Herb and Jamaal, 4/21/26

I went to grad school for history (NOTE: DO NOT DO THIS) from 1996 to 1999, which was about at the tail end of the period when it might seem reasonable for someone to be going to grad school and not own a computer. Our department had a tiny little "computer lab" for grad students that was basically a little cubby off the admin office with a couple of outdated Macs and a printer. The whole time I was going there I would often see this one guy using the computers, a heavy-set dude with a shaggy beard and thick glasses who would never talk to anyone else and always be typing away furiously, which was normal enough grad student appearance/behavior/vibes that I never thought much of it, except to notice that I never saw anyone else using the lab. Anyway, one day, not long before I finally left the program in disgrace and relief, I noticed that he had left some printed pages behind, and I picked them up to finally figure out what his specialization was in the department, only to discover that what he was writing was in fact no-paragraph-breaks all-caps paranoid ideation. The question that immediately occurred to me: Did a genuinely crazy person somehow figure out that our computer lab was never used and that nobody would question him if he came in to type up his little manifestos? Or had he at one point been a normal ("normal") grad student who was driven mad by academia, in a turn that validated my decision to quit?

Anyway, just thought of this little episode as I read today's Herb and Jamaal. When I told my stepmother my story, she asked "Did you, uh, tell anyone? Because he might be dangerous?" And I was like "Nope! Ha ha! Not my business!" But I can see that Herb is taking his responsibilities a little more seriously than I did.