One day a young PhD candidate stood atop a mountain contemplating how broke he was and cursed the academic job market for all those who could hear. A man in a suit walked by and heard his pleas.
So the businessman and the academic walked back down the mountain - a partnership had been forged. They
both came to realize that the contemporary educational system was a scam, a charade. Professors can
only stay in business if they force students to write essays, within their disciplines, that will do
nothing to contribute to their own education or edification. The brave professor thus became a mercenary
- writing high quality papers for those students with better things to do and the funds that allowed
him to buy tweed. Why? Because the system spit the professor out the same way it will spit out any student
who cannot write his or her own paper on the symbolic significance of baboon mating within the confines
of Gramsci's theory of the sub-altern, or any other mundane matter you might be asked to write about.
That's the endgame - that's why we're here.
The academic proceeded to bring others to the suit: the tenured professor with the gambling problem;
the advanced grad student who could no longer get student loans and needed to pay for the expenses associated
with a newborn; the young professor just out of grad school who kept getting offered mere one year contracts
when all she sought was the tenure track; and many more. All of these academics, spit out or spit on
by the system, have become virtual mercenaries - Unemployed Professors everywhere have united to rid
you of the tedium that unnecessarily drags down your dreams and ambitions. Let's face it - academia
is a machine that thrives only on what it incestuously produces. The people writing for you here are
those who've been sucked in and spit out by this machine. Why are we here? In short, our job is to make
sure the same thing doesn't happen to you.