On the first day of class this semester I encountered someone playing acoustic guitar in the commons building. First he was playing Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day, which somehow became Wonderwall by Oasis without the first song ending. Luckily I didn't recognize the person, and have yet to see him in any of my classes, but the very idea that such a douche would exist in the wild, let alone be within an audible distance to me, is terrifying. Last semester we spoke often of the tales of Neckbeard, and the wondrous world of imagine that he immersed himself in. I would gladly take the nonsensical tales of Neckbeard over having to listen to literally anyone playing Wonderwall on acoustic guitar. Why not just play Smoke on the Water while you're at it you hack, you human garbage. Make like Ivan the Terrible and hit your son across the head with a metal rod during an uncontrollable rage, only to come to your senses as he bleeds out in your arms. The look on your eyes is one of unspeakable terror, a stare we can understand, but luckily only so few of us will know. This is our collective visage when we look into death. This is my face, when you played Wonderwall.