My wife joanna sharp insists that i am too harsh on

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schoolmates for some time. My wife, Joanna Sharp, insists that I am too harsh on the boy, that he just needs some encouragement. I blame her for Bradley's insufficiencies, she coddles the boy; she makes him weak. He is lucky that I am not more my father’s son, or I would have beaten him black and blue. Luckily for him I detest physical violence, far too much touching, so unprofessional. November 3 rd 2011 Today I mourn the death of the Word, for my students have slaughtered it so thoroughly that not even divine intervention could resurrect it. I do not exaggerate; I sincerely believe that my students are illiterates; that by luck of random keystrokes have managed to piece together
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some semblance of a paper. Their writing does not leave something to be desired, it leaves everything to be desired or at least a large amount of brandy so that I may forget their atrocity against my profession. I want nothing more than to simply fail the lot of them, to see the looks on their faces as I announce that, not only are they not getting their papers back, but that I found them so offensive I burned them and spat upon the ashes. Unfortunately that coward of a dean forbade me from ever failing an entire class again. He simply does not comprehend the deplorable state of the moderns youths mind. It is a decaying thing, a rotting piece of meat that they use to pursue their facebooks or twatters. On top of this travesty unto literature, this miscarriage of the written word, I was also assaulted on campus today. Imagine it, a respected intellectual like myself, bitten by a student. The whelp ran off after biting me on the wrist, the little bastard even broke the skin a bit. I did not bother reporting it to our 'illustrious' security force, as I doubt they would accomplish anything significant on the case. I also refuse to go to a doctor just so he can try and convince me I have some nonsensical disease, and try and charge me thousands of dollars to have it 'cured'. I simply poured some rubbing alcohol on it and called it a night. Worst of all it began to pour right after the devil bit me, the torrential down pour soaked me to the bone and I'll be lucky if I do not catch my death. November 8 th 2011 The beautiful sunlight crashes through the thorny bramble of the naked tree limbs. Their majestic curves and awkward bends ignite my imagination, thoughts of ancient cities and nebulous wonders flood my mind. Autumn is a wonderful time, the trees shedding their cloaks of leaves, the crisp air caressing your face, and everywhere, everything prepares for the icy blanket
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of winter. Like so much dirt thrown over the sun, the land darkens, the serene blackness approaches. November 10 th 2011 Last night I had a transformative experience. I was in my study attempting to work on my novel, a task that I find increasingly difficult. Late into the night while secluded in my little womb, I heard a strange noise. It sounded like muffled cries. I had heard it many times as I worked on my masterpiece and simply ignored it. However, as I was in an inquisitive mood I followed the noise to my son’s room, and found the door slightly ajar. Pushing it open, I softly
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  • Spring '11
  • Benavides
  • Nazi death machine, poor Jewish family, pitiful weakness, Bradley Sharp

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