Go To School

It's ten minutes to nine in the morning, and I'm not going to discuss the Patriots at all. I'm just going to sit here and drink espresso on an empty stomach so that my gullet rumbles enough to dent the Richter Scale in my poetry class, thus ostracizing me for the semester.

I had one e-mail in my inbox today, and it was this:

Please join other colleagues today from 3:15 to 4:30 pm in Marran Theater for a presentation and discussion with Dr. Jeffrey Kane, a candidate for President of Lesley University. The session is open to all faculty, administrators, staff and students.

Is that not the most boring shit imaginable? I believe that a good number of you reading this actually attend one of these "Colleges" or "Universities," and let me ask you this: Do you have any idea what the President does? Have you ever wondered? Is there a hair on your head that cares?

The only way I'm going is if the candidate is Dr. Darth Vader.

Because that would kick ass.

- - - -

Man, I can't understand what is wrong with the birds around here. Their morning songs are so unpleasant- they sound earnestly shocked. A normal bird wakes up, stretches a little and says "Oh, how nice, morning! We had one of those earlier, before that night thing, and it was wonderful, and look! Look! It's back!"

These birds just scream like they fear morning: "JESUS CHRIST THE SUN, GOD NO!, OH MY GOD WHERE AM I? WHERE ARE THE KIDS? I DON'T KNOW WHERE I AM. WHAT TREE IS THIS?"

Panic birds.

Alright enough Andrew, you're not funny, you're just exhausted. Go to school.