By Bella Takata

HSSC- It all started like any other day. Students travelled to their 10 am classes in the HSSC, rejuvenated after a long weekend of drinking, fucking, ducking, and other heinous acts of Grinnellian debauchery, ready for a day of learning. Xerox (pronouns *_* / *_-), a third-year GWSS and Sociology double major, still outfitted in *_- shirt from White Lies Party (“I’ve Never Read bell hooks!”), headed to *_- “SOC/GWS/THD 295: Puppets For Social Change” in what *_* told the B&S was a “tailspin of excitement, nearly erotic in nature… which the very vestibule of learning engagement trembled with… promise and…so ready to critically engage with the text…”

When *_* arrived at class, *_* was shocked to discover that *_* had not done the reading “Jim Henson and the Suspension of Disbelief: Puppets as a Mode of Investigating Our Distance from the ‘Real World’. Stunned and embarrassed, *_* sat, not talking during a round-table discussion for the first time in years. Who even was *_* anymore!? One thing that *_* was was listening, really listening, to what was going on around *_-. Snippets floated through the air and *_* relayed them to the B&S in a hissing whisper;

“For next class I’d like you to read this paper through a symbolicinteractionismmarxistfeministsexistformaliststructuralistantistructuralistclassistqueergaystraight whateven isallthisanyway wokewokewokewokebloke lens” 

“Does the PDF formatting alter the meaning of this text? What does that say about the author of the piece and their intentionality in sharing it with the world?”

“Does anyone even want their ideas heard, anyway?”

“Kill him, go on, do it now.”

“Do you?”

“What are you going to do about it?”

And then, when *_* looked around, *_* saw all *_- classmates were staring at the professor, eyes lidded, fingertips tapping out ancient codes on the tables. “What is this?” *_* thought to *_-self “how could it be, how could I not have noticed that all my classmates were being hypnotized?”. *_* thought of every class *_*’d had this semester, and realized with a start that *_* didn’t recall a single one. Had *_* learned anything at all? Had *_* been hypnotized too? With a growing sense of fear, *_* opened *_- computer, looking for clues. There it was, right in *_- Snapchat memories. Dozens of images of *_- staring directly into the camera, one after every class. The captions said things like “OMG can’t wait for this next reading #grinnelltakemymoney,” “Wow, I love everyone else’s ideas! Wonder what they all mean!” and “I totally understand what it all means! Thanks Grinnell!” 

“I scrolled through them,” Xerox told the B&S, shuddering, “and then something incredible happened. I had a thought. The first one of my very own in, well… ever, I guess.”

At this moment, *_- Doc Martens fell off *_- feet, and *_- long black skirt hiked up into a sexy mini. We at the B&S watched this happen with envy, veneration, and just a little drool at all that liberated ass. 

“Once I’d had one thought, *_* told us, “I just couldn’t stop. I never really got my classes. I passed them, sure, but I wasn’t ever sure that I really agreed with what was going on. Of course, I did a little, because everything we heard, read, and watched was so right. But that got me thinking… is that all that there is? We’re so right that we’re beginning to tear apart all the systems that make us human. Can we let nothing be, and if we won’t, why don’t we do any real work, instead of just writing about it all the time? If we’re always right, how will we discuss, learn, and create messily? Who are we trying to impress?  Is there humanity without wrong? Why do we use such big words, making our world-bettering ideas so inaccessible to the actual world out there? Are we just in a giant echo chamber of the right opinion and useless couch smarties? And what even is a symposium?” 

We at the B&S weren’t listening, because frankly, we love the woke agenda and there hasn’t been anyone hot in the Pubs office since the sixties, but we’re sure *_* said some other important stuff. Anyways, we’re publishing this here to show you, the select few who can read and understand this very niche critique, that it’s all very silly anyway, and we shouldn’t think too much of it.