The following letter was found written in kibble on the sidewalk of Walnut Place:
Why do you leave me chained to a stump all day? It makes you seem like Michael Vick.
Also, your penis is small. In addition, our front lawn looks like Ground Zero.
Traumatized Attack Dog
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Cuse Kids are VERY scholarly, kinda. While some students couldn’t care less about highlighting, or reading, a select few treat PHI 197 like it’s Yale Law. We’re talking highlighting, destroying, wreaking rainbow carnage all over the page.
Watch as the Bro hunches over the reader, his eyes squinting to meet the words of Aristotle. Teach me O’Aristotle, teach me the secrets of the world like Plato taught you. Aristotle begins to speak to the Bro. He brags about how he practically created science, he waxes poetic on the universe, he lectures on causality. The Bro reaches into his backpack, pulls out a blue highlighter and stabs Aristotle, stabs him in the eye, in the heart. Aristotle is going down, he has no chance. Material cause, efficient cause, formal cause, final fucking cause—the Bro owns it all. Everything is important, nothing is safe. The entire page is blue. He is in the zone.
Next section: Kant. The Bro murders Kant with a pink-yellow highlighter combination. Morality, good, evil, reason. Transcendental fucking objects. The Bro is sweating, Kant is screaming. People are staring.
A girl approaches the Bro. She asks to borrow a highlighter, the orange one. This girl has balls, big healthy balls. He is surrounded by highlighters: orange, yellow, blue, green, pink, purple. But NO. It’s possible that he’s foaming at the mouth. She retreats.
Aristotle and Kant are sprawled on the gray library carpet, gasping for air, begging for mercy. Damn, did that Bro just transform the library into a man-cave of destruction? An evil man-cave? Yeah he did. Totes evil.