"We're going to have to remove that frontal lobe before your thesis defense, ma'am."

I had to help my professors show a film clip today in class. I don't know what it is, but it seems like getting a humanities Ph.D. blocks all practical knowledge of how technology works. Neither of the professors could get the DVD into the DVD drive, click on the DVD player in the cleverly labeled menu, and hit play. I saw them having trouble and asked, "There isn't a DVD player under the menu?" Dr. M. looked at me in all seriousness and said, "Menu?"

Now, I know this man has a computer in his office. I know his cohort—who, after watching me put the DVD in the drive, couldn't get it back out—has one as well. I have seen both of them type on said computers. These are smart, smart guys, and they've been trained to use the classroom equipment. However, they were outclassed by an English major who uses her virus-infected HP P.O.S. for papers and chatting and nothing else. Standing up there, clicking like a trained monkey, I thought to myself: "When I'm a Ph.D., I'm going to make one student be my technology bitch all semester, and it'll just seem like I can't be bothered. I'll still be hip." And then I realized: yeah, not so much of the hip to start with.