As the 18th-century Scottish poet Robert Burns once wrote, “the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” I don’t actually know what that means, but in any case, my class schedule as of late has been a certified cowabummer. I thought ANTHRO 19: Anthropology of Skateboarding would be a cool elective class to take, but I was sorely disappointed. I was honestly ambivalent about skateboarding at the outset of the class, but after just a single lecture, I’d learned enough about this paganistic pastime to conclude that skateboarding is a crime and those who do it are damned to hell. On top of that, the class had “assignments” and “work?” 1984, anyone? Thus, the only appropriate recourse for my mild inconvenience is to not just drop the class, but inflict a biblical plague upon good ol’ Haines Hall.
To put it simply: Locusts. Haines Hall. Now.
I don’t want the Anthro department to ever have a bountiful harvest again after what they’ve done to me. Plus, this is easily the most affordable option out of the available biblical plagues. Turning the water into blood would’ve been considerably more expensive, and I’m not sure I want to commit to the bit enough to kill the firstborn son of everyone in the department. I look forward to the forthcoming crunchy, keratin-rich floor in Haines, and know that I’m coming for Schoenberg next. That Beatles class is gonna be my last straw, I swear.
