…as if millions of bored, easily amused sheep wailed in despair, and found themselves with no shitty book recommendations or over-sensationalized, hyper-emotional crap being aggressively spoon-fed to them.

Seriously.  Oprah’s show was the broadcast version of goatse. Good riddance to IQ-lowering rubbish.

Now if we could only get rid of those scrunts over at “The View.” (“The View” is pretty much the broadcast version of lemonparty.)

“I have to call IT. I can’t retrieve my e-mail, and have no access to BlackBoard.”

“Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Which one — the one about the coffee pots, or the one about not openly drinking in public places and dropping a bucket of superballs from the the rotunda mezzanine?**”

“The one about the campus e-mail system being down starting at midnight, and for the next week.”

“Wait. WHAT?”

“Yeah. They sent out an e-mail about it last night — around midnight.”

** It was not me. I may (or may not) have witnessed the event, and know who it was, though. Safer for everyone to believe it was a RASS — random act of student stupidity.

Via this post over at Tam’s, (and sure to piss off our beloved Anon) we find this post at Hillbuzz.

It takes stones to do something like this; it’s apt to piss off a lot of people.

Bravo, gentlemen.

In a move sure to agitate all faculty and outright enrage the venerable silverbacks, the Uni has sent out an e-mail requesting that faculty members get rid of any personal beverage makers — i.e., coffee pots and electric kettles — in order to save money. In addition, the small ($25/year) Uni contribution to the faculty (note: not department — entire faculty) coffee fund is being revoked. Oh, and we should unplug departmental ‘fridges over weekends, as well.

What. The. Fuck?

This, from the admin who routinely turns the heat on in September, and then tells everyone to “open the windows and turn on the ceiling fans” if it gets too hot.

This, from the admin who decided that the Uni President’s portrait (which hangs at the far end of an alcove in an unused ballroom on the third floor of a large marble hall that consists of mostly-unused meeting rooms) needed to be floodlit, 24/7.

An under-caffinated professor is a dangerous professor, is what I am saying. The chances that someone will flip the fuck out and bite the head off of a student are high.

Seriously — get a tissue first.

I am not kidding.

(Go visit “Man Eggs.” There’s some funny shit over there.)

• “Discuss” — along with  “write,” “analyze,” “answer” (as a verb), “respond” (as in: respond to a prompt), “compare,” “contrast,” and “argue” are not synonyms for “plagiarize the living fuck out of a Wikipedia article.” This is why I hate take-home exams. I spend more time sorting out plagiarism that actually grading papers.
• Trying to guilt me into upping your grade by telling me if you fail this class your parents will kill you, take away privileges or that you  won’t be allowed to come back to school for the spring semester is not going to work.
• Asking me the parameters and scope of a paper assignment the morning of day the God damned thing is due is fairly stupid. If I get an e-mail thirty minutes before class starts, and then you’re absent, I know what’s up.
• When I occasionally give an essay exam,  I enjoy it when students leave problems blank on exams. It makes grading the exams really easy and really quick – because I know the alternative was a total bullshit answer that would have required 2-3 minutes of untangling before garnering the same zero points.
• The correct time to email me about what you can do to raise your grade is  before we get so far into the term that it’s impossible, and most definitely before grades have closed. I’m not going to sport you fifteen extra grade points (especially considering it would only get you to a “D,” which still mandates a re-take), nor do I want to go through the goat-rope of grade-change forms.
• It’s “for all intents and purposes,” not “for all intensive purposes.”  Don’t make me want to club you with my Norton anthology.
• Having your mom call to to try and arrange/force me in to some sort of intensive, two-week Christmas crash course to improve your failing grade will not work, and I will think that you are pathetic for getting your mom involved. Don’t be a worm — accept that you fucked up, and take it next semester.

11 November, 2009 — Veteran’s day.

To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

Tell me not (Sweet) I am unkind,
That from the Nunnery
Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind,
To War and Arms I flee.

True, a new Mistress now I chase,
The first Foe in the Field;
And with a stronger Faith embrace
A Sword, a Horse, a Shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.

– Richard Lovelace (1618-c.1658)

Malina Lingerer: “So, I need to know what I can do to raise my grade, and make up some of my missed class work. I know I’ve missed a lot of class, but I’ve been so sick lately — I’ve been at home and under the care of my family doctor for the last month!”

Cranky Professor: “How odd. I’ve seen you in the caf, playing ultimate Frisbee on the back quad and at the local Target. You’ve looked fine. Oh, and your classmate, Tres Lazee, indicated that he had seen you in the library, and you told him that you were going to drop the course.”

ML: “I missed two papers and a midterm. I know it’s impossible for me to pass, and I can’t have an “F” on my transcript! My parents will take away my car and allowance! I’ve been really sick. I can get a doctor’s note!”

CP: “Unacceptable. Sorry!”

ML (shifting gears): “I put  a filled-out drop slip in your mail box!”

CP: “No. You dropped a half-completed drop form in my mail slot. Unless it was signed by your advisor and the Registrar, and stamped with the Date Stamp of Doom, it’s not completed. There’s an official process to be followed. YOU have to walk it to your advisor and get it signed and then take it to the registrar and have it stamped — I don;t do that for you. Plus, the date on the form you left is three days after drop period was officially closed. “

ML: “But I meant to drop it, I just got busy and didn’t get over there in time! Can’t I, like, retroactively drop it?”

CP: “Not according to the Registrar’s office. I’m afraid you’re in for the long haul. You might be able to raise your current “F” up to a “D,” though.” Better than an “F!” “

ML: *wanders away, wailing about the unfairness of it all*

Note: Our add/drop period id ridiculously late in the semester — one calendar month before the last day of classes. This gives the precious little snowflakes plenty of time to decide if they want to preserver in a given class, or drop it like a hot turd. We also advertise the final drop date out the wazoo — full-page notices in the campus rag, posters in all stairwells, mass spam mails, ANGEL postings and announcements made in classes.

I even put a note on the syllabus and the course calendar.

Two-hundred-thirty-four years ago, in Tun Tavern (located in Philadelphia), the United States Marine Corps was founded.

Happy birthday, gentlemen!

Semper fi.