I’m what you might call a “foodie.” There’s nothing better than a rare Porterhouse steak or a lima bean with a special amount of “pop.” I’ve decided to review four vegetables for you today. Hopefully you’ll catch the foodie bug. But don’t eat any bugs, it’s just an expression.
BABY CARROT
I was introduced to baby carrots by a friend of mine. Intrigued, I picked up a bag. I put a package of baby carrots in the bag and took it to the park to try out while I watched the birds. The small, orange bits were crunchy and refreshingly wet. They tasted a lot like carrots, and they resemble smaller, less mature carrots. I can see how they got the idea to name them baby carrots. These were satisfying, although a little pedestrian if I do say so. The true connoisseur would never accept these in lieu of the real deal, a carrot. A nice diversion for the lowest common denominator, but nothing of true greatness. I even arranged the baby carrots into shapes to spell out the word “mediocre” but I didn’t have my camera at the time. Overall, not horrible, but subpar compared to the other options. Three stars out of five.
OKRA
I can see some definite jalapeno influences here. But don’t think of it as a ripoff! The shape and color may be similar, but the taste is essentially a vegetable revolution. I popped it in my mouth and was impressed. Quite a performance for a newcomer. Look for this veggie to make waves in the future. Four stars out of five.
ARTICHOKE
Whoever came up with the artichoke was trying way too hard. I can see how "wacky" it is in its lack of utility, but at the end of the day it's just a gimmick vegetable. A heart in a plant? I don't think so, buddy. Who thought that the artichoke would benefit the world at all? You can only eat six percent of it and at the end of your meal you're left with a pile of junk. Well, needless to say this vegetable tasted pretty much exactly like you would think. All flash and no substance. Big disappointment. Two stars out of five.
POTATO
First impression: a little hard to chew. The stock boy at the supermarket suggested I try boiling, baking, or frying it, as long as I paid for it first. Sounded like a square deal to me. How wrong I was. I got home and boiled, baked, and fried the potato. What a mess! The whole thing basically fell to mush. I tried to eat it, but it burned my mouth. Also, needed salt. Worst vegetable I’ve ever had. One star out of five.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
A Day at the Beach
Eli sat on the sand and immediately remembered not to hug his knees to his chest. He was not a pussy. His friends were jumping off of rocks into the water, and this was very dangerous. That’s why Eli wasn’t with them, it was downright dangerous. He was sure that his parents would agree, but his parents weren’t why he was sitting out. Jumping off of rocks was a bad idea and anybody with sense should leave themselves out of it.
Cat climbed on the tallest rock.
“Guys! Guys, look at this!”
Everyone looked at Cat, and he bent his knees. He was about to jump. Cat leapt as high as he could in the air and breaths were held as he hit the water. Eli swore it must have taken him at least a minute to fall. What a stupid idea. Cat resurfaced, coughing up some water.
“Whoa. Ha ha that was awesome!” said Cat, and swam to the riverside.
“Nice jump,” said Eli. “Real cool.”
“Thanks. You sure you don’t want to come in? It’s a lot of fun.”
“No, I’m sure.”
They were silent. Soon Cat got up and got back in the water. Eli’s friends yelled and jumped off of rocks for hours. Eli ate a sandwich from the cooler they had brought. It was just bread and ham and cheese, and there was an unavoidable crunch of sand hiding in the middle. He grimaced.
Eli looked at his friends and frowned. He got angry, and rightly so. Why couldn’t they do something he wanted to do, too? He had come all the way out there. Now he was just going to sit on the beach? How lame.
It was late, and Eli’s mom came back from her day of biking. She was sweaty and smiling. The boys got in the car, and Eli got to sit in front. It was his mom’s car. Eli looked into the back seat. Cat had a small cut on his shin; he got it from climbing a rock too quickly. It wasn’t bleeding, but it looked like it stung a little. He looked forward again. That’s what they get.
Cat climbed on the tallest rock.
“Guys! Guys, look at this!”
Everyone looked at Cat, and he bent his knees. He was about to jump. Cat leapt as high as he could in the air and breaths were held as he hit the water. Eli swore it must have taken him at least a minute to fall. What a stupid idea. Cat resurfaced, coughing up some water.
“Whoa. Ha ha that was awesome!” said Cat, and swam to the riverside.
“Nice jump,” said Eli. “Real cool.”
“Thanks. You sure you don’t want to come in? It’s a lot of fun.”
“No, I’m sure.”
They were silent. Soon Cat got up and got back in the water. Eli’s friends yelled and jumped off of rocks for hours. Eli ate a sandwich from the cooler they had brought. It was just bread and ham and cheese, and there was an unavoidable crunch of sand hiding in the middle. He grimaced.
Eli looked at his friends and frowned. He got angry, and rightly so. Why couldn’t they do something he wanted to do, too? He had come all the way out there. Now he was just going to sit on the beach? How lame.
It was late, and Eli’s mom came back from her day of biking. She was sweaty and smiling. The boys got in the car, and Eli got to sit in front. It was his mom’s car. Eli looked into the back seat. Cat had a small cut on his shin; he got it from climbing a rock too quickly. It wasn’t bleeding, but it looked like it stung a little. He looked forward again. That’s what they get.
From the Archives
Take a trip back to the beginning with this article from the very first Pamphlette in 1987.
“Farmre Jones maye be harming mine Cowes wit Whitchcrafte,” quoth Farmre Johnsen yesterdey in an Interview. “I thinke he shud be run out of Towne.”
Hath our Blissid Reed College, a Place where the most Blissed and Pious young Creatures in the World goe to lerne themselves of the Classics and of howe to Marrie well, become a Den for Whitchcrafte and the Work of the Divil himself? It may apeer So, and so we, the most Christian of nashuns, hath no Recours but to collaps to our Nees and Pray to the bountiful Christian God to Rid us of this heathen who plague us.
Some disagree. “I declar that as Shure as my Hat is the colour Blue, ‘twas by that very Whitchcrafte, and by no othre possibl Method, was I able to pass my Biology midturm. Mitochondria, as beutiful as any of God’s Creatures it may be, but to lerne it well is such a Bitche,” quoth Psychology major Goody Tushues. “I muste take wut advantages may I be Allowed, passing is very Difficault when one’s major has yet to be Invinted in this Wunderful year of our Lord 1987.”
The student Movement to Allow the practices of the Heathens and Whitches picks up steame upon the arrival of each dey.
“I finde Whitches to be, of all the Creatures whitch walk the bounteous Earth, quite Acceptable. Why, but Yesterdey we shewed it to the Man by byrning a Pyre, but you see, to this Pyre there was no Whitch attetched! This is Parte of my Studio Arts Thesis, which is to be entitled, ‘Good Heavins, Good Whitches.’ The title is a wonderful Pun, of course, but the Matter of the Thesis I assur you is serius in its entirety,” quoth Whitches rights Campayner Thomas Evergood.
The respons of Honourable Headmastre Colin Gooddiver were mixed: “It is of course Importent to Allowe all of God’s fyne Creatures to dwell upon our skewl. On the othre Hand, a Prominente Englisch professor of great Renown has fallin feverishly Ill lately, and there can be no explination but Whitchcrafte. It is a problem my Administration whishes to Solve.”
The point is moote, of course, as Farmre Jones hath been late yesterday drowned in the rivre for his crymes. May a mercyful God have eternal Forgiveness upon his Soul.
“Farmre Jones maye be harming mine Cowes wit Whitchcrafte,” quoth Farmre Johnsen yesterdey in an Interview. “I thinke he shud be run out of Towne.”
Hath our Blissid Reed College, a Place where the most Blissed and Pious young Creatures in the World goe to lerne themselves of the Classics and of howe to Marrie well, become a Den for Whitchcrafte and the Work of the Divil himself? It may apeer So, and so we, the most Christian of nashuns, hath no Recours but to collaps to our Nees and Pray to the bountiful Christian God to Rid us of this heathen who plague us.
Some disagree. “I declar that as Shure as my Hat is the colour Blue, ‘twas by that very Whitchcrafte, and by no othre possibl Method, was I able to pass my Biology midturm. Mitochondria, as beutiful as any of God’s Creatures it may be, but to lerne it well is such a Bitche,” quoth Psychology major Goody Tushues. “I muste take wut advantages may I be Allowed, passing is very Difficault when one’s major has yet to be Invinted in this Wunderful year of our Lord 1987.”
The student Movement to Allow the practices of the Heathens and Whitches picks up steame upon the arrival of each dey.
“I finde Whitches to be, of all the Creatures whitch walk the bounteous Earth, quite Acceptable. Why, but Yesterdey we shewed it to the Man by byrning a Pyre, but you see, to this Pyre there was no Whitch attetched! This is Parte of my Studio Arts Thesis, which is to be entitled, ‘Good Heavins, Good Whitches.’ The title is a wonderful Pun, of course, but the Matter of the Thesis I assur you is serius in its entirety,” quoth Whitches rights Campayner Thomas Evergood.
The respons of Honourable Headmastre Colin Gooddiver were mixed: “It is of course Importent to Allowe all of God’s fyne Creatures to dwell upon our skewl. On the othre Hand, a Prominente Englisch professor of great Renown has fallin feverishly Ill lately, and there can be no explination but Whitchcrafte. It is a problem my Administration whishes to Solve.”
The point is moote, of course, as Farmre Jones hath been late yesterday drowned in the rivre for his crymes. May a mercyful God have eternal Forgiveness upon his Soul.
The Pamphlette Apologizes
Oh God We’re So Sorry
After twenty years of hard-hitting journalism, there have been more than a few times where The Pamphlette has hit just a little too hard. The cries can be heard for miles. People sprawled on hospital beds, moaning “Aughhh I’m offended…” “Hurk! Help me quick! That wasn’t that offensive but it was trying to be and now I’m so bored! Blagh!” The seemingly innocuous newspaper has a mild injury count in the dozens. The reality of this has not settled lightly on the shoulders of the paper’s contributors, and they asked me to write this article so that we could all apologize and make things right.
“It can make a strong man’s knees weak to see what sort of havoc he has wreaked. Hey, that rhymes. I never intended for it to end up like this. Please believe me, you poor victims, you and your families, know that I am doing everything I can to atone for The Pamphlette,” said Pamphlette founder Adrian Chen this week while counting his stacks of student funds money.
Contributor Andrew Michaan got on his knees and bawled when he was asked if he was sorry. “The women jokes started out so innocently. We just wanted an alternative to Everybody Loves Raymond and things like that – where the men are idiots and the women bask in the entrenched power of the Matriarchy. Then it got to be too much. I have never been as regretful about anything as I am about my writing. Please, if it means anything, know that this makes me incredibly sad. I’m also kinda sad that my wife of ten years just died.” Andrew then jumped in his wife’s funeral pyre, sacrificing his life.
Staff writer Alexandra Schmidt gave her testimony from her iron lung, gasping her sorrows between breaths. “The Pamphlette… Oh God… What was… I thinking… it hurt… so many… How could… I be so… naïve as to… think it… wouldn’t… come back to… hurt me… It put me… in here…” We cut her off for the sake of brevity, but be assured, she is super sorry.
Typesetter Tom Fenollosa and newcomer Ariella Thornhill were both found in the Portland Legacy Emanuel Mental Health Facility. Ariella hasn’t stopped crying for ten years and has written “SORRY” on her room walls in crayon. Tom sits all day in a rocking chair mumbling to himself, “The tools… I gave them the tools… The tools…” Tom and Ariella are incapable of normal social function.
Of course, this leaves only me, Nick Chandler-Klein. As author of many Pamphlette articles which no doubt irrevocably harmed many, there is no redemption for me. I took the pills ten minutes ago. My greatest regret is that I’m going out with a suicide joke. I know how tasteless this is because of the pain that anyone who has had a friend or family member commit suicide must feel and I must apologize for it quickly because the pills should be kicking in any secon
After twenty years of hard-hitting journalism, there have been more than a few times where The Pamphlette has hit just a little too hard. The cries can be heard for miles. People sprawled on hospital beds, moaning “Aughhh I’m offended…” “Hurk! Help me quick! That wasn’t that offensive but it was trying to be and now I’m so bored! Blagh!” The seemingly innocuous newspaper has a mild injury count in the dozens. The reality of this has not settled lightly on the shoulders of the paper’s contributors, and they asked me to write this article so that we could all apologize and make things right.
“It can make a strong man’s knees weak to see what sort of havoc he has wreaked. Hey, that rhymes. I never intended for it to end up like this. Please believe me, you poor victims, you and your families, know that I am doing everything I can to atone for The Pamphlette,” said Pamphlette founder Adrian Chen this week while counting his stacks of student funds money.
Contributor Andrew Michaan got on his knees and bawled when he was asked if he was sorry. “The women jokes started out so innocently. We just wanted an alternative to Everybody Loves Raymond and things like that – where the men are idiots and the women bask in the entrenched power of the Matriarchy. Then it got to be too much. I have never been as regretful about anything as I am about my writing. Please, if it means anything, know that this makes me incredibly sad. I’m also kinda sad that my wife of ten years just died.” Andrew then jumped in his wife’s funeral pyre, sacrificing his life.
Staff writer Alexandra Schmidt gave her testimony from her iron lung, gasping her sorrows between breaths. “The Pamphlette… Oh God… What was… I thinking… it hurt… so many… How could… I be so… naïve as to… think it… wouldn’t… come back to… hurt me… It put me… in here…” We cut her off for the sake of brevity, but be assured, she is super sorry.
Typesetter Tom Fenollosa and newcomer Ariella Thornhill were both found in the Portland Legacy Emanuel Mental Health Facility. Ariella hasn’t stopped crying for ten years and has written “SORRY” on her room walls in crayon. Tom sits all day in a rocking chair mumbling to himself, “The tools… I gave them the tools… The tools…” Tom and Ariella are incapable of normal social function.
Of course, this leaves only me, Nick Chandler-Klein. As author of many Pamphlette articles which no doubt irrevocably harmed many, there is no redemption for me. I took the pills ten minutes ago. My greatest regret is that I’m going out with a suicide joke. I know how tasteless this is because of the pain that anyone who has had a friend or family member commit suicide must feel and I must apologize for it quickly because the pills should be kicking in any secon
The Important Things
We fucked. We married, we fucked again. We had a kid, I got a job, and I’d had enough of all of that, so I left. I woke up one night and it was three AM and I left. I never thought about them again.
I’d like to say that I had been a badass, a bruiser tough guy twisting the handles on a motorcycle I’d built myself. I’d like to say that I put on goggles and let my long hair flow behind me, running thirty miles above the speed limit, I put on the radio and there’s Muddy Waters and he’s still Hard, damn he’s always been Hard, and just as the radio comes on he pulls one note on the guitar and holds it and yells as loud as he can and I rev the engine and go a little faster and yell as loud as I can into the dusty void lit by the Arizona sun. I’d like to say that, but none of it was true.
I could never build a motorcycle and I didn’t have long hair. I didn’t live in Arizona besides. But I was going to do something about it. I yelled my best blues yell as I climbed up the grass hill towards the highway, going quiet halfway through because it wasn’t very good.
There was no way that someone would pick up a hitchhiker at three AM and so I turned right and started walking. I couldn’t stay.
I walked and looked down and it was dark. I saw the tarred road I was walking on and looked at how black it was and thought how during the day it was just black but now at night with everything around it black as well it shone and reflected and what it shone and reflected was even more black. It stood out and reminded the trees and the road markers what real black was. So drivers could see better, I told myself, it must have been intentional.
The asphalt black didn’t seem so Important anymore and I looked up and it was six AM. I had been walking, I knew, and when the road became just black again it told me that the sun was coming up. A truck pulled over in front of me. I could tell that it was waiting for me to get in.
I climbed up two metal stairs to the door and I opened it and sat down. I said hello to the driver and he grinned at me and said hello and I fell asleep.
There was the sound first and then the smell, which is what you wake up to when you wake up to someone eating food. The driver rattled his empty soda cup, which wasn’t empty but had a lot of ice in it and nothing else. That’s close enough to empty. He had been eating french fries. There was half of a cheap hamburger sitting on its paper and I heard the paper slide over the pleather seats as we went around a bend. It reminded me of waking up in a tent sticky from dew. I always hated that. I was sticky from sweat, the truck was only one degree too hot. Then I opened my eyes and it was eleven AM.
“Ha! Well look who’s up.”
“These are nice seats”
“Well thank you! You know this truck didn’t come with these seats.”
He told me a story about his seats, and I nodded.
“So you married? You on your way home?” He pointed to my finger, which had a gold ring on it.
“No,” I said, and took the ring off. “It’s not mine.” I didn’t want him to ask about my ring. I didn’t like that I had to lie. I had already wanted the conversation to be over, and then he asked about my ring. I wanted to get out of the truck.
“Oh,” he said. “Well,” he told me a story about his truck, and I nodded.
My wife’s name was Allie. We met at a high school dance and I wanted to leave and to my surprise she did too. I took off her bra in the back of her father’s sedan which she had been allowed to borrow. I smiled at her and it was midnight. I kissed her and then we were married. It was one PM and I looked at her and I stepped down from the altar holding her hand and we walked to the door and there was Gregory. It was two AM and she was on a table and yelling her best blues yell and our baby boy Gregory fell into my hands. That was it. That was all that had happened. It was three AM and I was sitting in my bed and I looked at my hands where Gregory had been born. Gregory was asleep in his room and I’d had enough of all that, and so I left.
I looked at the ring which I was flipping back and forth between two fingers. I put it in my left pocket. I would sell it at a pawn shop. I would never think about them again.
I asked the driver to let me out in Willits. He stopped at a gas station.
“Oh, almost forgot to mention! My name’s Steve. See you ‘round,” he told me.
The truck gassed up and drove off and it was noon. I had already forgotten the driver’s name. I looked down to see what I had with me. In my pocket I had my wallet and my ring and on my wrist I had my watch of course. I had to find a phone and a phone book to call Mike. I’d heard that Mike lived in Willits.
I sat down at a table in the diner and Mike sat down across from me. We ordered coffee and we looked at each other. He was happy to see me. On the phone Mike had picked up the receiver and had said hello and he was contented when he said it and he was firm and I saw him through the receiver and he was seven feet tall with two days of stubble and one cocked eyebrow. Mike had taught me things, a long time ago. We never sat down and he never stopped talking and he never said anything that wasn’t Important. He told me that some things were Important, and that nothing else was worth the time. He bought me a beer. He bought me a ticket to a show. He brought me to the mall, and bought me the time to steal the watch behind the counter. It was my first watch. It was three PM.
Our coffee came and we looked at each other. I leaned forward over my coffee, looking into his eyes, ready for him to speak because I knew that I had to listen. He was going to tell me how I had done the right thing, and then I was never going to think about them again. We were going to remember all the Important things that had happened, and we were going to grin. I looked at Mike. He was five foot nine like he had always been and he was wearing a jacket. He smiled and he sipped his coffee and then he looked at me and saw my eyes asking at him and he did not smile.
“I thought we would just be having coffee,” he said. “We would catch up. I was happy to see you.”
“We are, aren’t we? That’s what we’re doing.”
“Oh, well, yes. Good.”
He smiled again. Something was wrong.
“So what did you ever end up doing? You were always pretty good at the lumber yard during the summer. You’re not still there, though, right?”
“I… well, I… no, I’m not.” I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“That’s good, it’s nothing you want to do for too long. Too many splinters over the years can’t be fun. I opened a coffee shop around the corner with my cousin a few years back. It’s doing pretty well. Ha! Hope nobody sees me in here drinking this stuff.”
“But Mike, this is small talk.”
“I guess, but we’re catching up, right?”
“Didn’t you always… you’d always say that small talk wasn’t Important.”
“Small talk isn’t important?” Mike looked at me sideways, and then remembered. “Oh! Oh, wow, you got quite a memory on you! Haven’t thought about that in years. Man, we would spend hours talking about what was Important and what wasn’t. What a great time.”
“You haven’t thought about it in years? But haven’t you been doing Important things? You were going to go on television. You were going to buy a motorcycle!”
“Well I opened up my coffee shop, that’s pretty important to me. I’m enjoying myself. I just don’t go around all day deciding whether things are Important or not, that’s all.”
We looked at each other and he looked down and he told me a story about his coffee shop and I nodded and my eyes were red around the edges and my hands began to shake and it was one PM. He finished his story.
“Mike I can’t believe you. I come to see you and you’re running some coffee shop and you’re making small talk and you don’t care what’s Important and what’s not. Mike, anything that’s not Important isn’t worth the time,” I bit at him.
“Come on, that was a long time ago, you don’t expect me to still think that way.”
“Mike, it’s hard, I know. I let myself slip, but I kept thinking about what was Important and I realized that nothing Important was happening. It wasn’t worth the time, Mike. I left.”
“You left what?”
“I got married, Mike, I had a kid. But nothing was happening. Nothing.”
Mike’s eyes opened wide. I could see that he was going to remember. He was going to tell me I’d done the right thing and he was going to sell his coffee shop and we were going to leave. We would go and we would give our best blues yells and every bone in our bodies would anticipate the next Important thing that would happen, because we knew it would come. I began to smile.
“You left your wife and kid? Just like that?”
“It was three AM and I left.”
“What the hell were you thinking? Does she even know where you are?”
“Well, no, of course not.” I was shaken. He didn’t understand yet. “Mike, nothing Important was going to happen.”
Mike dug his eyes into mine and lowered his voice. “Nothing ‘Important’ was going to happen? You believe in that shit? I was barely old enough to fake an ID and you think I had some sort of grand philosophical statement to make? Even I knew I was bullshitting. You left your God damn wife and child and you come to me and I haven’t seen you in years. You think you can explain yourself with this kid shit? How immature are you?”
I couldn’t say anything. Mike stood up and pointed and hissed at me. The volume besides, each word was thunder.
“Tell me! Tell me what things you think are Important! Huh? Give me a list.”
I wanted to tell him, to think of my list and tell him what it was, but I just looked at my coffee. Mike’s shoes clipped on the tile as he stomped towards the door. “I can’t believe you grew up to be such scum,” one of us said. He abandoned me and the bell over the door rang and it was just past one PM. I paid for the coffee.
I was glad the conversation was over because he had been making small talk. Small talk wasn’t Important. Nothing Important was going to happen if I had stayed and why couldn’t he understand that? He had told me, he must have known.
The rental car was green and I was angry and I was going very fast and it was five PM. I had made an Important decision to go South. Willits was to the North and very soon my wife and my kid would be too, but I wasn’t thinking about them. I would never think about them again. I felt the ring still in my pocket with my wallet.
I recognized the trees and knew that I was close to my wife and my kid and I was thinking about them. I couldn’t help thinking about them. I pulled the ring from my pocket and threw it out the window. No! I needed to sell it in a pawn shop, that was what I was going to do. I needed to sell it in a pawn shop, and so I pulled the car over. I was not thinking about them.
I walked back to where I had thrown the ring and it reflected the last parts of the sun and I saw it and picked it up. I was very close to my wife and my kid. I sat down on the grass hill next to the highway and looked at our house. I wasn’t thinking about them, I was tired.
If I went back inside Allie would be mad and she would cry and I would want the conversation to be over and Gregory would graduate high school and I would get promoted and Gregory would fuck and get married and I would have a grandchild and I would be old and that would be all. I would be so old. I would be old and that would be all.
A twig snapped and I jumped and turned my head. Another twig snapped and I could feel the hairs rising on my neck. I gave my best blues yell and I could not hold the ring and it fell on the ground and I was back in the car and it was six PM and the car started. I never thought about them again.
I’d like to say that I had been a badass, a bruiser tough guy twisting the handles on a motorcycle I’d built myself. I’d like to say that I put on goggles and let my long hair flow behind me, running thirty miles above the speed limit, I put on the radio and there’s Muddy Waters and he’s still Hard, damn he’s always been Hard, and just as the radio comes on he pulls one note on the guitar and holds it and yells as loud as he can and I rev the engine and go a little faster and yell as loud as I can into the dusty void lit by the Arizona sun. I’d like to say that, but none of it was true.
I could never build a motorcycle and I didn’t have long hair. I didn’t live in Arizona besides. But I was going to do something about it. I yelled my best blues yell as I climbed up the grass hill towards the highway, going quiet halfway through because it wasn’t very good.
There was no way that someone would pick up a hitchhiker at three AM and so I turned right and started walking. I couldn’t stay.
I walked and looked down and it was dark. I saw the tarred road I was walking on and looked at how black it was and thought how during the day it was just black but now at night with everything around it black as well it shone and reflected and what it shone and reflected was even more black. It stood out and reminded the trees and the road markers what real black was. So drivers could see better, I told myself, it must have been intentional.
The asphalt black didn’t seem so Important anymore and I looked up and it was six AM. I had been walking, I knew, and when the road became just black again it told me that the sun was coming up. A truck pulled over in front of me. I could tell that it was waiting for me to get in.
I climbed up two metal stairs to the door and I opened it and sat down. I said hello to the driver and he grinned at me and said hello and I fell asleep.
There was the sound first and then the smell, which is what you wake up to when you wake up to someone eating food. The driver rattled his empty soda cup, which wasn’t empty but had a lot of ice in it and nothing else. That’s close enough to empty. He had been eating french fries. There was half of a cheap hamburger sitting on its paper and I heard the paper slide over the pleather seats as we went around a bend. It reminded me of waking up in a tent sticky from dew. I always hated that. I was sticky from sweat, the truck was only one degree too hot. Then I opened my eyes and it was eleven AM.
“Ha! Well look who’s up.”
“These are nice seats”
“Well thank you! You know this truck didn’t come with these seats.”
He told me a story about his seats, and I nodded.
“So you married? You on your way home?” He pointed to my finger, which had a gold ring on it.
“No,” I said, and took the ring off. “It’s not mine.” I didn’t want him to ask about my ring. I didn’t like that I had to lie. I had already wanted the conversation to be over, and then he asked about my ring. I wanted to get out of the truck.
“Oh,” he said. “Well,” he told me a story about his truck, and I nodded.
My wife’s name was Allie. We met at a high school dance and I wanted to leave and to my surprise she did too. I took off her bra in the back of her father’s sedan which she had been allowed to borrow. I smiled at her and it was midnight. I kissed her and then we were married. It was one PM and I looked at her and I stepped down from the altar holding her hand and we walked to the door and there was Gregory. It was two AM and she was on a table and yelling her best blues yell and our baby boy Gregory fell into my hands. That was it. That was all that had happened. It was three AM and I was sitting in my bed and I looked at my hands where Gregory had been born. Gregory was asleep in his room and I’d had enough of all that, and so I left.
I looked at the ring which I was flipping back and forth between two fingers. I put it in my left pocket. I would sell it at a pawn shop. I would never think about them again.
I asked the driver to let me out in Willits. He stopped at a gas station.
“Oh, almost forgot to mention! My name’s Steve. See you ‘round,” he told me.
The truck gassed up and drove off and it was noon. I had already forgotten the driver’s name. I looked down to see what I had with me. In my pocket I had my wallet and my ring and on my wrist I had my watch of course. I had to find a phone and a phone book to call Mike. I’d heard that Mike lived in Willits.
I sat down at a table in the diner and Mike sat down across from me. We ordered coffee and we looked at each other. He was happy to see me. On the phone Mike had picked up the receiver and had said hello and he was contented when he said it and he was firm and I saw him through the receiver and he was seven feet tall with two days of stubble and one cocked eyebrow. Mike had taught me things, a long time ago. We never sat down and he never stopped talking and he never said anything that wasn’t Important. He told me that some things were Important, and that nothing else was worth the time. He bought me a beer. He bought me a ticket to a show. He brought me to the mall, and bought me the time to steal the watch behind the counter. It was my first watch. It was three PM.
Our coffee came and we looked at each other. I leaned forward over my coffee, looking into his eyes, ready for him to speak because I knew that I had to listen. He was going to tell me how I had done the right thing, and then I was never going to think about them again. We were going to remember all the Important things that had happened, and we were going to grin. I looked at Mike. He was five foot nine like he had always been and he was wearing a jacket. He smiled and he sipped his coffee and then he looked at me and saw my eyes asking at him and he did not smile.
“I thought we would just be having coffee,” he said. “We would catch up. I was happy to see you.”
“We are, aren’t we? That’s what we’re doing.”
“Oh, well, yes. Good.”
He smiled again. Something was wrong.
“So what did you ever end up doing? You were always pretty good at the lumber yard during the summer. You’re not still there, though, right?”
“I… well, I… no, I’m not.” I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“That’s good, it’s nothing you want to do for too long. Too many splinters over the years can’t be fun. I opened a coffee shop around the corner with my cousin a few years back. It’s doing pretty well. Ha! Hope nobody sees me in here drinking this stuff.”
“But Mike, this is small talk.”
“I guess, but we’re catching up, right?”
“Didn’t you always… you’d always say that small talk wasn’t Important.”
“Small talk isn’t important?” Mike looked at me sideways, and then remembered. “Oh! Oh, wow, you got quite a memory on you! Haven’t thought about that in years. Man, we would spend hours talking about what was Important and what wasn’t. What a great time.”
“You haven’t thought about it in years? But haven’t you been doing Important things? You were going to go on television. You were going to buy a motorcycle!”
“Well I opened up my coffee shop, that’s pretty important to me. I’m enjoying myself. I just don’t go around all day deciding whether things are Important or not, that’s all.”
We looked at each other and he looked down and he told me a story about his coffee shop and I nodded and my eyes were red around the edges and my hands began to shake and it was one PM. He finished his story.
“Mike I can’t believe you. I come to see you and you’re running some coffee shop and you’re making small talk and you don’t care what’s Important and what’s not. Mike, anything that’s not Important isn’t worth the time,” I bit at him.
“Come on, that was a long time ago, you don’t expect me to still think that way.”
“Mike, it’s hard, I know. I let myself slip, but I kept thinking about what was Important and I realized that nothing Important was happening. It wasn’t worth the time, Mike. I left.”
“You left what?”
“I got married, Mike, I had a kid. But nothing was happening. Nothing.”
Mike’s eyes opened wide. I could see that he was going to remember. He was going to tell me I’d done the right thing and he was going to sell his coffee shop and we were going to leave. We would go and we would give our best blues yells and every bone in our bodies would anticipate the next Important thing that would happen, because we knew it would come. I began to smile.
“You left your wife and kid? Just like that?”
“It was three AM and I left.”
“What the hell were you thinking? Does she even know where you are?”
“Well, no, of course not.” I was shaken. He didn’t understand yet. “Mike, nothing Important was going to happen.”
Mike dug his eyes into mine and lowered his voice. “Nothing ‘Important’ was going to happen? You believe in that shit? I was barely old enough to fake an ID and you think I had some sort of grand philosophical statement to make? Even I knew I was bullshitting. You left your God damn wife and child and you come to me and I haven’t seen you in years. You think you can explain yourself with this kid shit? How immature are you?”
I couldn’t say anything. Mike stood up and pointed and hissed at me. The volume besides, each word was thunder.
“Tell me! Tell me what things you think are Important! Huh? Give me a list.”
I wanted to tell him, to think of my list and tell him what it was, but I just looked at my coffee. Mike’s shoes clipped on the tile as he stomped towards the door. “I can’t believe you grew up to be such scum,” one of us said. He abandoned me and the bell over the door rang and it was just past one PM. I paid for the coffee.
I was glad the conversation was over because he had been making small talk. Small talk wasn’t Important. Nothing Important was going to happen if I had stayed and why couldn’t he understand that? He had told me, he must have known.
The rental car was green and I was angry and I was going very fast and it was five PM. I had made an Important decision to go South. Willits was to the North and very soon my wife and my kid would be too, but I wasn’t thinking about them. I would never think about them again. I felt the ring still in my pocket with my wallet.
I recognized the trees and knew that I was close to my wife and my kid and I was thinking about them. I couldn’t help thinking about them. I pulled the ring from my pocket and threw it out the window. No! I needed to sell it in a pawn shop, that was what I was going to do. I needed to sell it in a pawn shop, and so I pulled the car over. I was not thinking about them.
I walked back to where I had thrown the ring and it reflected the last parts of the sun and I saw it and picked it up. I was very close to my wife and my kid. I sat down on the grass hill next to the highway and looked at our house. I wasn’t thinking about them, I was tired.
If I went back inside Allie would be mad and she would cry and I would want the conversation to be over and Gregory would graduate high school and I would get promoted and Gregory would fuck and get married and I would have a grandchild and I would be old and that would be all. I would be so old. I would be old and that would be all.
A twig snapped and I jumped and turned my head. Another twig snapped and I could feel the hairs rising on my neck. I gave my best blues yell and I could not hold the ring and it fell on the ground and I was back in the car and it was six PM and the car started. I never thought about them again.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Tickets
The car was stopped, but I had help. I reached in my pocket for my Oreo and bit it in half as Marko, who had told me his name was Mark, slammed the car’s hood shut. I remembered the other Mark I had known, who everyone had called Marko. It was a pretty funny nickname.
“You were just running a little hot there; I put some more water in. You should be fine, just don’t run her too hard and make sure to have it looked at when you get where you’re going,” Marko told me.
“Okay, I’ll be sure. Thank you so much for stopping Marko. Thank you so so much.”
“Heh, don’t worry about it. Does she start?”
The car started. I thanked Marko again and again and left the side of the road. The I-71 was moving slow and it was going to be a pretty long trip, I thought. I put the other piece of the Oreo back in my pocket for later and concentrated very hard on the road. You’re not supposed to drive unless you’re paying close attention. I wanted to pay very close attention. Columbus was still a hundred miles away. I thought of how funny the Marko nickname was. The other Mark had sometimes said “Polo” when people called him Marko.
I wondered if there was going to be a long line at the ticket counter. Would it be a ticket counter? I needed to buy the tickets somewhere, so probably a counter. That’s where you buy tickets. My brother Jack wanted to see the show, a band called Spoon. I had never heard of them, but Jack said they were good. Nothing that I’d like, but good for him.
The show was in Columbus, he’d said, and he wanted tickets but they wouldn’t sell them over the phone. I told him how lame that was that they wouldn’t, but he said that I should go to Columbus to get them for him. I said that I would. I totally would! I told him yes. He said that he couldn’t go, he was busy. He’s never really very busy, but I don’t mind going to Columbus for him. Besides, he always gives me a supermarket cigar when I do stuff for him. I like the cigars; they make me feel cool to smoke them. That reminded me of the cigar in the passenger’s seat. I reached for it and put it in my pocket, and then remembered that I still had part of an Oreo in there. The cigar made the pocket too full, so I took the Oreo out and ate it while driving. You’re not really supposed to eat while you’re driving, but it was probably okay for just this once. I was careful to concentrate.
The cigar was going to be so cool to smoke when I got to Columbus. Those people won’t have known me before and they’ll think I’m cool like Simon smoking a cigar. Simon always made fun of me until I smoked a cigar he gave me. He made fun of me after that too, but never while I was smoking a cigar. Simon always wore jeans and punk patches, even when he was playing sports! He once had a Mohawk but he didn’t keep it very long. Simon was cool, and maybe the Columbus people will see me like Simon. Maybe Simon will be there. Does Simon live in Columbus? Maybe if Simon’s not there, there will be a guy named Mark and I can call him Marko. Marko is a pretty funny nickname.
“You were just running a little hot there; I put some more water in. You should be fine, just don’t run her too hard and make sure to have it looked at when you get where you’re going,” Marko told me.
“Okay, I’ll be sure. Thank you so much for stopping Marko. Thank you so so much.”
“Heh, don’t worry about it. Does she start?”
The car started. I thanked Marko again and again and left the side of the road. The I-71 was moving slow and it was going to be a pretty long trip, I thought. I put the other piece of the Oreo back in my pocket for later and concentrated very hard on the road. You’re not supposed to drive unless you’re paying close attention. I wanted to pay very close attention. Columbus was still a hundred miles away. I thought of how funny the Marko nickname was. The other Mark had sometimes said “Polo” when people called him Marko.
I wondered if there was going to be a long line at the ticket counter. Would it be a ticket counter? I needed to buy the tickets somewhere, so probably a counter. That’s where you buy tickets. My brother Jack wanted to see the show, a band called Spoon. I had never heard of them, but Jack said they were good. Nothing that I’d like, but good for him.
The show was in Columbus, he’d said, and he wanted tickets but they wouldn’t sell them over the phone. I told him how lame that was that they wouldn’t, but he said that I should go to Columbus to get them for him. I said that I would. I totally would! I told him yes. He said that he couldn’t go, he was busy. He’s never really very busy, but I don’t mind going to Columbus for him. Besides, he always gives me a supermarket cigar when I do stuff for him. I like the cigars; they make me feel cool to smoke them. That reminded me of the cigar in the passenger’s seat. I reached for it and put it in my pocket, and then remembered that I still had part of an Oreo in there. The cigar made the pocket too full, so I took the Oreo out and ate it while driving. You’re not really supposed to eat while you’re driving, but it was probably okay for just this once. I was careful to concentrate.
The cigar was going to be so cool to smoke when I got to Columbus. Those people won’t have known me before and they’ll think I’m cool like Simon smoking a cigar. Simon always made fun of me until I smoked a cigar he gave me. He made fun of me after that too, but never while I was smoking a cigar. Simon always wore jeans and punk patches, even when he was playing sports! He once had a Mohawk but he didn’t keep it very long. Simon was cool, and maybe the Columbus people will see me like Simon. Maybe Simon will be there. Does Simon live in Columbus? Maybe if Simon’s not there, there will be a guy named Mark and I can call him Marko. Marko is a pretty funny nickname.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Comedy: What’s HOT, what’s NOT
HOT:
In this year are RETRO JOKES! Got something funny to say about the Soviet Union? Just maybe the Soviet Union has something funny to say about you! Ever notice that there are some words you aren’t allowed to say on television, or that sometimes Polish people are really stupid? Relive these back-in-style classics and you’ll be at the CUSP of the comedy curve.
Memorize your script, because to be the hottest this year you have to know how to QUOTE MOVIE LINES! It’s all the rage, and all it takes is to say a line from a movie that was funny or endearing in some way! DON’T BOTHER writing your own material, that parrot is dead! Hollywood does it for you! Yeah, baby, yeah! Groovy! Get your friends to bust out laughing, and may the force be with you!
NOT:
It’s autumn, and when it’s cold enough to stay in, baby, IN-JOKES are OUT! Don’t be that nerd who shows up at a party and can’t make anybody laugh but his close friends! So make sure your jokes are something that EVERYBODY can understand, like airline peanuts or relationship problems, or be laughed… off the stage!
Ever since STEVEN COLBERT premiered his fall line, SATIRE has sold out! Don’t be caught imitating someone with their pants down, because Onions are out of season! All the hippest comedians and comediennes are going in a whole new direction. That’s right, the newest, most innovative thing around right now is saying things you ACTUALLY MEAN! Rev your engines on the open ha-ha-way, because from now on it’s sincerity to the MAX!
In this year are RETRO JOKES! Got something funny to say about the Soviet Union? Just maybe the Soviet Union has something funny to say about you! Ever notice that there are some words you aren’t allowed to say on television, or that sometimes Polish people are really stupid? Relive these back-in-style classics and you’ll be at the CUSP of the comedy curve.
Memorize your script, because to be the hottest this year you have to know how to QUOTE MOVIE LINES! It’s all the rage, and all it takes is to say a line from a movie that was funny or endearing in some way! DON’T BOTHER writing your own material, that parrot is dead! Hollywood does it for you! Yeah, baby, yeah! Groovy! Get your friends to bust out laughing, and may the force be with you!
NOT:
It’s autumn, and when it’s cold enough to stay in, baby, IN-JOKES are OUT! Don’t be that nerd who shows up at a party and can’t make anybody laugh but his close friends! So make sure your jokes are something that EVERYBODY can understand, like airline peanuts or relationship problems, or be laughed… off the stage!
Ever since STEVEN COLBERT premiered his fall line, SATIRE has sold out! Don’t be caught imitating someone with their pants down, because Onions are out of season! All the hippest comedians and comediennes are going in a whole new direction. That’s right, the newest, most innovative thing around right now is saying things you ACTUALLY MEAN! Rev your engines on the open ha-ha-way, because from now on it’s sincerity to the MAX!
Exclusive Interview with an Important Political Candidate
Liz Johnson is poised to change American history with her upcoming run in 2008. She’s planning to take one of the highest offices in the land. The job has its share of responsibilities, but also great rewards. I welcome Liz, the Democrat candidate for the position of my girlfriend.
The Pamphlette: Welcome, Liz.
Liz: Um, yeah, sure. What’s this about again?
TP: It looks like you’re the hottest thing in the polls right now. What makes you right for this position?
L: What? Do I know you?
TP: I’ll just start off with the question that’s on everybody’s mind. Remember me from last night, Liz? Last night at Jay’s? You seemed pretty into me.
L: No, not at all.
TP: You know, I think your candidacy is extremely promising. What are your long term plans for going out with me?
L: I don’t have any plans for going out with you.
TP: That’s gonna hurt. How do you plan to keep running your campaign with an opinion like that?
L: Campaign?
TP: Polls have shown, Liz, that your constituency thinks I am “super hot.” Ignoring the polls could land you on the wrong side of some very polarizing issues.
L: Such as?
TP: Where do you stand on abortion?
L: Well, I’m pro-choice, I guess.
TP: Good, good. That’s good to know. Just in case, you know?
L: Thank you.
TP: You and I seem to align on a lot of issues. I think that we’ll have a good time going out when you win.
L: I’m not going out with you.
TP: You seem resolute on this.
L: I already said I’m not going out with you.
TP: Have you considered adding going out with me as a plank in your party platform?
L: Last night wasn’t so much a party as a gathering.
TP: We had a keg and Guitar Hero. That makes it a party.
L: See, this is why I don’t want to go out with you.
TP: Other party members will be very harsh on any anti-Guitar Hero arguments.
L: Look, nobody else wants to go out with you either. And it was a gathering.
TP: Would you go on record as saying that if it had been a party, you would have gone out with me?
L: No!
TP: So you would have gone out with me if it were a party but you wouldn’t go on record saying it? Because I really think it was a party.
L: I wouldn’t have gone out with you under any circumstances.
TP: Is it wise to be this resolved on the issue so early? Realize that if you want to change your mind later you may be accused of flip-flopping.
L: I won’t be flip-flopping on this.
TP: Are you sure? We could flip-flop together at my place if you wanted.
L: What? Oh my God.
TP: Have you considered getting a running mate? Rachel or Meg for one night might be a good match. Or are you one of those frigid Christians?
L: I’m not a Christian.
TP: So you’re comfortable with sex education in our schools? I will point out that we are in a school right now.
L: Look, I’m not going out with you.
TP: You seem firm on this issue.
L: Yes, I’m firm on this issue!
TP: Because speaking of issues that are firm, I…
L: That’s it, I’m leaving.
TP: What a bitch.
The Pamphlette: Welcome, Liz.
Liz: Um, yeah, sure. What’s this about again?
TP: It looks like you’re the hottest thing in the polls right now. What makes you right for this position?
L: What? Do I know you?
TP: I’ll just start off with the question that’s on everybody’s mind. Remember me from last night, Liz? Last night at Jay’s? You seemed pretty into me.
L: No, not at all.
TP: You know, I think your candidacy is extremely promising. What are your long term plans for going out with me?
L: I don’t have any plans for going out with you.
TP: That’s gonna hurt. How do you plan to keep running your campaign with an opinion like that?
L: Campaign?
TP: Polls have shown, Liz, that your constituency thinks I am “super hot.” Ignoring the polls could land you on the wrong side of some very polarizing issues.
L: Such as?
TP: Where do you stand on abortion?
L: Well, I’m pro-choice, I guess.
TP: Good, good. That’s good to know. Just in case, you know?
L: Thank you.
TP: You and I seem to align on a lot of issues. I think that we’ll have a good time going out when you win.
L: I’m not going out with you.
TP: You seem resolute on this.
L: I already said I’m not going out with you.
TP: Have you considered adding going out with me as a plank in your party platform?
L: Last night wasn’t so much a party as a gathering.
TP: We had a keg and Guitar Hero. That makes it a party.
L: See, this is why I don’t want to go out with you.
TP: Other party members will be very harsh on any anti-Guitar Hero arguments.
L: Look, nobody else wants to go out with you either. And it was a gathering.
TP: Would you go on record as saying that if it had been a party, you would have gone out with me?
L: No!
TP: So you would have gone out with me if it were a party but you wouldn’t go on record saying it? Because I really think it was a party.
L: I wouldn’t have gone out with you under any circumstances.
TP: Is it wise to be this resolved on the issue so early? Realize that if you want to change your mind later you may be accused of flip-flopping.
L: I won’t be flip-flopping on this.
TP: Are you sure? We could flip-flop together at my place if you wanted.
L: What? Oh my God.
TP: Have you considered getting a running mate? Rachel or Meg for one night might be a good match. Or are you one of those frigid Christians?
L: I’m not a Christian.
TP: So you’re comfortable with sex education in our schools? I will point out that we are in a school right now.
L: Look, I’m not going out with you.
TP: You seem firm on this issue.
L: Yes, I’m firm on this issue!
TP: Because speaking of issues that are firm, I…
L: That’s it, I’m leaving.
TP: What a bitch.
Area Man Leaves Area
After living in the Portland area for over twenty years, Area Man Robert Reeves announced yesterday that he would be moving away. He cited pressure to represent the area properly and heavy rainfall as reasons for leaving. Locals say they understand, but will miss him.
“He just seemed so… here, you know? And he was always doing things. The headlines would read ‘Area Man Saves Tiger,’ ‘Area Man Raises Money for Sick Children,’ ‘Area Man Slips on Sidewalk.’ I’ll always remember him,” said neighbor Thomas Junk.
Reeves’ extensive community involvement is said to have revitalized Portland’s friendly spirit, and has gained him several admirers. Among these is George Marks, who has been named by Reeves as his successor.
“I’m very excited to take over. For years I’ve just been a Local Resident, but soon I will be an Area Man. All I can say is that I have some very big shoes to fill. You may remember the headline from last year, ‘Area Man Has Unusually Large Feet.’” Marks told us in an interview.
In his announcement, Reeves said that he was looking forward to retirement. He is planning on moving to Beaverton, where he will simply be referred to as Man.
“He just seemed so… here, you know? And he was always doing things. The headlines would read ‘Area Man Saves Tiger,’ ‘Area Man Raises Money for Sick Children,’ ‘Area Man Slips on Sidewalk.’ I’ll always remember him,” said neighbor Thomas Junk.
Reeves’ extensive community involvement is said to have revitalized Portland’s friendly spirit, and has gained him several admirers. Among these is George Marks, who has been named by Reeves as his successor.
“I’m very excited to take over. For years I’ve just been a Local Resident, but soon I will be an Area Man. All I can say is that I have some very big shoes to fill. You may remember the headline from last year, ‘Area Man Has Unusually Large Feet.’” Marks told us in an interview.
In his announcement, Reeves said that he was looking forward to retirement. He is planning on moving to Beaverton, where he will simply be referred to as Man.
New Reed Myths
MG under the library? Ugh! That’s so lame it deserves an award – a Myth Award that doesn’t exist because it’s a myth because Reed doesn’t deserve it! Served! In order to attract top-notch students you need top-notch myths. Thankfully, we at The Pamphlette have uncovered these new, TOTALLY TRUE things that you should circulate.
------------------------
During a tour in the early 90s, Guns N’ Roses frontman Axl Rose visited the Reed library and learned how to read. Shortly afterwards, he realized that his name was a sentence, driving him to drink. Several years later the band split.
The bottom of the canyon is actually a two-inch layer of mud and bacteria. Underneath is an underground canyon. Under the underground canyon is another underground canyon, and underneath that is another college that is similar to Reed, but also underground.
Reed was not founded in 1908. Rather, Reed is an ancient Native American university. In the early 20th century the college “founder” enlisted William Foster, who had been a general in the Spanish-American War, to “clean out the dastardly red man so that we may rightfully scrounge our place upon these hallowed hills.” The name Reed is the Atfalati word for “awkward.”
Sometimes, people listen to KRRC.
------------------------
During a tour in the early 90s, Guns N’ Roses frontman Axl Rose visited the Reed library and learned how to read. Shortly afterwards, he realized that his name was a sentence, driving him to drink. Several years later the band split.
The bottom of the canyon is actually a two-inch layer of mud and bacteria. Underneath is an underground canyon. Under the underground canyon is another underground canyon, and underneath that is another college that is similar to Reed, but also underground.
Reed was not founded in 1908. Rather, Reed is an ancient Native American university. In the early 20th century the college “founder” enlisted William Foster, who had been a general in the Spanish-American War, to “clean out the dastardly red man so that we may rightfully scrounge our place upon these hallowed hills.” The name Reed is the Atfalati word for “awkward.”
Sometimes, people listen to KRRC.
Library Circ Desk Blotter September 2-8
Sunday, September 2
A freshman tries to walk through the book detectors. He screams and starts to run. Slow down, buddy! Thankfully there was a math professor on the scene and the student was pacified and made to check out his books.
Monday, September 3
While asking for a reserve book on ancient pornography, student raised one eyebrow and grinned at the circ clerk. The two made out for two hours until the line at the desk got too long and they had to stop.
Monday, September 3
Let's say the man was very colorfully dressed! He found his way into the library and began sleeping on top of the staplers. Despite the man saying that they were good for his back, they really just served to attach him to the desk. Thankfully, nobody minded and he had a full night's sleep.
Tuesday, September 4
A worried upperclassmen came to the desk and reported that there was underage drinking going on in the library. Library Circ Officers rushed to the scene, but the students were only reading books. "Underage drinking... of knowledge," the senior added. Everyone nodded very seriously.
Wednesday, September 5
Circ Officers heard a distant crash and found that someone had jumped through the window separating the second floor of the library from the second floor of math classrooms. "I've always wanted to do that," said the bleeding student. The Circ officers agreed and the matter was dropped.
Thursday, September 6
Some wise student tried to return a reserve book several days after it was due. What a yutz! The system where the book is actually due several hours after its checkout and not several days was explained to the student, who then paid a small fine.
Friday, September 7
After years of everybody wondering if it was possible, a student was finally seriously injured by being crushed in the stacks. There was a collective contented sigh and the paramedics were called.
Friday, September 7
One student working in the evening on a Friday instead of going out with friends sighed heavily.
Saturday, September 8
Three people tripped going up the red stairs towards the library at the exact same time. Paramedics were called, and the Circ Officers reported wishing they had had a camera. One found a camera, and the injured students gladly re-enacted the trip for them. This injured the students further.
A freshman tries to walk through the book detectors. He screams and starts to run. Slow down, buddy! Thankfully there was a math professor on the scene and the student was pacified and made to check out his books.
Monday, September 3
While asking for a reserve book on ancient pornography, student raised one eyebrow and grinned at the circ clerk. The two made out for two hours until the line at the desk got too long and they had to stop.
Monday, September 3
Let's say the man was very colorfully dressed! He found his way into the library and began sleeping on top of the staplers. Despite the man saying that they were good for his back, they really just served to attach him to the desk. Thankfully, nobody minded and he had a full night's sleep.
Tuesday, September 4
A worried upperclassmen came to the desk and reported that there was underage drinking going on in the library. Library Circ Officers rushed to the scene, but the students were only reading books. "Underage drinking... of knowledge," the senior added. Everyone nodded very seriously.
Wednesday, September 5
Circ Officers heard a distant crash and found that someone had jumped through the window separating the second floor of the library from the second floor of math classrooms. "I've always wanted to do that," said the bleeding student. The Circ officers agreed and the matter was dropped.
Thursday, September 6
Some wise student tried to return a reserve book several days after it was due. What a yutz! The system where the book is actually due several hours after its checkout and not several days was explained to the student, who then paid a small fine.
Friday, September 7
After years of everybody wondering if it was possible, a student was finally seriously injured by being crushed in the stacks. There was a collective contented sigh and the paramedics were called.
Friday, September 7
One student working in the evening on a Friday instead of going out with friends sighed heavily.
Saturday, September 8
Three people tripped going up the red stairs towards the library at the exact same time. Paramedics were called, and the Circ Officers reported wishing they had had a camera. One found a camera, and the injured students gladly re-enacted the trip for them. This injured the students further.
Racism & Homophobia Ended at Reed
After years of furious campaigning by groups like the Queer Alliance, the Multicultural Resource Center, Chaverim, and the Black & African Student Union, racism and homophobia have been pronounced eradicated on Reed Campus. The final racist homophobe, Chad Brett, changed his mind in response to an 800-word screed in the Quest penned by Students for Equality.
“I think it was the line about all of us being equal. That one really got to me. Now I understand that blacks and fags are people too,” Brett told us recently.
Reed is one of the first campuses to be able to declare a 100% victory over racism and homophobia. Other schools such as Lewis & Clark still have as many as five racists and three homophobes.
Colin Diver celebrated the news on Monday: “I think the fact that we have over one black professor proves our commitment to equality,” he said. “For years I thought that we had already eliminated racism and homophobia because we’re so enlightened. Brett was the last holdout. I’m glad he’s changed his tune.”
Student advocacy groups see things are looking up. The QA released a statement apologizing for all the “guilt trips.” They plan to go back to just doing the dances now that there’s no threat of homophobia anymore.
The BASU was pleased with the news. “For years, Chad Brett has single-handedly kept minority retention levels very low at Reed,” said BASU member Aaron O’Connor. “Everyone besides Chad was practically incapable of making us feel unwelcome. Now we’re sure that numbers will improve.”
Minority students around campus breathe a sigh of relief at the news, but most affirm that racism and homophobia were never really a problem to begin with.
“Homophobia? How can there be homophobia when there’s no such thing as homosexuality? In a modern society like ours, we have no need to label ourselves like that,” said QA member Wil Horsley.
“I feel like I’ve always been accepted as a gay person on campus. Especially whenever I’m in class and a ‘gay’ topic comes up. Everyone looks at me and wants to know what I think! It makes me feel like everyone really values my opinion,” said freshman Greg Brokov.
“There’s never been any racism while I’ve been here,” argued Mexican exchange student James Fox. “I consider myself a friend of everyone on campus. How can anybody be racist if they have a Mexican friend?”
The news has given students and faculty the opportunity to tap into a previously forbidden creative wellspring and unleash a torrent of ironic racism and homophobia. “If there is no homophobia, how can saying that ‘God hates fags’ be homophobic? It’s ironic!” said sophomore Sociology major Tina Winters. She added, “God hates fags.”
“I can say whatever I want without being branded a bigot,” said senior Economics major Ryan Morris. “You can’t Jew me out of that right.”
The Quest has announced plans to devote an entire issue to ironic racism full of equally ironic typos.
This end of hatred has even affected plans for the school. Colin Diver released an additional statement recently: “We’re now sure that we don’t need that crazy Ethnic Studies program after all. And we’re excited to finally begin construction on our new all-black dorm. “
Despite racism and homophobia disappearing, sexism still runs rampant on campus. Thank God.
One Feminist Student Union member who wished to appear anonymous for fear of repercussion remarked, “I can’t believe one shitty letter to the Quest ended racism and homophobia. Those of us against sexism are still committed to our strategy of putting up hundreds of hideous posters all around campus. Sexism is so fucking gay.”
“I think it was the line about all of us being equal. That one really got to me. Now I understand that blacks and fags are people too,” Brett told us recently.
Reed is one of the first campuses to be able to declare a 100% victory over racism and homophobia. Other schools such as Lewis & Clark still have as many as five racists and three homophobes.
Colin Diver celebrated the news on Monday: “I think the fact that we have over one black professor proves our commitment to equality,” he said. “For years I thought that we had already eliminated racism and homophobia because we’re so enlightened. Brett was the last holdout. I’m glad he’s changed his tune.”
Student advocacy groups see things are looking up. The QA released a statement apologizing for all the “guilt trips.” They plan to go back to just doing the dances now that there’s no threat of homophobia anymore.
The BASU was pleased with the news. “For years, Chad Brett has single-handedly kept minority retention levels very low at Reed,” said BASU member Aaron O’Connor. “Everyone besides Chad was practically incapable of making us feel unwelcome. Now we’re sure that numbers will improve.”
Minority students around campus breathe a sigh of relief at the news, but most affirm that racism and homophobia were never really a problem to begin with.
“Homophobia? How can there be homophobia when there’s no such thing as homosexuality? In a modern society like ours, we have no need to label ourselves like that,” said QA member Wil Horsley.
“I feel like I’ve always been accepted as a gay person on campus. Especially whenever I’m in class and a ‘gay’ topic comes up. Everyone looks at me and wants to know what I think! It makes me feel like everyone really values my opinion,” said freshman Greg Brokov.
“There’s never been any racism while I’ve been here,” argued Mexican exchange student James Fox. “I consider myself a friend of everyone on campus. How can anybody be racist if they have a Mexican friend?”
The news has given students and faculty the opportunity to tap into a previously forbidden creative wellspring and unleash a torrent of ironic racism and homophobia. “If there is no homophobia, how can saying that ‘God hates fags’ be homophobic? It’s ironic!” said sophomore Sociology major Tina Winters. She added, “God hates fags.”
“I can say whatever I want without being branded a bigot,” said senior Economics major Ryan Morris. “You can’t Jew me out of that right.”
The Quest has announced plans to devote an entire issue to ironic racism full of equally ironic typos.
This end of hatred has even affected plans for the school. Colin Diver released an additional statement recently: “We’re now sure that we don’t need that crazy Ethnic Studies program after all. And we’re excited to finally begin construction on our new all-black dorm. “
Despite racism and homophobia disappearing, sexism still runs rampant on campus. Thank God.
One Feminist Student Union member who wished to appear anonymous for fear of repercussion remarked, “I can’t believe one shitty letter to the Quest ended racism and homophobia. Those of us against sexism are still committed to our strategy of putting up hundreds of hideous posters all around campus. Sexism is so fucking gay.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)