Hey, undergraduate. All you learn at college is how to drink, have sex, and memorize trivia. In a few years, nobody will care which university you went to, what your grades were, or what you studied. All that knowledge you’re trying to cram into your head will have evaporated, except for random snippets that emerge on trivia night at the local bar. Your college texts will sit on your shelf, and you’ll never open them again. When you turn 30 you’ll throw them out. What a colossal waste of time and money it will seem. How bleak. So why are you here?

If you really want an education you can get it anywhere, even the crappiest agricultural college in the poorest state; those professors got their PhDs at Yale too. Anyway, high-powered faculty at research universities like Duke can’t necessarily teach. (Perhaps you’ve noticed.) Their careers depend on writing papers, getting grants, and avoiding you. So drop out.

You could go to a state college for less than a fifth of the cost, so why are you at Duke? It doesn’t have the social cachet of Harvard or Yale, yet is somehow still staggeringly expensive. You’re paying around $100 per lecture—do you really feel you’re getting your money’s worth? Is one Duke lecture worth five at UNC? No. You’re being ripped off. Drop out.

A college education is basically free in every industrialized country except America. Here, graduates wind up with tens of thousands of dollars of debt for a decade or more. Rather an expensive way to goof off for four years, isn’t it? But that psych degree’s an investment in your career, right? Nope, you’d have been financially better off getting a job fresh out of high school. Duke’s snob value doesn’t outweigh the student loan and four-year handicap, especially for you unfortunate Humanities majors. So make like Bill Gates, and drop out already.

Maybe, though, this is just a stepping stone to a professional qualification. But what makes you so sure you want to be a doctor? You like helping people? Get real. Most of us aren’t equipped to choose a lifelong career at age 18—usually it’s just:

(a) Mom and Dad would be so proud. Coincidentally, they’re doctors/lawyers too!
(b) Your in-depth knowledge of what the job entails comes entirely from TV.
(c) You want to make a lot of money. (Does this mean you’re shallow and self-centered? I’m afraid so.)

Don’t add to the plague of lawyers defacing the USA. Drop out now.

Every Spring the graduating Chronicle columnists whine about how they have no idea what comes next. If they had no goal in mind, why did they come to college in the first place? The last place you’ll stumble upon your vocation is in academia, which couldn’t be more divorced from the real world. This is especially true in America, where you’re infantilized in cozy dorms by a university in loco parentis that feeds you, cleans up after you—practically does your laundry. How are you supposed to mature and discover yourself during four years of arrested development? Tune in, turn on, drop out.

OK, those of you still reading. This is the real reason to be here. Ready? University is your one chance to devote yourself singlemindedly to getting an education.

(What, you already knew that? Most undergraduates I’ve met act like they never heard it.)

Never again will you have so much time and so many resources just for educating yourself. Sure, college has plenty of distractions, but it’s not about becoming “well-rounded”, and neither is life. “Well-rounded” was how you padded your résumé in high school. If you’re missing classes because you’re “busy” with such time-wasting nonsense as social dance, fraternity theme mixers, student politics, hangovers, weed, lacrosse, or writing Chronicle columns, you’re not ready for an education yet and shouldn’t be here. So drop out. I’m serious.

As a teenager you’re probably far too immature to appreciate this amazing opportunity; I sure was. I had a B- average, dropped out, worked for seven years, went back and got straight As, graduated, and…well, went to grad school, but don’t let me dissuade you. At least get a job for a few years. (News flash: in the real world, when you drink until dawn and have multiple sleazy hookups, nobody nags you.) I recommend you get far away from your high school friends and parents, preferably to another continent, and see how the rest of the world lives. Learn a couple more languages, live cheap, and save up enough to travel as much as you can. Open your eyes.

If after at least five years in the real world you still want an education, by all means come back to school, but be warned: it will seem a very different place. You’ll work hard without complaint, and only study what you’re passionate about. You won’t care about grades, but will be at the top of your class. Some of those professors and grad students will actually become your friends for life. Just try not to get too irritated at the vacuousness of the whining cosseted undergrads that surround you, and restrain yourself from interrupting all the time during lectures to point out why the professor’s wrong.

But remember—you don’t need to go to school to get an education. If you really want to, you can learn anywhere with a library. Spend that tuition money on travel, theater and language classes. Read a newspaper a day and a book a week. For under a thousand bucks you could assemble a library of philosophy, literature, science, history and poetry that would educate you for the rest of your life.

You’re sleepwalking; wake up. You’re babied; grow up. Stop frittering away your youth and cash in this four-year summer camp. Get a life. Get out. Drop out now.

(Duke Chronicle, April 20, 2005)

In the computer training workshops I run for OIT people are always asking, “Mike, how do I train my computer to stop crashing?” So I thought I’d share some tips.

The first thing to realize is that computers are part of an intricate dominance hierarchy, a pecking order, if you will, with Apples at the top and discount Dell clones near the bottom. Subordinate machines are continually acting up, testing the social order and jockeying for position, while Alpha computers are secure in their status. This is why Macs hardly ever crash.

As a computer owner, your laptop sees you as part of this hierarchy, whether you realize it or not. It will test you, to see who backs down first. If you blink enough times, the computer will eventually assume it is the boss. I’ve seen users cowed into submission by their computers, even frightened of them. You’re the alpha brain! You have far more synapses, even if you can’t add as fast! The key to computer obedience is winning these dominance challenges.

When a computer freezes you should of course immediately slap the desk and say “No!” loudly. Almost everybody seems to know this much. Do not berate the machine, though, or swear at it. Voice recognition is quite poor in computers, and they are extremely literal—you’ll probably only confuse it. (The older technique of squirting it with water has been completely discredited.)

Use a firm but not loud voice. Make steady eye contact with the screen and try not to blink. Give the command once and once only—repeating yourself shows the computer that you won’t follow through on a threat. Never slap the keyboard or strike the screen; this can traumatize it. (Do not back down and restart. If you do, the machine thinks it has won. It will freeze more and more frequently, eventually becoming uncontrollable.)

If you persevere, the computer will back down and display classic submissive behavior (usually, the screen saver). This can take a while; most people do not realize how stubborn a badly-trained computer can be, particularly if it is used to getting its way. Be patient. If it still refuses, “time out” in a dark room usually does the trick.

Computer training is always better in groups. In my workshops all the participants line up, place their laptops on the floor, turn them on, and step back, maintaining eye contact during startup. The first machine ready is picked up, praised and rewarded in front of the others. Computers are very social, and often take their cues from their peers. This is why the well-socialized machines in Duke’s clusters hardly ever crash, while problem laptops are usually the only computer in the house.

Computer training can transform your companion machine. A problem computer is sluggish, lousy with spyware, continually crashes, and uses the Blue Screen of Death to get its way like a child holding its breath. An obedient computer will burn CDs faster, Google more accurately, and pick up less spam. It’s important to catch computers early, while they are still malleable laptops—by the time they’ve grown into desktops most are far too sedentary and set in their ways to be easily trained.

Dominance is the theory behind computer training, but the secret weapon is appropriate rewarding. Contrary to what most people think, praise and physical contact are not powerful incentives for laptops. What they really crave is of course electricity. If a computer refuses to back down in a challenge you should withhold power, even if it whines and complains about a “low battery” (usually an act—they aren’t in any real distress). Plugging it in should only be a reward for good work. Needless to say, indiscriminately recharging your laptop will quickly create a pampered problem computer.

Many participants in my workshops have gone on to apply these techniques to other companion machines, and you can too. Next time your car develops an annoying rattle, don’t back down—it’s testing you. Keep driving, and don’t give it gas until it behaves. Remember, you’re the boss.

(Duke Chronicle, April 6, 2005)