My summer is officially over.
This morning, with a heavy heart and a bloodied spirit, I must return to the classroom and engage my chosen profession. I suppose a part of me finds energy and renewal in this turn of events, but mostly it makes me want to slip a shotgun barrel in my mouth (perhaps after dipping the muzzle in chili for added flavor).
Where did those two months go? I guess between tutoring, spare shifts at my second job, trips to the cabin, Rock TV meetings and writing poison-tipped editorials blaming Gov. Pawlenty for the 35W bridge collapse, my time was basically filled. Oh, also I attempted to train bears to maul the homeless, but with precious little success.
(I’m sure Ben Franklin once coined a phrase to describe this phenomena of time’s hasty passage, but nothing is coming to mind at the moment. Thanks for nothing, you fat son of a bitch.)
And so I am off to once again teach innocent young children the vagaries of our world’s history, what with all the despotism, ethnic rapings, Tim Pawlenty and whatnot. It’s a duty I cherish, that of souring the souls of the next generation to all that is pure and true. In this way I suppose I’m a bit like a hungover Mr. Rogers.
Happy first day of school everyone!