You’re Seriously Going to Turn In That Piece of Shit?

Okay, seriously? You really need to stop this. Take a look at yourself in the mirror. What do you see? I’ll tell you what I see. I see the zombie-like gaze of someone who has spent the entire night churning out a half-assed essay for the third time this week.

To call it half-assed is pretty generous though, honestly. More like quarter-assed. Or eighth-assed. Seriously, you think no one’s going to notice the “sneaky” 1.5″ margins and the size 12.5 font? Or that you used the ever-so-slightly-larger Arial font instead of standard Times New Roman? Or—Jesus Christ—that your thesis statement is essentially the reworded essay prompt?

I mean, come on! Your sixth grade report on that Goosebumps book Piano Lessons Can Be Murder was better than this abomination. At least in that you didn’t constantly say “ergo,” “indubitably,” and “from this, the reader can

glean…” to compensate for the fact that your content has no analytical merit to it at all.

Don’t even get me started on the paragraph where you argue that the entire novel is simultaneously “a heated and contradictory discourse on the duality of man,” “a meditation on the oppression of women in modern day society,” and “an allegory representing the struggle of man versus the machine.”

Let’s face it, you spent more time picking a filter for your photo on Instagram than outlining this. What the fuck was up when you cited somuchliterarylove.tumblr.com as a critical secondary source of your text? Or when you switched tenses at least thirteen times? In fact, I think you might have even discovered a few new tenses in your paper, otherwise the sentence “Having had been having an encounter with death, the titular characer will soon used to came to terms with his own mortality” makes no sense at all.

Look, I’m just trying to help you out here. I’ve put up with a lot of your shit over the years. The constant viruses you download when you pirate Breaking Bad, your disturbing affinity for porn parodies of children’s cartoons, the death threats you send to twelve-year-olds that have killed your character in World of Warcraft. But this paper is a new low for you; I refuse to allow you to turn this shit in. So just do me a favor and delete that document, or I swear to God I will make sure that MPrint fucks up your print job.

 

Originally published: Feb 2014

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