How the You of Eye Will Paint Ewe and Aye Into A Corner

In order to graduate from this fine establishment, the powers that be demand that I fill out a Senior Survey, which allows me to relate, in rich detail, my overall experience at the school through a list of questions answerable on a 4 point scale from “Not At All” to “Greatly.” Very well.

One particular section was titled “Developed Abilities Enhanced by my UI Undergrad Experience,” or some such thing. I had no problem answering the questions dealing with how my time at UI enhanced my knowledge of ethics and morality. Yes, I certainly learned a ton about the state of the average parishioner at the Church of Liberal Humanism, meeting five days a week down on 6^th Street. In a less jaded way, I learned quite a bit about my own frustrations, joys, morality, and how well I knew what I believed through my interactions with those who didn’t have a clue as to their own. And in a way that teeters dangerously close to optimism, I saw the way Christians act and should act in environments that are constantly hostile to them.

All was well until I came to a series of questions inquiring as to the role of the university in growing my knowledge as to the contributions made to culture by women and minorities. Someone down at the Survey Lab must’ve had a grand time cooking these questions up. How to answer? I could answer “Greatly,” since it was shoved down my throat at least a few times A WEEK throughout my education. So yes, I did hear about this quite a bit. But when my responses are read, do I want to contribute to a group of pleased professors nodding their heads in approval at their mighty powers of “Diversification?” No!

But then what? If I say no, as I hated and disagreed with most anything that came across my way that smacked of cultural affirmative action, I set up the next poor sucker who comes through the system to be bludgeoned DAILY with this tripe. He’ll be shaken and screamed at that “Native American culture is interesting!!! IT IS!!!! SAY IT!!!” until the day he sits where I am and ponders the question of “Greatly,” or “Not At All.”

The High Country

Some fotos from the break are up.

Alive & Well

My apologies for the absence these past few weeks, I've been traveling quite a bit lately. Stay tuned for many new pictures, stories of 40-hour-long train rides, and much more! I was just strong-armed by Goongle to switch my Blogger account to "the new version." We'll see what that yields.

In the meantime, enjoy this.

Moscsnow

Fotos

Check it.

Course Evaluations

Yesterday I took about twenty minutes to fill out my online "Course Evaluations." These differ from class to class and can be as basic as "Rate your course on a scale of 1-5," and as in depth as up to fifteen questions about the class.

My Educational Psychology class review was of the sparse variety, with only a number ranking and comments window available for me to vent my grievances. I gave the class a 0, and in the comments section wrote:

I’d like to suggest an alternate title for this course of Ed. 301: “Nothing is Ever A Child’s Fault.” This course seemed to be telling us that if a child shows any trouble with any subject, that he or she is to be excused of any and all misbehavior and labled as having a "condition." This seems to dig a child with problems into a deeper hole more often than not. If teachers and parents caved in every time a student said "I can't," I'm afraid no one would get anywhere.

Sadly, my misspelling of "labeled" probably did irreparable damage to my otherwise objective, helpful response. I suppose we'll see how "confidential" these evaluations really are, and if I end up being summoned to the Ed Department's office.

There are many, many hilarious ways that I could be kicked out of the Ed department. Stay tuned.

Yea Or Nay

The doors to all sins are opened by Pride as one is pushed through by Desire.

How I'm To Be Kicked Out Of The English Department

The scene will of course be Ethnic and Minority Literature. I’ll be sitting in class studying a portrait shot of the Chinese-American author we’re currently reading. Dub Hesser will say “Isn’t this a great, swirling, mystical representation of the Chinese struggle of keeping the traditions of old and facing this new America? Wow. Huh. Striking. What do you think, Matt?”

From the front of the room, I will appear engrossed in the handout.

“Matt?”

I will then furrow my brow at the picture contemplatively, and raise my hand without glancing up. Hessbomb will think “Wow, so engaged in the text, he didn’t even hear his name called but boy oh boy I’m sure whatever he’s got to say is going to be spectacular!”

At which point, after being called on, I will ask “Do Chinese people have eyelashes?”

Adventures With the Romantics

When discussing Byron, one must deal with seductive scenes. The man was a shameless womanizer, and it comes through clear as day in his poetry, usually with hilarious results. In attempting to relate a Byronic seducer to modern times, ol’ Ronny McFargo suggested it to be like saying “Hey baby, I play football for the Vandals [eyebrows up and down with that boink boink noise].”

This was obviously aimed at J., who does indeed play ball for our mighty Vandals. He took it with a humble grin and shake of the head. I like J.

Sniveling Pomp Boy, however, is another story. His response: “Not that that’d get you anywhere,” a bit louder than he apparently intended, as he quickly looked to J. and retracted with “Just kidding.”

But J., the incarnation of Vandal Pride and abused jocks everywhere was not to be appeased by this slippery attempt. He picked up the desk/chair next to him which still contained a flustered grad student, and swung the mass of steel and flesh in an arc straight on top of Sniveling Pomp Boy. As he writhed like a worm on the earth tone carpet, J. picked him up into the air and snapped him in two with a satisfying CRACK.

“IT IS KNOWN TO J. THAT THE FOOTBALL TEAM SUCKETH HARD. BUT HE IS A RARE FORM, ONE WHO IS IN THIS WORLD BOTH AN IDAHOAN ATHLETE AND SOMETHING MORE!!!” he roared, shattering the annoying fluorescent lights in TLC.

He then disposed of the remaining halves of Sniveling Pomp Boy by hurling them through the wall to the ground below, giving our room two much needed windows, and took his seat after slugging a Gatorade and reciting a few lines from Paradise Lost.

An Oracle as to Ground Beef

Better to cook it and keep it than to keep it, uncooked.

Thank U, You of I

A UI student took it upon herself to send out a Facebook message last week informing us how to vote. Not "how" as in, register, go to the fairgrounds, vote, but, well, here's the message:


Tomorrow is election day. Please remember to vote tomorrow, as there are several important issues that will be decided on BY YOU. If you are unfamiliar with these measures, they are as follows:

Ballot Questions:
Proposition 1 (makes education funding a priority -- penny tax sized increase in school budgets) --YES
Proposition 2 (pay developers and land owners, end planning and zoning) --NO
HJR2 (bans civil unions, hospital visitation etc.. and re-defines marriage) --- NO
Advisory Vote on Property Tax Shift (your sales tax pays for special interest property tax cuts) -- NO
Ten Commandments Back in City Park (will bring Fred Phelps back with HIS monument!) -- NO

Ahoy

New pictures be up.

A Companion Piece To Gibbs's Latest

This morning I mentioned to Asher that my Minority Lit class consisted of 90% student led “discussion,” which always boils down to “Ok, can we get into groups and talk about these incredibly bland questions that I’ve come up with? Great.” This was at about 7:45 which left me ample time to get to campus five minutes before class started, but right then I realized that I never wanted to go to that class ever again. I’m going to be hearing the opinions of my peers for the rest of my life; while I’m in college, I want to hear a professor’s thoughts. So I stayed home and read Byron.

I’d kill for a delicious, buttered gender roll.

I Carved A Punkin'

Check It

If you haven't had the pleasure of visiting Greg's blog, do it now. The man is spending the next five months in Antarctica and has great pictures and stories of what seems like another planet.

I Have A Sneaking Suspicion

That my 79% score on our Ethnic and Minority Lit midterm essays had a lot to do with me not so subtly calling most of it crap. Granted, these were not the well-crafted pieces that I would like to take credit for, which is why you didn’t see them posted here, but I really think that if I’d just written five essays on how tough Jewish immigrants had it and said only complimentary things about their writing, I could’ve knocked out an A without having read half the material. But bitterness prevailed, and I just couldn’t let the opportunity to attack this rubbish pass me by, and lo, my 79%.