Drudgery? Dysentary? Hours of manual labor in the sun looking for tiny, unimpressive pottery sherds? 600 page dissertations? Publication??? This isn't what I signed up for! I'm marching into graduate school tomorrow to hand in my whip and fedora. If I can't desecrate human graves and destroy thousands of years of history to get one shiny object, then I don't want to be an archaeologist any more.
Listen. Everything is pure fiction because it is completely unrealistic to presuppose anything exists to begin with. That includes you, Indiana Jones, and even the personification of metaphor (i.e. Me).
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