My senior-year English teacher in high school managed to prove to us that all of literature was about two things, sex and/or death. After graduating from high school I went to study in Israel, and was greeted with a suicide bombing happening not ten minutes away from my dormitory. Later that evening, I wrote her an e-mail.
"Dear Ms. P.
I've been in Israel for just over a day now. Too much death, not enough sex.
-Ari"
last summer I bumped into her on the street, she remembered the e-mail. :-)
Some friends and I summed up the English curriculum in my high school as follows: 9th grade: death and destruction 10th grade: death and sex 11th grade: death and philosophy 12th grade: death, sex and repression
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"Dear Ms. P.
I've been in Israel for just over a day now. Too much death, not enough sex.
-Ari"
last summer I bumped into her on the street, she remembered the e-mail. :-)
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(Very cool story, good for a mournful chuckle.)
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9th grade: death and destruction
10th grade: death and sex
11th grade: death and philosophy
12th grade: death, sex and repression