Thursday, September 30, 2010

"Why the fuck are you in this class?": a vitriolic polemic

Warning: Contains material which might not be suitable for sensitive or young readers.

Today was filled with examples of students who clearly did not have any interest in the class, the material taught, or the social grace to appear alert.  To these "students" I want to ask, "Why the fuck are you in this class?"  Now I understand that some of these fine folks might be fulfilling requirements or took the class because they thought it might cater to their interests.  Fair enough, I have requirements that I have no interest in (i.e. mathematics) but I show up, stay alert, do the fucking work, and God forbid I might actually learn something or realize that I might have an interest in a topic or point made during the class.  Sure, I've even gone into a fugue state where my eyes are open, I'm taking notes, but the god damn lights ain't on.  Everyone has good days and bad.

However, today pushed me to write this simply because I don't have any idea how else to get these thoughts out of my head without going batshit crazy and screaming in tongues and being taken away to a relaxation facility.
  1. A big shiny fuck you to the young lady sitting next to me in class, in the front row, who texted the entirety of the class.  This charming coquette didn't have the where-with-all to even attempt to hide her texting.  Hell, the god damn click click click click click of the phone against the desk sounded like an Underwood typewriter.  I think my eye started to do that twitching thing it does when I start to crack a little.  I don't wish her any physical harm and I'm sure she knows a lot about tanning, buying things, and the Shakespearean scope of The Hills.  What I want to harm is her fucking phone.  I want to Bernard Black that fucking thing into a million pieces under the oppressive heel of my hob-nailed boot or similarly re-enact that "Dead fucking duck!" scene from The Doors.  I know you BFF doesn't know how she got gonorrhea in her throat (again) so take the call outside.  You're not only disrespecting the professor but you're also disrespecting your fellow students.  I had a hard time taking notes (and drawing an awesome tiki mask) by you click click clicking away.  I hope you get a suppurating boil on your inner thigh.  p.s. Buy some fucking shorts that cover more flesh than my fucking boxers.  There's a time and place for those kinds of shorts (on stage with men putting dollars in them) and the classroom is not it.
  2. Hey ladies who fucking yell across the room (and into my left fucking ear) at your friends before class starts...perhaps you wouldn't have to yell if you walked over and spoke with your friends.  Additionally, 
    • For the love of the Virgin's cooch please turn down your music.  I know we're at the back of the class and you think that the subject is boring and "gay" (her terms not mine, I'm pretty sure that the class itself is not homosexual) but y'know turn down the Usher or Florida or whatever shit you're listening to.
    • I'm not sure which of you were masticating your gum loudly (maybe you couldn't hear over your delightful music) but it sounded like very well lubricated manual vaginal penetration.
    • I am impressed by one young lady's ability to play The Sims on one phone and watch something on youtube on another phone and pay attention to your friend snickering and handing you her phone to see something terribly droll...all while watching a silent movie.
    • Finally, I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't suck your teeth at me and mutter something underneath your breath when you saw me look over because I was distracted by the glare of your iTouch fucking Android T-whatever the fuck it is.  I know I maybe white and have close cropped hair but I don't hate you because of your gender or skin tone or your crappy weave (By the way, you need to glue that nasty thing down before it scuttles off and attacks people) - I hate you because you're ruining this class for me.
  3. I'm not just hating on the ladies.  Dude.  Druids suck.  How do I know you're a Druid?  BECAUSE FUCKING WARCRAFT WAS BEAMING OFF YOUR LAPTOP IN A DARKENED ROOM.  Truth be told I was trying to figure out where you were and I was hoping you'd be ambushed or have a Troll insert his member into your toon's ocular cavities repeatedly.  I missed parts of the film because I kept seeing flashing Warcraft in my peripheral.  Here's some rare drops for you - an education and an opportunity to know people outside of your Guild.
  4. Dear Bro.  I realize that reading "all this faggot bullshit" may not be as enlightening as Mr. Glenn Beck's latest magnum opus and that your professor is some limp dick liberal spouting Socialist propaganda and that you'd rather be playing Halo and teabagging n00bs.  I deeply apologize that the education that your parents are going into debt to pay for (so much for retirement, thanks son!) is not to your liking.  Perhaps you should drop out and get a job doing something you enjoy or naturally excel at (this last line is actually honest and not snarky and there is no hidden punchline).

So, "Why the fuck are you in this class?" people who obviously have interests, passions, or skills laying elsewhere?  Or, perhaps, is this the way you act outside of the classroom as well?  Do you text when your Grandmother is talking to you?  Do you text when the police are talking to you?  Do you stare vacantly, on the verge if drooling, when someone is attempting to dispel the shadows of ignorance with the illumination of knowledge?  Are you the kind of prick who answers an essay question on a final, "Esays is stoopid."?  Do you treat your professors/instructors the way you treat anyone in the service industry, that is to say like your fucking servants?  Do you worry more about the promised money you are going to get with a college degree than an education or working towards a specific goal (much love for Nursing students!  I'd trust a nurse over a doctor any day of the week)?  Are you getting anything out of college - besides the beer, parties, sexual encounters, a certain amount of liberty (don't get me wrong these are the reasons I dropped out after my first semester in 1996 and didn't return to college until 2008)?  

I suppose that these are rhetorical questions and that all you useless fucking flesh sacks are going to excel in whatever corporate middle/upper management position you get into.  Meanwhile, I'll be here...over educated, dicking around with this blog, asshole deep in debt, with a bitter, secretly envious, ultimately false feeling of superiority.

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