The University of Disillusionment.
Motto: Your invite to hindsight.
Hello, my name is Jack. I enrolled for a degree at the University of Disillusionment. The procedure to graduate is quite simple. One has to study as far as one can, without actually ever graduating. Then, and only then, you graduate at the University of Disillusionment.
They have various courses, and one has to enroll in a variety of these in order to gain a qualification. First I enrolled for English at the social sciences faculty. At the level where their department were situated I found the offices occupied by monkeys. These monkeys were busy making a variety of indiscernible noises in their attempts to teach the students the English Language. The reason for this I could not fathom, but I found it so apt, so quaint.
Unfortunately I, like all the other students, found this incomprehensible babble slightly frustrating after a few years, and so, moved on to further my studies elsewhere. My next stop was the Afrikaans Department.
Here there was no sign of activity in the offices or halls, but each office sported a nice, large, square rock on the desk. I was left to deduce that these rocks were indeed the lecturers and that they would somehow magically disclose the mysteries of the Afrikaans Language to me. I took in position in front of a slightly worn rock marked; Ms. Bucket. I sat and waited several years before the realization hit me, like a bolt from the blue, that this rock was not disclosing any information, of any kind, ever.
I moved over to the Psychology Department to see if I would have any better luck there. Here they taught the new philosophy of 'What the fuck?', the underlying principle of which was; nothing matters and what if it did? The lecturers were gray-bearded old men who walked around in the corridors all day in long robes, smoking pot, and saying things like; "What the fuck. Or "Fuck off or "Fuck you "Fuck me? No, no, no, fuck you. Or "Fuck me gently or "for fuck sakes or "well and truly fucked' or any other saying that went well with 'fuck'. It all became a bit to fucking much for me so I decided to try music instead.
I didn't last long in the Music Department because all they taught was rap and hip-hop, and I couldn't stand either. I thought I would make a last ditch attempt at tackling the pure sciences, and enrolled at the Mathematics Department.
Here they also taught a new school wherein which the answer is always right, no matter what the question. The underlying principle here was that if the answer was wrong; check the question. Consequently I got quite far at mathematics, but nonetheless eventually became bored at always being right, so chucked that too.
Being well and truly fed up I made an appointment to see the Rectum of the University.
I told him what my predicament was; that I was fed up with monkeys, I couldn't understand rocks, that I've had enough fuck to last me a lifetime, that I hate rap, and finally, that I was sick and tired of always being right. I was quitting and that was all there was to that. He could put that in his pipe and smoke it.
The Rectum arose and shook my hand saying; "Well done son. You have just graduated at the University of Disillusionment. No matter what life throws your way, you will always be prepared for the great disillusion.
The End.
Copyright ' JP Brown 2004.
