"Sir Issac Newton."
In my english class there is a student who for the purpose of this entry, we will call "John". Because afterall, his real first name is John.
John is one of those kids who deems it necessary to lead an assault on your ears with his infinite example of supreme knowledge about everything on earth. Everything. And when you didn't ask for it.
We cannot carry a simple discussion in class without John giving what I call, "the historical history of history". And he is easily sparked. Example, while reading the play Pygmalion, we were given a brief background on the Greek legend.
What was that? Did somebody mention Greek folklore? Here comes John to give us the basic rundown of everything involving Greek mythology: dieties, stories, what he had for lunch that had greek olives in it. I've never met anyone more garrulous than John, other than Dennis Miller, and even Dennis Miller has his limits.
John rambles to the point of excess. And I'm scared because we have just started our research papers, meaning we will be in the center of a treasure trove of knowledge, giving John a million things to talk to us about.
While working in the media centre on our papers, John spent the ENTIRE time going through these following topics on his helpless victim:
John just picked someone to start talking to and unloaded with his profound wisdom. And you would think at anytime, his victim would just say, "Um. You know what, I need to go over here now. Bye."
But no, in order to feign interest and not seem rude, she sat there the entire time, trapped.
Diandra and I were working on our note cards and could hear him a mile away, because it's only a library; you're not required to work quietly. The point was brought up that John is some sort of mystical Jesus-like diety that has the ability to talk to excess and not get tired.
Hell, even most comedians carry a bottle of water with them on stage during their performances. All that jawin' gives you cotton mouth. But damn.
Diandra: Hey John, how much work have you accomplished?
John: ...Not a lot. So anyway, when an unstoppable force meets and unmovable object--
...all without a break for breath! I feel sorry for the girl who had to endure all of Sir Issac Newton's (his new name) wrath of knowledge. He's loud enough for everyone to hear and be annoyed by, and we're in here for the next three weeks. I wonder how much I will involuntarily learn from John, Jedi of Knowledge.
John is one of those kids who deems it necessary to lead an assault on your ears with his infinite example of supreme knowledge about everything on earth. Everything. And when you didn't ask for it.
We cannot carry a simple discussion in class without John giving what I call, "the historical history of history". And he is easily sparked. Example, while reading the play Pygmalion, we were given a brief background on the Greek legend.
What was that? Did somebody mention Greek folklore? Here comes John to give us the basic rundown of everything involving Greek mythology: dieties, stories, what he had for lunch that had greek olives in it. I've never met anyone more garrulous than John, other than Dennis Miller, and even Dennis Miller has his limits.
John rambles to the point of excess. And I'm scared because we have just started our research papers, meaning we will be in the center of a treasure trove of knowledge, giving John a million things to talk to us about.
While working in the media centre on our papers, John spent the ENTIRE time going through these following topics on his helpless victim:
- Gravity
- The Big Bang Theory
- The Big Crunch Theory
- The dogmas behind both theories
- Basic physics, most of which he knows nothing about
John just picked someone to start talking to and unloaded with his profound wisdom. And you would think at anytime, his victim would just say, "Um. You know what, I need to go over here now. Bye."
But no, in order to feign interest and not seem rude, she sat there the entire time, trapped.
Diandra and I were working on our note cards and could hear him a mile away, because it's only a library; you're not required to work quietly. The point was brought up that John is some sort of mystical Jesus-like diety that has the ability to talk to excess and not get tired.
Hell, even most comedians carry a bottle of water with them on stage during their performances. All that jawin' gives you cotton mouth. But damn.
Diandra: Hey John, how much work have you accomplished?
John: ...Not a lot. So anyway, when an unstoppable force meets and unmovable object--
...all without a break for breath! I feel sorry for the girl who had to endure all of Sir Issac Newton's (his new name) wrath of knowledge. He's loud enough for everyone to hear and be annoyed by, and we're in here for the next three weeks. I wonder how much I will involuntarily learn from John, Jedi of Knowledge.