The Late J.J. Bittermuch

I received sad news the other day. An acquaintance of mine, J.J. Bittermuch, quite possibly the world’s most astringent man, passed away suddenly when his bile glands exploded from excessive capacity. However, shortly after being translated instantly to the fifth circle of Hades (the Wraithful, if you’ll consult your Dante), he re-established contact with me via Magic 8-Ball, Ouija Board, and Internet email.

Last night, around midnight, he sent me the following:

“I’ve been reading that banal little exercise that it pleases you to call ‘explosive-cargo,’ though ‘toxic waste’ strikes me as the better title. But, anyway, it warms my heart to see that you’re still the reasonably dimwitted troglodyte you were before. Nice to know that some things remain inviolate.

“For example, you remain clueless about life in the academy. Let me, my dear fellow, put your pointed little head in the right direction . . . and explain the obvious.

“The thing to remember about ‘higher education’ is that the ‘higher’ is theoretical and the ‘education’ a myth. Professors are rewarded not for their ability to convey information to students, but rather for the capacity to impose turgid prose on learned journals and score grants from bounteous foundations.

“And so, we have the result—Educators . . . who couldn’t teach a rectum to defecate.”