WESTWOOD — This morning, fourth-year American literature and culture major Emily Yonicson humiliated herself and her family as she clapped, not snapped, at a local anarchist bookstore’s poetry reading. “Not to be pretentious, but I think poetry should only be for real thinkers, not for the filthy casuals who slap their palms together willy-nilly like seals.” said disgruntled poet Ruby Car, who was preparing to share the eighth poem of the reading about peeling oranges and mending pottery with gold. “She really shattered the safe space we built here. Needless to say, we belittled and ridiculed her with some fresh-hot spoken word disses until she ran out sobbing, never to engage with the arts again.” At press time, Yonicson was missing the reading of several introspective breakup poems about eating metaphorical pussy.