For most students, care packages from their parents are a welcome surprise. After all, what college student doesn’t want free food and goodies? However, when sophomore drawing and painting major Marcus Willoughby opened up a care package sent from his parents, he was quite surprised to find something else in there.
“I opened it up, and there were like Cheez-Its and cookies and whatever,” he mumbled to our correspondent. “You know, the usual shit.”
“But then, at the bottom, there was $1000 and a letter that said, ‘THERE’S MORE WHERE THIS COMES FROM IF U MAJOR IN BUSINESS INSTEAD. XOXO MOM AND DAD.’ Like, are they saying something about my degree? This is really weird.”
When reached for comment, Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby confirmed that they were the senders of the letter.
“Yup, that was us,” Mrs. Willoughby said. “And we’re serious! We’ll get him whatever he wants if he majors in something else. I mean, it’s cheaper for us if we give him a lot now and he changes than if he doesn’t and we have to support an ARTIST for the rest of our lives. Why didn’t he join the army or something instead? God.”
Events like this aren’t isolated. As more and more students flock to UNT’s prestigious and ever-expanding art program, parents are getting more and more desperate to steer their kids into more generally accepted and lucrative majors, such as business, biology, and to quote one father we spoke to, “literally anyfuckingthing else.” Art majors have reported all kinds of drastic actions undertaken by their parents, such as kicking holes in canvases and intentionally exposing film to light, not to mention the more unorthodox methods.
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“Well, I’d been telling my dad about performance art that we’d been studying,” recalled new media major Shannon Walker. “And one time in the Art Building, I saw that there was apparently a performance art piece scheduled that evening at 7, called ‘The Great Mistake.’ I came back at 7 and there was my dad, screaming and crying and putting dollar bills in a shredder that had my face taped on it.”
“Yeah, in my advanced sculpture studio class, on the first day, my dad walked in wearing a wig and a fake moustache,” a visibly cranky sculpture student said to us. “He called roll and kept trying to tell me that I wasn’t signed up for the class so I needed to leave the room, and then he told me that as a ‘professional artist,’ he was qualified to tell me that my work ‘sucks, it’s really bad, so bad,’ and that I ‘ought to leave the program, like today, right now, like right right now, young lady.’ It was pretty embarrassing.”