Closed-Captioning for the Criminally Impaired
Over a hundred yearbooks at Mesa Ridge high School in Widefield, CO were recalled due to a poor-taste joke caption under one of students picture that reads: “Most Likely to Assassinate President Bush”, so that the words could be blacked out with a marker before being redistributed.
You mean the Secret Service is also keeping tabs on small town high school yearbooks as well? Holy shit!
Who knew that people really cared or paid attention to acne-marked high school graduates? I had the distinct impression back then at the time that nobody ever did. Perhaps the incidents at Columbine and Red Lake high schools have woken up teachers and parents to be more alert to their children’s behavior and outward responses; or maybe they were really watching us all long?!
Maybe my joke caption didn’t slip under the radar at all?
I wonder if that’s possibly one of the reasons why I’m 32 years old, slaving at a dead end job for 40 hours a week, existing on a strict diet of peanut butter, and living alone with a neutered cat? I mean, if word leaked out to the government, or worse yet, to potential future employers that my own high school yearbook caption read “Most Likely to Spit In the Eye of Authority”?
I’m doomed!
By now, 15 years after I was branded with that fateful yearbook caption, word of my legendary bristling in the face of superiors has probably gotten around to every major significant local employer that I could ever possibly submit a resume to. that's one hell of a yearbook yoke to have hanging around your neck after graduation for the the rest of your life!
Can I help it if Mr. Fast, the Grade 11 English teacher, was a total and complete dipshit? Somebody had to take that 6ft. fucking teddy bear and do SOMETHING!
Mr. Fast, you see, had this huge life-size teddy bear at the front of the class that proudly displayed the signs: WHO? WHAT? WHERE? WHEN? WHY? On a regular basis, we were encouraged to “ask the bear” when writing and editing our way through written essay assignments. If Mr. Fast were ever to question or see fit to criticize anything that had been turned in or was being delivered aloud, he would simply yell: “ask the bear!”
What did this fucking bear know anyways? WHO? WHAT? WHERE? WHEN? WHY? Why all the questions?
To make matters worse, this fucking bear would just stare at me for 90 minutes a day, five days a week, for 10 months of the year! Considering how I feel about normal sized teddy bears as it is, the fact that my desk was then located across from this enormous menacing inquisitive stuffed bear, his glass eyes boring holes into my head, did nothing to make that English class time fly by.
I’m sure Mr. Fast had a point in mind for continually demanding us to “ask the bear”, but I learned to hate that fucking bear. No teddy bear, or dipshit teacher for that matter, were ever going to intimidate me in front of an audience!
And that’s how the bear managed to end up under Mr. Fast’s desk one morning with a pool of melted whip cream around his huge stuffed teddy bear chops, and on Mr. Fast’s desk chair that stood in front of him. The whole twisted scene was something out of a Winnie-the-Pooh porno shoot.
And so this innocent adolescent high school prank had me instantly labeled as a troublemaker. I’m forever bound to a life of underpaid and underappreciated indentured servitude. I could have been “Most Likely to Make You Laugh Until Your Eyes Pop Out”, or “Most Likely to Give You A Spontaneous Orgasm”, and perhaps somehow increased my net stock value in this lifetime…
…but NO!
Fucking bear.
I hope that kid does go all ‘John Wilkes Booth’ on the President’s ass! There, I said it!
You mean the Secret Service is also keeping tabs on small town high school yearbooks as well? Holy shit!
Who knew that people really cared or paid attention to acne-marked high school graduates? I had the distinct impression back then at the time that nobody ever did. Perhaps the incidents at Columbine and Red Lake high schools have woken up teachers and parents to be more alert to their children’s behavior and outward responses; or maybe they were really watching us all long?!
Maybe my joke caption didn’t slip under the radar at all?
I wonder if that’s possibly one of the reasons why I’m 32 years old, slaving at a dead end job for 40 hours a week, existing on a strict diet of peanut butter, and living alone with a neutered cat? I mean, if word leaked out to the government, or worse yet, to potential future employers that my own high school yearbook caption read “Most Likely to Spit In the Eye of Authority”?
I’m doomed!
By now, 15 years after I was branded with that fateful yearbook caption, word of my legendary bristling in the face of superiors has probably gotten around to every major significant local employer that I could ever possibly submit a resume to. that's one hell of a yearbook yoke to have hanging around your neck after graduation for the the rest of your life!
Can I help it if Mr. Fast, the Grade 11 English teacher, was a total and complete dipshit? Somebody had to take that 6ft. fucking teddy bear and do SOMETHING!
Mr. Fast, you see, had this huge life-size teddy bear at the front of the class that proudly displayed the signs: WHO? WHAT? WHERE? WHEN? WHY? On a regular basis, we were encouraged to “ask the bear” when writing and editing our way through written essay assignments. If Mr. Fast were ever to question or see fit to criticize anything that had been turned in or was being delivered aloud, he would simply yell: “ask the bear!”
What did this fucking bear know anyways? WHO? WHAT? WHERE? WHEN? WHY? Why all the questions?
To make matters worse, this fucking bear would just stare at me for 90 minutes a day, five days a week, for 10 months of the year! Considering how I feel about normal sized teddy bears as it is, the fact that my desk was then located across from this enormous menacing inquisitive stuffed bear, his glass eyes boring holes into my head, did nothing to make that English class time fly by.
I’m sure Mr. Fast had a point in mind for continually demanding us to “ask the bear”, but I learned to hate that fucking bear. No teddy bear, or dipshit teacher for that matter, were ever going to intimidate me in front of an audience!
And that’s how the bear managed to end up under Mr. Fast’s desk one morning with a pool of melted whip cream around his huge stuffed teddy bear chops, and on Mr. Fast’s desk chair that stood in front of him. The whole twisted scene was something out of a Winnie-the-Pooh porno shoot.
And so this innocent adolescent high school prank had me instantly labeled as a troublemaker. I’m forever bound to a life of underpaid and underappreciated indentured servitude. I could have been “Most Likely to Make You Laugh Until Your Eyes Pop Out”, or “Most Likely to Give You A Spontaneous Orgasm”, and perhaps somehow increased my net stock value in this lifetime…
…but NO!
Fucking bear.
I hope that kid does go all ‘John Wilkes Booth’ on the President’s ass! There, I said it!
1 Comments:
OMG...one of the funniest stories EVER! So I guess buying you a teddy bear for Valentine's Day is a big no-no.
How do you feel about hippos and elephants?
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