Michael Berubé

This is an odd one, and fresh from last night.  This was one of those dreams that you have but don’t initially register upon waking up, but subsequently remember later in the day.  Some might not remember the big B, but it is to their discredit and possible harm, as he represents a particularly dangeral form of the college professor.  He was once an interesting and challenging practitioner of the web log, and while he had nary a cob logger, he would sometimes cob log himself out and about.

As an aside, I know Professor Berubé knows all, as is his dangeral wont, thus I expect him to find this page before either an Easterbrookian meteor or the Rapture render the point moot, but if he beats the ticking clock, I’d suggest some important things for the Prof. to increase his dangerous arsenal as I remain stunned that the hero of our subconscious lacks a RateMyProf chili pepper.  If I may offer this advice.

I really can’t think of anything more annoying than student evaluations.  We can, however, understand a little bit of the incredible danger involved in exposing oneself to Prof. B.:


Put your hand inside the puppet head indeed.

Anyhow, in my dream I was excited to receive a text message from my obviously good pal, Professor Berubé.  His message was about how he had just left a movie theater having finally gotten around to seeing Speed Racer. He was ecstatic about the colorful family fare.  My conscious mind was surprised at this evaluation of the film, but in my dream it seemed so obvious that he would love it as I did and as Kathleen did.

Upon waking and reflection I feel less sanguine about such harmoniousness of thought between our dear Professor and myself.  In all seriousness, Speed Racer, is a film that could easily be denounced or praised on a numerous number of fronts.  Compared to a wide swathe of the kid or family movie buffet, it certainly can be considered challenging.  I’d consider writing a bit about it, but the discussion would be amongst myself as no one I know has seen it outside of my subconscious and Kathleen.

3 Responses to “Michael Berubé”


    I give him a peck of peppers. Also, the night before I heard Carlin had died I had a dream in which a famous baldy with a goatee died, but in my dream I thought it was Ben Kingsley. Everyone in the world was in a huge auditorium, as though for a school assembly, and from time to time people would leave and go to classrooms to be taught by the deity of their choice. “Ben Kingsley” went to one where a smiling golden Buddha was the teacher, but when he went in there was no classroom, just a lush jungle, and he was supposed to take a raft down the river, African Queen style.

  • Once again, tigrismus could be bathing in the glowing CDC spotlight, but instead fritters away a gem dream in comments.

    the name of the e-mail is 3bulls at gmail


  • I am ALL about the fritters.

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