B. U. G. S.

I am not nice to you.

That is, I try to show common courtesy, but my first priority is to make the point.

PLEASE don’t confuse that with bully professors.

In Love Story, the Law Professor at Harvard would emabrrass and insult students, and that was supposed to make him some kind of heroic true intellectual.

It was part of a New York City-oriented book. The theme was heart-wrenching, but it had to cinlude gutter language, none of which was necessary and none of which fited with the old-fashioned love and tragedy being presented.

And the girl’s father was a Harvard professor who fitted the New York City ideal. He insulted students. Being trashy and just plain mean is hte New York City idea of “honesty.”

Having been a professor, I know that there is nothing easier than to intimidate students. Their whole career depends on how you grade them. They are young people who will depend on your word about htem to other professors and to prospective employers.

A professor of economics has no trouble intimidating students in an economics class. They have four other courses they are taking and they are always afraid you will hit them with some of the material they don’t remember. The heroic professor in Love Story acted as if they should have everything on hand.

Besides that, if their interpretation was different from his, he could depend on a lifetime of study in his field to make them look ridiculous.

And somebody who is a professional unarmed combat instructor in the army can beat the hell out of you.

So bleeding WHAT?

A couple of the kindof people who make me want to vomit, South Carolina liberals, were braggingonthe courage of one history professor who insulted the South in a lecture years ago when a young man in his class said, “You are insulting my ancestors.”

The professor said, “Yes, I am insulting your ancestors and I plan to go on doing it.”

These nauseating Southern liberals were amazed at how brave he was.

I told them I had beena professor and that nothiing was easier than insulting students from the lectern.

What could they do about it?

The young man couldn’t beat hell out of the old professor. He would have been ruined if he had.

That brave professor would have been the first to sue him and destroy him for it.

It happened that, as a young student, I couldn’t get that very professor to debate me. He wouldn’t fight it out outside the lectern.

I told those two vomit-makers that, if they wanted to insult me, I would be happy to take them outside.

THAT, I said, would show guts. Neither had any interest in such a display of courage.

I HATE bullies.

I was in a white trash school from the first grade to the ninth, and I HATE bullies.

The fact that a bully is violent trash is no diffferent from a bully with a PhD.

Well, there is one difference. If you take on the white trash he doesn’t go crying to the authorities. He fights his own fights.

I play rough.

But if you think I’m turning bully, do like LibAnon and say so.