Business Day.

So, I was telling Andrew about how crazy The Blake School (1900) is. I was telling him how my friend and I managed to freak out my friend's girlfriend when we were telling her about a little Blake tradition called Business Day. I will do my best to explain how crazy the concept of Business Day is but I highly doubt I can explain it as funnily as R2 did during his senior speech at Blake.

In 8th grade, Blake students go through a rite of passage called Business Day. You and a group of two or three people spend first semester preparing to sell goods and services to parents, classmates and teachers during a day in January. Sounds simple, maybe people have lemonade stands, right? Wrong.

First off, the social studies faculty really should provide a disclaimer that warns students not to be partners with their friends. Every year there are several friendships that fall victim to Business Day. Business and friendship don't work. Especially when you are angst-y, emotionally immature 13 and 14-year-olds. The only reason I am still friends with J., one of my Business Day partners, is because I had never even talked to him before he invited me to join his group.

Anyway, they have slightly changed the rules but you could pretty much do anything you wanted for Business Day. Some people sold boxers, others sold cookies, and some people ran casinos. The rule with casinos was that you had to get something for your money, so losers would be send off with a can of pop. We sold polar fleece mittens, headbands and neckwarmers.

Anyway, after groups were formed, your group could bid to be in charge of utilities. In addition to your main business, your classmates then would have to come to you in order to buy electricity or advertising.

In order to raise funds for your business, you have to sell bonds to your classmates. This was done in order to prevent someone's parents (theoretically) from bankrolling a crazy expensive company. The thing is, that you can set your interest rate as high as you'd like. So on the bus, everyone would try to get 6th and 7th graders to give them money by getting into an interest rate bidding war.

Then Business Day happens and the clothing companies usually sell the most. We were the highest grossing company at Business Day. If you make a profit, you get to keep the money. However, the flip side of that is that, if you lost money, you had to pay out of pocket. Poor R2 did radio controlled racing and one of his teammates was supposed to make sure that the cars were not the same frequency. The key word is "supposed". R2's group ended up losing $200.

And actually, you don't get to keep all the money because the teachers levy a tax on your business after Business Day and used the tax money to buy things for the school like printers.

Business Day was fun and a good learning experience but I STILL cannot believe that Blake actually allowed 8th graders to raise capital from their classmates and run a business (sometimes into the ground) and to operate casinos. I don't think you can run casinos anymore but that still...

Andrew insisted that business day would make a great post, so here it is.

Fin.

This Actually Exists: Curious Like Me.

My grandma used to enjoy reading comic books before I was born. One day, over 15 years ago, I was in her attic and stumbled across her massive old school comic book collection. It's pretty great and if you ask her why she has all those comic books she says, "because I liked reading them".

One of the most ridiculous things I remember seeing was an issue of Superman where Lois Lane turns into a black woman. I remember it being quite progressive and quite racist at the same time. I'd forgotten about it until recently, when I decided to Google it to see if I was just remembering crazy stuff that didn't really exist. Nope, issue #106 of Superman's Lois Lane: I am Curious (Black) does exist. It was released in November 1970.



So, here's what happened:

Lois Lane decides to take a field trip to Metropolis' "Little Africa" neighborhood. It's called that because, contrary to popular belief, Africa is both a country and a continent (like Australia), so all people from Africa all live together in the same part of town when they come to America. Also, black people born in America and elsewhere also live in this neighborhood. You might be familiar with the Little Africa neighborhood in New York. It's right next to Everywhere.

So, dressed like the Orbit gum lady, she hails a cab from a friendly white cabbie who talks in a cockney voice (I can't be sure but I have a strong suspicion) and says, "take me to the black people!" and he's like, "Okay, gub'na!"

When Lois arrives in what the comic now refers to as "Metropolis' Black Community", she rudely interrupts a group of kids who are engrossed in a conversation about how much Richard Nixon sucks or how awesome the Jackson 5 is. Lois wants to know about school and stuff. Sensing that this woman probably voted for Nixon and heeding their parents warning not to talk to strangers or the press, the kids turn their back on her.

Lois was like, "Oh no they did not!" and decides that she'll probably be more successful if she ventures into the projects and looks for an adult. The comic calls it a "slum tenement" but honestly, it looks nicer than the apartment buildings my friends all live in. No one wanted to talk to her there either.

Feeling sad and rejected, Lois goes to the local black diner to ponder what she should do about black people not liking her. Also pondering things at this diner is Bulletproof from the 80s cartoon C.O.P.S. She leaves the diner and "wandering the street like a homeless ghost" (seriously, that's what it says), she stumbles upon an Old Black Lady waiting for the bus. Old Black Ladies are the best. I know this because my grandma is an Old Black Lady and she's the best. The Old Black Lady says "Nice to have the sun shinin' on your face!" and Lois responds with, "Hi, I'm Lois Lane, I'm a reporter...". The Old Black Lady is like, "seriously?" and up and leaves. Oh, also, the Old Black Lady is blind.

Here we learn that Lois Lane might not be neurotypical and that her inability have a normal conversation might truly be the problem. Lois realizes this too and decides that behavior modification might help and then after practicing talking to people like neurotypical people do, she goes into the black neighborhood a few weeks later and gets her story. The end.

Just kidding, that would make too much sense.

Instead, Lois Lane realizes that, not only does she look white ('cause, you know, she is) but she sounds white too. Then she mutters, "fuck my life" and strolls down the street where she happens upon Al Sharpton running the weekly Black People Meeting on a street corner. Al is in the middle of reprimanding Tyrone for inappropriately raising a point of personal privilege in order to suspend debate while he went to finish a dice game, when he spots Lois Lane out of the corner of his eye. Al then points out that she's white and is apt to do the stuff that we all know white people do.

Cut to Lois Lane looking all sad and white on a park bench. All of a sudden, Superman appears. It turns out he was in the area because, let's be honest, there's always some shit going on in that part of town. Also, because he had to finish his dice game with Tyrone. Lois complains that black people don't like her and asks if Superman has any ideas for making black friends. He does.

Superman happens to have a machine that can turn white people into black people for just a day. That's right, Superman has a spray tanning machine in his house or lair or whatever. He also does weaves.

Lois goes outside to catch a cab and it starts to rain. Of course this is the worst thing that can happen to a black woman who just got her hair did and Lois reacts appropriately. Fortunately, Benny the cab driver has just finished afternoon tea and is making his way toward Lois. Too bad he keeps going. Realizing what just happened, Lois says, "Benny gave me the first lesson in the meaning of black". Then she goes back inside to write her story about being black. Just kidding!

Instead, Lois has to take the subway with a bunch of white people who have staring problems. After making her way to the Africatown (population: 1 more black person [but only for a day]), she wanders into an apartment building where someone has set a recycled newspaper bin on fire. Lois puts out the fire and ends up being laughed at by a friendly black woman who can't believe that no one has told the building's porter to collect the recycling. The woman invites Lois in for coffee and then asks if she's a bill collector.

They laugh about poor credit and then the woman hears her daughter yelling and says "It's the baby! Her 'playmate' is visiting her!" and runs outside with a broom and shoos a giant rat away. I assumed anyone living in New York City, even rich white people, had a rat as a playmate growing up. I can't be the only person who has ever seen the movie Stuart Little.

Later, while walking around Blackville, USA, Lois Lane walks by a back alley, afro-centric charter school. Clearly prepping for the state academic standards tests, the teacher makes them say "black is beautiful" over and over again and then asks them follow up questions like, "You are black. What is Black?" (answer: beautiful!) All of a sudden, a random dude tries to work his game on her. He thinks he's seen her before. Lois looks into his dreamy eyes and decides that she's completely okay with going black and never going back. Just then, the man notices that some neighborhood rascals are up to no good and says he's got to go investigate. Lois wants to come along as well but he doesn't want a woman tagging a long. Lois says that she's a reporter and he's like, "Okay, whatever."

In the alley, they see that the kids were bringing stolen items to the neighborhood pimps White Chocolate and Black Ice so that they could...I don't know, it was a recession, I assume pimps were hurting as well. Lois' new black friend yells out "This is why we can't have nice things" and then gets shot by the pimps. Superman, who was in the area for his weekly game of spades and gossip, hears the commotion and excuses himself. Rolling his eyes, he explains, "I think I just heard someone get a cap busted in their ass." He shows up and melts the pimps guns.

Cut to Lois Lane donating blood to her new black friend in the hospital. He wakes up and sees that his new lady friend is there and he's happy because he definitely is going to tap that later tonight. Or not.

30 minutes later, Lois Lane is visiting with Superman in a hospital waiting room and, being an annoying woman, says: "Look me in the eye! And tell me the truth! Do you love me? Suppose I couldn't change back? Would you marry me? Even if I'm black? An outsider in a white man's word?" Then Superman was like, "Seriously? Bitch, do you remember who turned you into a black woman? This guy." Shaking his head he mumbles to himself, "white bitches be crazy". No, he didn't say that. Instead, he pointed out that she's still his boo and that he's from Krypton, so he's not even a Real 'Merican. Then they get into an argument about marriage that has nothing to do with race when, suddenly, Lois turns white again.

The nurse comes in to announce that the new black friend wants to see Lois, then the nurse sees Superman standing there talking to a random white lady and is like, "What the f..." and Lois says, "It's cool, it's just me, Lois." I guess the nurse finds this explanation acceptable. Lois then frets over what her new black friend will think now that she's white. Superman convinces her that not all black people hate all white people and then, on the final page, this happens:


Superman, watch out.

If you'd like to read the entire comic yourself, you can read it here.

Dispatches from The Very Presidental Joint Healthcare Rally and Ricky Rubio Protest at the Target Center.

Today, I scored a VIP ticket to see Obama at the Target Center. I'll explain in a later post on called "Wow, my summer has been kind of ridiculous, hasn't it?" post.

I'd like to share some pictures I took but first, I'd like to say that I was disappointed that there was not free healthcare at the door but I am hoping that my floor ticket entitles me to free top-notch healthcare for the rest of my life. I hurt my arm while standing in line (it cramped up and now, hours later, I cannot extend it fully) so maybe I will be able to test my new government benefit.

Onward to hi-larity!

Here's a picture I took of someone standing by (possibly with) the Teabaggers outside the Obama health care rally. I cannot tell if this man is serious and neither could any of the elitist libruls in line with me. I mean, no one could seriously advocate for Joe the Plumber to be allowed anywhere near actual governmental operations, right? But then again, this guy was standing with the teabaggers and was wearing the American flag as clothing and the back of his shirt said "Freedom" and had the number "76", so I'm inclined to think he's a Real Amurkin™ and not a Real Sane American™. What do you guys think (share in comments)?

If the history books only talked about one major impact of Barack Obama's presidency, I think it would clearly have to be the suddenly inability of many Americans to discern irony/sarcasm from the Right's actual agenda. Tragic.

In other news, why is this single-payer protester dressed like a zombie? I don't know. I just know that the socialist single-payer healthcare protesters had the awesomest signs, songs and chants and it was a pleasure to stand in the elitist VIP line by them. Also, they drowned out the Teabaggers I had to stand in line by later on.


Another great moment in line was when the "Teabaggers Lie" guy and his pro-healthcare sidekick, Medicare Woman, got into an argument with the Teabagger Skelator-looking woman here with the flags. The sidekick said to the Teabagator "You look like you're on Medicare!" Which I disagree with. This woman looks like she NEEDS Medicare. We line-standers had a great laugh and we like "oh snap!" So, kudos, Medicare Woman!


This group of healthcare advocates had signs that pointed out that green-collar workers need health insurance too!


I wish people on the Left would stop doing embarrassing things like riding Segways. You're hurting the party, guys!

Then there was THIS guy:


I don't know whether he knew the Funniest Person in the Twin Cities contest was over or not but he started out his speech with all kinds of jokey-jokes. Also, he mentioned RT Rybak, like, a million times. I think my President has a crush on my Mayor. And is totally setting him up for a gubernatorial run (Please, RT, do it!)

Anyway, Obama gave a shout out to the World's Biggest Obama Fan, a dude who I stood in line with at some point. He's 7'8".


This is an old picture (found here at Amanda Scott's blog). Michelle Obama was not there but at some point her husband did make some cryptic reference to her loving the show "So You Think You Can Dance".

Also, at one point the Mayor of the City of Minneapolis, Rybak, and Mayor Chris Coleman, the mayor of first-ring-Minneapolis-suburb St. Paul, started chanting "Obama tells the truth! Obama tells the truth!" I know this because I heard it and saw it, as I was about 15 feet away from both of them, on the elitist floor of the Target Center. It was kind of awesome. I saw Franken and Ellison shouted stuff too but I couldn't hear.

VIP politicians were sort of behind the stage in an area. Here are our senators, Al Franken and Amy Klobuchar in the VIP Politician Holding Pen:


And my awesome congressman, Representative Keith Ellison. MN-5 in the house!


Oh hey, here's Health and Human Services Secretary Sebelius standing next to Senator Franken. I shook her hand. That's the best "I touched a famous person" story you're going to get out of this post. Also, I like to think that the woman pictured was taking a picture of a VIP county board member but I think she was taking a picture of that guy on stage talking.


Finally, huge thanks to Hennepin County Commissioner Peter McLaughlin, who is a super nice guy, great politician and gave this lowly county board member pictured next to him a floor ticket to the rally.


Anyway, I'm sure there are spelling errors and grammatical mistakes in this post but I'll get to them later. I've got actual work to do.

And BookTV to watch.

Also.

Senior Speech: Drunk Ducks and Penguin Suspenders.

At my high school, Blake, every senior is required to give a speech to the student body at some point during the school year. I currently serve on a diversity advisory board for Blake and at a recent meeting, I was told that my speech is one of the speeches the Upper School had students of color read as an example of the experiences of students of color. My speech is about my college visits and, looking back on it, I cannot believe I decided to go to Williams after visiting, not once but two fucking times. Anyway, I've decided to post that senior speech. Enjoy!

Drunk Ducks and Penguin Suspenders

I’d seen some pretty weird stuff of my thirteen years at Blake. A pumpkin thrown through a classroom window, a classmate voluntarily locked in a locker for over an hour, and a student duct taped to a pillar. However, I saw some even weirder stuff during my college trips.

Over MEA [Education conference - the entire state has a day off. Blake students get two days because it's coupled with conferences. - B] my mom and I ventured out east, our first stop was American University in Washington D.C. At American, I split with my Mom and met my friend Danielle for an “insider's" tour of campus. Our first stop was her dorm room. As we walked down a hall, Danielle gestured towards a room labeled "sorority office", and remarked, "Sororities here are kinda lame. The can't have houses because of some DC law." It turns out that DC has a law that says more that six women living in a house constitutes a brothel. Contrary to popular belief, brothels aren't legal in DC. Later, as we strolled by the school parking ramp, I asked Danielle if she had any interesting stories she would like to share. Casually, she says, “Lately there have been some deaths. Last spring some one jumped off the parking ramp and this fall, some kid just died. I knew him. He had heart problems." "ummmmm...actually", I said in a troubled voice, "I meant like pranks and stuff." Danielle shrugged her shoulders, "Oh, I dunno, drunk people do all sorts of crazy stuff." At the end of the tour Danielle pointed to a big ‚ white building, "That building looks like the white house from above. So, if anyone decides to drop a bomb on the white house, there is a chance it might drop on American instead." "That's good to know," I said, nodding approvingly at American’s contribution to the free world.

My next stop was George Washington, or GW. On my tour I learned two things. First, GW has the only bowling alley in DC besides the Whitehouse, and second, the courtyard of the GW law school looks like a bull’s eye. Rumor has it, during the cold war the Russians had missiles aimed at the courtyard. What is with DC schools and their obliteration complex?

It was also on my tour that I was faced with the dilemma that many touring students have. When do you warn your backwards-walking guide, of the many dangers in their path? Chances are they've done the tour guide thing before, so one would think they know what they are doing. But then again, one might feel guilty if their guide fell down a manhole. I pondered this quandary for a while, until I came upon a solution. I’d just let someone else speak up. That way, I wouldn't seem annoying and hopefully, I still have a guide to get me back to admissions.

Anyway, I made it back to admissions with a clear conscience, just in time for my interview. My interviewer, Joe, was a senior at GW and he was a nice guy. He kindly informed me that he was required to tell all prospective students that "if they wanted a campus that had grass growing on it, they were in the wrong place, because all GW has is concrete." Way to market the school Joe.

That evening we took the train to Philadelphia. A good family friend took us on a tour of the city. While walking about in a hip, uptown like area, I saw a store window with inflatable furniture in the window. I ventured in, with my mom right behind me. 30 seconds later, I realized we were in a sex shop. I quickly exited the store, and got my mom out before she noticed the nature of the store. Perhaps I was still a bit disturbed when I peered into a darkened Gap store window. I managed to miscalculate the distance between my head and the window, and ended up sprawled out in pain on the sidewalk. My mom, who didn't see the incident, rushed to my fallen body, thinking I’d been mugged. Thought after she found out the truth about my accident, she shook her head and decided it was time to return to our hotel.

The next morning, as we drove down the long driveway of Haverford College, I noticed there was lots of grass growing (unlike some places) and a duck pond on campus. I went on tour another, this time armed with my laisse faire approach to tour guide intervention. Once again I was enlightened by my tour guide. Haverford has a strong Quaker tradition and as a result has a strong honor code. There was one aspect of the honor code I found interesting. At Haverford, no one can ever be expelled. Sure, students can be suspended (or separated, as the Haverford folks like to call it) but never expelled. No matter what they do. For example, Chevy Chase, during his brief stint at Haverford is rumored to have led a cow to the roof of a dormitory, while another student lured a paddling of ducks (yes, that's what a group of ducks is called) from the pond, up to his friend’s room. Awaiting them was a loaf of bread soaked in alcohol. When the friend returned, he found a bunch of drunken ducks in his room. Nope, not even animal cruelty can get you kicked out of Haverford.

Before the MEA trip was over, We went to visit a few other schools, including one where I ended up listening to Muzak and sipping tea during my interview, and another that had sheep milling about on the campus. MEA wasn’t the end of my collegiate adventuring. In the piles of junk mail from the armed forces and several colleges of questionable legitimacy, I received two invitations to multicultural weekends. One from Bates College and one from Williams College. If I chose to attend, they would pay for me to fly out. Free trip? No school? I was there. Sometimes it pays to be oppressed.

My trip to Bates was pretty standard. Kinda. On the way from the airport, the driver Bates hired, to get the perspectives students to and from Bates decided to give me of background on Bates. In his words, "Bates is a great school, because you get to study a lot since the city of Lewiston is not some place you want to hang out in. But hey at least Bates doesn’t have white supremacists like Colby." I’m sure Bates appreciates the PR. Then at 7pm, the night before I was supposed to leave, my host dropped me off at a pre-frosh gathering. She went to her boyfriend’s dorm and never returned. Security had to let me in to her room, and I ended up almost missing my ride to the airport the next morning. Oh well, at least I got to ride there in a limo.

Onward to Williams. After checking in at the admissions office, I was sent off to my host’s dorm. When I finally, reached her dorm, she greeted me with, “Hi. Don’t touch the railings, don’t use the bathroom in my entry. Some people on my floor had a party last night. You don’t want to know any more than that. How are you?” After settling in and grabbing a bite to eat, I was informed that I would be attending a party that evening with my host and her boyfriend. Later that night, as my host and I headed across campus to her boyfriend’s dorm. Upon reaching the boyfriend’s room, I was greeted by a guy, a bit taller than me, sporting Khaki cargo pants, a white tee-shirt, penguin suspenders, and a scarf.

“Hi, I’m Matt. Welcome to Williams.” he said, while extending his hand. “Hi, I’m Brandi,” I replied, still a bit confused at Matt’s get-up. Apparently, my host was a bit confused too, because she looked at him strangely and said, “Matt, why are you dressed like that?” “Well, aren’t we going to the Canadian Party?” “Um, okay.” replied my host. “Okay then,” Matt said. Then he turned to me and asked, “So, Brandi, what do you think of my costume?” I had to be honest. “Ah, no offense Matt, but I think you look a bit like a displaced lumberjack.” Matt laughed, and we then headed downstairs.

But Before heading to the Canadian Party, we made a stop in the dorm’s lounge. While Matt chatted with some friends, I noticed two guys across the room bickering. A pudgy guy with a Yankees cap and a tall gangly fellow across the room. The were bickering about which coast was better.

“Dude, your coast has smog and illegal immigration.,” argued Yankees boy. “Man, the east coast sucks, you had slavery on your coast.” retorted gangly boy. Yankees boy decided to settle the matter by picking up a full beer can and whipping it at his nemesis’s head. Gangly boy proceeded to put Yankees boy in a head lock. “Say LA. Man, say it. Say it!!!” This commotion went on for quite some time when all of a sudden.... “Ah! My eye!”, I looked over to see Yankees boy clutching his face. He then got up, pointed at Gangly boy and shrieked, “Dude, I hate you and I hate LA. And another thing, stop using my computer for porn!” The entire room became silent, and Matt proclaimed, “I think now is a good time to leave.”

We went to the Canadian Party (although, I’m still not sure how a Canadian party differs from a regular party), and then returned to Matt’s room to watch a movie. His selection? Disney’s Robin Hood. So, there I was at 2am, on my college trip watching cartoons. Williams College had paid for me to fly out and watch cartoons. Cool. The rest of my trip wasn't as exciting. The next day I had an interview, where I explained my transcript as being fit for a game a scrabble. Fortunately, my interviewer found this humorous. She also excused me from a few mandatory meetings, because she said that since I go to Blake. I probably knew all of this stuff. Thank you Jr. College groups. I used that time to catch up on homework and rest.

So, I ended up applying to every school I visited, except the one with sheep, ‘cause that’s just not okay. I’ve come to accept that there is no escaping bizarro world. Because at high schools all across the nations there is produced being thrown, prisoners in lockers, and people plastered to pillars. And you know what? They are applying to college just like us.

Oh my stars, I cannot believe that I was remotely surprised by any of the weird shit I witnessed in college, considering all the insanity that I saw before I was even accepted into college. Good grief.