Classroom Mayhem

“So…”–gigantic, and I mean huge, pause for emphasis here–“how do we know what we know?”

The question hung in the air, and this professor, for one, would’ve left it hanging there (probably indefinitely) but an elderly chap sitting next to me raised his hand and spoke up.

He said something full of dadblamery, so I had to raise my hand and say:

“We know what we know because we know it.”

A just answer. Maybe a bit oblique, but then again, so was the question. I leaned back like a conqueror, thinking that I had won, and that it was over.

But a war was coming.

The chap teaching the class shook his head.

“No, no, you can’t answer that way,” he said. “They were the words I used in my question.”

“Quite right,” I said, “that’s why I rearranged them for my answer.”

“No.” He was a bit stern here, I must admit. Hands on hips, chin jutting out in my direction like a stag beetle with it’s great big jaws. “You don’t get it.”

Stag Beetle with its awesome jaws.

“Oh I get it.”

Of course, this professor didn’t mean to be spicy at all, but the other students laughed here a bit, bits, and little bits.

“You. Don’t. Get It,” he repeated. “I want you to use your own words to answer the question.”

And then this professor spied something on his shoulder, and I knew I’d won.

“They became my own words once I rearranged them, see. And furthermore, double see, is that a hornet on your shoulder?”

He screamed, everyone laughed, and this professor–shiny, cunning beast that he is–won.

#conqueror 

What Should The Professor Do?

So, the professor has been under attack recently.

And I’m running.

Usually I fight.

But I decided to run, just because.

Of course, I shouldn’t run.

There’s something cool about this.

I should fight.

There is a groin shot here.

So, anyways, you see, this is what’s been happening.

People are trying to play matchmaker with the professor, and it’s quite a vexing thing.

See, this is my philosophy on the matter: They see a perfectly dastardly professor who is heartless, filthy, and mean, and they want to change that. So, they try to get him matched up with a girl.

But this won’t work, see. You can’t change the fact that I’m heartless.

Still, it’s like being under attack.

This is what a matchmaker looks like. Goodness.

So, the professor must either hide or go to war.

What should I do?

I think I’ll get violent and throw a revolution.

Would you like to join?

Yo.

Defeating Bigfoot

So, the professor rolled into a Chinese Restaurant.

And you see, that’s how it’s really done. I roll into places, I think. I prefer it to walking, I think further. In fact, after a few more thinks, it just sounds cooler to say ‘rolled’ rather than ‘walk’, don’t you suppose?

Glad you agree, the sudden.

Where was I?

Oh yes, I rolled right in.

If you can figure out why this pic is in here, you get loads of credit. I can’t, see.

“Can I?” the woman said behind the desk.

“Can you?” I repeated. Then I got it. “Oh, yes please. You can, you may, just do it, I say.”

I was seated at a table, and this was the thing: There was another fellow, seated across from me.

“Well, hello,” I said, taking a seat. “This is new for me. I’ve never been sat at a table with another chap before.”

Now this fellow was a bit greasy looking. He hadn’t shaved in some time, too. His beard was long, dirty, and making a general nuisance of itself.

At least, I thought so.

Something maybe like this.

“This is a new experience,” I said again.

He just grunted. Then he did another thing that was scary: He dipped his beard in his soup and brought it up for a taste.

I decided to adopt a different approach.

“Do you normally have manners like this?” this professor asked. “Look here, this is uncalled for.”

And I slapped him across the face once then twice. Easy, too. Not too hard. I was just reproaching him, after all.

“Mind your manners.”

He grunted at me again and his eyes locked on mine.

I went back up to the desk.

“Look here,” I said, “do you suppose you may have another table that doesn’t feature bigfoot?”

“Maybe I?” she said.

This was sickening.

“No,” I answered. “You mayn’t, the sudden.”

“Then how?” she asked, laughing. Laughing!

“Simple,” I said. “Throw him out.”

“Oh, you may?”

That was all I needed.

I returned to the table.

Mr. Bigfoot was still dipping his beard about the place, like it owned everything.

Dadblameit.

“Look here,” I said, “there’s only this table left, I hear the sudden, so you must leave. You’ve been here far too long.”

Another fiendish grunt.

And then, of course, I tackled him to the floor, got him in a triangle, and sorta choked him out.

I was filthy after the encounter, but I now have bragging rights:

This professor has defeated Bigfoot.

Yo.

Traveling Pains

You may know (or mayn’t, depending on your disposition) that this professor was about traveling a few weeks back, I think.

My mind is a bit hazy on the exact date.

Anyway, the professor was traveling.

And you see, once I landed at the airport, I had to find a bus (or some sort of transportation) to the hotel.

(I do have a sense of direction, you know. It’s rather spotless, but I still didn’t want to walk the distance.)

So, this professor walked out from baggage claim (took a bit too long for the bags to arrive) and began the search for a bus.

I saw a sign and headed towards it.

A rather dark lady was standing there.

“Uhh…hello,” I said.

“Can I help you?” she said. She seemed to be in a bit of a hurry.

“Yes, yes you can. I need to go to this address.” And this professor showed her a paper. “It’s in Anaheim,” I added.

She looked at the address for a bit, then looked at me quizzically. “That address isn’t in Anaheim, honey. Someone gave you the wrong address.”

Now, at this point, I was quite gardoobled.

See, I’d printed the address directly from the hotel’s website, and I was rather sure they knew where they were at.

At least, I hoped so.

“But see here,” I began, “this is the hotel’s address. Promise.” I added ‘promise’ after a seconds thought. That usually helps matters, you know, you know.

She shook her head. I think she was feeling bad for me.

“Honey, that may be the address, but it’s in the wrong county. Not Anaheim. Someone gave you the wrong address.”

“Dadblameit,” I muttered.

“When the driver comes, show him. He’ll know better than me.”

And that’s exactly what this professor did. Turns out, the lady was wrong.

Moral: Never argue with the hotel’s website directions.

Ever.

Book Review: A Kingdom Far and Clear

WARNING: What you are about to read is, in fact, a dadblame regular book review. You see, the professor loves this book to death, so the ripping of it might cause him repulsion. Onward, then!

A KINGDOM FAR AND CLEAR–THE COMPLETE SWAN LAKE TRILOGY by MARK HELPRIN

I know this is a bit different from the normal routine of ripping books until they’re dead, but…this novel deserves respect, I think.

The Kingdom Far and Clear is composed of three novellas that each tell the gripping story of a young girl who was displaced from the throne by the horribly devious, scarily deformed “Usurper.”

Now that is horribly frightening!

Each of the three novellas is told from a different perspective. Helprin creates amazing imagery with his prose. (It can be considered too flowery at times, though, and has been known to induce a headache in the professor’s case.)

Once, the mountains held within their silvered walls a forest so high and so gracefully forgotten that it rode above the troubles of the world as easily as the blinding white clouds that sometimes catch on the jagged peaks and musically unfurl.

At the time of reading, the professor was quite curious about the “gracefully forgotten” part. It does stagger the imagination, doesn’t it?

There is a lingering sadness in each of the stories that is buffered by a thread of hope. A perfect example of a modern “Fairy Tale,” that is as suitable to adults as well as to children, A Kingdom Far and Clear is a haunting read that will stay with you long after you’ve read the last word.

One of things the professor found remarkable about the book is the “sad humor” throughout. (We really must have a discussion about “sad humor” some day. Definitely a professorish topic.)

So, the professor highly recommends it.

Now, there is one rippable part.

It’s the dedication.

I’m almost sure that the professor should be in there somewhere, for I must be the book’s greatest fan!