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Date: January 31st, 2012 11:29 AM Author: curious ultramarine theatre
How did it happen that a school ranked 48 during the great baseball strike, the one that drove that ginger to madness to remember it even though it occurred as a toddler but he felt a “moral compulsion” (his words) to embody it as apart of his very fibre, because that’s what Bob costas said was important, how did it happen that this school should occupy every waking moment of a Californian living in new York and obsessing with the pus-filled mucus still dripping from a freshly squeezed zit to consider it an aspiration. Not simply an aspiration, but a kind of animotion capital o Obsession, the kind that yields doodles of great arches and lonely looks at Cardinals caps and occasional curiosity about how often one DOES go into Illinois anyway (answer: never, so be the standout, be different), the kind that drives an auto-ding to believe that the soft factors can really make the money come out from that glorious anus that shits cash like it’s a three-dollar indian buffet, the Anheuser-Busch-a-wholly-owned-subsidiary-of-InBev School of Law. perhaps it started when that bitch cathy with the small tits in high school screamed that he should have been a lawyer because he just made stupid arguments all day that he thought maybe that was his ticket, a sincere piece of advice I nthe mist of a rage of hormones and pheromones and that steroid meat for breakfast, but it’s the fucking driving force that gets in the psyche and enver lets go. And he looked a few schools but it was that glossy brochure with “WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY” emblazoned across it, like it was a brick palace of the gods, with toothy grins and something mentioning empirical and the words “national” sprayed like his seed the nights he’d jerk and dream of porking a biglaw secretary like the movies made it seem so easy to do, that any dweeb with a J-dot-D gets the pick of the typists and a copier with her asscheeks splayed upon it and a few million your first year in a palace in lakeview or, fuck that, Lincoln park, that’s the shit now, a dreamy reverie that a 1050 sat (old rules) could never abate. So it’s off to college, see ya mum, light a fucking bleeding goat on fire for me, I’m off to rarest Buffalo—the big dick from Cornell bled too hard to make the waitlist at Syracuse even (I digress into the shitsucking fest of a public school dyke who can’t figure out how to get into a top-100 university without blackmailing someone’s daughter who once waved at an intersection, but fuck it, not fucking Binghamton, shit doesn’t even sell a minute on the adcomm’s watch, buffalo cried blue collar, I dinged Maritime on scholly and let me Xerox that for you, and Brockport’s yield can rape itself) but it’s a University at, and it’s just four years majoring in the math that the formulae derived from the zero-el books and boards and blogs and self-created cognitive bias yields the perfect forumal—debate, math major, 175, T14, nailed. But the crawling ding of the D in Calc, coupled with the gut-cum of a C- in who the fuck knows, but it was too rigorous, and economics is the fucking future, we’re in a depression, Tom Friedman is a fucking Nobel prize winner, I tattooed a fucking demand curve on my pasty bicep one winter (it was applique buit the bitch laughed when he told the jokes at the seedy street fair in the k-mart parking lot, and for $20 seemed like a good double sawbuck well spent, lost her number but it was probably a fake), then debate like it’s the Olympics and the model un and the future farmers of America roled into on, a new level of leadership to drop into a block-quote bullet point on a now-three-page resume for the admissions committees. But those fucking LSAC calculators are callous, a big 0% for even that shithole factory Georgetown, the Center, he dry humped his sheets weeping to Mariah and begging for a raw dick to send him to a ticket to a self-made plaintiff’s action, when he thought that a diagnostic like the faggots on TLS boasted was the next best thing. Untimed, sure, and ’98 test, yeah, but a 159 isn’t such a bad thing, and the timing issue wasn’t a real thing, he always did work well under pressure, and now he’d been reading a lot of Foucoult and a little of that Heiddeger and who the hell can spell anymore, and writing is so passé that’s why extemp is the way to go, set a clock make an argument and win, that’s what lawyering is, getting a stiffy listening to Sotomayor berade a stuck up WASp defending a property development, a tear, a literal tear, watching Elena’s nomination, listening to texas v. Johnson for a fiftieth time, boasting proudly in the cafeteria, yes, I like reading supreme court opinions, and you? impressive as shit to the frat so-called studs with Big Red Law t’s shaking their heads because they don’t get it, he gufkcing gets it, he knows it’s about the 70 cases the supreme court deigns to issue each year, and about yelling at the top fo his lungs ono 60 seconds’ notice about the drought situation in Kenya in a closed room on a Saturday morning in Altoona. But thedream was fading fast, a 3.18 GPA (bitches at LSAC don’t round like I want), it’s 170 or bust, but that 159 diagnostic was the real fucking mccoy, a sweaty, bloody room of terror on a steamy june Saturday shat out a 163 at the end of the month, the disbelief setting in, swearing he’d retake, but the 163 looked like such a round number (so math’s not your thing, you know that, but it’s what a number feels like, not what it is, or that’s what you told yourself on the second midterm in calc anyway), can do, it’s the fucking IN SAINT LOUIS that scares off too many applicants, Illinois’a s a shithole, fuck you dean pless and your power, fuck the urbana-champaign dust spek on the map, this coastal player (erie coast is legit shit) is looking at the WUSTL, no second career path of some cunt dragging me down, no friends vying for my attention (that’s not a literal comment—there are literally hundreds of people on facebook, on gchat, at parties he approaches and accosts, on autoadmit that he cites as members of a pocket mouse in a royal we, all of them are friends in the most idiosyncratic of definitions, but nay, tarry a while, perhaps here you notice that a mman whose life is built around fantasies of language and a kind of paranoia and an undiagnosed combination of obsessive-compulsive and illiteracy would struggle with a career of writing and logic, who solicits to be fair and others to write his homework for him because he can’t fucking stand to put 500 words of drivel on a page for his adjunct, but shh, kind reader, the play within the play still yields no twinge in this madman’s psyche), just a happy to be at the top-19 school that never fails with the unending budget and the u-city address and the one-way ticket to Chicago just a rape whistle away. And august passes, with a flight into Lambert International Airport (the mind races, perhaps a study abroad program in Brugge would be just the trick to an international law career, palling with Sam and Nino and Steven as they’re inevitably out there in the summers and probably great to catch up with), a tour with a 2L who enthusiastically boasts about how fun the city is in the fall, how rich clayton donors are, how A-MAZING the facilities are and how it’s really unparalleled and how east saint Louis is just so far away, perhaps it was a twinge of awe touring the Harvard of the gateway that the burden first settled, that this cchool may well be too good for him, that perhaps he had a duty to reject it, not because he couldn’t get in, 163s do that you know (can you fathom that this shithole has a 162/168/169 hashline?), but because this place of such grandeur had soft factors that just didn’t fit, over 60% of the class men (can you say sausage fest, he thought, why would I spend my most fertile years dreaming of men just like… it’s too dark to say now, just think it, don’t say it) but the incredible edifices here were too great, so apply, of course, but while he’s here, take a train to that fucking shithole with poors urinating at the train station to the place with a slur called the slu, but the campus is actually quite nice, and they start to butter you up about how they’re moving downtown now, it’s going to get vibrant, a comeback is coming (did we mention we’re number one in health law), and sure the evasive answers about Chicago mgight raise red flgs to a sentient creature but for a heartless clueless aspie bastard traipsing like an ape posting “sarc meet up in St. Louis?” it’s time for thinking about the future of America, he’s been reading all the briefs in the Affordable Care Act VORACIOUSLY, health law is a good field, SLU is a good school, so the apps go out, the ding from Notre Dame was inevitable (but who wants to live in South Bend), UIUC’s waitlist stung, WUSTL crawling until that acceptance came from SLU, with a $10K, no-stip scholarship, and the flame begins, monikers derived from old Washington senators players infused with mad men (be careful, “don” is too obvious these days, vestiges of an old moniker, like the appendix, everywhere and fucking useless), musing, “money at a second-tier school over a top-20,” let them call you a B-U troll as if you were an HLS reject, it elevates the prestige, no one knows WUSTL is the target, it’s the most clever of concealed plans (never mind PP “confirming” this is Doobs, it’s not serious), then chime in with a sync pumo reflecting concern about debt, why would you even go to law school in the first place, sprinkle with a little “TTT” like the good ol’ days, bash a boomer, summon :D, fuck it feels good to be a part of a community that accepts you, but nay, the hate is strong, and now it’s time to swoop in and start bashing the fuck out of WUSTL with your third moniker, a Francophile name, we all know that InBev isn’t going to place you in Cook County, but sticker at DePaul is daunting and there are black people who live down there, you want the fucking chat blogs to tell you this, yes, talk yourself down, thank your alternative self, you mail a withdrawal letter to WUSTL, YOU rejected THEM, it wasn’t that they were too good for you, it’s that they weren’t nearly good enough for you, blonde in stilettos with fake tits and botox who the hell needs that when you can sit in the pale glow of a Slu nearby and jerk to the a-tits of a real brunette, and as the coma sets in before le petit morte you think, fuck, it’s law school, I’m now the 1%, the career path of the elite, a roommate you’ve never met but who’s just going to love toasted ravioli and want to visit the arch for the first time, too, and a tour of the dred scott courthouse, he looked at Mizzou (the z’s make you chortle), time to set in, you have three supplements for every class, you’ve read six blog posts on pierson v. post, and here it is, law school, a fucking made life, and the #1 health law program in the country on his resume, the XO haters were so very wrong, things are looking up (postscript: below-median is easier to achieve that he ever imagined, supreme court oral arguments don’t tell you dick about compulsory counterclaim, the wizardry for XO doesn’t give you a fucking shot at writing a complete sentence, so it’s time for another $30,000 in loans, the June heat may be bad but summer classes are ea real virtue it’s free credits that let you stick it out, a C+ in LRW isn’t so bad, just hang in there, future esquire, console yourself with another facebook status update, you talk like you may transfer to WUSTL but decide your options are “too good” here, you “decline” to write onto law review, moot court is where it’s at it’s practically debate and you love debate and who cares if you don’t like writing briefs you get 10 minutes infrton of a real county court judge who’ll explain that you have a “good voice” and that’ll make things great for explaining to family at the fourth of july picnic, your roommate transfers to WUSTL)
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=1862056&forum_id=2#19870351) |
Date: May 14th, 2014 11:17 PM Author: maniacal multi-colored faggot firefighter
This thread his too fucking close to home and nails the pathology of the 160 LSAT posting on this here PRESTIGIOUS chat bort.
The debate + moot court bit. Holy fuck.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=1862056&forum_id=2#25564066) |
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