The smartest white meat

I know you’ll probably find this hard to believe, especially those of you who write every week seeking my advice on life’s really tough issues (Note to Marvin on Mobile: Yes no ask your doctor, I think that’s illegal in ALL 50 states, and no, not with a ten foot pole), but I, Tim Knox, never went to college. For those of you who write every week complaining that my frequent use of words like “y’all, yonder and ain’t” is an affront to the English language and that I give southerners everywhere a bad name, I’m sure this it’s not a surprise (Note to Doug in Dothan: You, sir, can still kiss my grits, college educated or not).

When I graduated from high school in 1978, college was the furthest thing from my mind. He had just been released from thirteen long years of educational purgatory and was in no hurry to jump back into the fire. At eighteen, my priorities were as follows: do as little work as possible during the day, get as drunk as possible every night, and meet as many great girls as possible along the way. My school counselor never bothered to tell me that the best place to do all of these things was college. Instead, he just chuckled at my grades and asked if I had considered a career in welding.

Also, no one in my family had ever been to college, so who was I to defy tradition? College, my father was quick to point out, was for rich kids in trouble with the law and stupid people who didn’t have the brains to go it alone. Great words of wisdom from a man who dropped out of school in the third grade to become a farmer. I should have introduced him to my high school guidance counselor. Given that they were the founding members of the “Let’s Ruin Tim Knox’s Life With Bad Advice” club, I’m sure they would have gotten along just fine.

A year or two out of high school I found myself hungover, broke, and unemployed. That was the only time I seriously thought about going to college (it seemed like an easier prospect than having to sober up and find a real job). I stopped by the local college and met with a student advisor (think pimpled advisor). I was thinking of getting a degree in English so I could teach young children the correct use of words like “y’all, yonder and ain’t”. When I told the student advisor this, he laughed at my aspirations and asked if he had considered a career in welding.

“Thanks, zitface,” I felt like saying. “Here’s your membership card. Welcome to the club. Help yourself to punch and cookies. Come on, I’ll introduce you to my old man.”

About the only thing I learned from that visit was that going to college required a lot of money, something I didn’t have. And the motto of this particular school was: “Coffum opus dia doe o scatum dia hades offum dia campii!” English translation: “If you can’t pay the tuition, get off this campus!”

I couldn’t, so I did. And now you know why I never went to college.

At least I didn’t waste eight years of my life getting a degree I never used. The guy who mows my lawn has a Ph.D. in psychology. I guess he uses that $100,000 in advanced education to make sure my lawn is “okay” to mow.

Then there are those people who collect college degrees like my sister collects Beanie Babies. I have a friend who has a master’s degree in electrical engineering, a bachelor’s degree in computer science, and a Ph.D. in mathematics. Do you know what he does for a living? Nothing, he’s too busy going to school.

I don’t feel too bad about dropping out when I hear about some of the things that are happening in our institutions of higher learning these days. Take the case of the Penn State professor who is trying to teach pigs how to communicate using a computer. That’s right, fff-olks, I said pigs. And I’m not talking about ugly students either.

Professor Stanley Curtis (a former student advisor, I’m sure) believes that pigs, like apes and some Michigan people, can be taught to communicate with humans through the use of a form of computerized sign language. Curtis, with all the college wisdom of his, thinks that pigs are a lot smarter than people think. I think Professor Curtis is a cracker short of filling the bag. Who wants to receive email from a pig?

Here’s how the good professor summed it up for The Philadelphia Inquirer: “Pigs always have their eyes open for their next bite, so they’re always scanning their surroundings. They’re very alert, and if they see any food in a certain spot, You have to figure out how to get to him.”

Are you talking about pigs or your frat brothers?

Curtis continued, “They (pigs) solve problems every day and have the ability to discriminate, so it should come as no surprise that their intelligence is high.”

Problem solving, the ability to discriminate, high intelligence… hmm, I guess you’re talking about pigs.

Curtis’s goal is to provide the best possible environment for pigs and other farm animals. If these pigs could communicate that they are uncomfortable, unhappy or hungry, she says, the farmer could do whatever it takes to make the pig’s life a little easier. This is where I get confused. What farmer in his right mind would want a bunch of whining pigs running around the barnyard causing trouble? And what farmer would bother to make life easier for a pig when he knows said pig will be on the next train to Baconville? This is like giving death row inmates Dr. Sholes pads to put in their shoes so their feet don’t hurt as they walk to the gas chamber.

You don’t need a college degree to realize this is the dumbest idea since the invention of low-fat bologna. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be able to communicate with pigs. I am not a heartless person. I don’t want to think that the pig who gave his life for my morning bacon spent his last moments sitting at a computer terminal frantically typing, “PLEASE DON’T KILL ME AND EAT ME! I’M NOT AN ANIMAL! PLEASE!” !”

Let’s put the teacher’s computer sign language to work with animals we don’t eat. I wish my dog ​​could tell me what the hell he barks at at three in the morning. And I would really like to know why my cat has to be so cocky.

Besides, what could a pig really say worth listening to? Unless it’s, “Hey buddy, have you considered a career in welding?”

It’s-it-it-it-it’s all, folks.