This article is entirely satire. All information and interviews below are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

At 5:30 a.m. every morning, the “Cocomelon” theme song plays at full volume throughout Gibson Hall. Tulane University President Mike Fitts stretches and yawns from his bedroom conveniently located in a secret room off of his office. President Fitts’ pajamas of choice: head-to-toe merch from the Tulane bookstore. 

President Fitts has no need for coffee. Instead, he starts his day by photosynthesizing and pounding a Bluephoria Yerba Mate. 

He follows up cavemanning his caffeine and recharging his chloroplasts by reading the U.S. Constitution in its entirety. 

After spending quarantine lurking on TikTok through his inconspicuous bot account @definitelynotmikefitts, Tulane’s president has mastered a multi-step skincare routine. 

He washes his face with a humble CeraVe gentle cleanser followed by four different serums with ingredients neither he nor anyone else can pronounce and a potent SPF. The results, however, are evident in his angelic complexion.

President Fitts prefers to make his bed after breakfast and his light reading. He amps himself up for the day by practicing his secret talents of freestyle rapping and interpretive dance.

“Getting to jam out and express my soul as the sun rises is an integral part of being a successful university President,” President Fitts said.

President Fitts’ wife picks out his outfit every night to make sure he is looking fly like a G-6. Today’s look is one of his classic suits, a tie from Fathers Day’s past and, of course, Green Wave socks to show his school spirit.

By 7:30 a.m., Fitts is behind the Resolute Desk and ready to tackle “unprecedented times.”  

While he waits for eduroam to work, which it often does not, President Fitts scans the Tulane parents Facebook group to make sure public discourse is still on his side. On the days when parents are unruly, Fitts knows to send a perfectly timed mass email.

Today is a special day for President Fitts. He is scheduled to do a Tulane University Police Department ride along on one of their special scooters. All week, he practiced on Brown Field, mastering the hip swiveling necessary to glide around campus, busting crime. 

TUPD even made him a special monogrammed helmet, as safety is Tulane’s priority.

President Fitts can hardly contain his excitement. His assistant joins him in a quick happy dance to City Girls’ “Twerkulator.” They plan on performing their groovy duet at an underground faculty talent show. Other event headliners include Assistant Vice President for Communications Mike Strecker’s standup routine entitled “Being the Other Mike,” and Director of Student Conduct Chris Zacharda and Vice President of Student Affairs Erica Woodley’s tandem unicycle act.

Before President Fitts can show off his scooter skills, he has a few meetings on his docket. First up is a one-on-one with his social media manager Britney Spears. They hope to do an insta-collab in the coming weeks to boost President Fitts’ engagement on the app.

The hour-long meeting ends in a heated debate about whether President Fitts would look good in Spears’ iconic denim ball gown, sans Justin Timberlake obviously. 

Fitts skips over to his daily meeting with fellow university leadership, during which they scour Thesaurus.com for words to use instead of “resilience,” “unprecedented” and “unwavering commitment.” They come up empty-handed, but still determined to build a better and less buzz-word filled future for all-school emails.  

President Fitts then heads to lunch at the Commons. His preferred seating arrangement is actually underneath the booth tables. This gives him ample opportunities to prank students by popping out and yelling “ROLL, WAVE” as they try to sit down. 

After a satisfying lunch of romaine lettuce, a single grilled chicken breast and a hefty glass of whole milk, Fitts heads back to Gibson. While attending a Zoom meeting with Tulane trustees, Fitts plays Papa’s Pizzeria on coolmathgames.com.

“Nothing about today is a helluva-hullabaloo,” said Fitts. “Except for my gnarly scooter sesh with TUPD.”

Fitts’ last meeting of the day is with the Department of Advancement. They spend 45 minutes explaining why Tulane cannot afford a full time hypnotist and why throwing a bake sale is not a good fundraising practice. They do, however, agree with Fitts’ Girl Scout Cookie-inspired marketing scheme.

“Those ladies are so entrepreneurial,” Fitts said. “Nothing gets parents to write checks like children guilt tripping them into buying processed sugars.”

As the clock strikes 5 p.m., Fitts changes into the TUPD uniform he had specially made and, of course, grabs his spiffy new helmet. He can hardly contain himself, running to TUPD headquarters faster than new members on sorority bid day.

Chief of Police Kirk Bouyelas greets Fitts by doing their secret handshake. Finally, it is Fitts’ time to shine. After buckling his helmet, adjusting his knee and elbow pads and telling his wife “I love you,” Fitts rides off into the sunset on his scooter, patrolling the local area for miscreants and mischief.