English Majors: An Abomination Unto the Lord

Realize right now that your choices are limited when it comes to declaring a major. There are the geeky-freaky-neolithic-y sciences, math, etc. Then there are the social sciences, but I still don’t know exactly what a social science entails, and to me it’s always sounded like a not- very-clever cover-up for some kind of Mafia conspiracy. Then there are the pretentious humanities, of which, I am glad to announce, English is the reigning queen. No, I haven’t declared yet, but since my course load for the last few semesters has read English, English, English and English, I’m afraid it’s too late for me. Plus, if I change now, I’ll be here for six years. The only problem is that I hate most English majors. I mean, I really hate them. Often at night I dream about the various painful and non-humanitarian ways I could kill them off.

However, it has become incontrovertably clear to me that most English majors should all get syphilis and burn, burn, burn in the flames of hell. I say this because I’ve had several horrific encounters with the swell undergrads amongst the English department:

First, there is the sorority girl English major, who is just generally taking up oxygen other people could be putting to much better use. Get out of my classes and discussions and please learn to speak without that incredibly annoying dip and rise at the end of the sentence that makes everything sound like a question, e.g., “So, Hamlet was really messed up? And then his mother pissed him off?” Eat hot death, bitches.

Then there are the Deep People. They wear dark, all-encompassing clothing no matter what kind of weather and hang out in clumps, like fungi. Philosphy, Art History, and Film are also overrun with the buggers, but English is particularly rife with them, like roaches. You see, in English not only can the Deep People debate intensely about meaningful issues in literature and their relevance to the human condition (there are none and it has none, by the way) but English also gives them time periods and literary eras from which to choose pretentious affectations. They have allergies to all color dyes and believe in heavily supporting our tobacco- growing friends in the Deep South. Plus, the mouthy little bastards think they’re reincarnations of Dorothy Parker and the Round Table.

Next we come to pre-med/English majors, a disgusting and disturbing hybrid. These people invariably make condescending remarks about how much easier English courses are than their real' science classes, but hey, those med schools like to see awellrounded’ human being and what could be more opposite a `hard’ science than English? All I know is that most of these bastards wouldn’t have the sensitivity to smell rotten cheese if it was in their hair. I wouldn’t send my pet gerbil to one of these jerkfaces for an infected toenail let alone subject my body to one of these incompetent hacksaw wielding freaks who can’t even load a mechanical pencil correctly let alone handle a scalpel with anywhere near the degree of skill cutting open major organs would require.

Then we have freaks. The weird people. The in-breds. The one whose immediate family lineages have been cross-referenced so many times that they’re pretty much their own first cousins. You would forgive these people their total and utter freakishness if they were in a science or computer related major, thinking that sooner or later they are going to make some brilliant contribution to humanity in a field that does not require a) social skills b) compelling writing and speaking talents or c) the ability to retain one’s own saliva. Unfortunately, most of these people tend to be crack babies. They think that in the English department they will find people who will accept, yea, even exalt their social retardation by mistaking it for brilliant eccentricity. Instead, most people avoid them, thinking, “You poor bastard. I don’t know what it is you have but I hope I never catch it.”

It’s too late for me. I’ve taken all the requirements to declare…I’m well on my way to getting my English B.A., whoopee. But all you silly fools out there thinking of declaring English _ run now. Run hard, run long, run silent, run deep but RUN. Otherwise you’ll spend the next few years with some of the most pretentious people the University of California saw fit to grant an education. But, it’s either this or the dorks in the sciences. At least English majors bathe semi-regularly.

Next issue: EECS & Geeks: An Expose plus, a supplement, Philosophy, Who Gives a Damn? Ways to Identify an English Class or Discussion:
– There will be pierced body parts.
– People preface statements with phrases like, “Dare I say…” and “One can clearly recognize…”
– There is not a lot of laughter.
– The stink of coffee/pot/cigarettes/Eternity is overpowering
– Both sexes will have badly-dyed hair that comes in a range of colors once only found in a JuJuBee box.
– There is a freshman, who, having AP’ed out of English 1A and 1B, will believe that s/he is now fit to edit The Atlantic Monthly and will be monopolizing the entire floor.
– There will be men wearing berets or beret-type hats.
– For some reason, English majors tend to have good shoes.
– There will be fountain pens galore.