Michelle Malkin’s site has two pieces about a disturbing Obama rap performed by children in New Jersey. As if you parents needed another reason to homeschool.
Personally, if I had kids, I’d teach ‘em this ditty right here:
(The "Obamination" video comes to us, by the way, courtesy of SilenceDogood1978).
My $130.00+ math book does not, in fact, speak the answers to me...or come with a built-in calculator, even. Ripoff! The good news is that, because this edition is brand new (it's copyrighted 2010, if you can believe it), I can pass on said textbook to one of my brothers should he decide to take the same course. (He might...he has to have math classes to fulfill his degree plan, and this would be a free book to him.)
Another ripoff of late: Scrabble Slam. This card game sucks. You have to use both sides of the playing card, for starters, because there's either a letter or a blank printed on each side. Also, you have to deal out all of the cards at the beginning of the game. That would be fine if you had at least four players but, with fewer, there are just too many cards to hold AND see clearly.
Oh, and the basic premise is to change the current, four-letter word to some other, four-letter word, and do it quickly - you race against the other players instead of taking turns like civilized adults. Mom and I are in complete agreement that this was a big, fat waste of my five dollars. Too bad, because I was really hoping to be able to kick Mom's butt at SOMETHING even LOOSELY related to Scrabble.
On the other hand: the dice version of Phase 10 is a lot of fun. If you like Yahtzee! and Phase Ten, consider this to be their unholy lovechild. A lovechild with a mostly-useless score pad (the sections are really, really tiny), but a fun lovechild nonetheless.
One of the most-useful sites I've ever stumbled across is Khan Academy: a series of video tutorials that cover quite a bit of the math that you might need or want to master, from the SATs to algebra to a bunch of other concepts.
Did I mention that these video tutorials are free to view? Yeah, that was the selling point for me, too.
You know that your cats are in charge when they kick over their water dish - on purpose, of course - then proceed to sit by the spilled water and stare at you, as if to say: "So, what are you waiting for? Get over here and fill up the dish. What, you think we're gonna drink FLOOR WATER? Human, please."
In other news: I bought my math book today. $130.00 plus tax. For that much money, this sucker better have a built-in calculator that speaks the answers aloud.
I just checked my e-mail. The last professor acknowledged receipt of the last paper that I had to electronically submit. What does this mean? School’s out for summer, baby! YEAAAAAAAAAH!
Oh, man - if I had the money, I would SO be at Front Sight, like, tomorrow. Dr. Piazza's giving we gunnies a suh-WEET deal on training...including a free Springfield handgun when you're finished.
So, if you can get over to Front Sight, then take advantage of this deal. He's also offering all the training and paperwork that's required to apply for concealed carry permits that will cover thirty states (reciprocity agreements and such). I'm not particularly interested in that part, because I already have my CHL, but some of you might find that part to be fairly useful.
If you can't go...well...I totally understand, seeing as I can't go either. But by all means, we need to be taking some training classes where and when we can. I've taken the CHL class, but that's it so far. I'm really interested in some more classes, but I don't have the money. I'm saving a tiny bit at a time so that I can afford a class or two in the future, though. I think that we should all be doing that, as best we can, because it's always a good idea to learn as much about your tools as you possibly can.
I’m officially pissed off at keyboards in general right now, because it’s occurred to me that I’ve had to replace mine every 1.5 to 2 years. Writing, school, and work keep me typing for a few hours every day, if not longer. Around my house, I’m notorious for wearing out, breaking, and replacing keyboards, because the modern designs are not nearly as good as the ones that companies like IBM used to crank out.
Let’s see: I’ve been doing lots of typing since about age thirteen or fourteen. With only a few breaks (like when I joined the Army and, obviously, left home) I’ve been mostly responsible for several keyboards’ sad, sad deaths.
There were two early-generation Microsoft Ergo Boards that died. There were at least three cheap, ten-dollar keyboards somewhere in there that I flat wore out. I’ve gone through two of my own, ergonomic keyboards, including a fairly-rugged Belkin that actually held up for a little more than two years despite heavy usage.
Silk-screened letters wear off. Spacebars crap out. Whole sections of the keyboards just stop responding. Even when I routinely clean out these things, and even when I’m very careful to keep crap out of them – liquids, food crumbs, that sort of thing – they still wear out and break long before I think they should.
Right now, I’m using a Microsoft ergonomic model that I’ve had for several months. This thing is starting to piss me off, because the keys aren’t responding like they did when this first came out of the box. These stupid tactile-mat, “dome” ‘boards get that “mushy” feel after awhile, because they’re foreign-made, cheap pieces of garbage. The really-sad part is that I’ll pay ten, sixty, seventy dollars for these pieces of crap.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the IBM “M” model keyboard that I got with an old IBM 286 PC when I was in my mid teens. Even back then, all of this was outdated equipment, but the computer got online and ran Microsoft Word just fine, which were my two main concerns. And the keyboard…oh, my goodness, the keyboard! It weighed several pounds because there was a solid-metal base to it, and the removable key caps were etched: IBM didn’t use silk screening, or stickers, to put the characters on the keys. Even when I pulled off the caps and dumped them in a bucket of soap and warm water, the letters stayed because they were etched.
I could take apart the ‘board, too, and give the plastic top a good scrubbing. Putting the thing back together didn’t take long, and I was good to go for another several months, if not longer, without any work on my part.
Oh…and mine had a coiled cable, much like old telephone cords. Sweet? You bet.
So, I’m on the lookout for another one, and hope that I find an old, dusty one for a few bucks. Otherwise, I’ll have to cough up sixty, eighty bucks at this site for a refurbished model. As much as I appreciate the fact that these people have done all the work for me…I’d really rather save my money and clean up the ‘board myself.
By the way: if I ruled the world, I’d have the rare, ergonomic version. Yes, they did exist. They’re very difficult to find, though, which is sad because that would be absolutely perfect as far as I’m concerned. If you just happen to have one lying around, wasting space in your garage or attic or something, I would LOVE to talk with you about possibly acquiring it. Just saying.
The English building at my school sucks. A lot. One corner, for example, is slowly collapsing - sinking deeper and deeper, leaving giant cracks in the walls and making the floor creak in a very-eerie, unsettling manner whenever somebody walks across it.
However, we're English majors. We share the building with the Philosophy Department, who are even worse off than we are. If we're the red-headed stepchildren of the university, then the Philosophy people are our younger sibs - there for us to abuse because, dangit, Mommy and Daddy don't love us, and we have to take it out on someone.
The H/V/AC system doesn't work well at all, either, and the overhead lights in some rooms will randomly flicker, then go out. Why? We aren't sure. The building was constructed in the 1920s, so there's probably, you know, a hazard or two lurking in the walls.
Unfortunately, the school does not have any plans to give us a new building. We aren't asking for anything extravagant: we aren't demanding that we get something as expensive, slick, and just-plain COOL as the new science building. The new science building that we, incidentally, can see from the English building. It sits there, all shiny and new, not smelling like a serial killer's basement (unlike our building).
We just want something that would pass a legitimate building inspection, that's all.
Spring Break started (for me, that is) today. I'm officially off school until the Tuesday after next. Woohoo!
Unfortunately, my Mom doesn't quite understand this yearly holiday.
Mom: Oh, so you're on Spring Break now?
Me: YESSSSSS! (Awkward, but jubilant, dancing.)
Mom: Good. You can help me with the cleaning.
Me: No. It's Spring Break, not Spring Cleaning.
Mom: No. It's Spring Break from school. You can still help me around the house.
Me: BREAK.
Mom: Yes. Break from SCHOOL.
We're both speaking English, but I don't think that we're both having the same conversation.
You know...I might be 27 years old, and I might be a somewhat-conservative female but...I really, really like a good fart joke. Maybe it's because I have three brothers, and grew up trying to out-fart them after Mom made beans or cabbage for dinner. Perhaps it's because I'm a fairly-flatulent person by nature, and figure that I might as well find humor in the affliction. Or maybe I'm just a typical human being.
However, I spent last week in British Literature class, discussing a fart joke in Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales." As it turns out, the flatulence in "The Miller's Tale" is not merely some dude letting one rip. Oh, no. There's symbolism...literary meaning...a deeper point...behind farting, at least in that instance.
It's discussions like this one that make me not hate school so much.
Here in Central Texas, we do not go to school if there is ice on the ground, or if there is a forecast for ice during the day.
My university, as well as every other school in the area, is closed for the day. Oh, yeah, baby!
In other news: Blago's whining about the impeachment process being unfair. And he's trying to claim that he wasn't going to break any criminal laws with that whole "let's discuss selling Obama's Senate seat!" deal that the feds recorded. Mm-hmm. Sure, Blago. Let's not even get into the "Let's hold the Cubs sale hostage" bit, or the "Hey, children's hospital? Do what I say or you don't get money" thing.
What a tool.
But it could be worse. I mean, Iceland's whole government just collapsed.
I want my half hour back because I paid for it fair and square.
Today, the first day of classes, I showed up about ten minutes before my 11 a.m. class. Instead of an open classroom door, my fellow students and I found a sign informing us that class would begin at 11:30 instead. Why? Because today was Inauguration Day, and the ceremonies began at 11 o'clock our time.
Yes, that's right, folks: I stood around for an extra half an hour this morning, waiting for my class to start. There was no good reason to delay this class. It's not like my instructor can't, you know, pull up the video coverage on the Internet, or watch one of the many repeats that so many TV stations are airing. And goodness knows that she has access to a VCR, or some other recorder that would capture the broadcast for her to view on her own time.
She just had to watch this epic event live, even if it meant dicking me out of half an hour of my life. Oh, yeah, and those thirty minutes aren't refundable, by the way. I can't just claim credit for them at the end of my life or anything like that.
This is an English class, by the way. It's not like the political-science professors let their students out to watch, you know, a government/political event. My class has zip, zilch, NOTHING to do with Inauguration Day, the ceremonies, the President, et cetera, but my half hour was ripped off all the same.
If I wanted to watch TV, I would have either stayed at home or gone to one of the "watch points" set up all over campus, including right across the walkway from my classroom building. Plenty of other people on campus did one or the other today. It's not like we had no choice but to be in our 11 a.m. classes today.
But no - we couldn't just have class, which is what those of us who showed up wanted. Instead, we all had to occupy ourselves for an extra half hour, waiting for the ceremonies to conclude so that we could get on with what we're paying to do (learn).
I'm so glad that I should, God willing, graduate in December. I've had just about enough of academia and all its collective insanity. I'll be taking my school-logo baseball cap to the pistol range right after I walk - to give it a proper, .45-caliber sendoff and all.
Today was the first day of classes and I'm already sick of the whole thing.
I'm finished with school for the rest of the year. Woohoo! Only one more year (two semesters, in other words) left until I'm an actual, honest-to-goodness graduate. Finally.
Queen's University - a Canadian school - has decided that, if students' conversations with one another include such wonderful slang as "gay" or "retarded," they will be called out on their behavior.
Now, when a student uses one of the more "offensive" words in our language, a "student facilitator" will intervene. Because goodness knows that university officials have nothing better to do - like combat crime on campus, or work on increasing funding to vital programs, or blow the snow off the damn parking lot.
The funny part? (In a "Standing, naked, on two fruitcakes and whistling the 'I Love Lucy' theme song" kind of way, not a "Ha-ha!" way.) According to the link that I just gave you, these "facilitators" were trained for ELEVEN WHOLE DAYS. Obviously, they're experts on All Things Social, and can effectively deal with the hostilities, protests and other problems that will come from their interference with student conversations.
If you attend Queen's University, I have something for your required-reading list. I strongly suggest that you give Orwell's "1984" a close reading. It won't be too difficult for you to comprehend, because you're not very far away from having the Thought Police right beside you whenever you're on campus.
And this school really does have more-important things to worry about. They had to cancel Homecoming for two years, it seems, because the less-intelligent students, and their buddies, were completely out of control. Oops.
I really hate my school. I hated the junior college I attended before transferring here, so I guess that I hate school in general.
Learning? Wonderful stuff. I'm *totally* in love with the creative-writing minor that I'm working on. Those classes are great. They're so awesome, in fact, that I skip them only when I'm too sick to sit upright.
Too bad I didn't figure out that I really want to study creative writing until after I'd been at this university for a while. When I transferred in, I was a journalism major. This school has an excellent journalism program, so this seemed like a great place to be at the time. And it *was* a great idea at the time.
But where I go to school, creative writing is not an option as a major. Some other four-year schools do offer that - but I don't want to transfer and have to take a buttload of classes just to meet the graduation requirements (typically 20-odd, maybe 30-odd, credits in residence). This is my senior year, see, so changing schools would be more of a pain in the butt than it's really worth.
I'm an English major, which is kind of annoying to me. I love literature, yes. But I don't really love most of the English classes I've taken in pursuit of the degree. I would have been just as happy without them, to be completely honest. Because I don't care about a formal study of British literature. I don't care about a formal study of women in literature. I don't care about a formal study of grammar.
Sad, really. An English major who just doesn't care enough about a good bit of the degree plan to formally study it. Informal study is great, because I'll learn about that particular subject when I'm interested. But the in-class, structured study bores me more often than not.
This will end soon enough, though. After this semester, I have only one year left until I graduate. (God willing. It's already been delayed a couple of times. Maybe this time things will work out like I think they will.)
So...I'm almost finished. It's really too late to change anything, but that's okay because I don't have to put up with this much longer.
If you don't know a word that you encounter while reading, or while conversing, then please do yourself a big favor and look up that word. Trust me when I say that you'll be better off for making a little effort to learn something new - instead of whining, outside of class, that the professors are a bunch of a-holes because they dared to assign challenging reading, or used those big words in their lectures.
I'm tired of hearing students whine about the academic standards. If we're in a senior-level English class, then the odds are good that we will encounter words we do not know. This is true even if we've devoted a good bit of our lives to vocabulary, to reading, to learning about literature and language. The English language is, to put it mildly, farkin' huge. None of us know every word, or every variation of every word.
As English majors, we've deliberately chosen to study English. We devote obscene amounts of time to the literature, to the words, to the conversations about these things. When we declared this major, we agreed to meet the challenges that it presents: not to run away, whining and complaining about how hard our professors are on us.
Make a note of the word that's new and confusing, consult the dictionary and/or Google, and learn something new. We're in college for the various challenges that it offers. Trying to convince the professors to lower the standards so that we will not have to work to clear the bar is just stupid.
Dear Professors:
I am not in any Political Science classes this semester. In fact: I am taking only English classes. We are not, at this point in the term, reading or writing anything even remotely related to politics.
Therefore, kindly shut up about the conventions, the upcoming election, the evil Democrats/Republicans/other parties, and everything else that you really don't have the privilege of inflicting on us during the block of time that is allotted for your lecture.
We don't want to waste ten minutes of the class period listening to your trifling rants. Surely you have a more appropriate outlet for your frustrated whining? Don't you have friends? Fellow professors? The ability to figure out how to post to the Craigslist "Rants and Raves" section? A brick wall?
You don't want to hear our drivel during class time. We're expected to discuss relevant topics and material, ask questions, answer your questions, take our exams, turn in our finals, et cetera. We don't have the privilege of twisting your ears with our personal thoughts, stories or opinions.
We expect the same from you. A brief "Hey, how was everybody's weekend?" discussion is fine, especially when we're in class a few minutes before the official start time. But don't waste our actual class time. We're here to learn about the subjects listed in the course descriptions, not indulge your delusions of importance.
Get a frickin' blog. They're free. You can anonymously post all of your thoughts, rants, whining, whatever. Or are you afraid that, because you can't hold bloggers captive (unlike students), nobody will pay any attention?
Today was my first day back at college in nearly a year. However, not a stinkin' thing has changed.
Case in point:
The douchenoozle in the whale-sized car who managed to do three illegal, dangerous things within two blocks:
1. Pulled out of the parking lot and right in front of me. Jackass couldn't wait five seconds for me to drive past. (Fortunately, my Brake-fu was strong today.)
2. Ignored the Stop sign. Because, you know, that sucker is merely a suggestion. Even when cross traffic does not stop. (Good thing the road was clear.)
3. Forced his Crapmobile across TWO LANES because he couldn't figure out which lane he needed to occupy. Cut off one large truck in the process. (More slick Brake-fu action in front of me.)
Fail-o-Gram for the Dickosaurus Rex in the loser cruiser!
* Unprepared Student. I'm talking to you, dude. Yeah, you. The guy who spent the entire semester "forgetting" to bring Scantrons and pencils on exam days. I would understand one day of forgetfulness, as we all do things like that. But on every test day, you showed up without the necessary supplies. You bummed Scantrons and pencils off of other students without ever offering to pay for them. I hope that, next semester, every student in every single one of your classes tells you "No, sorry, don't have an extra to spare." Maybe that will teach you to be prepared for classes.
* Scantily-clad Student. I know that you think you have the most gorgeous butt ever created, but...you don't. Put on shorts that don't end half a centimeter below your pubic hairs. Take those back to Wal-Mart and tell the Customer Service employee that you forgot to purchase the other half. Please. You have not, in any way, earned the privilege of wearing cheerleader shorts with "bootylicious" printed across your cheeks. Trust me.
And while you're getting dressed in the morning, put on a shirt that covers your butt crack. I really don't want to get an eyeful of your vertical smile every time I look up from my notebook to glance at the professor. Especially in February. I did not know, until I was forced to sit behind you and one row over for three and one-half months of my life, that a butt crack can look like my dry, chapped hands in freezing weather. Amazing. Digusting, but amazing.
* Loud Drunken Student. Shut up. It's three in the morning. "Dead week" means intense studying for many of us. We also like to get a full night's rest before exam days. Yes, I know. It's easier to do things your way: skip half of your classes, drink your way through your loan money, and then beg the professors to not fail you. But I like doing things my way. I'll leave you to your drunken debauchery during daytime hours if you leave me to my sleeping at nighttime.
* Thieving Morons. Stop breaking car windows in student parking lots. The things in those vehicles do not belong to you. I don't know if you're students or just local criminals but, either way, you belong in prison. And I know good and well that, if somebody ever steals from you, you're going to throw the mother of all fits. How dare somebody take something that belongs to you? Oh, the outrage! What type of a nation do we live in, when somebody can just swipe anything that isn't welded to the nearest light pole?
* Stupid Cheaters. I'm talking to you - the guy who sat right in front of me all semester. If you aren't prepared for this exam, then you fail. And yes. I did rat you out to the professor (after class, in private) when I, in the middle of taking the exam, glanced up to see you completely turned around in your seat, staring at my Scantron. Like I didn't notice you ogling my paper. Try to be more obvious next time, okay? Maybe you can work out a subtle way of asking me for each answer. Is "Hey, Redhead, what's the answer to number four?" subtle enough? For you, oh wise brain trust and future world leader, it is.
I snitched on you because I didn't want the professor to think that I had any willing part in your cheating. I'm not going to the dean's office because of you. And yes. I laughed very hard when, on the next test day, the professor gave you your very own, unique version of the exam. Did you fail? Oh, yes. Yes you did. Good luck keeping your scholarship after that stinkbomb hit the gradebook.
* Helicopter Parents. You're ruining your young adults. If Princess Perfect is old enough to be away at college, then she is old enough to clean her own dorm room. Your daughter is not disabled. I know this for a fact. Therefore, you do not need to drive two freaking hours one way to invade her dorm for cleaning purposes. If she can't pick up her own dirty laundry by now, then you have reached Epic Fail as a parent.
* Cell Phone Addicts. If you want to yak when class is over, then be my guest. The campus is loud anyway, so your "WHERE YOU AT?" shrieking is not going to make much of a difference. But if your phone rings in class, do NOT answer it unless the caller is:
a) On the verge of dying
b) A service member currently stationed someplace where telephone calls are rare and precious
C) Your boss, calling you because you are an emergency responder and your services are needed someplace other than the classroom
If the professor is talking, we're taking a test, or we're trying to get this in-class group work done, leave your cell alone.
* Group Work Slackers. Every time I'm put in a group for classwork, I'm stuck with one of you slackers. The rest of us are not here to earn your grade for you. You can find some way to help with this assignment. Staring at the ceiling, surfing the Internet on your laptop, or playing a cell-phone game do not count as helping, by the way. You can take notes, proofread what we're doing, or even simply share an idea or two with the rest of us. You can do something productive, even if it's just one small thing.
My university uses Listserv to communicate within the various departments. This, for anybody who does not know, is an e-mail database that allows students, faculty and staff to send and receive mass e-mails. We English majors are automatically subscribed to the English Listserv, which allows us to communicate with everybody else in this department.
Every student on this Listserv is an English major. We have all chosen to specialize in the English language - mostly written, but oral as well - for at least four years of our lives. We are allegedly intelligent, and we are supposedly mastering the English language.
These assumptions, however, dissipate when I read some of the e-mails that fellow English majors send to everybody else on the list. Though I do understand that our society places little, if any, emphasis on proper e-mail etiquette, we are English majors. We should be capable of nearly-flawless grammar and spelling - especially if we are upperclassmen.
Though I do not care what a fellow English student does, or does not do, when e-mailing friends and relatives, I do care about the unsightly errors that Silly Student and his buddy, Clueless Girl, make when they compose e-mails to everybody in the English department. We are among fellow scholars. We should act appropriately when we write these messages. Advisors, faculty and staff all read these messages. What are these professionals going to think of us if we do not put any effort into our written communications? Do we not realize that we will, at some point in the future, ask these men and women for letters of recommendation for graduate school and/or employment? Why should any of them recommend us for anything if we do not take e-mail seriously?
In the last two weeks, I have seen multiple errors. Many of these mistakes were basic flaws in the authors' messages. I will not publish the actual quotes here, but here are different examples with identical errors.
"I found my best friend's e-mail address and sent them a message."
"Theres nothing wrong with my understanding of the apostrophe."
"Get out of my way!!!"
"Stop jumping all over my case All i want is respect"
We are English majors. As such, we are supposed to love the language enough to treat it with care and respect. Our goal is to communicate clearly. If our e-mails to department heads and faculty members are full of grammar and spelling errors, we are obviously not doing our jobs. We are being lazy, which is not excusable if we have chosen to devote at least four years of our lives to studying, and mastering, this wonderful language.
Some will say, "Who cares? You're just writing an e-mail." And to them, I say, "If somebody cannot be bothered to take a simple e-mail seriously, then how can anybody trust that person to take larger tasks seriously?"
