Recently I purchased a text book at the campus bookstore. This is my first time buying a book for a math class and actually my first experience with what could truly be called a 'text book'. This is all new to me because I major in History and these classes consist of a couple paperbacks and maybe a novel or two. Most can be bought for a couple of beads and a bottle of fire water on amazon or somewhere.
This math text is from an alternate dimension where books are mined from the ground and there are civil wars fought over the rights to dig them up. Blood books is what they're called. During the past three years I think the most I've spent on one single book was maybe 50 bones. This was for a new book, and if memory serves, it was bound in human flesh and written in ink mixed with liquid gold. It came with a blender and a Mexican child to tote it around for me. This semester I found myself shelling out nearly twice that much for a shitty old calculus book. I'm a scholar of the past, I couldn't care less about derivatives or integrals or shoving a function up my ass and pulling the limit out of my ear.
This is all part of the liberal arts horseshit experience. Books that cost more than a hundred dollars make me want to kill myself and everyone around me. This book buying fun has been a penis-softening time. Being the king of cunning, I soon found a way to remedy this problem and get the little bugger raging once more.
"Scan that bitch!!" I shouted to myself, out loud, as I was leaving the bookstore.
So now I sit and I turn the page, push the button. I turn the page and push the button. I'm scanning the book into my computer and then I'm going to return it by Friday for a full refund.
