The threat of a global coronavirus pandemic inspired the person who supplies faculty snacks to announce a new policy: no more communal potato-chip bags; single-serve packages only! Pandemic Packaging she called it, or, if you prefer a peppy portmanteau, pandackaging.
This proposal caused the pandemic skeptics (pandeptics) to decry the needless expense, while the pandemic fatalists (pandatalists) objected for a different reason: we're all doomed anyway, so why not share our misery as we share our snacks?
"Just tell everyone to wash their hands and we'll all be fine," insisted the resident pandoptimist, at which point a pandessimist proposed stationing strong men bearing baseball bats in every public rest room to encourage compliance.
"I'm telling my students to take all their textbooks home over spring break so they can keep up with the reading if they get quarantined," said an old-school tweed-jacket-with-elbow-patches prof (pantweedademic), provoking a trauma-informed pedagogue (pantraumagogue) to shriek about spinal damage and PTSD caused by bearing heavy backpacks.
The last word, of course, came from our fearless leader, Dr. Pangloss, who assured us that all will be for the best in the best of all possible worlds, which is where the coronavirus lives. Resistance is futile. We are all Panglossademics now.
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