BY Brandon the Asshole
If you’ve been at Rutgers as long as I have, you’ve almost certainly seen a plethora of useless classes. We’ve got things like pre-calculus (Calc exists, just do that), the entirety of the History curriculum, and Expos. However, the most useless class of all is none of those. It is CPR.
Let me explain. First, I’m not arguing against the fact that CPR can be useful in certain circumstances. I’m just saying that the chances are kind of small. Like, the chances of Rutgers not completely fucking you over if given the opportunity small.
Second, it feels too similar to kissing, and the idea of kissing people that are nearly dead is kinda gross. And they can’t kiss you back, on account of being too busy fighting for your life. The tongue would be identical to a dead slug in function.
Third, and most importantly, if you know CPR, you’re morally obligated to use it. Let me explain why that’s such a big deal. Three years ago, I shared a dorm with a man who quickly grew to be my worst enemy. He stole my video games, had sex with my girlfriend on my bed, and has terrible taste in movies.
I had to live with this asshole for a month, and then Lady Luck finally shined on me. My roommate stopped breathing and collapsed. I don’t know why, maybe he drank too much. I don’t care.
Anyway, I don’t know CPR, so I just watched. It was the best eight minutes of my life. I’m telling you, nothing beats the warm fuzzy feeling you get when watching the life slowly leave the eyes of your enemies. Hearing the gasps of breath as he tries desperately to hold on. Admittedly, the smell of his post death bowel release is kind of gross, but it’s nice to know you don’t have to deal with your enemy ever again.
After experiencing that profound morning, I came to an epiphany. I will never learn CPR as long as I live.