“My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge,” exclaims the prophet Hosea in his fourth chapter, and thousands of years and miles from the sinful Northern Kingdom, the same lament rings true. We are blinded by pride and can not see the truth, be it ever so apparent.
Yet, there is hope: Even if knowledge of wisdom and justice is outside of our reach, we can still refine our exploitation of physical and mental delights. Even the sinful can reach some approximate truth, and even the wicked can detect, albeit only partially, the divinity of beauty.
Even if we follow Luther in labeling reason as “the devil’s harlot,” we still recognize the immediate animal need of defeating boredom. As long as we are confined in study to the evil of worldly knowledge, we might as well have fun. To that end, I offer this manual for successfully determining a major course of study.
Does learning about the way our economic system adapts and operates interest you? Or how about studying the way money and markets, or resources and research, interact? What about analyzing the effectiveness of investment strategies, or the relationship between the private and public sectors? What about wealth, and its effect on consumer choices? Then leave this place, and never darken our door again. On failing to do that, polish off an “economics” degree, thou black heart.
We all read through roughly the same sequence of books in Core, from the daring brilliance of James Patterson’s “Violets Are Blue” to the dark introspection of Michael Crichton’s “The Andromeda Strain” to the heady, passionate lyricism of Panati’s “The Pleasuring of Rory Malone.” Despite completing the course, many students wish to read these immortal classics again, this time in the original language (usually Greek or Latin, sometimes Hebrew or Cajun). A “classics” major equips every would-be translator with the tools necessary to read some of the oldest, driest and, presumably, most magical texts in the world. Whether it’s Greek, Latin, or some pointless and indecipherable combination of the two, you’ll never want for textual analysis with a classics major.
So far, these points have emphasized the intellectual at the expense of the physical pleasures. Still, there are many students whose talents do not extend beyond having a keen sense of timing, or a commanding stage presence, or an explosive maddening vanity. What good can games of speculation do for such disciples of the flesh? The “theater” degree offers all of the fun of court intrigue, Depression-era suffering, and Southern Gothic insanity with none of the real blood. While violence, pain and insanity commonly befall theater students, particularly those endowed with a certain prideful quality called hubris, modern technology has reduced their casualty rates to below 50 percent. Also, theater students are by federal statute guaranteed a “living wage” of melodrama, substance abuse and illicit sex. The only downside is this: Eventually, you will graduate.
If you do not fit into any of the above categories, I apologize. It’s not easy being you, and perhaps you can solace yourself with a drink or an “English” major. Probably not. But then that’s why they invented “psychology.”