#KillTheDean : Klash

I was conversing with the genius Professor Klash only a few weeks ago. A profoundly fine fellow of strong character, a good soul and therefore of light countenance, Arthur, as he prefers to be called would often lift my battered spirits and heart, after one of my many run ins with Dean Schmeagel.

We were playing a few frames in the Jack Kerouac faculty common room, called the "Jack" room as most proper academics about the university generally referred to it.

It was the kind of place where Dead Poets met that "Outlaws Bar" in Star Wars. It was the only place in the university where the growing and smoking of cannabis was permitted. Needless to say, it was my preferred abode of celestial haunting and the only place in the whole institution where any sense whatsoever was ever spoken - by a staff member, at least.

Students had been known to have their superior notable moments in my care, but that's a whole different discussion. Also they were not normally admitted into such areas as a matter of widely understood etiquette and protocol following a bunch of costly yet completely preventable incidences of litigation

Everybody was out looking to sue these university money trenches, thus all manner of weird, preemptive countermeasures had been designed to offset the university's risk of ramifications occurring due to the bone-trousered idiocy of some members of its academic staff.

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There certainly were universities where the staff backstabbed each other as a general form of day today departmental "sport." 

There were other universities where people shagged. This was one of those universities where people f***** each other as a strategic relationship building tool and a way of passing the time through an other wise fairly dull, dry and meaningless existence.