It’s the last day of classes, after a very long and agonizing semester, and this guy looks how I feel: stressed, with gnashy tentacles and a livid complexion. I feel for any students who come to my office with questions about the final — I’m straining to be nice and helpful, but what I really want to do is rampage through the ocean shredding everything I meet.
OK, deep breaths. Deeeeep breaths. I will get through this day. Just dream of Squidmas, all will be well.
(via Arkive)
So this wouldn’t be a good time to fill your email with dozens of petty complaints?
No, it’s the best time, since I would just scream and tear them to shreds.
I think we should start recruiting gnomes to help you with this horrendous workload. Walton seems to have a surplus of them at the moment.
Ah, you remind me of my busy schedule: I have to get out my ‘Squidmas’ cards (yes, I bought them and yes, they are adorable.)
I think I ought to start getting around to it next week. Argh, the work!
PZ Myers:
I believe the appropriate response is to throw ink over them, and then flee in the confusion.
I can see it now. . . the Evil Professor Myers, in his evil office, glowering evilly at any undergrad fool enough to put their head into his office.
From behind a stack of papers : “Go ‘way!, Grading! ”
Soon it will be Newtonmas, and you can hoist a hot rum punch with the rest of us, and wave a baby-shaped cookie at your neighbors, while hugging your wife with a couple other tentacles.