drinkdrankdrunk: "Ship Of Fools" by The Midnight Rider

even though the campus is closing, we still had faculty workshop week . . . in the old days that would equate to the various departments bragging about their relevance, 12 home-office douchebags from kalifornia giving human resources ted-talks and the lesbian nun doing a 2nd (completely unnecessary) roll call . . . from 2006-2010, the workshops were held at a swanky resort on the mississippi river in illinois--complete with golf outings and lobster dinners . . . in 2011-2012, the corporation flew the entire campus out to kalifornia to stay at a 5 star resort on an island--there were luaus on the beach, bands, and open bars . . . in 2013-2014, the workshops were on campus, and we got coach’s water and a gift bag (pencils and mints) that the book store lady graciously donated out of her own pocket . . . in 2015, there was absolutely nothing . . . of course, the lesbian nun still took roll, and there was one webinar on domestic violence . . . a lot of the faculty were absent, and the ones that did show wore shorts, hawaiian shirts, and didn’t shave . . . when the provost-from-kalifornia opened up the meeting for faculty questions/comments, there were threatened lawsuits and conspiracy theories that shady state’s “10 year plan” was designed to have our campus go bankrupt at the end of that 10 year period . . . the psych professor spoke up and complained that it felt like he had been “slapped in the face by the organization,” and the math professor screamed that he needed assurances that “the front gate wouldn’t be padlocked” when he drove in to work the following monday . . . there were also audible groans from the crowd as the provost assured us that we would be paid through august 2017 . . . she said that the powers-that-be were working on a severance package (2 weeks' pay for every year the employee had been with the company), but that was met with shouts of “i’ll believe it when i see it” and “fraud” . . . of course, there were still a few brownnosers who choked back tears as they thanked the provost for “the best job that they’ll ever have,” but overall the mood was tense and potentially violent . . . hot lips houlihan (the education dean who was conveniently sitting next to the provost) stood up and told us that if “we continued to shoot for the moon, we could still land in the stars” while lil’ frank burns (the tiny, cowboy-booted science dean) pounded on the table and told the faculty that it was “time for us to sink or swim” . . . the first (company-endorsed) speaker of the week was a retired, education professor whose son had died in a car accident--he told stories about how he dealt with his son’s death and stressed that we needed (biblical) grace to finish up strong for our students . . . on the second day, i intentionally sat behind the provost and tried to read over her shoulder as she texted--unfortunately i couldn’t read what she was writing, so i started wondering if anyone would come to her defense if i tried to snap her neck (and sadly they would because saving her would be the key to a phat new job for the pack of born-again-christians on my left) . . . most of the domestic violence webinar dealt with campus protocol, and it made me reflect on the 2 most serious issues i’ve encountered during my 9-year-tenure at shady state . . . while meeting with one of my female advisees last spring, i noticed that jessica was shaking and that she had bruises running up and down both arms . . . i asked her what was wrong, and she immediately started crying and said that her boyfriend had beaten her . . . i had met her boyfriend at a halloween party at their house the year before, and i knew what he was like . . . i also knew that their primary source of income was the meth lab in their garage . . . and i know what the human resources manual says about students being abused and teachers reporting domestic violence, but if i had reported it, they would have both been arrested and a perfectly good meth lab would have been destroyed . . . i gave jessica water and a granola bar and told her that i was real sorry . . . i also gave her a 10/10 on her homework--what else do you want me to do, man?--we’re at shady state, usa . . . the 2nd human resources near-incident occurred in my african-american lit class 3 years ago . . . a white countrygirl from iowa and a fat/gay/black dude from chicago had been jawing at each other all semester, and their beef finally came to a head when she screamed at him to shut up because she couldn’t hear what i was saying . . . this was at the beginning of class while the attendance sheet was still going around, and the gay kid wrote that he “was from chicago and would cut her if she didn’t shut the fuck up” . . . mercifully, the roster made its way back to me without anyone noticing/taking a picture of it, and i immediately broke out the whiteout when i returned to my office (and before turning it in to the registrar’s office) . . . i didn’t think much of it at the time, but that could have led to a major incident if the roster had fallen into the wrong hands (namely the nazi-cum-registrar) . . . the girl could have sued, and the dude could have been expelled or arrested . . . flash-forward to 2015:  the girl-in-question goes to my gym, and i was talking to her one day last fall when the dude-in-question sashayed into the yogurt shop across the street . . . without missing a beat, she looked at me and mouthed “little faggot” before continuing her story about where she had gotten drunk the night before . . . oh, i guess i should finish my story about faculty workshop week . . . one of the born-again christians cried on wednesday and had to leave the room, the lesbian nuns announced that the 8 professors (i counted 10) who missed the webinar would have to re-watch the presentation online, and the music professor picked his nose in public 13 times over the course of 4 days--i guess in times-like-these, there’s something to be said for consistency

The Midnight Rider prefers to remain mysterious.  You could visit his website, but he won't say where it is.  You could read his books, but he won't say what they are.  You could email him, but I'm pretty sure spam@gofuckyourself.gov is not a real email address.  In a world where everyone is repping their Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, sex tapes, line of clothing, new microbrew, virus panic vaccine status, and overall brand, I find that refreshing.  I am happy to have The Rider ride on drinkdrankdrunk.  

And, here's some bonus Yeast? for The Rider and you!:

Yeast? · Vern Takes A Siesta