Smackin' it Old School

Amnesiac Annie:  If you don't know what your paper was about, either you have brain damage or you're a plagiarist.  Either way, don't make a goddamn appointment with me to go over it without having refreshed your memory.  If your only answer to my questions about thesis and organization is to shrug and mutter "dunno," please find something else to do than sit in my office drinking in my sweet, sweet oxygen.

Rebellious Randolph:  I am not the Man.  Please stop acting like you're bucking the power by coming late and leaving early.  You're not.  I have no power, as evidenced by the fact that I'm teaching the 8:00 AM section of Introductory Remedial Hamster Flensing.  Your paper about how easy professors have it and how we should all be fired was charming, but stupid.  To set the record straight, we do not get paid "six figures"; we do not eat caviar and lobster all the time; we do not have three months of vacation every year.  Instead, we have to deal daily with little entitled brats who fancy themselves rebels.

Musical Monty:  Holy shit if you don't stop tapping that pencil I am going to feed it to your nether eye with the heel of my shoe I swear to God you are driving me hampstershit crazy.

Jock Joe:  Never make an appointment with me right after football practice again.  No, whatever cheap Walmart perfume you're wearing does not cover the stink.  You smell like someone left some Roquefort in a locker room and then poured Ax Body Spray all over it before simmering it in an old Bike cup.

Inquisitive Ingrid:  I can hear you when you ask the guy next to you what the reading was about just before the quiz.  And yes, that's why you continuously fail the quizzes.  Because he hasn't done the reading either.  In fact, no one has: it's the blind cheating with the blind.

Oversharing Owen:  I don't care about your girlfriend.  I'm sorry you're sad; here's the number to counseling.  When you want to discuss hamster flensing, I am here.  Until then, I'm elsewhere.

euphoria, euphoria, you come at such a price....

Truth is, I practically never blame the student.  It's not his fault he's an idiot with no ethical compass.

I blame fucktard colleagues who should know better than to tolerate these students' actions.

I used to tell myself that the chickens would eventually come home to roost, that justice would prevail in the end, that truth would out.   I no longer believe that.  I'm very nearly completely unable to even hope for it.

The system rewards students for pissing into the wind and claiming that it's raining.  Unfortunately, my fucktard colleagues witness this behavior and repeat it themselves, going a step further and publishing articles claiming that they've discovered rain.  Hell, some of them go so far as to claim that they invented rain.

It used to be that we struggled to tell the world that the emperor had no clothes.  But now the emperor is pissing on himself and claiming that he has invented rain.  Drenched in his own urine, he gets his agent to call a reporter at the New York Times.  Next thing you know, the Times Magazine has a story about our fucktard colleagues' ingenious inventions.

Yet, they're just pissing on themselves.

My goddamned fucktard colleague is pissing on himself and telling the Times that it's raining, just so that he can get a big paycheck.

I drink bourbon because I'm tired and I don't have the energy to cry.