Like the great Eric Schmidt before me, I think it’s just about time for me to abruptly quit working for The Badger Herald. True, my departure will dovetail nicely with the end of the semester and my alleged graduation, but in the words of Frank Sinatra, “I did it my way.” And if that clich?d farewell quote wasn’t enough, I’m forced to admit that, similar to Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce, “I can fight no more forever.”

My career as a poorly mugged Opinion writer for The Badger Herald began on Sept. 18, 2007, and ever since then, life has revolved around the same shame-cycle: Think of a column idea. Write column, incorporating hilarious “Wayne’s World 2” analogy. Feel good about myself. Observe column online the next day, along with comments discussing my complexion, sexual orientation and animal-related hobbies. Cry violently.

I’ve managed to internalize the tears, but it’s never easy to reconcile my lack of self-esteem with nameless attacks. Heaven knows this was not what the creators of the Internet had in mind when they began laying tracks for the information superhighway.

However, because of a writer’s natural dislike for online assault, nothing makes my day like when I receive an e-mail from a Herald reader. Unlike online comments, e-mails reflect effort, critical thinking skills and an appreciation for the writer’s opinion. Ultimately, the goal of writing has always been to promote discourse, and e-mails often represent the first step.

Because these written correspondents embody my greatest moments here at the newspaper, I’d like to share a few excerpts with you. However, to avoid embarrassing those who felt it proper to shower me with praise, I’ve left their words anonymous — but good anonymous, like Deep Throat or the Unknown Soldier; not bad anonymous, like the Zodiac killer.

Jan. 21, 2009:

I really want to tell you to go fuck yourself. However, again, being a professional (please look up the word, you’ve failed miserably at your attempt) I will simply say that without the state of Illinois, you would not have had one of the greatest Ppresidents that ever served (Abraham Lincoln, in case your brain is hurting by this point). You would not have the Ppresident who ended the cCold wWar (despite the hopes of the country that the Soviets would blow up Wisconsin). You wouldn’t have the city of Chicago (which I’m sure offends your small town sensibilities with its public transportation, gay bars and ethnic restaurants).

This woman was kind enough to respond to an article I wrote on former Gov. Rod Blagojevich. As a professional, she was kind enough to point out where my article was lacking, although a professional should know that you don’t capitalize “president” on its own. She also attempts to discuss these issues on my own level, offering hints as to which president freed the slaves — initially, I guessed Hoover. Unfortunately, as a native of the Twin Cities (which have both light-rail and the Gay ’90s), her witty digs at Wisconsin residents rang somewhat hollowly. But in any case, thank you, ma’am.

Jan. 23, 2009:

I read every word of your “editorial” (more like an incoherent blog) bitching and whining about how you think you have the end-all be-all solution to Illinois politics. Fuck You! If you’re hoping to be the next Bill O’Reilly you don’t really have to aim high, you just have to be a fucktard who talks over people and present his own opinions as fact

Good luck, you dickhead.

Same story, so I must’ve really connected with the people. What I appreciated about this response was that not only did he wish me good luck, but also he offered up a potential roadmap for success. The job market is about as fruitful as Lance Bass’ womb, and according to this individual, all I need to do is be a “fucktard.” I like to think I’m already there.

Oct. 6, 2009:

Gableman is probably a dick.

You’re damn right, Dad.

March 3, 2010:

Here is the mass schedule for St. Paul’s Catholic Church (next to the bookstore) just in case you decide that you have sinned, or if you just need someone to turn to. They even have mass later in the day on Sunday’s if it is really hard for you to wake up in the morning!

Sunday: 9 a.m., 11:15 a.m., 6:00 p.m., 9 p.m.

Monday-Saturday: 12:05 p.m.

Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday: 5 p.m.

Wednesday: 9 p.m. Candlelight mass (no 5 p.m. Mass)

Confessions 30 minutes before every Mass

There are two reasons why it sucks to write about the Catholic Church. For one, I’m Catholic, and I fear being smitten. The second is because whenever you badmouth believers, they’re uncomfortably nice to you back. So I’m sorry. But I’m never stepping foot inside the concrete Borg of a church. God likes architecture, too.

So, 800 words later, did we learn anything? Probably not. But I like to think that reflects pretty accurately on my time here. There aren’t many jobs where you can ramble aimlessly and get paid for it, but I managed to find one. And if any of those government employment applications I sent work out, I guess I’ll be two-for-two.

Sean Kittridge ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in journalism and history.