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Oh yeah? Well my dad is Dan Klein! Take that! He can chug three whole bottles of Champaign (with the corks), bust out 10,000 "man-ups" at Prospect Abs, and then recite the first 10 to the 10th digits of pi while running a 10k race, backwards, uphill, blindfolded! How would your dad like it if my dad got him date to the cross country screw, stole her for himself on the dance floor, wrote a sappy live journal entry about her, and then composed a 300-page bio thesis in his head filled with useless college bowl facts? What now? I would guess that he would feel terrible.
Whatev. My dad wrote your finals. That take home PoliSci test with sixty-two essays? Those lab reports that must be written entirely in Pig Latin and iambic pentameter? The astronomy test with the question that reads: "#3. Create a star. Show all work. Explain this star's effect on at least twenty constellations and six historical sea voyages?" Yeah, those were him. How would your dad feel if he knew that my dad plans on taking points off in-class timed essays because of archaic rules about grammar and punctuation? I would guess that he would feel terrible.
