When literary analysis goes bad

Late last night one of my roommates, facing a deadline in American Literature I, was typing a point-of-view analysis of John Smith's writing. When I left the room, he was composing a paragraph about The Generall Historie of Virginia. When I came back half an hour later, this is what I saw on his computer screen.

If I had a big gold bar, I’d set it in a prominent place in my living room, and everyone who came by would stop and stare at it, and ask me if it was fake. And I would tell them that yes, it was. And they would believe me because people are just that credulous. I mean, what would I really be doing with a gold bar sitting in my living room anyway? I’d be much better off with an orange recliner right?