For Whom Does The Bell Toll?

Am I a cynic? It is true, Donne, that “No Man is an island”, but amongst those surrounding me, I stand alone.
Literary criticism?! I wonder why any person, or group of people would take the sentence, "The snow is falling," and translate...
Psychoanalytic literary critic: The choice of the word “snow” means that there is Freudian repression that has taken place in either the author or the character's life. Snow has previously resembled death, or passionate desire that is brought to the forefront, and the fact that it is falling at this very moment in the novel, means that the repressed images or past experiences are surfacing, and the character will fall.

Feminist critic: The sentence discriminates, and at the same time provides an opportunity to be liberated. A female would not have written simply that "The snow has fallen," but, "The icy crystal patterns of the heavenly flakes come wafting down whisper soft and gently kiss my cheek." What a liberating experience, it has cleansed my soul!

Historical critic: The snow only fell in Dublin Ireland like that during the year of the revolution. Therefore, the author is trying to enhance the plight of the impoverished, homeless citizens begging for scraps of food, and then it snows. God's hand was heavy on Ireland, and despite historical fact, it was meant for the snow to chill and freeze signifying their immanent defeat.

This is so ridiculous! Why can’t the snow fall without killing someone, raising a passionate lust, signaling the end of human existence as we know it? Why can’t snow fall?!
I have sat in class after class, wanting to bang my head on the desk from ridiculous over-interpretations of the symbolism, imagery, authorial intent, and other rhetorical devices created to entertain idle minds by picking apart the existence and philosophy of book characters and settings that do not actually exist.
I am sketching the letters IIEM on the top of my English notes at the moment. It is a new idea that could perhaps lead to a fortune someday, the Institute for Insane English Majors. Goodness knows there are plenty in this world and at the rate they are currently destroying their common sense and reason with mind splitting analysis, they will surely be insane by 40, and thus reside in my institute.
Is this a bit far fetched, I believe that I can already place some future residents. Blue and Red, from English 330 and 247 (I’m surprised she’s not talking right now). She laughs, she cries, turns red and blue, yells, spits, pretty much, she does everything but die. Hmmm. I will leave you with a quote to interpret from Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-five:

You know what I say to people when I hear they’re writing an anti-war book?… I say, "why don’t you write an anti-glacier book instead?"
What he meant, of course, was that there would always be wars, that they were as easy to stop as glaciers. I believe that, too.

I would like to propose a toast to literary insanity!