Clubbing Baby Seals and Stuff
I’m terribly glad that this semester is almost over. Another couple of weeks and I might do something crazy. As it stands now, I feel like clubbing my professors to death like helpless baby seals on an ice flow.
"You shouldn’t have wandered so far from your mother, little baby seal cub. Now I’m going to club you good."
Something about the reality of baby seal clubbing is intensely funny to me. I mean, first of all they’re so fucking cute. Like fuzzy maggots with puppy dog eyes. Plus they’re laughably slow and basically helpless. And these hunters chase them down and club them to death so the fur won’t be spoilt with bullet holes. Have you ever seen one of those clubs they use? They’re enormously long. Cool stuff, I’m telling you.
The other day I was thinking back to the simple golden days of elementary school and I suddenly remembered something I had completely forgotten. You remember how back then, many teachers would require students to write their names on the board if they misbehaved so that the teacher could remember all the kids who had, you know, behaved like children, and punish them accordingly. And remember how some students would try to write their name in impossibly small letters, hoping against hope that the teacher would somehow miss it. But there was always that one kid, that one tenacious little fucker who would write his name in HUGE letters, proudly scrawling that John Hancock across the blackboard as though he was being afforded some great honor. I loved that kid.
"You shouldn’t have wandered so far from your mother, little baby seal cub. Now I’m going to club you good."
Something about the reality of baby seal clubbing is intensely funny to me. I mean, first of all they’re so fucking cute. Like fuzzy maggots with puppy dog eyes. Plus they’re laughably slow and basically helpless. And these hunters chase them down and club them to death so the fur won’t be spoilt with bullet holes. Have you ever seen one of those clubs they use? They’re enormously long. Cool stuff, I’m telling you.
The other day I was thinking back to the simple golden days of elementary school and I suddenly remembered something I had completely forgotten. You remember how back then, many teachers would require students to write their names on the board if they misbehaved so that the teacher could remember all the kids who had, you know, behaved like children, and punish them accordingly. And remember how some students would try to write their name in impossibly small letters, hoping against hope that the teacher would somehow miss it. But there was always that one kid, that one tenacious little fucker who would write his name in HUGE letters, proudly scrawling that John Hancock across the blackboard as though he was being afforded some great honor. I loved that kid.