Death, disease, dissent, discontent, distaste, disgust, diahorrea, damnation, deprivation, desolacy, dickheads.

I got really pissed off by certain members of the lower sec today. Their behaviour during the talks in the hall were so gawd awful, they showed no sort of attention-span at all, and their attitudes were severely shitty and even saying that would be an understatement. The senior batch is glad to graduate this year when they wouldn't yet have to endure another year of such rotten scumbag schizzle, my junior in SLB is starting to hate the school, the discipline master calls them assholes (as in, "you're letting them watch a movie? You're being too nice to these assholes" and I shake my head sadly in agreement), the teachers have no longer any control (but how does one control the spread of stupidity??) and are even rather horrified at the state of things and everyone is not having fun, except the few people with their oh-so-funky hairdo, uber funky lip piercing, even funkier shoes, funky ultra mini small structured bags, funky accents, funky ways of doing things WHICH ARE SO ULTRA FUNKY AND WAAAY WACKY AND COOL AND DID I MENTION FUNKAAAAY?? Hello?? They were kicking a basketball from one end of the backstage to the other end in view of everyone in the hall who was "listening" to the Vision Care talk, while there was a SPEAKER who was freaking SPEAKING while they embarrassed the hell out of everyone (wait no— few would have cared anyway) and rushed out of the backstage when Wet and I went to check, laughing like empty-headed morons and in the process of making a quick escape, toppling over a heavy wooden-framed banner. It would take a visionaire to be able to find a speck of microscopic nano-hope in them. You know. I hate being in this school too. Sometimes I love being here, but occurrances of that happening have dwindled. The teachers rock. Our principal has a professionalism attached to her that inspires respect and awe. Most of the student population still cares about our reputation. It's that freaking handful of insensitive, immature, ungrateful kiddies that ought to be gassed. Sealed in the hall where the mustard/nerve gases will seep in. Solves our problems in a cinch. Of course, my voice is dripping with angry sarcasm but if I could use words like a knife, I'd give them a 'short, sharp, shock', to quote Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado. Then I'd use their guts to form avant-garde installation art pieces. They'd add a touch of serious funk.