Like it or not, there some things that you will just never be able to learn how to do. If you are 150 pounds and 5’5 you’re not ever going to play in the NBA, and if you’re functionally retarded you’re never going to become a physicist. Sorry, but them’s the breaks. There is no better example of this to me than writing, and the horrid farce of education that english departments in universities across the nation have become.

If you are unfortunate enough to major in English in college, you will have to deal with a slew of haughty TA’s so full of themselves that they no longer have to eat. In the rare event a professor drunkenly stumbles into your class, they will likely be obsessed with analyzing secret, hidden meanings in the works of long dead authors rather than offering any practical uses for mastery of the language. Pretty much the only thing you can do at this point is major in journalism and resign yourself to a lifetime of writing variations of, “Politician Jackass has raised taxes. This impacts the lifeless residents of This Pointless Town in no real way, but we have nothing else to report.” Either that or start a stupid website where you can at least say what’s on your mind without fear of being marked down by the No-Thought-Whatsoever Police.

The great writers had soul. They had mojo. Voodoo. Whatever. Men like Shakespeare, Hemingway, and Salinger had talent. I can guaran-fucking-tee you that Shakespeare was not sitting down and “clustering” ideas for his plays, and Salinger wasn’t going through the “brainstorming” process while he was penning The Catcher in the Rye. All throughout school, the fun and creativity of writing is effectively killed by forcing students to engage in moronic “steps of writing” in a vain attempt to make an art form into a science. Liberal arts fuckwits have a major chip on their shoulder about how handily science kicks their asses in the category of “social usefulness,” so they try to latch onto the Method and suck out its guts to plaster all over their hackneyed shit. Thus, the all-mighty “Writing Process” was born. I remember being forced to do this shit from the time I was in 4th grade up until the present day. Does anyone reading this know what “clustering” is? It’s where you write a topic…then you draw a circle around it…then you draw a line to an arbitrary point on the page and think up something connected to the topic. Is that not the biggest example of pointless shit you have ever heard of in your entire fucking lifetime? That is just a small sample of what the highly efficient and useful Writing Process is all about.

Anyone who has any talent whatsoever with writing knows this is utterly hilarious. I can sort of see the benefit in making a detailed outline were I undertaking the arduous task of writing a book or whatever, but if you are literally so incapable of focusing that you require a reference guide when writing the standard collegiate Thesis-Body-Conclusion style essay, you might as well not even bother, because your essay is going to suck balls anyway (and not in a good way). Whenever I have written anything, whether it be a dumbass article for this webpage or a serious essay, I just cut the bullshit, sit down, and write it. That’s it. I just take what’s in my head and type it out. How fucking hard is that? Maybe I’ll have to go back and correct a typo or two if I’m having a really horrible day. The way I think up the articles is a little more detailed. I’ll be laying awake at 3 AM again, because the past two years of working overnight jobs while everyone else my age goes to parties and actually enjoys their lives has fucked my sleep cycle to hell and back. I’ll be staring at the ceiling, wishing I could stop thinking about all the things I hate long enough to get just a few precious minutes of sleep before I have to wake up and repeat my almost unbearably horrible daily routine again, when I’ll think up an idea. I will then go through the extensive and laborious process of typing a title or single sentence into Microsoft Notepad.

What is worse is that, even if you can write, and even if you can somehow make it into the upper echelon humanities courses without killing yourself, you will find nothing but pointless intellectual masturbation. Do you remember that one kid in your class that had no friends and everyone hated? The one always scoffing when people raised their hands? The one staying after class for 30 minutes to argue with the teacher about how Aldous Huxley’s word choice in Brave New World left a little to be desired? Ok, imagine that jackass, but he’s teaching the class now and every other student is exactly like him. If you haven’t decided to become a hobo who lives under a bridge (or a doctor, whatever) by now, you’re probably that guy, and I want you to gather up all your papers, poems, and books about things ending with -ism and light them on fire…with you standing in the middle. Honestly, the borderline sexual obsession that people have with over-analyzing books and authors is truly the stuff of legends, and by legends I mean, “utter and irredeemable idiocy.” It is simply amazing the level of convoluted meaning and symbolism they will pull out of the stupidest shit. I’m going to give a porn movie the, “I Am A Serious Writer” treatment. Imagine a mailman walking in on a bored housewife and then they start having sex. Here’s what happens when you run this through the mind (I intentionally use the singular “mind” here, as I believe all such morons to be linked up to a central “Hive Mind” which would help explain away the lack of social skills or personality) of these jackasses.

Pompous Fuckwit: I believe the vigor and enthusiasm with which Misses Morgan takes to sucking the mailman’s cock is indicative of how we, as a society, are all too quick to reward government for paltry services rendered, such as mail delivery. The subsequent fucking of her ass is intended to illustrate how the government will, in turn, fuck us up the ass financially once they have assumed control.

Stock Feminist Dumbshit: I believe this scene is a commentary on the submissive role that women are demanded to play in society. This work portrays women as mere domestic slaves, existing only to pleasure men in carnal and cleaning-related ways. As such, this is a sexist work, as my ability to find a way to rationalize even the most pleasing of scenarios as offensive to women knows no bounds.

Someone With A Moment of Clarity: Fuck all of you, I am going to go major in economics so I can actually have a job after I graduate from this hell hole.

Incidentally, I am no longer welcome in certain circles.