Friday, October 01, 2004

That's Interesting!

Something occured to me today while in my Latin film studies class. Every classroom has the guy who always chimes in with the most inane, ridiculous, and completely irrelevant comments. There have been two of these guys in my classes the past couple years and, without fail, one of them is always in one of my classes every quarter.

The first guy is this guy with a complexion like wet Koosh ball who always rides his scooter to class. He was most prominent in one of my creative writing classes where he would ask the most retarded questions about the readings. For example, in the Hemingway story, "Hills Like White Elephants," it's about this couple at a train station and a woman is contemplating getting an abortion, though it's never actually said. The guy would actually ask a question like, "Why are the hills like white elephants? I don't get it? Is it because there are lots of peanuts on the hills or an Indian guy is riding them? I don't understand." I wanted to crosscheck him whenever he started to speak. He wouldn't ask a question to be funny, he'd ask the question because he was a fucking moron.

Worse, however, is this one guy with facial hair that hasn't been seen since Tutankhamen (I spelled this right the first time, motherfuckas!) who had a voice like if he coughed too hard, a tablespoon of semen would end up on his shirt. Though he had a voice like a two-hour marathon of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy," his sexuality was ambiguous. Anyway, the aspect of this guy's personality that made me want to slam an iron on the "Polyester" setting into his neck was how he would always talk in class and never make any sense. It's like he saw somebody actually make a fucking point once and so he thinks now he can do it. Every professor I ever had hated the kid but was never able to admit it. Once, however, this little Pharoah fell asleep in class and somebody pointed it out and the professor said to just let him sleep. Everybody laughed when they realized that even professors are allowed to have hate in their heart.

The point of this post is because something funny happened today in class with a new guy that has taken the place of these previous two gentlemen. I've realized the code language that professors use when they hate a student. We were talking about the opening scene of Orson Welles' A Touch of Evil and the guy raised his hand and made some long-winded point about nothing in particular that made any sort of sense. The professor simply replied by saying, "Oh. I'd never thought of it that way." She then quickly picked another person to erase the stink of stupid in the room. This stink would follow me home, however, and make its way into this very post.

I apologize.

Interesting thought of the day:
Cereal companies don't actually make the items that they advertise on their boxes that cost a certain amount of UPC symbols because nobody ever fucking sends those things in. UPC symbols are the lazy man's kryptonite.

1 comment:

whore said...

answer!!!!