Myopic Monday

I just made a comment over at an old post on Womanist Musing about “guilty pleasures” that reminded me of the CD I used to listen to driving in to work before my sabbatical. Here is a sample:

Sugarland “Something More”

Little Shop of Horrors “Skid Row”

It gets worse.

Can I just say how glad I am to have had a year away and to have returned to the pleasantness of regime change. Sometimes all it takes is dethroning Dr. Crackhead to make things snap back to normal. Honestly, running a Department is hard, and often thankless, work, but if you plan to run it like a fifedom, behind a locked door in your ivory tower with only occassional visits from your lover and your lackeys, please spare all of us the drama. You can get your control freak on, on some Committee somewhere, and leave the perpetually targeted identity studies programs to those of us who really have decolonized our minds. Just a thought.

 

2 thoughts on “Myopic Monday

  1. I wrote about them before my sabbatical under a series of post best summed up as "Dr. Crackhead strikes again" and was reminded of them b/c of recent conversations including the innocuous one at Womanist Musing about Little Shop of Horrors. I think, sadly there are many Dr. Crackheads across the nation whose talents lie outside of leadership, mentorship, program building, team building, etc. The problem is that b/c we are mostly misanthropic, many of us who might be talented in these areas or at least not willing to use them as opportunities to wield and abuse power either in the name of control or promoting our friends (my dr. crackhead was guilty of the former) don’t take up these positions. We also excuse a lot of behavior under the label of misanthrope that is more accurately covered by BPD or sadism. And I think the system encourages this, more so under a corporate education model, and that many wonderful people break and become the masters they had hoped to overthrow. As I’ve said before, my biggest worry these days is about the people on the margins whose masks have grafted to their faces. I know there is something under there that is beautiful, but unlike others, I am unwilling to praise the shadow of the thing that once had so much promise; perhaps it is the historian in me.

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