Wednesday, August 18, 2004
"Thank a Teacher" -- Volume Two
And now to another twice-yearly feature:
My Late Grandpa Tom, who told my mom, who then told me, that a car was nothing more than a killing machine. How true.
Betty Buggy, for proving this to me.
Joe Uhan, for instilling in me the urge to yell Jesus! in a loud voice, usually emphasizing the first syllable, in times of surprised, stressed-out anger. I don't take pride in breaking a commandment . . . but as Del Harris recently said, if you don't release some steam, the pipes burst.
The kid fishing the Milwaukee River for carp next to Steve Paul and I around summer, 1989, for teaching me it's not OK to whip a fish that won't come off your line. Similarly, it's not OK to just toss the fish in the bushes behind you. Although the raccoons and flies were probably delighted.
The waitress at Johnson's Green 7 who waited on me and my grandma, for putting up with my grandma. I'm sorry. She's very demanding, but you didn't even blink. If it's any condolence, she really does like your restaurant.
History Professor Ness. I was so disappointed to learn you wouldn't be back for my sophomore year. I still remember that cold winter day when you came to class late, having had to commute from the twin cities. Much of the class had left . . . and thus missed the greatest lecture on the Mongolian conquest ever given.
**** ******, my former manager who will remain nameless, for doing a bad job of teaching me how to fuck people over with a smile on my face. You still have the $200.00 you owe me. You probably don't even think about it.
Mr. Larson, for conveying to me how important it is to lose all that land for a fucking highway bypass they don't need. It's good to know someone else who's going to miss it.
The Scottish girl behind the counter in Canada in 1998. I did see you smile . . . if only I hadn't been on vacation with my family . . .
My tablemates for that ridiculous 1-credit teaching seminar course. I wouldn't have made it through that night class without your refusal to accept anything less than constant comedy, bullshit, sarcasm, laziness, and a bad attitude out of each of us. That prof deserved us.
My Late Grandpa Tom, who told my mom, who then told me, that a car was nothing more than a killing machine. How true.
Betty Buggy, for proving this to me.
Joe Uhan, for instilling in me the urge to yell Jesus! in a loud voice, usually emphasizing the first syllable, in times of surprised, stressed-out anger. I don't take pride in breaking a commandment . . . but as Del Harris recently said, if you don't release some steam, the pipes burst.
The kid fishing the Milwaukee River for carp next to Steve Paul and I around summer, 1989, for teaching me it's not OK to whip a fish that won't come off your line. Similarly, it's not OK to just toss the fish in the bushes behind you. Although the raccoons and flies were probably delighted.
The waitress at Johnson's Green 7 who waited on me and my grandma, for putting up with my grandma. I'm sorry. She's very demanding, but you didn't even blink. If it's any condolence, she really does like your restaurant.
History Professor Ness. I was so disappointed to learn you wouldn't be back for my sophomore year. I still remember that cold winter day when you came to class late, having had to commute from the twin cities. Much of the class had left . . . and thus missed the greatest lecture on the Mongolian conquest ever given.
**** ******, my former manager who will remain nameless, for doing a bad job of teaching me how to fuck people over with a smile on my face. You still have the $200.00 you owe me. You probably don't even think about it.
Mr. Larson, for conveying to me how important it is to lose all that land for a fucking highway bypass they don't need. It's good to know someone else who's going to miss it.
The Scottish girl behind the counter in Canada in 1998. I did see you smile . . . if only I hadn't been on vacation with my family . . .
My tablemates for that ridiculous 1-credit teaching seminar course. I wouldn't have made it through that night class without your refusal to accept anything less than constant comedy, bullshit, sarcasm, laziness, and a bad attitude out of each of us. That prof deserved us.
