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O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

On break from learning the holes in your head

But we call them "foramen" to be nice.

And I gotta ask, what's up with the roll-on luggage as bookbag? I can understand part time profs using them (office on wheels), but students? I mean it just felt like I was going through O'Hare Airport just now.

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