!”
Funeral services for Douglas Andersen will be held at the Church of Saint Thomas More (65 East 89th Street, New York, 10128) Wednesday at 2:00 PM. All those without multiple college degrees and/or a hollow, epicene, obnoxious tone to their voice are welcomed to attend.