the incoherent narrative of degreeinfo and degreediscussion 'experts'

[ham]

Much as I always said, the narratives of the pundits, 'experts' and sandbox kings at degreeinfo and degreediscussion seems to me most often incoherent and hallucinating as modernist prose is.
In order to clarify the point, here are a couple quotes from Kafka's short stories.
The only problem is that Kafka was a writer who imagined things, while they think they are always 100% correct...

and the street level.
"As I passed the fire station I heard a noise coming from the Kleiner Ring, and as I turned
into it I saw a drunk standing by the iron railing of the fountain, his arms held out sideways and his
feet in wooden shoes stamping the ground.
"Stopping to get my breath, I went up to him, raised my top hat, and introduced myself:
" 'Good evening, gentle nobleman, I am twenty-three years of age, but as yet I have no name.
But you, no doubt, hail from the great city of Paris -- bearing extraordinary, well-nigh singable
names. You are surrounded by the quite unnatural odor of the dissolute Court of France. No doubt
your tinted eyes have beheld those great ladies standing on the high shining terrace, ironically
twisting their narrow waists while the ends of their decorated trains, spread over the steps, are still
lying on the sand in the garden. -- And surely, menservants in daringly cut gray tailcoats and white
knee breeches climb tall poles, their legs hugging them but their torsos frequently bent back and to
the side, for they have to raise enormous gray linen sheets off the ground with thick ropes and
spread them in the air, because the great lady has expressed the wish for a misty morning.'
"When he belched I felt almost frightened. 'Is it really true, sir,' I said, 'that you hail from our
Paris, from that tempestuous Paris -- ah, from that luxuriant hailstorm?'
"When he belched again, I said with embarrassment: 'I know, a great honor is being
bestowed upon me.'

From the thicket on the opposite bank four naked men strode vehemently forth, carrying on
their shoulders a wooden litter. On this litter sat, Oriental fashion, a monstrously fat man. Although
carried through the thicket on an untrodden path, he did not push the thorny branches apart but
simply let his motionless body thrust through them. -...-

The fat man turned slowly in the direction of the flowing water and was carried down the
river like a yellow wooden idol which had become useless and so had been cast into the river. He
sailed along on the reflection of the rain cloud. Elongated clouds pulled and small hunched ones
pushed him, creating considerable commotion, the effect of which could even be noticed by the
lapping of water against my knees and the stones on the shore.
I crept quickly up the slope so as to be able to accompany the fat man on his way, for I truly
loved him.