Men and women file into a vast conference room. Large HD screens dominate the front wall; others are mounted on side walls and on scaffolding. On the screen is an empty chair in front of a scene of blinking lights, pulsing meters, and inscrutable technology.

An old man in a form-fitting purple uniform sits in front of the camera.

Hello, fellow Cowboys. You may be well aware of certain rumors and scuttlebutt circulating around the T. Boone Pickens Endowment currently helping the Oklahoma State football program. It is true that due to certain prevailing market conditions, the collateral backing up the $200 million loan facilitating stadium construction has been temporarily devalued to a point of subprime equity.

You may say, “well, T. Boone, that sounds a lot like zero.” I’d like to ask you: if we all believed in the definite value of zero, if we really thought zero was a death sentence, how many of us would be here today? Zero is just a starting point for negotiations, that’s all. T. Boone’ll get this thing up and humming in no time flat, just you wait.

Zero is just life flashing you half of the “OK” sign to go ahead and do what you dream of doing in life. Or should I say, OK STATE? HAHAHHAA!!

LAUGH!!!! ALL OF YOU LAUGH!!! YES!!!

In the meantime, our beloved university is going to have to get some liquidity working to keep the lights on, so let’s look at what we’ve got in terms of resources. I’m a big believer in alternate forms of energy, so let’s review the uncapitalized markets we could tap around the block.

Dirt. That’s one thing Oklahoma has plenty of, and something we could lean on as a stopgap measure while the fund recovers.

In case you’re wondering who owns the dirt rights for Oklahoma, Kansas, Texas, and Louisiana, you’re looking at him, and that includes particulate household matter. That’s right: you’re sweeping pennies of my fortune out your door every damn Sunday and you didn’t even know it. I should have the legal paperwork governing dryer lint and vacuum bag filth complete and submitted to the Department of the Interior any day now, too, so we’ve got that as well.

Harvesting our elderkin. I’m not suggesting murder, but for those who’ve entrusted us with their life insurance policies, let’s return the favor by making their final departures from this world more interesting. Have any of you considered cave diving, or perhaps a vacation to Afghanistan? Are you eating enough rich food, or have you been foolish enough to stop smoking, thus buying into the liberal media’s sad bias against the noble tobacco industry? That last note is a particularly important one: I will send you the cigarettes myself in the mail if you like.

Red gold. Or what you might call the new commodity of the old future: human blood. Just look at our students and faculty and imagine the riches they have coursing through their veins every second of every day. It’s just sitting there waiting to be tapped, or to be coaxed gently out of them for free t-shirts and cookies.

Our very own (consults index card) “Mike…Gundy” will lead the media charge himself, encouraging students to “Bleed Red for the Orange and White.”

I have a proposed PR campaign in full detail under your chair. These sit atop the bombs I have strapped to each of your seats. Thank you for listening attentively.

We’re gonna get this straightened out, people. Meaning, I’m gonna do it, and you’re gonna sit back and watch. If you have any questions, I’ll be in my solid platinum, solar wind–powered spaceship, the Red Cocktober, cruising 500 miles above the surface of the earth.

GO COWBOYS,

Admiral T. Boone Pickens.