In college, most graded papers are a mish-mash of symbols and runes, the meanings of which known only by highly secretive and extremely poor circles of academia. But don't use that discarded The Mayor of Casterbridge essay to mop up spilled bong water just yet; let Something Awful offer this Rosetta Stone to crack the code and help you realize why it may be a good idea to consider a future in the barnyard arts.
|Caution: You are not Hunter S. Thompson.|
|Spelling is so bad that it's lapsed into an entirely different language.|
|I'll ignore this because you're attractive.|
|Opinion clearly stolen from parents / AM radio.|
|Personal essay waaay too personal.|
|Paper shamelessly stolen from Internet still has a banner ad for home refinancing at the bottom of every page.|
|Meaning unclear and possibly racist.|
|Paper mentions God in every paragraph, in a much larger font.|
|It's obvious you only know most words phonetically.|
|I would ignore this, but you're ugly and should be judged as such.|
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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