I think now is as good a time as any to introduce you to an unfortunate character that I, being an english literature major, encounter frequently: the English Lit Douche Bag.
Taking douche-baggery to lofty new heights, the English Lit Douche-Bag is a special breed of ass-hat. For the sake of shortening their title, we'll just create one generic douche named, say, "Cliff". Many times Cliff will come in the form of your stereotypical hipster: molester mustachio, multiple tattoos, a v-neck so low you can play "I spy" with his nips and win in seconds, Buddy Holly-esque glasses that aren't prescription but are worn anyway... the works, essentially. If you've hit the jackpot they'll have a leather man-purse. But they will never call it a man-purse. They will call it a satchel. They will bring $40 moleskin notebooks to lectures, only to type their notes on their macbook pro instead.
None of these things are uncommon in my university and normally I wouldn't think twice about any of it, but Cliff manages to take this perfect storm of hipster qualities and by the end of the two hour and fifteen minute lecture will make you hate him from his perfectly tousled hair to his pointy toed leather riding boots, which are fitting because Cliff never dismounts his high-horse.
Cliff has an answer for everything, and you don't have to fret about forgetting this because he won't let you. Cliff knows best! In fact, if Cliff even chooses to raise his hand before he speaks, it never leaves the air. Maybe this is a tactic to get the blood from his arm to rush into his brain as a warm-up so he can start stringing the longest words he thinks he knows together for his answer regardless of whether a.) It makes any sense, b.) It has any relevance to what the prof is saying, or c.) The point has been beaten to death by the class just moments before. He will criticize a Slyvia Plath poem because he has eaten an entire bag of green apples without getting a stomachache. He will even let the class know that the desert is, indeed, a lonely place.
Regardless of how repetitive or confusing what he says may be, Cliff will never fail to judge every other person for whatever comes out of their mouth.
Imagine: You've just come in from walking into class after braving the Montreal cold to get there. You've got your coffee. You're warm and seated. Your books and notes are ready to go, you're on top of your shit. You are content with life.
But this feeling of security does not last for long. Once the class starts, it doesn't take long for Cliff to come out of his silence to become:
This is the point at which the class takes a turn for the worse. The English Lit Douche-Bag has the amazing power of judgement combined with a super condescending tone to ruin your class. You think one thing about a poem? The English Lit Douche-Bag thinks your interpretation is stupid. Not even your own opinions are safe from judgement. Your self esteem, confidence and comfort will be eaten away at throughout the entire class until your former feelings of content have been reduced to nothing but those of hatred and insecurity.
If you are unfortunate enough to share the classroom with an english lit douche-bag, chances are you will experience feelings that make you want to rip someone's jugular out with your bare hands at least once every time the class meets.
Coming up: An introduction to "The Annoying Mature Student Who Sits Front-and-Center"!
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