FUN STAR: Letters from the Editor: Pork Chop Sandwiches
This article is a work of satire, and is not intended to be taken seriously in any way. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental, and any quotes should not be regarded with any degree of seriousness.
As a student of this university, as well as someone who was born and raised in Alaska, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on the trajectory of our school and our state. After much consideration and research, I feel confident in reaching the following conclusion: we’re fucked.
No, hold on a tic, because I don’t think you get it. We’re completely fucked, readers. Just absolutely, totally hosed on every front that you can think to imagine. It’s a shitstorm of magnitude “fuck” here on campus and we’re expected to watch from the god damned sidelines like a bunch of ignoramuses with our thumbs up our asses.
It’s Fuck City out there, for real.
Now I can anticipate a lot of you saying “but Editor! How do you know about any of this, when you’re just some maniac who asks for pictures of Spider-Man all day long?” And that’s a fair question. Every day I’m asking my gang of assholes to get out there, get me pictures of the motherfucking Spider-Man and to stay out of my face while they do it. But that doesn’t mean I’m blind to the 24/7 dip-shit parade that we’re treated to here at UAF.
This fucking lunatic school is like three months out from getting turned into the World’s Largest TGI Fridays at any goddamned given moment, because our budget is controlled by the legislature aka a bunch of grade A morons who each believe in their heart of hearts that they’re King Shit of Fuck Mountain. Every day at the bastard festival in Juneau is spent drinking crude oil until it’s time to try pissing straight up into the air without getting wet. That’s right, our elected officials are challenge pissing every fucking day. And they collect a per diem while they’re at it. You’re welcome.
I don’t mean to be too hard on Juneau, in honesty, because they’re just taking their cues from Washington D.C. If the state capitol is a bastard festival, then D.C. is absolutely Fucko Carnivàle. When your national government amounts to a bunch of coked-out old dumbfucks giving orders to interns from ITT Technical Institute’s college of clown studies and ass-grabbery, I guess you can’t expect a lot. You get what you paid for, and to be perfectly specific, you paid for the coke. Also the bombs. That’s about it.
If the constant threat of shithead-prompted bankruptcy weren’t bad enough, we’ve got waves of budget cuts to deal with as well. I’m not inclined to call any particular department out, we’ve all got it bad enough as is. But I do have a bone to pick with that particular brand dumbass of who loves to slide into fucking Facebook conversations and insinuate that liberal arts students are mental invalids, while students of the hard sciences are basically the second coming of Jesus Christ.
Oh, is that so Brett? Whoop-de-fucking-doo, you cracked the motherfucking code! Nobody else was clever enough to realize that there are an infinite number of constantly-available jobs in engineering that are not impacted by any economic downturn or change in the industry. Why didn’t that crap occur to us fifty fucking years ago? We could have completely stomped out the arts by now if we all had your insights. Our generation would be making a fat living on fucking oil derricks and TV shows and philosophy students would completely be a thing of the past. Give it twenty years, Brett, the market will take your cushy ConocoPhillips job, and a robot will take your side gig working as a bagger at the Dick Store. Plus the robot is going to take your significant other too. Because it’s a better listener, Brett. You should work on that.
Yeah, I guess I’m not much of an optimist, but that’s because I’m not the type of guy to lead you to the scent of a windswept field of asses and try to tell you that it’s wildflowers. Things are shitty and that’s scientific fact. I asked my damn science reporter about it. He said “get out of my office, you’re drunk!” And he was absolutely right, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong about this county fair of perpetual idiocy.