The scandals march on. Profitards are uppity. Now that money is tight, those with money want to push me around. Some have gotten huge investments in their labs through blandishments and blather. Some are starting little companies in hopes of freeing themselves from the science rat-race and having some peace and quiet in industry.
But what is this I hear? The pitter-patter of little graduate students? Uppity graduate students no less? How dare they think of themselves as human! How dare they think of themselves as deserving of sane, reasonable treatment? Graduate students are ... are ... they are but doormats in the halls of academia! They exist to serve. Nay, they exist to grovel and lick the boots of those who kick them!
A pity such uppity grad students don't take up motorcycling on 128. 'Tis known as vegetable alley for a reason. Well fertilized with the blood of motorcyclists sacrificed upon those rocks, this gorgeous stretch of highway just beckons for the young at heart to open the throttle. We need more organ donors anyway. A nice graduate student body, offering up its organs for our hungry medical residents in Sacramento. What do they think? We have that helipad for nothing? Do they think we have it to save lives?! Yes, we save lives, just not the life of the motorcyclists. Those we hope are brain dead so their organs can do what they should do.
I think I'll quietly suggest starting a motorcycle club for graduate students. The more aggressive ones will be the uppity ones, and if we schedule trips to Lake Berryessa, they will knock themselves off, and nobody will be the wiser!
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