You hear a lot these days about how annoying freshmen are. They’re constantly the butt of jokes for their “inexperience” and “virginity.” But you know who annoys me the most? Juniors. Juniors are the worst. Juniors are always so pretentious. They think they’ve got it all figured out, with their refined upperclassman status, and their “majors.” It’s always “What’s your major?” or “I love my major!” or “Major Beauregard, would you please kindly pass the lightly-buttered corn bread?” What’s with that?

They always act so holier-than-thou, talking about how much they appreciate the “finer things in life.” Always complaining in their polished, molasses-y drawl about how “the general store is out of jam and preserves for my English muffin.” Oh, you’re too good for jelly, Percival?! Like us commoners? Get off your high horse, juniors! And for that matter, stop bragging about how much higher your horse is than other people’s horses! You’re always trotting around campus on your pure-bred horses in your ebullient polo attire declaring things, like “Well I’ll be! I just declared Chem!” or “I do declare! This corn bread is indeed the very finest this side of the Mississippi!”

And don’t you just hate how every junior has to have a neatly trimmed snow-white beard and horn-rimmed glasses? They all think they’re so snazzy and “with it.” They stand around their spittoons in their white cashmere suits, and their old-timey double-string haughty-taughty cravats, always discussing their newfangled land speculations and gilded hilltop estates. And why do they gotta have all these hilltop estates? With freshmen or sophomores, when you ask where they live, they go “I live in Wilbur,” or “I live in suites.” But whenever you ask a junior, they’re always, “Don’t you know my family? My father, Leander? I live in the West-Prairie Whitmore Farmstead in Louisiana in the year 1857.”

I mean, what’s up with that? C’mon, juniors.

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