6 Things Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg Can Teach You About Institutional Partnership

Peanut butter and jelly. Green eggs and ham. Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg. Sometimes an unlikely pairing works out for everyone involved. In this, the year 2026 C.E., many colleges and universities are looking for exactly that kind of partnership. Enrollment pressure, workforce demands, shrinking pools of students, and uncertainty around regulations, have institutions scanning the horizon for someone to team up with. But before you sign the MOU with the first organization that takes you to lunch, what should you actually be considering? How do you find the Snoop to your Martha?

The Snoop/Martha pairing is almost twenty years old now. It started with a mashed potato segment on her daytime show in November 2008, survived (and thrived) after a Comedy Central roast, turned into a VH1 series that earned them an Emmy nomination, and eventually produced a national lighter commercial that I still think about any time I light a candle. That is a remarkable run for any celebrity pairing and is also a useful model for how two organizations can work together.

Here are six reasons Martha & Snoop’s partnership works, and what each one means for your campus.

1. A Shared Understanding. Snoop has two bestselling cookbooks (one of them is called Goon with a Spoon, and I need you to know I did not make that up; it is really called that). Martha has written more books than I was willing to count, but the AI overview on my Google search put the number at 102. They also both built brand identities using their own names, understand television and marketing, and have had various legal troubles (important note: we are not recommending ‘shared legal troubles’ as something you search for in a partner institution). Snoop told People the friendship started the way his other friendships do: he liked who she was and what she stood for, and the business came later.

Your version of this is mission alignment. Look at your institution’s mission statement. Then, write one about what the prospective partner exists to do. Put them next to each other and see if they align.

Take an HVAC program whose mission is to put skilled technicians into the regional workforce, and a zoo whose mission is animal welfare and conservation. Nothing about those two sentences suggests they should be in a room together. Then you remember that somewhere in that zoo there is a tropical rainforest exhibit, and it is February, and a very expensive frog has strong feelings about humidity. A zoo is a climate control problem with a gift shop, and the HVAC program has been training people to solve exactly that problem all along.

2. Each One Opened a Door the Other Couldn't. By 2015, Stewart had been off the air for a few years (though I could and did frequently catch her on PBS, wedged between Rick Steves and a pledge drive). A Los Angeles Times reporter interviewed for the Netflix documentary about her described her cultural standing at the time as pretty irrelevant, which, by all accounts, is a pretty rude thing to hear about yourself in a documentary you agreed to be in. But, that year, she sat next to Snoop at the Comedy Central roast of Justin Bieber and stole the show. I’m not going to link the roast here, because it is wildly NSFW, but it’s on YouTube if you’re curious.

After that, the favors ran both ways. Stewart called Snoop to tell him his own team had been sitting on a Skechers deal she'd been trying to set up for him, and he was eventually able to sign with the brand. Snoop brought her into his 19 Crimes wine partnership, which became her own chardonnay with the label (it's called Martha's Chard, and, no, I have not tried it… yet). He has also said he had zero interest in writing a cookbook until she pushed him, and then he wrote two.

Two questions for any prospective partner: What can they reach that you can't? What can you offer that they couldn't build themselves? If you can only answer one of those, you have a vendor. And vendors are lovely! But this blog is about partners.

3. They Started with One Segment. Snoop made mashed potatoes in 2008. He came back for brownies in 2009 (a full year between courses, which I respect). The VH1 series didn't premiere until 2016, and even that started small. Snoop was on tour, so the entire ten-episode first season was shot in five days. It got an Emmy nomination anyway.

To (badly) paraphrase Jan Brady, “Pilot, pilot, pilot!” Start with one cohort, one shared course, or one summer program. Assign an end date on it so the "should we keep doing this" conversation happens on purpose.

Pick the most important criteria to measure and then measure those things. Enrollment through the partner pipeline, persistence into the second term, completion, and employment at six months - whatever indicators will tell you if this partnership is working or not. Assign each one to a person by name, because "the office of" is not going to call you back.

4. Neither One Stopped Being Themselves. Stewart has called Snoop a phenomenal negotiator who has taught her a great deal. Snoop credits her with the two cookbooks (again, I just need you to know that one of them is called Goon with a Spoon). They learned things from each other, and, thankfully, nobody ended up rapping about tablescapes. Either one could have walked away at any point and gone right on being famous, and that freedom is part of why they never needed to.

Mission drift usually arrives dressed as opportunity. A partnership that asks you to serve a population you’re not designed to serve, or to offer a credential outside your scope, deserves a longer conversation before anyone signs.

Some things to notice early:

• Their main interest in you seems to be proximity to your accreditation

• The revenue split starts to look like incentive compensation if you squint

• Their reputational risk becomes yours, and you have no way to see it coming

• Nobody at either organization actually owns the relationship

• There's no plan for enrolled students if it ends

5. Somebody Read the Contracts. Snoop Dogg’s and Martha Stewart’s partnerships are formalized contracts, not handshake deals. She told the Wall Street Journal she waits for him to negotiate and then follows his lead. Nearly twenty years of real friendship, and someone still goes through the fine print. I find this enormously comforting.

Formality is your friend! Your accreditor, state regulators, students, and friendly neighborhood consultants (if we’re working with you) will need to know:

• Who controls the curriculum? You do, including faculty selection and assessment.

• How much is delivered by someone else?

• Is this a substantive change? New locations, delivery methods, and partner-delivered content often require notification or prior approval.

• Does it create physical presence in a new state? Definitions vary wildly, and a partner site can put you on a regulator's radar overnight.

• Do their instructors meet your faculty qualifications policy? If not, they don't teach (see our earlier thoughts on your cousin who teaches marketing at the community center).

• What's actually in the agreement? Term, responsibilities, complaint routing, records ownership, FERPA-compliant data sharing, and a way out.

6. It Compounded. A cooking segment became a running bit, which became a series, which became cookbooks, then a wine label, then a gin brand that Martha joined as a partner in 2025. Nobody could have planned these opportunities in 2008.

Good partnerships tend to produce more partnerships. Maybe the employer hosting your clinical placements introduces you to their trade association. Maybe the community organization referring students becomes a co-applicant on a grant you didn't know existed.

Keep an open mind and keep checking. Put an annual review on the calendar with three questions: What changed? What does the data say? Would we both sign the MOU again today?

Your best institutional partner is probably someone who does something you do not do, for people you already say you serve. They may be one degree outside the circle you have been talking to, which means you will have to look somewhere slightly unfamiliar to find them.

When you do, write it down properly, so it holds up when your regulator reads it.

The VH1 show I referenced in the intro of this blog is Martha & Snoop's Potluck Dinner Party, which, now that I think about it, is a title that summarizes this whole blog in four words. Everybody brings something, but nobody brings the same thing.

Your Snoop (or Martha, I’m not going to presume, though if your linen closet has hand-calligraphied labels, I have a guess) is probably out there doing something you don't do, for people you already say you serve, one degree outside the circle you've been operating in. Go find them, cook something together, and then (please) write it all down so it holds up when your accreditor reads it.

And if you would like help figuring out which arrangements need approval, which ones need an addendum, and which ones need a polite no thank you, we’re here for you! Because, to quote Snoop, “It ain't no fun if the homies can't have none.”