Smithfield, Dublin
Apologies for the scant verbal offerings lately, but it's exam week and I've been laboring like the lumpenproletariat. I'll be back in fine form once I lay down the hammer, sickle, and stack of blue books and return to my usual wanton wordy ways. But till then, I'm afraid it's socialist realism hour at &7. Inspiring stuff for the underpaid part-time profs and brave workers among us. You know who you are.
Incidentally, I see from the stamp on the back of this university-issue exam booklet before me that they've been assembled at the Jefferson Rehabilitation Center in Watertown, NY. What does it say that I'd rather be assembling these flimsy exam books than grading them? Oh, never mind. Back to the pseudo-anarchist slogans and graffiti with me. It's all I'm good for.
5 comments:
There's something terrifying about a red pen.
Red pen is strictly verboten in these parts for that very reason, Radge. I tell my students on day one I'll use orange, pink, purple, green, light blue - anything but red.
Interestingly, I only use red pen when editing my own work. I guess I'm mean that way.
The only time I use them is correcting assignments, the point at which my students realise their affable and dishevelled lecturer is actually a grammar Nazi.
In other news, checked out the song on the NPR site - excellent stuff.
Ah yes. The red pen. Never use the thing myself. Can't figure out if this commonality is to be blamed on our shared NYU education or our (warped?) sense of what is Good and Right.
Radge - I'm a couple of days late here, but thanks for your note about the song.
Jackie - Warped? I prefer to think of it as "highly refined".
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