An account of the scariness at hyper

So this character is all about talk and no action. She’s tryin’ to hit the high note but is found in the gutta! Girl, she is hela crazy forgetting what she says and scared of the world, yet quite bossy and telling folks what to do…Modern Day Medusa? Like oh, moi, GAWWWWWWWD. She resides with those who we do not mention, but is, at times, socially excluded from the in-circle.

She loves to assign busy work and students often complain behind her back. Like others in the fold, she too has low self esteem and projects outwards rather than understand her own self.

Her opera is a tragedy…and she is working toward retirement. Although it isn’t coming soon enough.

She’s a cow…and she’s brown. Now, now brown cow what are you doing teaching at this venerable institution!? You don’t have a PhD, you sing spirituals with community members and call that research AND you macrame like there is no tomorrow. 

I am invoking our dear former First Lady, Nancy Reagan when I say, JUST SAY NO! Our next faculty member has so many undeserved titles that it is amazing her head doesn’t explode! She doesn’t even have a real doctoral degree! On all the student evaluation websites, she is considered a MILF and nothing else. One student even went so far as to encourage his whole fraternity to take her class saying: “It was easy and there was something to look at.” 

She gets by on other people’s work—taking full credit without a care in the world. Her passive-agressive nature comes easily and she mesmerizes men by twirling her hair around her pointy finger. Often dumbfounded by her stupidity, she succumbs to reinforcing stereotypical trash culture despite her desires to climb the classes. Sadly, her idiocy consistently gets in the way. 

She innocently proclaims she is an independent thinker but secretly does the bidding of the one whose name we dare not say. Her plastic smile matches her coal-like heart that descends on difference with a vengeance. She wants everyone to become a Stepford wife—to exude an on the surface fake existence while deeply unsatisfied with the boredom of being in the Alaskan wilds. It is a shame that age is starting to get to her…but thankfully she can rely on experimental doses of super botox to help wash those wrinkles away. 

Research: Yeah, right. More like, how to engage in research without having to do research. 

Teaching: Just look pretty and no one will notice that I’m not really teaching you anything. 

Service: You do the work, and I will take credit. 

Now don’t make the baby Jesus cry! Oh no you didn’t…oh yes I did! Our next pseudo-faculty member to grace the un-sacred halls of our dismal institution is connected to the Stalin-esque professor who we do not speak of…she also loves the one’s whose buttons scream and in one word is “all about the V”. Her already outdated book is pop-psychology at its worse, filled with airy stupidity that my trashy neighbor’s 2 year old could write and with more originality. In all honesty, she feeds off of the ideas of others and sluts around behind her B-school BF. Like, OMG, totally for real! And she’s mean about it too! What is up with mean people? There are a ton of them around these hill-billy parts and she seems to lead the pack of mean girls that don’t seem to stop. Thankfully Karma is a bitch like her!

Her idea of academics is going to the local gay bar and lip synching to Mariah, trying to look sexy in something her Mimaw made…we’ve got the proof, although our camera lens almost cracked when taking pictures of her scary self. 

Research: She seems to be PR light for our Stalin-esque control freak. She’s more interested in selling toys than critically engaging with the issues of our culture and society. 

Teaching: Alas, like the others pretty non-existent. It is not even worth the time to expound upon such tragedies. 

Service: She does walk the streets. I guess those Payless numbers are good for something…

So over here in Alaska, we pride ourselves in our burly men. However, some of us in Fairbanks choose to wear our shirts a few sizes smaller than we should! Alas, this is the case for our teddy bear of a Professor. One should feel more compassion for the buttons that strain under the pull of the Monroe Doctrine. 

More disconcerting are his outbursts of tears in class, a “woe is me” cry for attention really. His quite wishy washy if you know what I mean, a s/he(wo)man. Tragique! His students watch the buttons with awe, impressed with their ability to hold themselves and ensure that he doesn’t fall out. 

Research: What research!? Can we say, he is often caught surfing OMG! for the latest in shirt fashions. What research he does engage in is part of the sweatshop conditions of the one we can’t mention. 

Teaching: Sad. Sad. Sad. Make sure you bring tissues. It is a Brazilian soap opera complete with novella-like gestures and faux big hair. Fights break out in class pitting groups against each other and often he is not there to referee and instead, relies on a graduate assistant. He’s a big girl, if you know what I mean, but is complete denial about it…

Service: He loves to whine, whine, whine. If he wasn’t such a good friend of you know who, he’d be traipsing around with our former Governor! 

Some advice, sit in the back if you’re in his class. At least the buttons that pop won’t hurt as much. 

So one would thing that a Dean would be in charge of a school, located in a university. But in reality power resides in one GILF. He is the one who shall not be named…but a loving description shall be provided.

With low self esteem, sexual addiction to the bling-bling of the ghetto, he embodies Stalin-like approaches to image, image and more image. Form precedes substance (that is if substance even was present) and his minions adhere to the smoke and mirrors of a series of lies and deceptions. Receiving his degrees from second rate schools and universities, he cut his teeth in conservative health departments that would rather see people die than support their health and well being. He trolls around the interstitial spaces of seedier sides of towns and villages and in mafia circles is known to dip his stick in some scary holes.

Research: Can we say, market research for an industry that preys off of people’s fears and anxieties? Is slippage truly public health? Regardless, quantity over quality is the motto and at any cost. Graduate students work in sweatshop environments but use and abuse him as well…so it is quite mutual. No real love or deep curiosity about the world, instead, life is a BDSM cabaret and he’s not only the freakish Top but the Bottom and everything in-between.  And all he really wants is love…sad.

Teaching: Operative word here is: get away with not teaching. Another operative word: abuse the students. Oh yeah, and another operative word: waste time teaching nothingness, and not the Beyond Good and Evil kind of nothingness but some real nothingness…

Service: It is all about the control. Ass muscles aside, his iron grip suffocates participatory process, love, joy and happiness. It is his way or the highway. He loves to abuse and derives pleasure in seeing people suffer. You are with us…or against us. Ring a bell?

Minions: The majority are found located in one particular house. Here is the list of the members of his inner circle which shall be described in future posts:

1. One whose shirt buttons scream

2. Slutty lady selling slutty book

3. The MILF, or also known as the Stepford Wife

4. How Now Brown Cow

Secondary characters that are used:

1. Mamma no preach

2. Wilber