When I am dead, if I can be remembered for just one thing, I want that thing to be my ability to ANSWER the QUESTION that was ASKED, Goddammit.
This never seems like a praiseworthy attribute to me until I am in class and listening to the other students attempt to reply to the professor’s extremely straightforward query with responses that test the limits of the word tangential.
And please don’t think I’m an asshole: I can excuse it when it’s the kids who very clearly came from shitty schools, and are attending college on loans and a prayer, but the kids who have fancy cell phones and IPods and were very clearly raised in the same Standardized Test-centric environment that I was need to shut their fucking faces if they don’t have anything relevant to say. Somewhere in suburban Atlanta, my Junior High English teachers are all spinning in their frumpy, self-righteous graves.
While we’re on the subject of my postmortem legacy: if I get to be remembered for two things when I am dead, I want the second to be my commitment to smelling nice in public. I am not kidding.
Frisco pictures are forthcoming — not in the way the Vancouver pictures were “forthcoming”, no need to fret. This time around I’ve got a digital camera, and all I need is a USB cable to get these bad boys uploaded.