Monday, November 3, 2008

Our Favorite Birthday Wish of All. We Figure With This Kind of Support We Might Be Able to Kill The Site Off Before Christmas.

Mistah College - he dead.

I’m not gonna lie - I’ve been over it for a while now. Not just RYS, but the whole deal. Congrats on three years, big yippee, but I’m thinking about leaving the professor business and becoming an insurance salesman or a drug dealer. Something fulfilling, something I can be proud of.

The majority of my students are bored silent all the time now, my colleagues are either full of shit or assholes like this hard scientist churning out doctors; thanks for the depth of your vision, by the way, and for ensuring that my physician isn’t also a citizen. (I would love a few minutes with this kid to show him how “pale and wan” the back of my hand is.)

I get that there’s a rhythm associated with the academic year, highs and lows – it isn’t my first donkey ride. (President Kennedy has been shot!) It’s not that I’m some idealist douche bag either, but I’ll give him that many folks around here have that disease.

Worse, they don’t even have the idealism – it’s a fashionable act assumed for a few hours each day on passing through the faculty lounge. Just another lie in the pile.

Grade inflation is now encouraged by our Deans and CEOs, another face of the absurd mendacity in academic culture. Students can’t handle the truth, admin can’t handle the truth. But deceit pays and business is good. So your whiskey I drink, and in shit I sleep.

I can’t in good faith pass even half of my lit class - for their unwillingness to read past the shady Google summaries, for their boredom and indifference, for their incomplete understanding of what it means to earn something. Professor Pussyfoot down the hall, on the other hand, will tell these same students their writing is brilliant, their insight promising.

It’s not just them, honey, it’s the whole fucking machine.

Shit, I wish I could still respect myself and pass out congratulatory grades based on effort and teach to the exam, suck administrative dick with the other side of my mouth and jerk off my colleagues all at the same time. I would save a lot of energy otherwise lost on trying to keep it real. This isn't the same as it ever was.

So for next year could you fuckers just bump up the potency, stop cutting my shit with so much sell-out merchandising and filler? Crack the safe and let your balls come out and play, light up the blender and make RYS honest again, push it back underground.

If not I may be writing into Rate Your Cracker instead - we'll have bags too.