Major Anxiety

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Major Anxiety

Here I am, at it again. Believe me, I’m as shocked as you the powers that be still let me write for this paper.

As of late, I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking about majors, mainly because mine is one where a middle management position at McDonalds would be one helluva score come next May. So I got to thinking: What exactly does a major mean? (Disclaimer: I mean no harm in the following statements. If I insult your major, discount it as merely the words of one worried that he’ll make hardly any money after he leaves the studious, brick buildings of SMU.)

Let’s start with mine; that ought to be easy. Being an English major means that you know the difference between its and it’s, and know words that nobody really needs to know, like anthropomorphism. I can read a book and talk all about it with you. I can already hear my pimple-faced boss yelling, Hey Tolles, go get that tub of mayonnaise…

Now, on the rest of these, I’m going to be pulling you-know-what out of my you-know-where, so bear with me.

Business. Having a business major means that you walk around saying words like “accumulate” and talking about something called “LIFO” (Ah, that one semester of accounting meant something, I suppose, other than a superb way to drift to sleep at night). Actually, I’m really rather jealous about the amount of money you’ll all be making. Maybe I’ll come to your places of business as a patron and patronize you.

History. I like studying history; I’m minoring in it. But all that becoming a history major means is that you’ll be able to tell a group of people loads of information that they likely won’t even be listening to. We’re in the same boat.

Theater. Like my previously mentioned Dedman buddies, grab a paddle. Unless you’re one of the best actors in your class or you go to school long enough to become a teacher, we’ll likely be standing next to each other as line chefs at Luby’s Cafeteria.

Philosophy. Finally, there is a group that is as stuffy as my kind. Majoring in philosophy either means you understand a collection of someone else’s thoughts, understand life (whatever that means) or plan on going to Law School so you can defend me after I toss boiling oil on my fast-food boss.

Political Science. Are you going to become a politician? Let’s face it, the only way to be successful in politics is to never have done anything stupid in front of anyone that remembers anything. Also if you’re not good-looking, as sad as it is to say, you won’t be a successful politician. Slap Abe Lincoln’s mug on one of today’s politicians, and they would get as many votes as I get offers from Playgirl to do a photo shoot. But I suppose if you want to be a behind the scenes type, this major would suffice.

Pre-Med. You noble people! Have fun studying for the next few decades. And I have this nagging cough that won’t seem to go away …

Theology. (Though I’ve used this line before, there is no reason for me to withhold it now.) I’m not touching this with a ten-foot pole.

Journalism. It’s writing, which is something I truly enjoy, but taking bias out of a written composition is about as much fun as riding a bicycle without the seat. And then there’s always yellow journalism, printing hearsay, which a certain The Daily Campus editor seems to love doing. It is not fair to say who I feel uses this tactic, so I will not.

Dance. Honestly, is majoring in something that spawned “the jitterbug” and the “cha-cha-cha” really something worth all the sweat-filled hours? Maybe this is unfair – I do love cheerleaders. Regardless, I hope you don’t break an ankle or hyper-extend a knee. If so, consult those previously mentioned academics who go to law school, and find someone to blame.

Film. I’ve heard somewhere that only one in 40,000 scripts ever gets made into a movie. And if you’re not on the creative side, it’s not whom you know … well you know how the famous Hollywood saying goes. I wish you luck. And for those of you that do make it, kindly halt the production of any film starring singers.

Advertising. I am only mentioning this field of study because there are enough bad ads out there to make Caroline Rhea seem funny. If I see another ad for “feminine products,” herpes medication or the ones about that ridiculous SUV that can change into a pick-up truck, I am throwing out my television.

I have reached my 800 word limit, so I shall stop this rant. Just one more thing: I want to major in whatever it is that President Turner majored in that allows him to haughtily inform us our tuition will be increasing 5.5 percent. Hey pres, why don’t you bump that up to 5.6 percent, and give the extra tenth to me; I’ll stop writing these outlandish columns. Get back to me on that.

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