To the students who pack up before the teacher stops talking,
by Lars Martin
You...you disgusting set of flippant fart-scented frat boys! You are an absolute menace to society. What benefit do you add? Absolutely none. Your impatience is part of the scourge that is afflicting our nation. We are becoming more and more rushed. Worst of all, you are rushing me. My time is the most precious commodity I own, and you make me waste it. This capitalist society has made us run by the clock. It turns to 1:50 and everyone is already standing up. NO! Why let the clock rule us? Nobody has that right over me. Only the teacher can use my time. That is the purpose of school. TO LEARN. Not to go to cry in the Union 3rd floor reflection room. In my eyes you are all heathens. You disgrace the learning environment and what it means. The professors are here to help. It’s not fair to them. They work hard and you spit in their face. Sit down you degenerately dimwitted dumb-asses. Where are you going, to crank one off in the bathroom? You can wait two minutes. Right now you are meant to be learning and expanding your mind. I cannot fathom anything more important than waiting an extra minute. The rage that I feel makes me seethe. I sit there in the lecture hall, quietly in the front row, and have to hear the cacophony of backpacks rustling. I cannot hear the professor right in front of me. Just SHUT UP YOU COSMICALLY CONCEITED CLODHOPPERS. I don’t like having to shush you all vehemently all the time. I truly hope that you and your families will burn with the intensity of a thousand hells.
A slightly disgruntled classmate