Although inundated by one mundane mystery after another, this detective has finally come upon a case of particular interest: namely, the case of the good-bad paper.
While slogging through a malodorous stack of pap that found its way to my desk last week, I found myself face to face with the one chunk of prose I had most dreaded reading. Its author, a soi-disant man of the streets with more ice in his ears than this detective can ever hope for unless she marries outside of academia, had not previously displayed himself in an intellectual light. One notable encounter involved the futility of responding to the question "is this paper supposed to be facts, or a story?"
I must admit entertaining the hope that this essay would be so obviously plagiarized that I wouldn’t have to deal with it. One quick glance over the first page told me this was not so: it was, undoubtedly, his own original work.
The mystery surrounding this paper is as simple as this: the essay was terrible. About that I make no bones. Oddly, though, it was so bad I enjoyed reading it. The sheer fresh-faced na?vet? and straightforwardness of thought were almost charming, in a sort of folk-art way. It was so bad it surpassed the boundaries of bad and went right past terrible, horrible, nauseating, and head-poundingly depressing and right back around to good.
How could this be? Have I no standards? Have I not claimed countless times that one more to/two/too mistake and I would stab out my own eyes in the manner of an ancient Greek? Clearly, I decided, I would need to call for the help of my faithful assistant, Jameson.
Upon gazing into the shadowy white depths of my freezer, I came to the conclusion that the real mystery was why I had not had any whiskey in the house in weeks.
Case Status: Pending
I am greatly distressed by the fact that Jameson seems to be MIA. Find him, for the love of God!!! Do I need to come up there with my pal Jack and help you find him? Let me know.
Oh, and speaking of Jack, sorry he made me call you all giggly and stupid and late the other night. I really don’t know why he has that influence over me. No more drunk-dialing!
Blended whisky? I sniff haughtily in your general direction. At least upgrade to Bushmill’s, woman.
I take it you don’t teach at some community college at the peripheries of empire. So how come you have students this bad?
I have seen many a dimwit’s papers in my short career as a TA, but the consummate masterpiece you describe has been, so far, more elusive than the giant squid.
I haven’t given up hope, however.
Beware the Markov-chain generated essay. This “specimen” is generated using a random mathematical process.
For example, see here:
http://www.evolutionzone.com/kulturezone/c-g.writing/cgw.baudrillard.txt
Let it not be said that scientists have no talent with words!
C–Nothing to apologize for, that was a classic call! (and no worries about the state of my fridge; it has been remedied)
J–why is Bushmills better? It appears to be basically the same. Which is to say, it is exactly the same price.
DesA–one must never give up hope! It took me years to find this good-bad paper. Normally they are bad in very unoriginal fashion.
A-B–Heh. “We are witnessing the end of the negative form,” indeed. Effing Hell.