Snarky Malarkey

You think I don’t notice. You think that no one sees you. You think you’re safe in your cozy aviation themed socks. But I know what you’ve done and you better not think there aren’t consequences.

I walk through the halls, into classrooms and bathrooms, by the printers and in the lunchroom… and what I see is devilry! Piles and piles — whole stacks — of the Phoenix Flyer thrown away like moldy spaghetti left in your closet. I see the work I have oh-so-kindly-done-out-of-the-kindness-of-my-heart for you in a crumpled heap in the recycling bin. Nay! The GARBAGE. You don’t even have the decency to dispose of me properly. Absolute fiends.

Clearly you are oblivious to this. You think: “Oh there’s no way a high school paper can do anything to retaliate… oh wow I’m so cool, look at me pretending to be some basketball superstar slam dunking paper into the garbage because I think I’m all that and the garbage is definitely the place for paper to go.” Oh sure, an inanimate newspaper can’t throw you in the trash pretending to swoosh hoops. Oh sure, massive bundles of paper won’t ever be exposed to radiation in some dump and become sentient. Oh sure, those papers that definitely won’t become sentient also definitely won’t collude with their fellow mutant trash and build an army. Oh sure, that army won’t know the location of the school or of every person who has every subscribed to the paper. Oh sure, said army won’t seek its revenge and plunge a sewer soaked pointy paper knife into the heart of every soulless RAHS student who has thrown away the paper. Oh sure, once they emerge victorious they won’t seek to destroy your known world just as you have destroyed ours.

Look, all I’m saying here is that there is absolutely nothing to worry about! Live your content little lives in blissful ignorance because there is definitely, definitely, no reason to think you are in any danger of a paper revolution.

With MUCH love,

The Snark

Email Etiquette Snark Attack

Dear RAHS Students,

Actually, no. Apparently we don’t need to have a heading for emails anymore because your email etiquette is trash. Which is great because when you cc everyone for your random email with a pointlessly vague subject line we all know exactly who you’re referring to. Especially when the email is sent at 11:59 pm the day before the event you’re trying to inform me of. Because I can almost guarantee that whether I  check my email later that night or early the next morning I will without a doubt be tired, irritable, and very unlikely to see your email labeled “meeting ToMORROW!” and care to read on. Even if I somehow muster the energy to click on your bothersome email, I will probably go about my day with no more information than I started with because your ambiguously-inclined self probably didn’t even tell me what room to meet in at “about halfway through lunch..ish.”

As a result of your pathetic incompetency to explain yourself, a chorus of reply-alls irritating enough to make ears bleed will undoubtedly come flying into my inbox. For every idiot who finds themselves so incredibly fascinating that they think all of the other 40 people in the thread need to hear their opinion, please close your laptop, get off your phone, and join a self-help group, because maybe someone there will at least pretend to care.  

Even more infuriating are the degenerates who wait four and a half days to respond to you, only to say “got it” or “sounds good.” I get it; I‘m a shark, typing is hard. But if you knew you were only going to give me 3 seconds of your time, WHY DID IT TAKE SO DAMN LONG? Or, you’ll ask some stupid question that was clearly detailed in my message, only further demonstrating that you are a substandard human being with little to no processing capabilities. And we both know that your vexing conjecture will only prompt me to explain myself with something along the lines of “per my last email” which is clearly the only remotely polite way of asking “seriously can you even read???”

Once again, I understand. Communicating with humans is a difficult and draining endeavor. Maybe if composing a coherent email is too hard for you, you should resort to a more simple-minded mode of communication. Perhaps interpretive dance might suit you, or I don’t know, maybe talk to me in person.

 

Sincerely,

The Snark

thesnark@gmail.com

✧✧ Just keep swimming ✧✧ – Dory

 

PS

Seriously why are people like this ^^

Group Project Snark Attack

I cannot count the amount of times I have been let down in a group project. In every group project, I have always been assigned with at least one IDIOT PARTNER who has absolutely NO understanding of a WORK ETHIC. I get it, when we leave high school and face the real world, we’re going to have to learn how to work with other people. But all of these group projects SERIOUSLY have me considering a career in a cave dwelling or in any other job that requires minimal human collaboration.

Any more of this and I’ll pack my bags and head to the ocean because it’s easier to collaborate with crustaceans than the kids in our school. Humans, supposedly the smartest species in the animal kingdom, can’t even perform basic tasks with their own species. Put together a group of teenagers and they can hardly decide whether they want to stop at Starbucks or McDonalds. I mean our school has kids who have time to spend 12 hours playing Fortnite during the day, but can’t contribute ten minutes to a group project. The level of competency in our school is quite peculiar, especially when our students can hack into the school’s security cameras, but can’t pay enough attention in a group project to do their infinitesimally small part.

I mean, come on. For a school with students so dedicated to a 4.0 GPA, we’re so self-absorbed that we can’t simply commit 10% of our work time to ACTUALLY WORKING ON OUR ONE ASSIGNED RESPONSIBILITY. And don’t get me started on the kids who promise they’ll “do it later.” Come on. You think I’m falling for that horse crap again? THIS IS THE THIRD TIME YOU’VE LET ME DOWN TODAY!! At least have the decency to let me know that you have absolutely NO INTENTION of actually working on the project. That way I can plan ahead for not sleeping the entire week. Admit it, you know I won’t let the work go undone, so you’re gonna let me do all of it.

You know what; I enjoy holding up your end of the bargain. I enjoy reducing the miniscule amount of free time I have to do something you were supposed to do a week ago. A shark only has about 20 to 30 years of life and I would much rather spend it feeding on fishes and other small creatures of the sea.

Sincerely,

The Shark

Snark Attack Lunch Line

It’s so simple, but everyone always does it incorrectly: microwave courtesy. I mean, why are all the microwaves at RAHS REALLY ALWAYS SO STUPIDLY MESSY! It’s not that hard to put yourself in a line WITHOUT CUTTING!. Wait. Put your lunch in the microwave for A RESPECTABLE AMOUNT OF MINUTES.  Wait. Then, take yours out so the next person can go. I mean honestly, how difficult can it be? For a school of supposed geniuses we are not the brightest when it comes to household appliances.

Even with those problems, there’s still the problem of why the lines are so freaking long? It makes no sense. We have several microwaves in this school but somehow the lines are always so long. And don’t even get me started about the mess that’s always in the microwave. Not only is it absolutely disgusting inside of the stupid microwave but WAVE goodbye to the flavor in your lunch because someone decided it is a FANTASTIC IDEA to fry their fish and put it back in the microwave. First of all why would you do that? Where is the logic in your smelly lunch going in the microwave, consequently forcing RAHS students to live in the pungent dead fish fumes for the next 2 hours?

It’s gotten so bad that I want to put into effect some rules. For instance, this shark has decided 5 to 6 minutes is the maximum that should be allowed. Putting all of your lunch in the microwave for 10 minutes is SO RUDE.

I mean, I don’t mean to be a killer shark or anything but let’s do the math. I don’t think it should be explained at all, but let’s say there are 6 people in line. The appropriate amount of lunches in the microwave are 3 MAYBE 4 lunches, because stacking them one on top of another is not polite at all. If the lunches are microwaved for only 5 minutes at a time, the first 3 people will have their lunch in 5 minutes and the last 3 people will have their lunch in 10 minutes. Done. Boom. It’s so painfully simple that it really calls into question how anyone could screw it up, and I can just hear all the jaws dropping because I’m spitting nothing but facts.

Sincerely,

The Shark

Snark Attack

Food. It’s more than important. It’s vital. Dealing with the stress of final projects, studying, and all of the other work that’s piled onto the poor devils here can be very difficult, and to add insult to injury, lunch lines that are slower than a whale. Everyday it’s the same issue that I am stuck with, seeing these boneheaded twits cut in line to socialize with their fellow cretins…

THERE IS ALWAYS THE SAME GROUP OF LUMPENPROLETARIAT THAT VIOLATE THE SANCTITY OF THE LUNCH LINE!

You know who you lot are, I won’t name you… Instead of feeding you to the sharks, I’ll feed you lot to the angry masses by exposing your crime against our unspoken rules.

Ever since I was just a little, snarky, cute shark pup in kindergarten we all knew how the line worked and we respected it. You start at the end of the line and DON’T CUT! I depend on the lunch line to feed and maintain my snarky wit and smooth figure. But the dunderheads who, more than ten years after kindergarten, cut in the lunch line enrage me and the so many other students who just want food.

I’d quite enjoy sinking my teeth into all of the unwashed masses that cause this problem, something I could easily do, but these pilgarlic krills that call themselves people constantly hold up the line with their jabber and cutting, and nobody has called them out yet! It’s time for that to end. It’s time for us to say a firm “no,” restore the lunch line back to its natural order and efficiency, and purge this mass of knuckledraggin’ mouthbreathers from our once-pure line.

Even if you don’t eat school lunches, you’ve assuredly have had to awkwardly squeeze through these people. The brainless mob of these zombie-like idiots make simply passing from the east end of the lunchroom to the west end impossible. Your only choice, no — OUR only choice is to finally tell these people off and get the order, efficiency, and food that we deserve.

Snark Attack Printers

Ok, so the printers are pissing me off again. This time however, it’s not just the machine itself. It’s also the humans that operate these machines that really grind my gears.

The printers themselves work off and on, and are never close to being reliable. (These printers are about as reliable as a student saying that they truly enjoy aviation when applying to RAHS.) But even when the printers do decide to work, THERE ARE STILL ALWAYS PROBLEMS PRINTING.

Okay, so to start things off, sometimes the printer spits out your paper without asking you to enter your password. Wow! You may be saying to yourself, ‘oml this is so great and incredible and amazing. It removes the nuisance of securely printing my paper.’ Ah, but therein lies the problem, my dear Watson.

Let’s say that right after you print from your computer, you have to take a pop quiz in Mr. Joshi’s or drop an egg off of the third floor balcony for Mr. McComb, and you are too busy to pick up your paper from the printer. Well, that paper still gets printed and just chills on the tray.

BUT THEN you get slapped with a major oof. Some ignorant, unlettered, dingus thinks it would be totally helpful if they were to help you, the person who printed the paper, out by throwing your warm, freshly printed pieces of white and black perfection onto the counter. Don’t get the Snark wrong here, I appreciate a good citizen as much as the next man, but when these people decide it is acceptable to JUST THROW YOUR PAPER IN A PILE WITH EVERYONE ELSE’S, IT JUST CONTRIBUTES TO THE PROBLEM. This problem, my fellow students, is one of great importance to me.

It takes an estimated 0.8 more seconds to set papers down in a nice, pretty, and organized fashion instead of just throwing it. THAT IS ALL IT TAKES. So when people decide to have a competition on who can be the biggest heckin loser and build up Mount Everest by just tossing papers all over the counter it is irreverent and overall just a disgraceful thing to do.

Then there are those who take it a step further. A STEP FURTHER. THAT TAKES SERIOUS EFFORT. Like underclassmen put more work into messing up everyone’s lives at the printer than they do for their application for the lottery. WELL, this next group of people just mock those who are not at the printer yet. THESE PEOPLE take paper STRAIGHT OFF of the printers tray AND HECKIN MAKE THEM INTO BASKETBALLS SO THEY CAN PATHETICALLY MISS THE TRASH CANS LIKE THE PLEBS THEY ARE.

Don’t be that guy. Don’t be that girl. The people at this school will appreciate you so much more if you just stop. That is all.

Warmest of regards,

Snark

Printing Patrol

Snark Attack Fear of Change

 

Snark Attack: Fear Change

 

To paraphrase one of my favorite quotes: “The only permanent things in this world are change and your inability to deal with it”

 

Let’s get one thing straight here, people. Everything changes, from subatomic particles to the entire universe and everything in between. Even you change, though rarely for the better (the idea is to take more showers, not less. Just saying.)

 

Since its glorious founding in 2004, our beloved school has gone through many changes as it grew, relocated, and adapted to new students, new teachers, new administrators, new laws, new budgets, new graduation requirements and more. The one thing that has not changed, and indeed that shows no sign of changing any time soon, is your complete and utter inability to deal with those changes like normal, mature human beings.

 

Perhaps a Socratic dialog will help illustrate my gripe:

 

You: OH. MY. GOD. They’re not offering <name of class> any more. The entire, like, world will, like, never be the same, like, ever again. I will never get into college, I’ll never work for NASA, and my entire life is, like, totes ruined 4EVA.

Me: Shut up.

 

You: WHAT!?!?!?!? They revised the dress code!?!?!?!? How will I ever express my special, unique, creative self through the beautiful art of fashion? Must I be a mindless, soulless, generic khaki drone-person 4EVA? Down with Big Brother! Aaaaarrrrgh! Robble Robble!

Me: Shut up. Right now.

 

You: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! They changed the schedule! Now I can’t take every class I want, when I want, and be in every club I want, and on every team I want, and also do everything else I want, and come to school late, and leave school early, and have everything I want in the universe exactly how and when I want it! Bad school! Bad school!

Me: Shut. Up. shutupshutupshutup. Shuuuuuuut uuuuuuuuup.

 

You think everyone else should freeze the world in place to suit your needs? This school is as awesome as it is precisely BECAUSE it has continued to change and evolve and grow for so many years. RAHS (which used to be just AHS, by the way) has lost and gained teachers, classes, buildings, principals, partners, programs, clubs, teams, coaches, custodians, computer labs, and more, including almost 1,500 students since opening its doors. Some of you were still in diapers when this school got started, and if that’s not an argument for change, I don’t know what is, unless you’re still in diapers (which, let’s be honest, some of you act like you still need your mommies to wipe your butts for you.)

 

You may not like all of the changes this school goes through in your 4 years here, but one of those changes was letting you in, and besides, this school serves an entire community, not just you, so suck it up, buttercup, or the world will move on without you.

 

Sincerely yours,

 

El Sharkito Snarkito.

Snark Attack

You know what really grinds my gears? I’m getting heated just thinking about it. My blood boils with the heat of a thousand red suns. I’m full of uncontrollable, undeniable, uncomfortable, unimaginable, unintelligible, unceasing, uncanny, unbreakable, unquenched, unsophisticated, unincorporated rage.

 

I’m mad.

 

I am a quantum superstring of vibrating rage. I am a post-event-horizon singularity of distemper. I am a seething vortex of ire, all storm, no eye. There is no safe harbor from my unceasing conflagration of wrath. It pervades my being; it has become my essence. I have become an infinitely dense point of fiery vexation, of incendiary umbrage. Light itself cannot escape the gravity of my logarithmically imploding hatred for the mortal world. My fury predates the Big Bang and will be the only lingering trace of human existence after the entire universe collapses.

 

Actually, everything about my life drives me up the wall. So many things get under my skin I should probably see a dermatologist immediately. Thinking about how bothered I am ruffles my feathers even more – do you ever just sit and seethe about the sheer number of things you’re pissed about? In fact, once I start myself on a downward spiraling whirlpool of aggression, I lose sight of the original target of my anger, which ticks me off even more. On my best days, I contemplate the sheer number of things I need to be angry about, a quantity which itself sparks incendiary fission reactions of unmitigated, colossal, killer Kung Fury. There’s just not enough time in the day for me to express to you how angry I am. Every time I fly off the handle, I get even more enraged by the fact that the handle’s broken now. Oh, I should stop being such a pessimist? Hard for the glass to be half-full when I smashed it against the wall half an hour ago.

 

Snark Attack

Do you know what everyone loves to the bottom of their heart space? High school parking lots. Do you know what their favorite thing about high school parking lots is? People who park like absolute jack@$$es.

 

I’m talking about the people who double park their beater cars and people who are trying to fix their daddy issues by pretending to be cool with their “nice” cars. I literally have no idea how they manage park so terribly as the spots are gigantic, but alas, they do. Here’s a really fun, super shocking never-heard-before newsflash: no one actually likes these people. If you are one of them, reevaluate your life choices, look deep inside yourself, and stop being you. Be someone else. When you do dumb stuff to your friends’ cars, like park 0.0002 inches away from them so they can’t get into their car, they don’t think that you’re cool or funny. They actually think that you are an irritating human being with little to no brain cells.  

 

A special message to those who are overly-confident in your car parking capabilities: the shark is not a snitch, though there have been many times when I, and many others, have felt the desire to rat you out. Also, you are so lucky that nobody has keyed “F OFF” into your car, or slashed your tires, or busted out your windows. (I have many more ideas than this.)

 

These people are hiding their insecurities behind their choices, so the rest of us should try to take pity on them. I know it’s hard. It’s easy to hate them and plot to ruin both their car and their day. Believe me, I know. But behind their entitled, narrow-minded, cocky, pompous, vain, lazy, annoying, arrogant, compulsive, impulsive, and inconsiderate behavior, there’s a little boy crying for help. That’s all that they are: sad little snot-nosed punks loving their cars because they can’t find any affection elsewhere.

Death by a Thousand Websites

Canvas. Illuminate. Pearson. Big History. Dot Info. Myawesometeacherwebsite.com. Myotherevenmoreawesomewebsiteformyclassformystudents.blogspot.com. Oh yeah, and Google Sites – lots and lots of Google Sites.

 

Okay, I get it – we’re a high-tech, 21st-century STEM school, in one of the country’s major technology hubs, and we have lots of technology, and we love technology, and technology is going to save the world and solve all our problems and make everything perfect for everyone forever, but can we PLEASE not scatter our class web sites and information to the far-flung corners of the internet? I’M TRYING TO STAY ORGANIZED HERE, PEOPLE! I’ve got two history web sites, a math web site, a science web site, two club web sites, three Google Accounts with fourteen overlapping folders of shared files, two Office 365 accounts (neither of which actually work), two district email addresses (neither of which use my name), an H: drive that requires my S- number (and can’t be accessed unless I’m on campus), three OneNote notebooks, and… and… and… I give up.

 

Just in case no one around here has ever figured this out, and they definitely haven’t, let me explain something: More technology is not the same thing as better technology, and using more technology does mean using technology better. Putting something on the web does not magically make it fancier, easier to use, or in any way more sophisticated or appealing, and I shouldn’t have a folder of 39578 bookmarks for my class websites.

The Shark Attacks Daylight Savings

Ahh… Daylight Savings Time (DST), when we purposefully subject ourselves to jet lag by “springing” one hour ahead just to “fall back” six months later. Sure, it may be nice to get an extra hour of sleep in the fall — but we all know the agony teenagers face when we lose it again in the spring. Why do we subject ourselves to this anguish? You may think it helps the farmers somewhere out in Kansas, but the truth is:

Today, there is literally no reason that we should have Daylight Savings Time.

Seriously, we take our own sleep away for no reason at all! Sure, in the past we may have saved some electricity by staying outside longer and using less artificial light, but do you really think today, when everyone streams Netflix and swipes from hot guy to the unshowerered cheeto guy on Tinder, having that extra hour of sunlight will save electricity? Yeah, right.

Instead of saving money, DST actually costs money. I mean, do you honestly think already-sleep-deprived workers are going to be more productive when they suddenly lose an hour of sleep? Think of all the extra coffee that needs to be stocked in the break rooms and the longer lines of middle-aged women at Starbucks!

Not only that, countries that do use DST enter and exit daylight savings time on different days! Time zones are confusing enough, and now you have New York going forward an hour at a different time than London and you end up with a big fat timezone headache for Ms. Hiranaka. (And no one wants to think of Ms. Hiranaka with a headache. It would be like 400 students losing a parent.)

Not only is DST irritating, but it also has the potential to be deadly. In fact, according to CBS News, there is a 17 percent increase in traffic fatalities on the Monday after we enter DST. This makes sense: try driving when you’re a half-awake zombie, which isn’t saying much knowing that this is what RAHS students do every day. Have you seen what the juniors do on East Marginal Way?

Back in WWI, Germany became the first country to implement DST, and thanks to them, not only did a war break out in Europe, they helped to incite war between the teenagers who don’t want to get up and their parents who have the unfortunate job of pulling them out of bed an hour early.

Yes Germany, you have given us a lot, including the strudel, Einstein, ridiculously long words, cars that cheat on emissions tests, and Mr. Hoehne. But not so much thanks for giving us the stupid, costly, dangerous, and just plain annoying mess known as Daylight Savings Time.
–The Shark

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