Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Pre-visit student pack

As part of our job, we hand out teacher’s notes, giving teachers further information on our program and follow up activities. Theoretically, they’re also provided with a pre-visit pack containing info on what to expect and how to prepare for us. I’m thinking of extending the concept and sending a pre-visit pack to each student. Nothing complicated, just a few thinking points that it would have been best for them to think through before they see us.

Ahem, if you happen to be my parents, you probably want to stop reading now.

1) When we visit you, you will miss class to come and see us. Think about that for a gad damned second, Because of us YOU ARE NOT IN CLASS. Show us the damn respect that that kind of magic trick deserves.

2) If that doesn’t convince you, please keep in mind the following. We are a free program. That means that you pay nothing for us. It also means that your teachers can’t refuse to pay us if we make you cry or wet yourself. Don’t fool yourself. You wouldn’t be the first.

3) We perform for a living, we have all spent several years at university earning various degrees. Those degrees are not in Tourism. You are not clever enough to take us on in verbal debate. You are welcome to try, but do keep in mind point 2 above. Also, “I won’t need maths because I’m going to be a model” is not a clever rebuttal. It’s a good way to get your self-esteem shattered as we list your numerous unsubtle flaws.

If you were actually to clean up your skin, fix your teeth, lose your likeness unto a globe, develop visually pleasing features when you go through puberty, or some serious corrective surgery, and somehow obtained your dream career, you would still need maths to know how to cut your cocaine properly so you don’t snort a lethal dose, and die convulsing painfully as drool and blood froth bubbling through the scars from your facial ‘work’.

Don’t worry, it almost certainly won’t come to that. You’re not going to be a model.

4) Yelling ‘69’ to answer every question involving a number is not clever, or funny. In fact, let’s take that a little further. 69 is not an inherently funny number. It’s not even remotely funny until you’ve undergone the hilariously acrobatic antics required, at the point it becomes intensely hilarious, but then again, so does all sex.

Yelling out 69 does not tell your peers that you are sexually experienced. It tells everyone in the room that you’re still a virgin. Is this really a statement you want to make?

5) A smurf is a god damned blue critter from an eighties cartoon, I think their village was recently carpet bombed. Stop asking what they are. It’s called class, if you don’t have it, at least fake it. Yes it was better than this dragon ball crap. There may have only been one smurfette, but apart from that it actually made sense. Logic and consistency are what is missing from the junk-food like pop culture that you little cretins have been brought up on.

6) You are not cool in high school. Nothing will ever change this. No-one is cool in high school.

On a more personal note, I went to buy the DVD of Danger Mouse I had seen in the Kurri-Kurri video shop, but they’d sold out. Why oh why didn’t I buy it when I had the chance? Taste my tears of bitterest regret.

I think I’m getting sick.


At 7:02 am, Blogger Jackie said...

I hope you're not bagging a Tourism degree. Because it's made me extremely employable. I have to go now and get back to my data entry...

At 8:22 am, Blogger Simon said...

I have to disagree with point number 4. 69 is an inherently funny number when yelled out by 11 year olds.

Or maybe I just find 11 year olds who think they're amazingly worldly and original inherently funny.

At 5:21 pm, Blogger Rude Mechanical said...

What I think of tourism degrees is irrelevant Jackie, I have the strongest respect for your intellect.

At 11:30 pm, Blogger Sherd said...




Oh, no, never mind, carry on, nothing to see here.

At 11:55 am, Anonymous Kylie said...

You poor poor boy. I know how you feel. I have occasionally met some 11 year olds who were nice, well adjusted and generally good company. Then they ended up in the company of other 11 year olds and *presto* they were transformed into hellish fiends that just about had me widdling myself in terror.
Never mind, the antidote is gathering potency and flavour in my cupboard, to be exchanged at christmas!


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