To THE JOURNEY!!
If memory serves me correctly this is a particularly busy time of year for those of you still suckling the academic tit. And, while the said protuberance long ago lost its life-giving knowledge liquid to a death of a thousand exceptions and specializations, you no doubt hold out hope for the curdled career giving yogurt now sitting in the back of the refrigerator of academic hopes and dreams. This is sad. Nevertheless, I wish you the best during your final, desperate sucks and tugs for your intellectually empty belly and physically bulbous graduate school waistline.
posted by Working Boy @ 9:37 AM
15 Comments:
MMmmm...precious yoghurt.
which i admit is better than the mysterious meat in the back of my own.
yeah this semester sucks. I finished two papers now, but I haven't started my last one yet, and it's due Friday, and it's about Duns Scotus, who makes little to no sense to me. If I finish it, though, that'll make about 150 pages of written material for me this semester, all of it oozing academic brilliance, Coors light, which I use as a brain tonic, and pipe-tobacco juice.
MMmmm...precious pipe tobacco juice. Hey Adam, question for you. How important are grades in grad. school? I mean, are they something you think about to the degree you do as an undergrad? Or does that fact that you no longer need to use those grades to secure future matriculation ease some of that particular pressure? Just wondering.
wood you should write yourself a mighty throne to sit upon and ponder all that is and is not
I am Allan, I am.
Grades don't matter much at all in grad. school, except (1) to keep your fellowship, (2) to convince someone to be your dissertation advisor, (3) so your prof.'s will speak well about you when it comes to getting a job somewhere, and (4) if you are anal and can't stand not getting the best grades possible on every possible assignment. In short, the pressure's still on.
i don't know why you don't just get your M.A. and come teach at Olive Harvey or something. you'd make as much as you would at Wheaton and you could probably get your life made into an after school special assuming enough of your students are saved from the savage dark streets of the african-american ghetto by your white liberal pandering.
that's goes for all of you, except Sanders. we all know how that one's going to turn out.
how is that?
divorced, with $300,000 in debt and three doctorates
...but seriously, let's all quit our day jobs and open up a saloon in Kansas.
I feel like we're all back together again. *single/multiple tears*
It is my dream to open a saloon in Kansas. Well, not exactly that, but to open up a brewery/eatery one day. Also, above my house I will have a "man room" with a bar, beer taps, pool table, many ashtrays, etc. You all are welcome.
You're going to have a house? How are you going to get a house? Oh yeah, your wife's a lawyer. Well that's nice.
how long will it take before the "man room" becomes the "storage room."
Adam: This is my man room.
Millie: I paid for this place, it's storage.
Adam: But Millie
Millie: One more word and your ass will be in litigation so fast it will make your head spin.
You'd be amazed at the power I exert over her. I'll teach you a little trick: withhold affection, lavish affection, withhold affection, lavish affection, withho...oh, who am I kidding? What you say is true. My only hope of a "man room" lies in the bejewled and powerful hand of Millie, a hand not given to benevolence except it is of some twisted, self-serving sort. But there is hope yet. Like any good sovereign, she occasionally tosses me delicious morsels, morsels designed not to fill, but to prevent the crazed belligerance that only total starvation brings. Perhaps if I am a very good little lap dog for the next few years, a "man room" can be one such a morsel.
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