With the global economy in the dumpster and the likelihood of gainful employment near zero, college students are left with few options. But which path is right for you?
Impact on society
Meth: A whirlwind of stolen goods and blood born pathogens, you will terrorize your town with the viciousness of a scabbed over werewolf.
Grad School: Your work will forever go unnoticed and unneeded. It's a national tragedy that at a public university, tax dollars were wasted funding your worthless "Post Contemporary Queer Theory in Robocop III."
Where the hours slip away
Meth: The simple animalistic hunt for your next high.
Grad School: Strapping electrodes on mice testicles so a tenured professor can take all the credit.
Lies to get you through the night
Meth: "This is my last time."
Grad School: "This is worthwhile and personally fulfilling."
Meth: Anyone not trying to stab you for loose change.
Grad School: People desperately masking their lack of originality with GRE vocabulary.
Realization of self loathing
Meth: You wake up in the police station for defecating in the McDonald's ball pit, again.
Grad School: It's 5am and you've spent 12 hours reading obscure medieval poetry for reasons you forgot.
Meth: Wonder what they can do to get you back on your feet.
Grad School: Wonder what they did to raise such a wimpy child devoted to meaningless efforts.
Meth: Dependent on fluctuation of stolen copper market and dealer's need for handjobs.
Grad School: Guaranteed pathetic. The poverty line is a distant dream with your stipend equivalent to a 19th century sharecropping contract.
Meth: "At least I'm not a heroin addict!"
Grad School: "Ugh, those undergrads with all their parties and friends and sex. What plebs!"
Meth: The glass pipe slips from your fingers, your head tilts back, the world disappears around you. For a moment, there is only euphoria.
Grad School: After 4 months of research, you present your findings at a conference attended by 7 people.
Meth: "Whoa, that dude is hardcore!"
Grad School: "So, like, if a janitor taught a class, that's you?"
Meth: Scabs and physical/personality similarities to Skeletor.
Grad School: Skinny arms, under eye circles, ill-fitting clothes, slouching, frowning. Pretty much the same as meth addict minus scabs.
Grad School: A chance to avoid the cruel real world for a few more years.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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