There is now chatter on my dash about which is worse: UChicago or Reed
I took a class at Reed when I was in high school, went to U of C for college and fell in with a giant group of Reedies when I came back home. My thoughts:
-U of C is, as an institution, way more indifferent to your suffering. The administration does not care if you coast, drop out, start fights or go crazy, as long as they can continue to extract money from you and your parents.
-On the other hand, living in Chicago is good for you. It is really hard to ignore things like institutional racism and corruption when you’re living on the south side, and it’s full of rich, weird history. Also the winter will try to kill you, which builds character. Living in SE Portland, on the other hand, is like living in a magical fairy wood, albeit one with a slight meth problem around the edges.
-You are, despite this, more likely to emerge from Reed with a functional understanding of the world around you, because of U of C’s pathological aversion to imparting practically applicable knowledge. At U of C, they don’t teach you stuff - they don’t teach you things - they teach you how to think, by which they mean how to spiral off into endless abstraction at the slightest provocation.This is great for some disciplines, not so great for others, and really not great for building functional human beings.
The stuff about which culture is more toxic depends, I think, on who you hang out with. Even NERD SCHOOLS like Reed and U of C don’t just attract one kind of person - there are diamonds and shitheads in equal measure, just like everywhere else. It’s a matter of making sure you can tell the difference.
ferrrox said: srsly though improve all dishes by giving all the cilantro to me please
I am aware that this is a thing
Would you at least endeavor to make your demon vegetable look less like italian parsley
the pain this has caused
ferrrox said: Least favorite food and why
Why would you ruin a perfectly good dish by putting cilantro in it
Also there used to be a fried chicken place next to a liquor store on Hoyt street, across from the Gowanus houses. As far as I could tell the place basically existed so that the permanent clientele of the joint next door would have a place to go and shout at people after they bought their wine. It should not be possible for chicken to taste like despair, and yet
Anonymous said: You went to my college so I want to know, what was the thing you hated most about it?
Hello, fellow maroon. In no particular order:
1. The bursar
2. The administration’s cavalier attitude towards the mental health of the student body
3. The fact that we were told that undergrads were being farmed to support the grad students at the same time the poor fucking MA students were being farmed to support the undergrads
5. The fucking attitude. The commencement speech where they told us that we should be prepared to be patient with stupid people out in the real world. The constant urge to prove that we were better than the ivy leagues, and to prove it by being more miserable, more callous and more indifferent to the people around us. The insularity, the way we treated the neighborhoods around us like a no-man’s-land filled with monsters and the townies in the neighborhood as a servant class.
On the plus side, I once went to a passover seder in Kenwood and Barack Obama was there!
nickdangerprivatethirdeye said: What do you look for in an electrician?
I used to be property manager for a house in Portland. The power went out right after some new tenants had moved in (a blown fuse, most likely) and the tenants called a guy without consulting me, a guy who worked for a company called Mr. Electric. This guy came in, told them the power wasn’t up to code, yanked the meter and said that he wouldn’t turn the power back on until we paid for an entirely new fusebox.
I told them to tell him to fuck off, and that we’d deal with it in the morning. Then I got a call from Mr. Electric himself. I told him that we’d wait til the morning and that I’d call the electric company I use then, and that I wasn’t paying for the service call. He told me leaving the power off overnight was illegal and that he’d report me to the city for being a slumlord. I’d given them my credit card info before I’d realized what was going on, and after he hung up on me he charged me anyway.
I stopped the charge. The next morning the meter was mysteriously back in place, and my guys came in and pronounced the box up to code. They told me that they’d been getting a rash of complaints about guys coming to houses and installing new boxes at outrageously inflated prices under similar circumstances.
Mr. Electric e-mailed the city inspector the next day calling me every name in the book, saying I was a menace to my tenants and to the city at large, and helpfully cc’d me. The inspector duly came to the house, met with me and my electric company guys, exchanged some significant glances with them and left. They e-mailed Mr. Electric to let him know that the house was fine, and that they had some questions to ask him.
I know this because Mr. Electric cc’d me on every e-mail in this chain, for reasons I still do not understand. His reply to the city inspector after he got the news included the immortal line “You’ve really thrown Mr. Electric under the bus.”
And that’s how I threw Mr. Electric under the bus.
I am so sleep deprived right now that I am feeling a) voluble b) unwary
Get yer asks in I could probably be tempted to say some terrible things