Thursday, December 20, 2007

Goodbye note from the best accounting professor ever

Announcement
Subject The End
From [insert professor's name here]
Date Dec 20, 2007 9:59 am

Stǘdents:

I have posted the solution to the final and the final feedback form to SMG Tools. I have entered your overall grade for the course into the BU grading system.

And so…

We have laughed, stüüdents, and we have cried! We have pondered the meaning of the meaningless:

№↨┌┼♫☼♂▓ﻼײַٷ٤☼▼◄.

We have parsed the illogic of the statement “This page intentionally left blank” on certain legal documents. We have debated animatedly about the feasibility of Vulcan-computer mind-melds. We have been dazzled by Professor’s command of avant-garde Dutch poetry:

Zittend op vlokken die van graan, op de bestelwagen wachted om te komen.
De t-shirt van het bedrijf, stomme bloedige Dinsdag.
De mens, u een slechte jongen, u liet uw gezicht lang groeien.
Ik ben de man van eieren.
Zijn zij de mensen van eiren.
Ben ik de dolfijn

We have ignored Professor in Harvard Square because we are just so High and Mighty. We have mispronounced difficult Sino-European names. We have eaten approximately 79 Halls Defense Vitamin C drops to keep our professorial throat lubricated. We have supped at UBURGER, frolicking in the delicate mélange of flavors, textures and aromas. We have hurled ourselves with full force against immovable objects. We have repeatedly had our intelligence insulted by nonsense of which this epistle is a prime example. We have listened to tales of the merciless world of synchronized swimming. We have heard an ancient, magical incantation; it raised our cohort-mates to fame and glory early in their nascent business careers. We have elf’ed ourselves, and have elf'ed our faculty, too.

And so, I must bid adieu. When first we met, balmy breezes caressed our cheeks and ruffled our hair. Now, as I exit stage left into the iron New England dark, the North blows bitter and cruel. Will we meet again? Who can tell? Time is but the stream I go a-fishin’ in. Memo bis punitor delicatum. You don’t need a meteorologist to know which way the wind blows.

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