Truly: if you are a graduate student and feel this way about it, quit. Now. Also, if you have a blog about exposing classism and have no more perspective than this on the privilege of being in the academy versus the bottom of the labor market, quit. Now.
(Well, except for #1. #1 is a good point. And #14.)
UPDATE: The question arose in the comments of whether this is satire. I think, sure, it’s satire in the sense of “this person is trying to be funny and is likely not claiming that, as a factual matter, working at McDonald’s is a fully superior job than being a grad student.” It would have worked better, though, as a satire-parody of that small proportion of graduate students who take the real difficulties of student life and transform them into delusional levels of self-pity.
Although I’ve been a largely absent contributor for a long while now, I wanted to let faithful readers know that last Friday the incestuous relationship between orgtheory and scatterplot moved beyond mere musings about siblinghood. Continue reading “all in the family.”
American Sociological Association ballots are now out. I’ve posted my ballots some times in the past, but will refrain from doing so this year. The blogging community may wish to note, however, the presence of Kieran Healy on the ballot for committee on publications. Rumor is that our generous pals over at orgtheory are promising drinks for everyone–literally, multiple drinks, for every single member of ASA, including compulsory drinking for teetotalers–if he wins.
I am out at my parents’ house in California this week, working through some tough times again. My father’s battle with Alzheimer’s came to an end, and as usual, Alzheimer’s won. Memorial services for my dad will be tomorrow. I am so thankful that I arrived in time to see my dad one last time, and to tell him stories about his grandson and tell him how much I love him. He was only awake for about half an hour, and he couldn’t talk at all, even though he had so much to say. He clapped his hands to show me he was happy to see me and the rest of the family. Then, he fell asleep, and his embattled brain continued turning off the light switches and shutting the blinds until he passed away last Saturday night.
Continue reading “goodbye, dad”
I received my dental bill from Dr. Dong today. It was handwritten. Should I think this is weird? And, if weird, is it weird in a hipster-down-home-indie-dentist way, or just weird in a bad way?
Also: Dial Idol and the prediction markets still think that Scatterplot’s own David Cook is going to win American Idol despite the best efforts of the judges to crown his competitor, the sounds-great-until-you-realize-he-does-not-actually-have-a-soul and you-would-die-if-you-had-to-listen-to-an-entire-album-of-his David Archuleta. If they are right, my faith in democracy continues to swell. (Although I’m suspicious that the Dial Idol results are just a ruse intended to keep the outcome in suspense instead of Archuleta being the obvious winner.)
It’s the 8th of May, and many back home are chanting “Hooray, hooray, it’s the 8th of May!” I guess people outside of Washington were tired of missing out; there’s apparently a NOID event planned in Chicago today.
BTW, orgtheory celebrated its second anniversary yesterday, so wish them a belated happy biennium if you haven’t. Even better, rumor is that they are working on a charity “Boys of Orgtheory” pin-up calendar.
We may be younger, but we are feistier and will still kick their bothers in the Wii tournament at ASA. Although we may need to add some more athletic guest bloggers if we want to also win the Capture the Flag match to be held on the Boston common.
BTW-BTW, one of the things I did at PAA was go bowling at this place that played live zydeco while you bowled. I haven’t bowled since grad school, and even then only a few times, but still got a 139, including a strike-strike-spare-strike run before the cocktails kicked in. A woman in our group who hadn’t bowled before and had a delivery like one of those sidearm baseball pitchers got a 29. It made me wonder about how on earth Barack Obama, even if he hadn’t bowled since he was eight, could only get a 37.