Is It A Wonder Our Youth Fabricate Catastrophe When Their Ass. University Professor Shows Them How?

Twitter is becoming a Wailing Wall. We post our pain which in the scheme of things is simply pathetic.

Emmett Macfarlane an Ass. University Professor in Waterloo was quite incensed that journalists called his home at “fucking 7:15 a.m.” for an interview. I too would probably angrily Tweet to the world if someone woke me up at 7:15 a.m. when my alarm was set for 7:30 a.m. but I like to think I would find some perspective between relieving my morning pee boner and filling the coffee pot.

I don’t need as much sleep as an Ass. University professor but isn’t that why they have doors on their offices? I guess I’m unedimigated enough to imagine a dairy farmer who gets up at 4:00 a.m. even during Reading Week and Summer Break. I’m so stupid I can even imagine someone with a medical condition that prevents them from the 6.5 hours of sleep a tenured professor is entitled to.

Is it a wonder our youth fabricate catastrophe when their Ass. Professor shows them how?

When I saw the cruel and unusual treatment Emmett Macfarlane was receiving from the media I reached out with sympathy and support and Tweeted my condolences.

“Put your thumb back in your mouth and go back to bed. Some people have real problems.” @brett_batten

I must have used incorrect punctuation, spelling or I cited my sources wrong because he blocked me from seeing his Tweets and from Tweeting to him which seems odd considering his interview and Tweets were about academic freedom which in my unedimigated world seems like freedom of speech. I guess I will have to sign up for one of his courses so he can impart his logic on me. Jesus wept…because He was laughing His Ass off.

Another lady Tweeted for a week about her luggage being lost on an Air France flight. I didn’t Tweet to her because I wasn’t sure if she was actually upset here in Ontario or if she simply wanted to keep reminding me that she had been to Paris recently. I’m not jealous, I’ve seen pictures and I don’t drink whine.

I have lost a few things in my life a few times so I can empathize. I lost my home, job, money, health, family, freedom and foreskin twice. Well, not the foreskin but I haven’t exactly given it a chance to grow back. Sorry God.

I guess it’s okay to broadcast that you lost your shirt somewhere over the Atlantic but it is my belief that it is more helpful to keep in mind that you didn’t exactly “lose your shirt”, you’re more precisely losing your shit. Losing your luggage or a phone call at the unGodly hour of 7:15 a.m. is a problem. It’s a problem of perspective which apparently isn’t always part of a university syllabus.

What would Twitter be like for people in an African village?

“Four hyenas ate our last two chickens and pissed on my brand new lawn gnome.”

“Not sure what my children will do for food today but hopefully they find something edible on the 3 mile walk for water”

“Does anyone know how that poor professor is doing with his sleep deprivation? All I heard was machine gun fire last night but I slept like a log. No wait, I have a log for a pillow. My bad.”

“Does anyone know where I can make a donation for that lady from the Air France flight so she can replace her blouse? We need a plane full of Red Cross supplies but I can’t sleep thinking about her.”

Twitter isn’t all bad. I do get a kick out of knowing someone I don’t know is at a meeting I don’t give a shit about with a politician nobody likes, but then again I don’t. Why don’t I just stay off Twitter? Because watching people twisting in agony while they are having a near orgasmic experience fascinates me.

If you think this has nothing to do with you read this Tweet from Topless in Tanzania.

“Can someone message me about what works best to remove hyena urine from a gnome’s beard? I tried Lysol, CLR, mouthwash, vinegar, sea salt, car polish, dandruff shampoo, turpentine, lavender scented dish soap, furniture wax, PAM, WD-40, SOS pads, 3M pads, Bounce, lemon infused organic olive oil, hand sanitizer, hairspray, shoe polish and I wrestled with a starving stray dog that had an extra absorbent paper towel stuck to it’s half missing tail. Seriously. I’m getting desperate. I’ve tried everything I can find in the cupboards of the kitchen area in my hut with the hole in the roof we call a skylight and everything in the granite topped cupboard in the ensuite. I even waded through all the crap in the two car garage. I shouldn’t whine. I tidied up during this difficult time. You could almost park a car in the garage once I buy one of those contraptions I can suspend the kids 24 speed bikes from. There’s enough room in the hut for that massage chair I ordered. If only I could get the kids to put away their Lego, Star Wars action figures and gather up the Sony Playstation games.”

If you’re not offended by my blog please forward it to someone who might be, like maybe Emmett Macfarlane @EmmMacfarlane. He hasn’t been sleeping well so don’t pass it on to him at like 7:15 a.m.. He might lose his shit again.

Take care because I don’t!

 

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