Oh, you’re writing a thesis? Well, I have some news for you. You may be writing a thesis, but I wrote 95 of them, bitch.
Before I start, I just want to point out that you’re writing one thesis. One. That’s really not that many. I also wrote one. And then I wrote another 94, fuckasses.
While your thesis may be focused on the silly analogies between Star Wars and Hamlet, mine was a scathing critique of the selling of indulgences that corrupted the very fabric and soul of our society, motherfucker. Whereas your dickhead loyalties lie in your desire for perfect grades, your devotion to filthy, frothy drink, and your lucrative future salaries, mine is purely in my piety and dedication to fulfilling humankind’s potential for self-actualization. Most of you will turn away from salvation in order to immerse yourselves in the pampering of corporate life, leaving your thesis on the scientific effects of sniffing glue to the wayside, you asswipes, but mine sparked a movement that launched a new religion, a dramatic change in the way of life, and likely caused several wars that led to the mass slaughter of civilians. While I survived nearly being struck by lightning and lived the rigorous and selfless life of a monk, most of you lack the dedication to actually do any form of work and instead express your desire to “smoke a fuck-ton of weed” and “get so trashed that I forget my own name,” all of which impedes your studies and proves that modern-day youths lack the epistemic motivation to conduct detailed analyses of the truths of human existence, shitheads.
While most of you will hand in your theses in a leather-bound folios with your names stamped on it, I nailed mine to a fucking door, so you all are soft. Good luck with your pathetic lives and try to actually do something productive, like serving as a worldwide inspiration to millions of believers and religious devotees seeking enlightenment, assholes.
– JW ’20
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