Now if it were Jesus' social security number, that'd be a big deal...

One of the things that frustrates me about the my university - and incidentally, I've been working at coming up with a pseudonym for it, since applying pseudonyms to things seems like one of the pleasures of blogging that I've long been denying myself - is that organizationally, we exist with a very confused communications style.

For example, my syllabus this term would top nine pages if I followed the required guidelines that now demand a chart be put in explaining how my course goals link to the department goals, and how those goals link to the general education goals, and how those goals link to the university's mission. I hated that song about the old lady who swallowed a fly when I was four years old, and I certainly can't stand a bad remix of it now.

But today's affront was an entirely different affair. As I've eluded to previously, my university carries with it a religious tie. That's fine. I believe in science, scrambled eggs and Tabasco as the surest cure for a hangover, and The Clash; you can believe in God. Whatever; we can work our differences out. Or ignore them. In keeping with this, however, we're regularly treated to e-mails asking us to pray for the recently departed. For example, over the holidays, I received an e-mail notifying me that the brother of one of the University's board had passed. It wasn't a personal e-mail, mind you, or even the typical interoffice spam, but rather, it went out as part of the official e-mail bulletin that gets sent out about major campus events.

Anyway, you can imagine how amused it made me then that today's e-mail of campus big events contained only a hint of important news, forcing me to go look for the real story myself. Evidently, the university has finally decided on a policy about disposing of documents. You know, pesky things that might have student information on them and such? Of course, the e-mail doesn't tell me what the policy is, or even where to go find it quickly.

Good times.