No Hurry

Molly thinks she did pretty well on the Counterpoint I exam, thanks to coaching from Pamela and Anna. Counterpoint I covers the first species only, note for note counterpoint in two voices.

Pedagogy at Old Ivy is nothing if not exhaustive. The exam consists of a number of musical snippets which the student must mark either as correct or incorrect, and if incorrect identify the error; a successful student understands the rules of counterpoint, which are precisely enumerated and not subject to debate. The process is tedious, and "creative" students sometimes rebel, to which Mr. Albrechtsberger simply points out that Beethoven and Schubert wrote their greatest music after studying counterpoint, so unless the student has already published music as great as Beethoven's later works she should either get with the program or get out.

With exams finished, Roderick, Molly and Anna load their stuff in the Roadmaster and prepare to head for home. Meanwhile, Mr. Smith awakes in Derbyton, home of the annual Julep Derby. Once a year, all of the beautiful people gather in Derbyton for the running of the thoroughbreds. Women wear funny hats, mint juleps are served, and life pauses for two minutes of intense excitement.

The rest of the year, Derbyton is a dump in the middle of nowhere.

Mr. Smith meets with two clients today. The first is Delicious! Brands, parent company of the global fast food franchises Gangbanger Chicken, El Sombrero Tacos and Cosa Nostra Pizza. In the afternoon, he meets with Kopay Health Care, a leading health insurance provider. He thinks it's funny that Derbyton is the home of fast food chains and a health insurance company.

After meeting with Kopay, Mr. Smith drives the ninety-six miles to Porkopolis. The Interstate highway parallels the Sumbig River (upon which both cities are located). The Sumbig River was named by some fur traders exploring America's wilderness in the early 1700s. Exiting a forest in pursuit of beaver pelts, the explorers happened upon a great body of water and exclaimed "Hey! That's some big river!" The expedition's mapmaker duly noted this.

Porkopolis was a great pig-slaughtering city in the Nineteenth Century (hence the nickname of "Lard City"). Tomorrow, Mr. Smith meets with Fashion Plate, the famous eyewear retailer whose Porkopolis location owes little to economic logic and much to special tax incentives. Unfortunately, the local instances of the Unique Hotel chain, Mr. Smith's favorite home away from home are all sold out. Instead, Mr. Smith stays at Vertigo Suites, the chain whose signature architecture is suites stacked around a vast atrium and accessed by "bubble" elevators and a narrow catwalk with see-through railings.

"I've upgraded you to the top floor," says the desk clerk, brightly. Mr. Smith blanches and, white-knuckled, clutches his overnight bag as the glass-walled elevator whisks him to the top of the atrium. Creeping along the catwalk, back pressed to the wall, Mr. Smith tries to avoid looking down or thinking about the fact that he is currently walking along a cantilevered concrete platform about three feet wide that could come crashing down at any moment, taking him along with it.

Meanwhile, Roderick, Molly and Anna drive home in the Roadmaster. Molly and Roderick decide against stopping along the way to do in the back seat what people do in the back seat of Roadmasters, for several reasons:

(1) Anna is sitting in it.
(2) Molly doesn't think it sounds very comfortable.
(3) Roderick wants to keep that "new car" smell.

In any case, they decided it would be much better to "do it" at home, in their nice comfortable beds, and not in the presence of Anna.

Plus, there is no hurry. They won't be twenty-one for two and a half years, or so.

No Lady Visitors

The History of Banking exam is done. It was a bear, but Roderick thinks he did okay.

Back in his room, he checks for Nigel Farage news. He likes this video.

Molly is studying hard for Counterpoint this evening, so she's not coming over.

Hmm, nothing to do.

Roderick calls his dad.

"Hello!"

"Dad, it's Roderick."

"Hey, there."

"I'm done with exams."

"That's great! How'd they go?"

"Nailed Logic, and did pretty well on the rest."

"Congratulations!"

"Hey, you remember Anna?"

"The tall girl, from Milan?"

"Right."

"Yes, I remember."

"She got a perfect score on everything."

"Wow, smart lady!"

"And she didn't need 'special counseling' with the professors, if you know what I mean."

"Heh. I do know what you mean."

"Molly has her Counterpoint exam tomorrow, and then we come home."

"How's the Roadmaster running."

"It's great, Dad. With that automatic Dynaflow transmission, I don't have to shift for myself."

"Hey, guess who's coming to visit for the Christmas season?"

"Mr. Smiley?"

"Right, we just got his letter today." Mr. Smiley, Clothilde and little Alexander Smiley visit Beauneville twice a year, around Christmastime and in the summer.

"Well, I gotta go."

"OK, then. See you tomorrow evening."

Roderick has no lady visitors this evening, so he looks for more Nigel Farage videos, and finds this one.

Second Sunday in Advent

On Sunday morning, Roderick crawls out of bed to check Google for the latest Nigel Farage stories. He likes this profile in the New York Times.

The lump in his bed emits a muffled groan and Megan crawls out, naked. As she leans over to pick up her clothing, Roderick notices that her buttocks are bright pink.

"So I see you went to see Mr. Whitehead," he says.

"Yes, I did."

"Will he let you into the seminar?"

"Yes, but I need to meet with him weekly to make sure I don't fall behind."

"You're going to be busy next semester."

"Don't I know it! Four classes, Chicks With Glocks and now this. Plus my regular meetings with alumni to demonstrate my ongoing financial need."

"That shouldn't be a problem for you -- demonstrating need, I mean."

"Oh, I am so needy," says Megan.

There is no cantata today in St. Cecilia. Following common practice of the St. Thomas church in Leipzig during Bach's tenure, services for the second through fourth Sundays of Advent are "quiet services", with no music. Bach actually wrote a cantata (BWV 70a) for the Second Sunday of Advent while living in Weimar, but on arrival in Leipzig he rewrote the work for the twenty-sixth Sunday of Trinity. The original version is lost.

Quiet services create spiritual anticipation for Christmas festivities. Also, they give Mr. Pipes and Mr. Mendelssohn a break.

Miss Diana ("Dee") Colletage of the Romance Languages department delivers today's inspirational message: We Love Santa Claus Because He Brings Us Presents.

After the service, Roderick, Molly, Anna, Megan, Henry, Albert, Pamela and Natasha stroll over to the Old Ivy Inn for the regular Sunday brunch. Per usual, they grab the big round table by the fireplace and choose seats carefully to avoid placing Henry near Natasha. Molly sits on Roderick's left and Megan on his right.

Henry waves two sheets of paper. "Scores are in for Rhetoric and Math! Want me to read them?"

Everyone except Natasha agrees that reading the scores aloud sounds like a great idea.

"OK, Rhetoric, first. Roderick, 98; Molly, 83; Anna, 100..."

This last score provokes an outburst of "Wowsa!" and "Congratulations!" Megan pats Anna on the back.

"...Megan, 86; Me, 85; and the slut got 52."

Natasha lifts her nose in the air. "What do you expect? I'm an artist."

"Next, Mathematics. Roderick, 91; Molly, 89, Anna, 100..."

Again with the congratulations.

"...Megan, 80; Me, 99; and a pathetic 37 for the slut. So everyone except Natasha moves to the next level in both subjects."

Natasha doesn't bat an eyelash. "Daddy will fix it for me."

Roderick turns the conversation to more congenial topics. "Pass the scrapple, please!"

Molly turns to Natasha, on her left, and inquires: "When are you going home for Christmas?"

"Next Wednesday or Thursday. By the way, can you pose for me when we get home?"

"I don't know. You like to add things to the picture, and it's a little embarrassing."

"Don't be so puritanical, it was just a sex toy."

"It's kind of personal. I don't care if you use such things, but I don't."

"If I promise to leave out the sex toy will you pose?"

"Of course."

That evening, Roderick and Molly continue their self-imposed separation, so they do not distract one another during Exam Week. Roderick studies quietly for the History of Banking exam tomorrow. A few doors down the hall, Molly and Anna prepare for the Counterpoint final on Tuesday. Megan cleans her Glock; there is no exam for Literature Workshop, so she's done for the semester.

In her suite, Natasha leafs through her 'Molly' sketches, and prepares to be serviced by Umberto.

Punishment

Old Ivy College administers exams in a specially built Examination Building adjacent to East Quad. The exam rooms are well-lit and pleasant, with few distractions. Students taking exams sit at desks that are positioned sufficiently far apart that collaboration is difficult.

Testing procedures make cheating nearly impossible. Students must show credentials to a burly security guard upon entry. Devices of any kind must be stored in lockers. Under the "troika" system, three different professors develop the questions for each exam, and each student receives three sets of questions, so no individual professor knows more than a third of the questions on any one exam.

Megan caught on to this right away. Back in October, while eating lunch with Roderick, she commented about the "troika" system.

"I'm going to have to study," she sighed.

Roderick sipped his drink. "Well, yes, that's kind of why we're here."

"I'd have to blow all three of them to find out what's on the exam."

"That wouldn't be a problem for you, would it?"

Megan feigns outrage. "I'm not that slutty," she says, reaching over and mock-punching him in the shoulder. "But come to think of it..."

"Anyway, some of them aren't into chicks," says Roderick helpfully.

There is no curve. In theory, everyone sitting for an exam can fail it, or get a perfect score. The test measures absolute knowledge, not relative knowledge.

This morning, Roderick has results from the Logic I exam. Perfect score: he's a lock for Mr. Whitehead's Logic II Seminar. Molly, Megan, Anna, Henry, Natasha: not so much. Roderick promises to help Molly and Anna; Henry will buckle down and study harder; Natasha will get her father to pay for tutoring, preferably by someone as well-hung as Umberto. Megan proposes to go and see Mr. Whitehead to see if he will agree to let her into his seminar.

"Better wear kneepads," quips Roderick.

Molly is puzzled. "Why would she do that?" Anna leans over and whispers something. Molly blushes.

"I hear he's into BDSM," says Natasha. "Hope you're feeling submissive."

Megan shivers. "I could totally use some punishment right now."

Anna changes the subject. "How'd everyone do in Rhetoric and Math?"

"They haven't posted the scores yet," says Roderick. "But I thought it was okay." They discuss the exams, and agree that the Rhetoric exam was tough, but the Math exam was fairly easy.

That evening, Roderick sits on his bed reading quietly. He and Molly have pledged not to sleep with one another until exams are finished, to avoid distraction.

Someone knocks on the door. Roderick answers. It's Megan, buxom and bubbly, her hair slightly disheveled.

"Hi, can I come in?" she purrs. "I've been naughty."

Exam Week

It's Exam Week at Old Ivy. Crunch time has arrived.

Let's recap the way things work at Old Ivy. To graduate, students must pass a series of exams. To help students prepare for the exams, the College offers a number of lectures and seminars, but students are not obligated to attend; they are welcome to study on their own or pay for a tutor.

The lectures at Old Ivy are delivered by adjunct faculty and are open to all students. Seminars, on the other hand, are limited to the twelve students with the highest exam scores in the previous level; they are led by senior faculty. Since the senior faculty write the exams, a seminar seat is highly coveted as the professors tend to drop helpful hints about what will be on the exam at the end of the semester. It's a virtuous circle; do well on the first exam and you get into a seminar, which improves your chances of doing well on the next exam.

Senior faculty can admit more students to the seminar at their own discretion. However, students must meet with the professor at the beginning of the semester and demonstrate to the professor's satisfaction that they merit special admission. Old Ivy's Board of Directors has no knowledge of the seemingly affluent lifestyles of senior faculty (considering the low pay), nor are they aware of the puzzling incidence in seminars of attractive young women who seem much less well-prepared than the other students.

Students who do not do so well on the exam must make do with the lectures, which are pretty good, but since the lecturers don't write the exams they can't drop hints. Alternatively, students can hire tutors. There is a cottage industry of tutors -- most of whom are upperclassmen or Old Ivy graduates -- in the vicinity of the college.

The Logic exam was yesterday, and Roderick nailed it. Rhetoric and Mathematics will be tomorrow morning and afternoon, respectively. Elective exams are next week; Roderick has History of Banking on Monday, and Molly has Counterpoint on Tuesday. Then it's off to Beauneville in the Roadmaster.

Roderick and Molly agree to sleep separately through Exam Week, so they won't distract one another with thoughts about doing what people do in the back seat of a Roadmaster. Lily Chang has kindly offered to come over and help Roderick study for Rhetoric, so now she sits next to Roderick on the bed as they review the work of the Sophists, Isocrates, Plato and Aristotle, and Roderick contemplates how surprisingly buxom Lily is for an Asian girl from Minneapolis.

Lily stretches, then begins to remove her shirt. "Do you mind if we study naked?" she inquires. "I think it's so much more relaxing, don't you?"

Roderick doesn't mind at all.

Roderick Pretends to be Shocked

Roderick awakes. Checking Instapundit, he finds this, which makes him want to learn more about statistics and data mining and stuff so he can do the same thing for the Right.

He crawls back into bed and snuggles Molly. They snooze for a little while, then dress, walk down to the Dining Hall, fill their plates and find a table for two.

Roderick leads off the conversation. "Megan wants me to take her for a drive in the Roadmaster."

"That sounds nice."

"She wants to do it in the back seat."

"Wouldn't that be uncomfortable?"

"It's a large back seat."

"Megan has a single room and you have a single room, so why bother with back seats?"

"I told her that it sounds like fun, but you get to go first."

"I should certainly hope so, Mr. Smith," says Molly with mock reproach. "I believe we have a pledge to that effect."

"Indeed we do."

"And we need to keep to our pledge."

"We certainly will."

Molly chews on a piece of bacon for awhile, then inquires: "So when can we go for a ride?"

"Well, we're going to ride home after exams. When are you done with yours?"

"Next Tuesday."

"So we'll drive home on Wednesday."

"Maybe we can pull over to the side of the road somewhere?"

Roderick feigns innocence. "What for?"

Molly feigns reticence. "Well, you know..."

"What?"

"So we can fuck, of course." She giggles.

Roderick pretends to be shocked. Actually, he doesn't have to pretend, as he has never heard Molly use the word 'fuck'. "Why don't we just wait until we get home and do it in your bedroom or mine?"

Molly stands, picks up her tray, then leans over and whispers: "Why wait"? She giggles and departs.

Mr. Whiffle's DeSoto

Browsing on the internet, Roderick stumbles on this. He thinks it's interesting.

He checks for new stuff about Nigel Farage, and finds this, this and this.

At breakfast in the Dining Hall, Roderick fills his plate with scrapple and applesauce, then sits down next to Megan, who is buxom and bubbly.

"How's the writing going?" he inquires.

Megan brightens. "Well, thank you. My novel's almost finished, just polishing the denouement. I have to figure out a way for Basingstoke to reveal his sex-change operation to Charlotte without making Mabel suspect anything. And Charlotte must somehow escape Lady Margaret's dungeon."

"So it's a comedy of manners?"

"Yes, with ample spanking."

Roderick ponders that. Tricky piece of narrative. Well, he thinks, if anyone can write her way out of a dungeon with ample spanking, Megan can.

Megan breaks the silence. "Don't you feel a little creepy driving Mr. Lincoln's car?"

"Not really. It's the Beauneville Way." Roderick refers to the Beauneville Way of Doing Things, which includes keeping cars forever. Mr. Durant down at the DeSoto dealer likes to say that every car he's ever sold is still running, which is only a little bit of sales hyperbole because everyone knows that Mr. Whiffle drove a 1947 DeSoto Club Coupe into the Rushing River on a cold night in January 1954. Mr. Whiffle had consumed one too many glasses of Calvados at the Beaune estate and was on his way to a whorehouse in Stapleton when he missed the steel bridge by about ten yards and went straight into the river. The car sank like a stone and was not seen again, nor was Mr. Whiffle.

So except for Mr. Whiffle's 1947 DeSoto Club Coupe, every car sold by Durand DeSoto is still running. When Chrysler discontinued the brand in 1960, Mr. Durand never took the sign down, but just kept on trading in used cars and keeping the existing stock running. Since Beauneville denizens rarely drive farther than Stapleton, and generally stick to a leisurely pace on the highways, the cars just keep on running.

All this talk about cars is making Megan feel daring. "Maybe we could go for a ride some time and you can fuck me in the back seat."

"That sounds like fun," says Roderick, "but Molly gets to go first."

The Viennese Are A Curious Lot

Roderick and Molly get up early for the drive back to Old Ivy. Quickly, they load their stuff into the Roadmaster. Roderick starts up the beast, shifts the Dynaflow into reverse and backs out into Elm Street. Pausing, he shifts into Drive and hits the gas. A few intersections later they are out on the main road to Old Ivy. The Roadmaster smoothly upshifts and settles into a comfortable speed of thirty-five miles per hour.

"Wow, Molly" says Roderick. "With Dynaflow we don't have to shift for ourselves."

Curled up against Roderick on the bench seat, Molly feels curiously aroused, like she wants to "do it" with Roderick sooner rather than later.

The St. Cecilia Chapel is decked out with holly, ivy and other signs of the Advent season, including little Santa and Rudolph figurines. For the first Sunday of Advent, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale performs the Bach cantata BWV 61 Nun Komm Der Heiden Heiland. During Advent, members of the Old Ivy Chamber Orchestra accompany the Chorale together with Mr. Pipes on the organ. (During Trinity, the Chorale sings with just the organ). Since Bach did not write for the clarinet, Roderick sings in the Bass section.

The text of the Chorale, by Martin Luther, translates roughly as:

Now come, the gentiles' Savior,
As the Virgin's child revealed,
At whom marvels all the world
That God him this birth ordained.

Today's inspirational message by Mr. Macy of the Philosophy Department: Shop Early, We Celebrate the Birth of our Lord.

After the service, Roderick takes Molly, Anna, Megan, Henry, Albert and Pamela out to the parking lot to visit the new car. No sign of Natasha -- she's being serviced by Umberto.

Roderick's Roadmaster squats in the parking lot like a very large gleaming curvaceous thing that squats in parking lots. Sun gleams off the chrome bumpers, side mirrors, "bullseye" hood ornament and the four VentiPorts on each swept-back fender.

"Wow!" says Henry. "It's a Roadmaster!"

Molly, dressed in her customary plaid flannel shirt and jeans, rubs her thigh discreetly. She's feeling turned on again by the thought of sitting on that bench seat

"Can we go for a ride?" asks Megan.

"Sure," says Roderick. "Pile in." So they do, with Molly sitting between Roderick and Megan on the front bench seat; Henry, Anna, Pamela and Albert occupy the back.

Roderick navigates the sedan down College Avenue at a safe speed, then accelerates on the main road. The Roadmaster wobbles along at top speed on its squishy suspension.

"Whoa!" exclaims Albert. "We're doing at least thirty!"

Molly feels something damp between her legs. Megan thinks that now would be pretty good for some "me-time". Pamela, on the other hand, regrets that she failed to mention her propensity for car sickness.

Later, Roderick looks on YouTube for recordings of the cantata they sang this morning. He likes this one, though he thinks it curious that some of the violinists are not from China, and there is no sign of buttock-fondling among members of the choir. The Viennese are a curious lot, he thinks.

Roadmaster

On Saturday, Roderick awakes to the morning sun. He pokes the warm lump next to him; Molly moans and pulls the covers over his head.

Stretching, Roderick pads over to the laptop on his desk and surfs. He likes this story about Nigel Farage, and forwards a link to Lily Chang.

The memorial service for Mr. Lincoln is at ten this morning. Roderick, Molly and the Smiths breakfast on scrapple and applesauce, then walk the short distance to the Church of Nothing, where they meet the Blooms. Filing into church, they occupy one of the long pews in this order: Mr. and Mrs. Bloom, Mary Bloom, Margaret Bloom, Catherine Bloom (accompanied by Mr. Fuzzums and Miss Kitty), Roderick, Molly, Mrs. Smith and Mr. Smith.

It is customary at the Church of Nothing that the pastor places an urn holding the cremains of the departed on a table before the alter. The urn is flanked by a rosebud on either side (contributed by the Church) and additional flowers contributed by well-wishers and loved ones.

Today, the late Mr. Lincoln rests in his urn, flanked by two solitary rosebuds.

Catherine tugs on Roderick's elbow. "I'm having a nice day," she says.

Roderick puts his finger to his lips to shoosh her. The memorial service is starting.

A memorial service at the Church of Nothing is quite simple. There is no ceremony, sermon or formal remarks. Instead, members of the congregation simply sit quietly and, when the spirit moves them, rise individually and share their thoughts about the departed. When all have said their peace, the service is over.

Silence.

Mrs. Bickle rises. "He never smiled or anything." She resumes her seat.

Silence.

Miss Shlepstein from City Hall rises. "He was a nasty old man and I hated it when he came to my office."

More silence.

Roderick rises. "We used to wash his car." He sits down again. Molly noodges him.

Cough, cough, cough.

A man Roderick doesn't recognize rises. "He turned me down for a loan." He sits.

Silence.

Miss Prickle, a nurse who works for Dr. Schlong, the urologist, rises. "He groped me every time he came to the office."

The service over, Roderick and Molly walk home with Mr. and Mrs. Smith. On arrival, Mr. Smith beckons to Roderick. "Come on, there's something I want to show you in the garage."

Roderick shoves open the door to the carriage house out back -- which the Smiths use as a garage. Next to Mr. Smith's Studebaker Commander Roderick sees Mr. Lincoln's shiny black 1948 Buick Roadmaster four-door sedan resting comfortably.

Mr. Smith waves a pair of keys. "It's yours," he says, beaming. "Bought if from Mr. Lincoln a couple of months ago, when he went to the hospital."

"Wow" says Roderick. "A Roadmaster!"

Opening the driver's side door with a creak, Roderick slides beside the wheel, while Molly clambers in the other side and slides across the bench seat to snuggle next to him. Firing up the 150hp power plant and shifting the Dynaflow transmission into reverse, Roderick carefully backs the behemoth out of the garage and down the driveway much the way an ocean liner leaves its berth.

Shifting into Drive and pressing the gas, Roderick commands the beast to lumber up Elm Street. Passing twenty miles per hour, he thinks to himself that this moment is everything he's ever dreamed about: motoring up the street in a Roadmaster, with Molly by his side.

A Familiar Soul

On Friday morning, Roderick's cell phone rings. It's Mrs. Smith calling.

"Good morning, Mom."

"Good morning, dear. Bad news, I'm afraid: Mr. Lincoln passed away last night. I thought you would want to know."

"That's too bad. He was a mean old curmudgeon who never had anything nice to say about anyone, but I kind of liked him anyway."

"There's a memorial service tomorrow at the Church of Nothing. Can you make it?"

"Of course, Mom. I'll tell Molly. We'll see if we can catch a ride home with Megan."

Roderick's pretty sure that Molly's Human Figure class starts pretty soon, so he runs over to the Art Studio. He catches up with her in the studio just as she puts her backpack on a chair.

"Hey, Molly!"

Molly turns and, seeing Roderick, smiles. "Hey!"

"Bad news, I'm afraid. Mr. Lincoln passed away."

"I'm sorry to hear that." With a few quick movements, Molly's shirt lies on the floor.

"There's a memorial service tomorrow, can you come home with me?"

Molly steps out of her pants. "Yes, of course, I wouldn't miss it."

Roderick runs back across campus to Megan's room and knocks on the door. Megan answers, completely nude, her long red hair slightly disheveled.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

Megan yawns. "It's okay, I should get up. Come on in."

Roderick steps in, looks at Megan and the rumpled bedclothes. "Night of passion?" he inquires.

"No, Henry's kind of absorbed with depreciation schedules. Just me and my sex toy."

"There's a memorial service for Mr. Lincoln tomorrow and Molly and I want to go. I was wondering if you're driving home this evening."

"Mr. Lincoln died. That's too bad. He was a nasty old man, but still, it's a shame. Yes, of course, I'll go."

Later in the afternoon, Roderick bumps into Anna.

"Molly and I are hitching a ride home with Megan this evening so we can go to a memorial service. Would you like to join us?"

"No, thank you...I have so much work to do. Will you be back in time for the service on Sunday? It's the first Sunday of Advent."

"Yes, of course, I wouldn't miss it."

On the ride home that evening, Roderick, Megan and Molly are curiously quiet as they contemplate the passing of a familiar soul.

Molly sleeps over. Roderick snuggles her. He thinks she smells pretty.

Katie's Been Busy

Mr. Jack Armstrong serves in a dual role as Old Ivy's part-time health and fitness coach and career advisor. In the early afternoon, Roderick goes to see Mr. Armstrong in his office, which is located in the basement of Old Main, between the boiler room and the loading dock.

"Hello, Mr. Armstrong?"

"Yes."

"My name's Roderick and I..."

"Siddown." Roderick sits.

Mr. Armstrong bangs away on the keyboard of a PC that looks like it's about ten years old. He finishes what he is doing and looks up.

"Whaddya want?"

"I came here for some career counseling."

"Okay, well when you graduate you need to get a job."

"What sort of job is right for me?"

"How should I know?"

"Well. what sort of jobs are available to Old Ivy grads?"

"Beats me. They come, they study, they graduate, they leave. That's it. Once they're gone they're not my problem."

"How do I arrange interviews with potential employers?"

"Call or send email. There are lots of listings on Monster. But of course, you're better off attending job fairs." Mr. Armstrong holds up a copy of his book Your Next Job: A Guide to Job Fairs.

"Do we have a job fair here at Old Ivy?"

"No."

"Any other suggestions?"

"Networking is even better than job fairs." Mr. Armstrong holds up a copy of his book How To Network To A Better Job.

"Can you help me get started networking?"

"Talk to your Dad."

"Nice books, where do I get them?"

"Amazon, thirty bucks apiece."

"Any other advice?"

"Do twenty pushups a day and you'll be okay."

Roderick thanks Mr. Armstrong and departs.

In the evening. Roderick opens Facebook and discovers "friend" requests from Emily Scharf and Betsy Whistler, and a personal message from Lily with a link to this article on the fiscal cliff. In his newsfeed, there are three hundred and forty two cat videos posted by Katie Zeppelin.

"Katie's been busy" he mutters out loud. Roderick watches this one, which he likes.

Peccata Mundi

Tonight, to celebrate St. Cecilia's Day, the Old Ivy Chorus and the Old Ivy Chamber Orchestra perform Haydn's Missa Cellensis in honorem Beatissimae Virginis Mariae ("St. Cecilia Mass") in the St. Cecilia Chapel under the direction of Mr. Geschwindigkeit. St. Cecilia's Day is actually November 22, but since this often falls on Thanksgiving vacation, the College celebrates on the first Monday after.

The Dining Hall serves a special meal for the Feast of St. Cecilia: crown roast of lamb with rose hip jelly and acorn squash. There is no special significance to acorn squash, they just have lots of it this time of year.

The Old Ivy Chorus and the Old Ivy Bach Chorale are two different groups. The Bach Chorale sings nothing but Bach; the Chorus sings Bach, too, but also Mozart, Hadyn, Beethoven and -- when Mr. Geschwindigkeit feels daring -- Schubert.

Mr. Mendelssohn and Mr. Geschwindigkeit do not see eye to eye on this matter. Mr. Mendelssohn feels that there is no reason for a college choir to sing anything other than Bach, while Mr. Geschwindigkeit strongly believes that young people "dig" the more up to date sound of Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven and the really out there stuff like Schubert.

Molly, Megan, Henry, Albert and Pamela attend the concert, but there's no sign of Natasha. That's because she's busily sketching her next work and boffing with Umberto.

There are no parts for flute or clarinet in the Mass, so tonight Roderick joins Zack in the bass section of the Chorus while Anna, Emily Scharf, Candy Whistlethorne and the sexy flautists join the sopranos. The rest of the Chamber Orchestra is as usual: a violin section of Changs, shy violas, slutty cellists, cool basses, double Reeds, problematic bassoons, brassy trumpets and gorgeous Nancy Pauken on kettledrums, looking fetching in her low-cut black concert attire. There's a running joke amongst the men of the orchestra that Nancy Pauken bangs the kettledrums and everyone else would like to bang Nancy Pauken. The women of the orchestra don't think this is funny at all, or pretend they don't.

Betsy Whistler stands directly in front of Roderick on the risers. During the Qui Tollis, Peccata Mundi, she rubs her buttocks against him. Meanwhile, Zack has his hands full with Emily and Candy.

After the concert, members of the St. Cecilia Club serve cupcakes in the foyer. The cupcakes are lovely. Roderick takes two and chats with Molly. Betsy Whistler joins them. Roderick does the introductions.

"Molly, this is Betsy...Betsy, Molly..."

Betsy smiles. "Hi."

"I really like this Mass," says Molly. "Don't you?"

"I do," Betsy giggles. "Especially the Pecatta Mundi." She winks at Roderick and mouths the words "call me."

Later in the evening, Molly and Roderick snuggle under the covers.

"Roderick?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is Betsy Whistler one of your other girlfriends?"

"Not formally. Not yet, anyway."

Silence.

"Roderick?"

"Hmmm?"

"You remember our pledge, right?"

"Of course I do."

"That's good."

Silence.

"Because I'd be crushed if you forgot."

Roderick squeezes Molly. "I won't forget."

Sketching

Today is the final Sunday of Trinity. In the St. Cecilia chapel this morning, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale performs the cantata BWV 140 Wachet Auf, Ruft Uns Die Stimme ('Wake Up! The Voice Calls Us!). Zack sings the Bass solo, one of the ringers sings the Tenor solo, and Emily Scharf sings the Soprano solo while Zack's right hand explores her buttocks.

Mr. Horton's inspirational message today is 'Wake Up! The Coffee's Ready', a sermon about the various types of coffee and how coffee adds meaning to our lives.

After the service Roderick, Molly, Megan, Henry, Anna, Natasha, Albert and Pamela stroll over to the Old Ivy Inn for Sunday brunch. On the way, Megan pulls Pamela aside.

"So...did you and Albert...?"

Pamela responds with a smile and knowing look. The truth is that Pamela and Albert have not "done it" and aren't ready to do so, but as their twenty-first birthdays have arrived they both feel compelled to bow to propriety and put on a show as if they have sent their cherries packing.

Megan wants to know more. "Does he have a big...?"

Pamela nods and gestures with her hands to indicate that the thing Megan refers to is large.

"So did you...?" Whispering, Megan inquires about a certain sexual practice common in some cultures.

"Many times!" Pamela whispers back.

"And then did he...?" Megan describes something she saw in a film last week and thought about repeatedly in the shower.

Pamela blushes angrily. "What do you think I am, a slut?" She stomps away and rejoins Albert.

Seating for brunch is somewhat delicate. Anna, who organized this party, thinks it best if Natasha doesn't sit next to Henry, it's better if she doesn't sit next to Molly or Megan for the time being. She reserved the big table for eight by the fireplace in the Dining Room; she takes the chair at the North end of the table and guides the others to their places in this order: Molly, Roderick, Henry, Megan, Pamela, Albert and Natasha.

Anna realizes that brunch will be rocky as soon as Henry speaks. "Would you please ask the slut next to you to pass the pancakes?"

Natasha glowers. "Why does he think I'm a slut? Just because I sleep around?"

Anna, ever gracious and positive, compliments Natasha's capacity for understatement and nuance.

Natasha sighs. "So now I guess I'm in the doghouse. But why is Molly mad at me? I thought the likeness was pretty good?"

Fork in the air, Anna pauses. "I think you embarrassed her. Most women I know prefer to keep a certain mystery about their sexual arousal."

"That's bourgeois!" Natasha blurts. "I'm an artist, what does she expect me to do, respect her privacy?"

Later, Roderick and Molly lounge on Roderick's bed. Molly, of course, is nude except for a pair of headphones; she is listening to Schnabel's Beethoven cycle on her iPod, while Roderick reads The Church of Nothing: A History.

"Hey, look at this!" says Roderick. Molly hits 'Pause" and removes the headphones. "Did you know that there is no provision for divorce in the Church of Nothing?"

"Really? What about for adultery?"

"No. In the Book of Nothing, it says 'if your wife is a slut, deal with it', and counsels various forms of revenge. But no divorce."

"What about men who beat their wives?"

"Nope. The church says you should call the police, or blow their heads off, as appropriate, but no divorce."

"I think I heard something about this. Mom and Dad always say 'choose your husband carefully, because you're stuck with him.' Now I understand."

Meanwhile, in her room, Natasha pages through images of Molly from last summer's modeling session. Choosing one, she begins to sketch.

Wishing for Berlin

Molly cuddles with Roderick in the back seat of Megan's Mustang as they drive back to Old Ivy. Anna sits up front with Megan, who is still upset with Natasha.

"I can't believe she borrowed my sex toy," Megan grumbles.

Anna agrees that sex toys, like toothbrushes, are best not shared.

Meanwhile, Natasha sits in her suite and surfs the internet. She stayed at Old Ivy for the long Thanksgiving weekend; her parents are in Moscow, and Mrs. Pampers has the brats under control. Umberto, her personal chef, prepared medallions of turkey breast with truffle dressing on aspic with a confit of rare mushrooms and caviar, but Natasha just picked at it.

She watches this video about the Alte Nationalgalerie in Berlin and sighs. "I wish I could go to Berlin", she says out loud.

Pamela checks her email. There's a note from Albert with a link to this performance of the Sonata in C Major K. 159 by Domenico Scarlatti.

On arrival at Old Ivy, Roderick and Molly go their separate ways. Molly and Anna have to rehearse for a recital next week, and Roderick wants to do some research for the Republican Club. Lily Chang wants to invite Nigel Farage to speak, and asked Roderick to check out some of his speeches.

Roderick likes this one.

There is a knock on his door. Roderick answers; it's Lily, wearing a black low-cut sweater that clearly shows she is quite buxom for an Asian girl, even one who is actually from Minnesota.

"Hi," says Lily, coyly. "Can I come in?"

The Painting

The motto of Beauneville Latin, inscribed over the door, translates roughly to "Anything is permitted, so long as it's tasteful."

Natasha gets the former pretty well, but struggles with the latter.

In the evening, Natasha invites everyone she knows at Old Ivy to her apartment for drinks, and to witness the unveiling of her latest painting. Roderick and Molly go together. Henry is 'busy' this evening, so Megan goes by herself. Albert and Pamela go together. Anna hasn't coupled up with anyone, so she latches on to Megan.

Natasha's suite on the second floor of East Quad is spacious. Old Ivy practices equality in housing: everyone has an equal opportunity to rent the best space they can afford. Natasha's father bought out the previous owners of the suite at the South end of East Quad; originally designed as a faculty apartment, it's now considered the best available space for students on campus, with a bedroom, studio and living room with a view of the river.

When Roderick and Molly arrive, drinks are already set up on the table and the party is in full swing. Megan, Anna and Natasha stand chatting by the picture window. Albert and Pamela sit in a couch in the corner, flirting.

"Will you play me some Scarlatti?" Albert whispers.

"Which Scarlatti?" demands Pamela with a faux-stern look.

"Oh, Domenico Scarlatti of course" says Albert. And both break out in peals of laughter. Molly thinks it's cute the way they play. Cute but retarded.

Natasha sees Roderick and Molly, and offers them drinks. With everyone fully libated, she claps her hands.

"Okay, everyone, it's time for the unveiling! Come on over!" She gestures to an easel standing in one corner of the living room. The picture is covered, but everyone can see it's quite large.

Everyone gathers in a semicircle. Albert and Pamela tear themselves away from one another and stand at the far left; then Megan, Molly, Roderick and Anna to Roderick's right.

"Well...I'm not much for ceremony," says Natasha ceremoniously. "But I would like to thank a few people who made this possible. First, my Mom and Dad, who aren't here but give me money."

Polite applause.

"And Mrs. Pampers, who keeps Felix and Fanny out of my hair so I can devote myself to my art."

More applause.

"To my muse, Caspar David Friedrich, who inspires me daily."

Clap, clap, clap.

"And to Molly, who modeled for this painting."

"Yay!" Albert, Pamela, Megan, Roderick and Anna all cheer for Molly, who blushes and looks puzzled.

"I haven't modeled for Natasha recently," she whispers to Roderick, who just smiles.

"And now," says Natasha grandly, "the painting!" With a sweeping motion, she unveils the painting.

Dead silence. You can hear a pin drop, as the only noise is the sound of Molly blushing. The painting shows Molly sprawled nude on the bed, her legs partially spread apart, her golden pubic hair fully exposed. Her face is sharply realized in the painting; anyone who knows Molly (and quite a few who don't) will recognize her. Her body completely fills the large canvas diagonally from upper left to lower right, in near life size. From the expression on her face, her lips, the light blush of her upper chest and the state of her nipples, it's clear that she's in a state of sexual arousal.

Awkward.

Roderick breaks silence. "Ahem. Well, very nicely realized. Beautiful brushwork, and your use of light and shadow is, well, inspiring. But I don't think Caspar David Friedrich is noted for his nudes."

"Of course he isn't, silly" says Natasha. "He's just inspires me."

Anna is frowning. "I don't think German Romantics used sex toys," she comments.

"Is that what it is?" says Molly, referring to a pink bullet-shaped object depicted on the bed near her right hand.

Megan giggles. "Looks just like mine!"

"I don't remember this at all," says Molly, frowning. "And I don't have a sex toy."

"It's Megan's" says Natasha. "I borrowed it."

"Ew" says Anna.

"When was that?" says Megan, who looks as confused as Molly.

"When you slept over back in August. You left it out when you fell asleep."

Back in Roderick's room, Molly just wants to get under the covers and hide. Roderick joins her, and snuggles.

"Roderick?" says Molly, a little muffled under the covers.

"Hmm?"

"I'm so embarrassed, I just want to hide."

"I don't blame you."

"I've never done anything like that."

"I believe you."

"And I don't own a sex toy."

"Right, it's Megan's."

"And if I did want to do something like that, I surely wouldn't use Megan's sex toy."

"Yes, I can understand that."

Silence, for awhile.

"Roderick?"

"Yes."

"What do you think of the painting."

"I think you look beautiful."

Monday Musings

Albert invites Pamela to tonight's showing of Godard's Breathless. She consents; they have three days to "do it" or face a life of permanent celibacy.

In the afternoon, Pamela watches this clip from the film on YouTube. She likes the music, the cinematography and the images of Paris in 1960, but hopes they show the version with subtitles.

Browsing on her ThinkPad, Natasha finds this trailer for Wim Wenders' Wings of Desire. She watches wistfully, wishing she could go to Berlin.

In the evening, Molly brings her laptop over to Roderick's room. She sits on the floor, naked, and surfs. Roderick browses online at his desk. He isn't sure whether or not he agrees with Mr. Parvulesco. He likes the article at this link.

"Hey, watch this!" says Molly, beckoning to Roderick. She is working on Beethoven's Opus 126 Bagatelles and likes this Pollini recording of the third.

Roderick thinks it's pretty.

Life Is Fleeting

Just two more Sundays to go in Trinity, including today. then four weeks of Advent. Then, Santa Claus arrives.

Today, for the twenty-fifth week of Trinity the Bach Chorale sings J.S.Bach's cantata BWV 26 Ach Wie Flüchtig, Ach Wie Nichtig. Emily Scharf, Mrs. Dowager, one of the tenor ringers and Zack sing the arias. Zack planned to fondle Emily's buttocks during her aria, but landed on Mrs. Dowager instead; this earned him a smack in the kisser after the service.

The text of the opening chorus is a contemplation of the transient nature of human existence:

Ah, how fleeting, ah, how empty
Is the life of mortals!
As a mist which quickly riseth
And again as quickly passeth,
Even thus our life is, witness!

Mr. Nichts of the Theology department delivers today's inspirational message, the title of which is Party Tonight, God May Zap You Tomorrow.

After the service, Roderick bumps into Lily Chang just outside the Chapel. She's wearing a tight-fitting sweater and jeans, and the sight of her inspires a jumble of images in Roderick's mind: sweater, buxom, surprisingly, Minneapolis, Negroes.

He greets her. "Hey, Lily! Sorry I had to leave the meeting after refreshments the other night. Betsy Whistler and Emily Scharf wanted to sleep over and I had to go meet up with them."

Lily purrs. "Wow, you're a Republican, play the clarinet and you sing. I just may have to beg you to tear off my clothes and ravish me."

"That's very tempting," says Roderick. "But can I take a raincheck? I've promised Molly we'll be each others' 'first'".

"Want to have lunch with Mr. Parvulesco and me? We're meeting at the Old Ivy Inn in an hour."

Roderick readily agrees, in part because he's really interested in hearing what Mr. Parvulesco has to say about politics and it's a little awkward when girls throw themselves at him. It's flattering, of course, but he's made a pledge to Molly and plans to keep it. You have to have a code.

Lily, Roderick and Mr. Parvulesco sit in a quiet corner of the Dining Room at the Old Ivy Inn. Roderick has heard that Mr. Parvulesco's table manners are something to marvel at -- somewhere between 'piggish' and 'disgusting' -- and he's promised to make a full report to the rest of the gang.

Lily kicks off the conversation. "I'n concerned about some of the things you said the other night about tax increases. How can raising taxes possibly be a good thing?"

"It's not a good thing," says Mr. Parvulesco between bites of a turkey drumstick. "But sometimes we have to choose between a bad thing and a worse thing. Is it worse to raise taxes or is it worse to borrow money? Republicans used to stand for fiscal responsibility, which distinguished them as the grown-up party compared to the Demoocrats, who think money grows on trees. Keep in mind that all government spending is paid for with taxes. The only fiscal decision we make is whether to tax today or to tax tomorrow."

Roderick asks a question. "But with long-term interest rates near zero, isn't this a great time to borrow?"

Mr. Parvulesco stops biting the turkey leg and pauses to belch. "That would be true under a free-market model, but global capital markets don't operate that way. Central banks intervene in various ways to control and manipulate interest rates; as a result, when things unravel it happens so fast that policy options are limited. Basing fiscal policy on the current cost of borrowing is like asking the fox to watch the hen house."

Lily interjects. "Why do we have to choose between raising taxes now and borrowing? Why can't we cut spending?"

"Well of course we should cut wasteful spending," says Mr. Parvulesco, wiping a stream of gravy from his chin. "But the question is what Republicans in Congress should do today. Republicans have been talking about cutting spending since 1980, but have accomplished little. Back in 1995, after Republicans took over Congress, there was a lot of talk about cutting spending, but they could never carry the debate. Under President Bush, with Republicans firmly in control of both houses of Congress from 2002 through 2006, spending grew faster than ever."

"Does that mean we should stop trying?"

"It means that there is no real public support for spending cuts. Elected officials aren't stupid."

"So what should we do?"

"For the answer to that," says Mr. Parvulesco, licking his plate clean, "you should invite me out to another meal." He winks at Lily and departs.

That evening, in Roderick's room, Molly stands completely naked before the full-length mirror. "Roderick," she asks, "do you think I'm pretty?"

Roderick, who is in the middle of a chapter in Mr. Rothschild's History of Banking text, pauses. Placing a bookmark, he bounds over to Molly, flings his arms around her waist and rests his head on her shoulder.

"Not pretty...gorgeous, I think."

"Have you always thought so? I mean even when we were kids playing with Laddie at Beauneville Park?"

"Well I don't know...our feelings change over time, you know. When we were little kids we didn't think much about such things."

"But you do now?"

Roderick nods.

"Do you ever want to tear off my clothes and ravish me?"

"Well I hardly need to tear off your clothes, do I?"

Molly smiles. "No, I guess not."

"And as for ravishment...", Roderick details exactly what he would like them to do, something that could be described as ravishment except that Molly would be an active participant.

Molly's eyes widen. "Oh!" she says. "We should do that some time."

Mr. Parvulesco, Part Two

Members of the Old Ivy Republican Club have more questions for Mr. Parvulesco.

A girl Roderick recognizes stands up. "I have a follow-up question. If the Republicans let the Bush tax cuts expire, won't that be bad for the economy?"

Mr. Parvulesco shrugs. "Who knows?"

The girl persists. "Don't you think that tax increases are bad for the economy?"

"What economy? Whose economy? Who knows?"

Roderick thinks about something Mr. Rothschild said in his History of Banking class -- that "The Economy" is a metaphor for the collective behavior of millions of people around the world. He stands to ask a question.

"Mr. Parvulesco, won't tax increases be bad for those of us who actually pay taxes?"

Mr. Parvulesco brightens, as if he finally has an intelligent question to field. "Well, yes, and that's why Republicans in Congress should let all of the Bush tax cuts expire."

Roderick looks quizzical.

Mr. Parvulesco continues. "Democrats propose to extend the tax cuts for all but 'the wealthy'. That's a deliberate attempt to drive a wedge between middle-class taxpayers and upper income taxpayers. The Republicans should stand for the taxpaying class as a whole and not let Democrats play divide-and-conquer'".

"Isn't half a loaf better than none?"

"Not in this case. The Democratic machine is based on spending and giving people free stuff in return for votes. The only check on that is an organized and angry taxpayer class. If the Bush tax cuts expire everyone pays more taxes, more voters will care about putting limits on spending."

"But isn't that risky?"

"Somebody else asked the same question a little while ago. Risky how? The Bush tax cuts expire at the end of this year. In 2014, nobody will remember what Congress did in 2012."

Lily Chang stands up. "OK we're going to break for refreshments now, and then we'll have time for more questions for Mr. Parvulesco."

Roderick stands up and stretches. Grabbing a drink and plate of cookies, he mingles with the crowd, looking for someone he knows. He sees Miss Troll standing by herself and strolls over.

He tests his pick-up skills. "Hi, I'd like to send you a link to a nifty website with tips about personal hygiene." He figures girls really dig guys who are helpful.

"Fuck off, pig!" It's pretty clear that Miss Troll isn't taking the bait.

"Hmmph," says Roderick, sipping his drink. Well, that didn't go well.

"Roderick Smith!" It's Lily Chang, stunning in her bright red dress with daringly low cleavage. Roderick still thinks she's surprisingly buxom for an Asian girl, even if she really is from Minneapolis.

Roderick smiles. "Hey! Good to see you! Wasn't that a great meeting on Monday?"

"What meeting?" says Lily gesturing to him to button his lip. Oh, right. Members of Cyathos et Gladios do not talk about Cyathos et Gladios outside of Cyathos et Gladios. Lily takes him by the elbow and steers him to a private corner of the room.

"I'm glad you came," Lily whispers. "I really dig Republican guys."

Roderick is flattered to hear this coming from someone as gorgeous as Lily and with such a revealing neckline, although Lily's interest in "Republican' guys doesn't really rule anyone out at Old Ivy.

He returns the whisper. "Do you still watch a lot of TV and hang out with Negroes?"

"There's no time for TV here at Old Ivy and not many Negroes, so I've broadened my interests." She makes a gesture that indicates in just what way her interests have broadened, a very specific gesture referring to something that he and Molly have not yet done.

"Oh. Heh heh." Roderick learned that from Mr. Smiley.

"And I hear that you play clarinet. Do you play the saxophone, too? I just melt for guys who play the saxophone."

Roderick does not play the saxophone. He's aware that the saxophone is cool, and that women melt for guys who play the sax. He doesn't. But he's thinking about it.

Mr. Parvulesco, Part One

At Lily Chang's behest, Roderick attends a meeting of the Old Ivy Republican Club in the Beaune Room.

Stepping inside, he scans the room. It is dimly lit and darkly paneled, with a few small stained glass windows. A fire crackles in the fireplace, over which there hangs a portrait of Auguste Beaune. The wooden floors are partially covered with oriental rugs. Folding chairs are arranged in soldierly rows, facing a lectern at one end of the room.

A throng of students fills the room, mostly Republicans but also a few trolls, distinguishable by their footwear. Roderick recognizes a few people in the room -- Megan Cupcake, of course, plus the Reed twins, Michael Dampfen and a couple of the Changs from the Chamber Orchestra violin section, Zack from Bach Chorale and a quodlibet of faces, some of which he recognizes.

Lily Chang, stunningly dressed in a bright red tightly fitting dress with plunging neckline, steps to the podium. "OK, everyone, take your seats! Let's get started!" This command sets off a veritable scrum for available seats. Roderick just barely manages to get one next to one of the trolls.

"Hi, my name's Roderick." He extends his hand to the troll, who is of the girl variety, with long stringy hair and large glasses. Roderick thinks she has the potential to be attractive with small improvements to her personal hygiene.

"Fuck off, pig." Miss Troll, it seems, is not here to mingle.

"OK, everyone, thank you for coming tonight." Lily adjusts the microphone. "I know, I know, the election last week sucked. But it's time to move on. Our speaker is Mr. Parvulesco of the Politics department, who is here to take your questions."

The crowd applauds respectfully as Mr. Parvulesco shambles to the podium. He is quite tall, well over six feet, with shaggy white hair and a somewhat disheveled look. He waves to the crowd.

Immediately, there is a forest of hands in the air. Lily points to a smartly dressed collegian in the front row. "Bradley, you first."

Bradley stands and faces Mr. Parvulesco. "What should Republicans in Congress do now?"

Mr. Parvulesco inspects his fingernails. "Nothing."

Forest of hands. Lily points to another student, who rises. "What about the fiscal cliff?"

"It's Obama's problem," says Mr. Parvulesco, slightly bored.

Another question. "Won't higher taxes hurt the economy?"

"They might. It's still Obama's problem."

"But Obama will blame Republicans in Congress if they don't co-operate and make a deal."

"He'll blame Republicans no matter what they do, and make stuff up if necessary. No deal is better than a bad deal."

"But isn't that a risk for Republicans?"

"What risk? According to opinion polls, Americans blame Republicans in Congress for the last fiscal standoff and hold Congress in the lowest esteem ever, and yet most of them just got re-elected. Chances are that in two years Republicans will pick up more seats no matter what happens now."

"Doesn't the President have a mandate?"

"Yes, and so do Congressional Republicans."

"But the election was an electoral landslide."

"Four hundred thousand votes out of a hundred and thirty million cast. A fraction of one percent. Obama won by turning out his base with narrowly targeted and personalized messages. That's not a mandate for anything other than Big Bird and Binders."

(To be continued)...

Things Left Unspoken

"Roderick, we have to talk," says Megan as Roderick fills his plate with scrapple and applesauce.

"Um, OK." Roderick follows Megan to a small table apart from the others, takes a seat and bites a piece of scrapple.

"So...um...I'm not sure how to say this..." Megan struggles to find the right words.

"Take your time," says Roderick through a mouthful of scrapple.

"Well, um....it's been great being your girlfriend, and...I don't want to hurt your feelings, but....I'm thinking maybe I just need some space."

"OK". Roderick spears another piece of scrapple, scoots it around in the applesauce and devours it.

"You know, um, I've been thinking about seeing Henry Witherspoon because he seems like he'll be a good earner."

"Yes, I understand that there's a real future in Tax Policy."

Megan winces. "Of course, I'm sure you will be a good earner, too."

"Yes, I suppose that's probably true."

"But Molly won't want to share your income and assets."

Roderick reflects on this point. "No, I guess she won't."

"I had the tattoo removed, the one with your name."

"I didn't know that you had a tattoo."

"Of course, this doesn't mean we can't have sex and stuff."

"We haven't had sex."

"True. But there's always the future." Megan checks her watch. "Oops, gotta run. Conference call with Lake City University Chicks With Glocks." She departs.

Molly sees Megan depart and occupies the empty seat across from Roderick, who smiles. "What did Megan want?" she asks.

"I think I've just been broken up with."

"What a shame!" says Molly. "I'm so sorry."

"She wants to be Henry's first girlfriend because she figures you wouldn't want to share my income and assets."

"I never thought about that," says Molly. "But I suppose it's customary."

Roderick shrugs. "Not to worry. I'll just have to promote Emily Scharf to second girlfriend."

"She's a lovely person. And both of you are interested in music."

Roderick leans forward. "But I need your womanly advice about something."

"Sure, what is it?"

"Should I tell Emily she's second girlfriend or just leave it ambiguous?"

Molly reflects, then offers standard Beauneville wisdom. "I think it's better to leave some things unspoken."

In the evening, Roderick attends a secret meeting of Cyathos et Gladios, the proceedings of which we cannot describe in this story because it's secret.

Pareto Efficiency

In St. Cecilia Chapel this morning, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale performs Bach's cantata BWV 21 Ich Hatte Viel Bekümmernis, which tranlates roughly to 'My Heart Was Deeply Troubled'. This longish cantata is actually intended for earlier in Trinity, but Mr. Mendelssohn thinks it appropriate in view of the election results.

Candy Whistlethorne sings the Soprano aria:

Seufzer, Tränen, Kummer, Not,
Ängstlichs Sehnen, Furcht und Tod
Nagen mein beklemmtes Herz,
Ich empfinde Jammer, Schmerz.

Which translates as:

Sighing, crying, sorrow, need,
Anxious yearning, fear and death
Gnaw at this my anguished heart,
I am filled with grieving, hurt.

One of the ringers sings the Tenor aria, and Zack sings the Bass aria, with his hand firmly on Candy's buttocks.
Mr. Puddleston of the Theology department delivers the inspirational message: 'When Your Heart Is Deeply Troubled, Take Solace In Liquor'.

Meanwhile, in Beauneville, the Blooms attend Sunday services at the Church of Nothing. The Young Virgins, Mary Bloom among them, dressed in their finest long white dresses sing 'We Are Virgins, Tra-La, Tra-La, Tra-La, Tra-Ley'. Mr. Flemm, the minister, delivers the Sunday sermon, which is much ado about Nothing.

Megan sleeps late. On awakening, she opens her secret journal and writes:

God, Henry is such a crashing bore. If I hear another word about accelerated depreciation or tax-loss carryforwards, I swear I shall throw up. Still, he looks like a good earner, and he's such an idiot I can marry him and carry on behind his back. He'll be off tax auditing and I'll be entertaining guests with my legs spread wide apart...

We pause the narrative momentarily to give Megan some privacy as she returns to her bed to take care of some private business.

A few minutes later, Megan returns to her diary.

Speaking of hot, that Mary Bloom sizzles. If I were a lesbian, I would totally want to tie her to a four poster bed and...

Megan's cell phone rings. It's Henry, calling to mooch a ride back to Old Ivy.

"Sure, Henry, I'll swing by around two. See you then." Megan hits the End key on her phone. Good, she thinks. Hook, line and sinker.

Back at Old Ivy, Roderick is working on a paper for the Political Economy discussion group. At Old Ivy, students are not assigned to write papers. Instead, they have the option to present papers to an assortment of informal discussion groups. There is no requirement to do so, but students who do not do so will be sorely pressed to meet the graduation requirement, which mandates that each student publish a major paper. (Music students may substitute a public recital for the publication; there are other exceptions as well, too numerous to detail here).

Roderick checks the Wikipedia entry on Pareto Efficiency, which is how economists describe the set of conditions under which it is impossible to make anyone better off without making others worse off. He's working on an essay where he plans to argue that since governments operate in a coercive framework, that no government policy can be Pareto efficient. This is a fancy-pants way to say that governments inevitably rob Peter to pay Paul, so if you want to do well it's better to throw in your lot with Paul than with Peter.

He pauses to look around the room. Kind of quiet tonight. Molly isn't able to come over this evening, she's rehearsing with Anna. No sign of Megan or Emily Scharf, either.

Hmmpf, thinks Roderick. I need more girlfriends.

There is a soft knock on the door. Roderick answers.

"Hi, Roderick, can I come in?" It's Betsy Whistler.

Tell Me About Tax Policy

Life unfolds in unexpected ways. Megan Cupcake enrolled at Old Ivy expecting to hook up with Roderick and also expecting that her novel, inspired by Jane Austen and E.L. James, would draw attention as 'the exciting first novel by the young, red-haired and buxom Megan Cupcake, who wears a Glock strapped to her hip and is also young, red-haired and buxom'.

Instead, inspired by her presentation ('Just Blow Their Heads Off') at Anti-Rape Week, interest in Chicks With Glocks has exploded. Megan has requests from college campuses across the country, and next week she plans to travel to Lake City University to address the local chapter.

Wow, thinks Megan, as she waits for Mary Bloom to show up at the Cafe Venice on Main Street. Sure didn't take long to morph from hot and sexy scribe of historico-sado-masochistic-erotic novels to hot and sexy gun rights advocate.

And, on the romantic front, things are looking pretty good with Henry Witherspoon, at least in Megan's imagination. They haven't actually fornicated yet. In fact, they haven't so much as conversed, although so far as Megan is concerned, the former does not require the latter. But Megan thinks that Henry will be a much better meal ticket than Roderick. Not that Roderick won't be a good earner, but Megan figures that Molly won't want to share his income and assets, which is the downside of being second girlfriend.

Mary Bloom arrives, out of breath. "Sorry to be late," she pants, removing her jacket and placing it on the chair next to Megan. "Virgin Club ran late."

"Speaking of which..." says Megan, sliding one of Dr. Graft's cards across the table. Earlier in the week, Megan emailed Mary a link to a story about a Brazilian woman who auctioned her virginity for $780,000.

Mary examines Dr. Graft's card. "Hymen restoration? I don't get it."

Megan leans forward conspiratorially. "You pay Dr. Graft five hundred bucks, he fixes up your ladyparts like new. Then, you put them up for auction."

"Ohhhhh, I see." Mary ponders. "Wow, $750,000. I could almost pay for college with that."

"Possibly, if you go to a cheap college."

"Right."

"And here's the best thing" Megan whispers. "You can do it more than once!"

Mary's eyes widen in amazement. "Wow, I never thought of that." She checks her watch. "Oops, I have to run. 'Business appointment', you know," she says, using her fingers to signify scare quotes around the words 'business appointment'.

"Do you need a lift somewhere?"

Mary does need a lift, to Mr. Swift's house, where she is expected for a regular 'business appointment' that generally includes a bit of discipline. While no cash changes hands, Mary maintains her status on the honor roll, at least so far as Mr. Swift's classes are concerned.

After dropping off Mary, Megan motors over to Henry Witherspoon's house to see if he is home for the weekend. She rings the doorbell, and Mrs. Witherspoon answers.

"Hi, I'm Megan, is Henry here?"

"Yes, Megan, come in."

Megan steps into the foyer while Mrs. Witherspoon calls up the stairs. "Henry! There's a friend here to see you!"

After a brief wait, Henry descends halfway down the stairs and bends over to see who is waiting for him. "Um, hi," he says, descending the rest of the way. "It's Megan isn't it?"

"Ooh, I'm so excited that you remembered my name" coos Megan. "I just thought I'd come over and see if you want to, you know..." Megan leaves the sentence unfinished, but there is no mistaking her meaning.

"Well, um, I'm working on Tax Policy right now."

"Ooooh, Tax Policy, tell me about Tax Policy..."

So Henry and Megan sit down and Henry shares his thoughts on accelerated depreciation, tax-loss carryforwards and multinational accounting. Megan understands none of it, of course, but openly admires Henry for being such a big and strong tax accountant. And he must need a back rub because he carries the weight of so much Tax Policy on his shoulders. So she gives him one, with the caution that there will be no sex on the first date because her inner thigh is still pretty tender from that surgery.

Point Taken

The Old Ivy Chamber Orchestra -- Mr. Ralf Geschwindigkeit, Music Director -- performs the works of classical composers such as Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert. Several times a year, the Orchestra joins forces with the College Choir to perform classics of the choral repetoire, such as the Mozart Requiem or Haydn's The Seasons.

This afternoon, members of the orchestra gather in the Auditorium to rehearse for the next concert. The violinists -- all of whom are surnamed Chang -- fiddle and scrabble, each hoping they will one day emerge from the anonymity of section playing and stand before the world solo, performing Brahms, Mendelssohn or Tchaikovsky. The violas, on the other hand, pray for obscurity and hope that no composer will be so daft as to require them to be exposed. The cellists are of mixed feeling, wishing in part to play a beautiful solo or to blend in seamlessly with the others, but the women amongst them mostly hope they can avoid an upskirt situation.

The string basses are cool, because they can play jazz.

As expected, there are many more prospective flautists than the three required. Mr. Geschwindigkeit chose the best of the lot back in September. There were the usual jokes about the unique qualities of a flautist's embouchure and what is actually required to be selected, but it's no accident that the three young women selected are really hot. Betsy Whistler, the third flautist, doubles on piccolo.

Oboists are in short supply, and were it not for the Reed twins (Ralph and Rachel) there would be none. Mr. Geschwindigkeit likes to joke that his Oboe section is 'double-Reed', a joke that the Reeds think is really funny but nobody else quite understands.

Clarinets are cool, too, because they can double on saxophone and play jazz. Roderick doesn't do this, but he's mindful that he could.

The bassoons are problematic. Mr. Geschwindigkeit was fired from his previous position after referring to the bassoons as "fagotte"; the campus GLBT association filed a grievance, and that was the end of him. (Nobody objected when he called the violas "bratschen", but it did seem odd.) Since then, he avoids speaking with the bassoonists at all even when they are obviously out of tune (which, sadly, is often the case).

Michael Dampfen, principal horn player, longs to perform the solo from Strauss' Till Eulenspiegels Lustige Streiche, a moment for which he practices constantly but which will never come so long as he plays for the Old Ivy Chamber Orchestra, which is too small to take on Strauss. Stella Wishniak, second hornist, also plays the Wagner Tuba. She likes to sit out on the Quad and play riffs on her tuba until people pay her to stop.

Nancy Pauken plays the kettle drums. Mr. Geschwindigkeit is particularly fond of her drumming, and fond of her propensity to wear very low-cut dresses that reveal ample cleavage when she leans over the drums.

Members of the orchestra hush as Mr. Geschwindigkeit -- known as "the Maestro" -- approaches the podium. He holds up a hand for silence, and murmurs: "Behtoffen, pliss." Everyone shuffles music on the stands and places the sheet music for Beethoven's Symphony Number Five on top. Mr. Geschwindigkeit raises his arms, and the musicians prepare: violins and violas to the chin, cellists sitting erect, string basses with bows poised, woodwinds and brass inhaling, tympanist with drumstick poised.

The Maestro punches the air with his baton, simultaneously erupting with a guttural "BLRGFPT!" and spray of spittal. The orchestra responds: BA-BA-BA-BUMMMMM. Another spastic punch: BA-BA-BA-BUMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, and silence with the wave of the hand.

Hunching down, Mr. Geschwindigkeit makes the tiniest of gestures toward the second violins. Softly, they kick off the main theme, followed by violas and first violins, building through several measures until, with a grand wave of the Maestro's hand, the winds return with a climactic BA-BA-BA BUM! BUM! BUM!!!!

Mr. Geschwindigkeit waves his hand to stop the orchestra. He points to Roderick.

"You like Behtoffen,yesss?" He hisses the 'yes' in a rather sinister manner.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you think Behtoffen knew how to vrite music?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you think Behtoffen knew how to vrite for ze klarinetten?"

"Yes, sir."

"THEN VHY DUN'T YOU PLAY VHAT'S PRINTED????"

"I was only off by a note," Roderick mutters, under his breath. Betsy Whistler, who sits right in front of him, turns and winks at him flirtatiously. Roderick couldn't help noticing previously that Betsy is really gorgeous, and since she's wearing a halter top and gym shorts he has a perfect view of her tramp stamp.

Meanwhile, in Beauneville, Megan Cupcake recovers from plastic surgery. She checks her inner thigh, where a large bandage covers the site of the now-purged tattoo. Ow. Still tender.

Having discussed the matter with Dr. Graft, she's still thinking about hymen restoration. The doctor's prognosis wasn't good -- he described the problem as 'cleaning up after a train wreck with a pair of tweezers', which Megan thought was a little insensitive, but point taken.

Measured in Hundreds

Roderick sits with Albert at breakfast. He inquires about Albert's date with Pamela.

"So how'd things go with Pamela."

"Okay, I think. I put my hand on her thigh."

"Did she punch you?"

"No."

"That sounds promising."

"She wasn't wearing panties."

"That sounds very promising."

"During the Casino scene, I whispered 'Domenico Scarlatti' in her ear. She blushed slightly, put her hand on mine and..." Albert next describes an activity which most people would interpret as a signal from Pamela that she welcomes the possibility of sexual intercourse.

"It sounds like she welcomes the possibility of sexual intercourse."

"Yes, I believe she does."

"When do you see her again?"

"I've asked her to pose for me at the fortepiano in the Music Library."

"Gee, what a great idea for a date." Actually, Roderick thinks it's a terrible idea for a date, but he figures Albert needs encouragement.

Later in the morning, Mr. Rothschild pauses in his History of Banking lecture to comment on the election and how it impacts the economy.

"We use the word 'economy' as a metaphor for the combined independent activity of millions of people around the world. We try to measure this activity -- imperfectly -- through such things as GDP, price indices and so forth.

"But the economy is like the weather. We can track and forecast with some level of precision, but nobody knows how to make 'the economy' better for everyone. Economists and others have opinions about what policies will make everyone better off, but nobody knows how to make everyone better off without making some people worse off.

"I know that some of you are disappointed that your guy lost the election, but consider this: in debates about government policy, advocates make claims that 'the economy' will be better if their ideas are adopted. Keep in mind that none of those claims are verifiable even if the policies are implemented, since we can never know how 'the economy' would have performed if a different policy were implemented.

"There is no science of economic policy. There are simply interests, and alternative policies affect those interests in different ways. Will we be better off with low taxes or high taxes? Nobody knows. But you can bet that those who advocate high taxes will be better off if that policy is implemented, and vice-versa."

This is Mr. Rothschild's slightly convoluted way to say that 'politicians are gasbags.'

Later, in the Music Library, Pamela sits at the fortepiano while Albert sketches. Owing to the absence of privacy, they both retain their clothes.

Albert slips onto the fortepiano bench next to Pamela, puts his arm around her and whispers: "Maybe we should go back to my room and listen to Domenico Scarlatti?"

Pamela's heart goes thumpity-thump. But she remembers some advice from Molly and Anna. "And maybe you should take a cold shower, Mr. Casanova," she says, tartly.

Albert groans. "Are we really going to drag this out?"

Pamela smiles. "We have two weeks. You can wait that long, can't you?"

Meanwhile, in Stapleton, Megan sits in the waiting room of Dr. Graft, the plastic surgeon. She reads the latest issue of Slut magazine.

In a world of extreme makeovers where human bodies are now fashioned to order, this may be the ultimate plastic surgery. It is called hymen restoration — a relatively simple procedure that stitches back together what a moment of passion might have shattered.

Megan wonders if it still works when the moments are measured in hundreds.

Free Phones

After breakfast, Pamela tutors Molly and Anna in Counterpoint, though the topic of interest is coitus, or the potential thereof.

"How was your date with Albert?" asks Molly.

"It went well," responds Pamela. "He put his hand on my thigh."

Anna inquires. "Do you think you will...?" Ever the lady, Anna does not complete the sentence but her meaning is clear.

Pamela ponders. "I think he will be an adequate sexual partner."

"He likes Domenico Scarlatti," Molly interjects, helpfully.

"He does," says Pamela. "It's a point in his favor."

In the early afternoon, Roderick calls Mr. Smith to commiserate about the election. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does."

"So what's next?"

"Well, today I have two customers that need some help and I want to do some writing."

"No, I mean in politics."

"Just keep the Studebaker in mind."

Roderick is puzzled. "The Studebaker? You mean our Studebaker?"

"Right, the one in the garage."

"What does that mean for politics?"

"They don't make them anymore."

"Right."

"And if you polled people about their favorite cars, not many would say Studebaker, right?"

"Right." Roderick figures that about ten people would say 'Studebaker'.

"But it still works, and we're going to keep it."

"It stinks to watch other college students cheering results of the election."

"Yes, I understand. But look at it like this: yesterday, those students had to grapple with a tough job market for young people. And tomorrow, the job market will be just as tough. It would likely be just as tough if the other guy won, too. So exactly what do they have to cheer about?"

"Won't it hurt your business if taxes go up?"

"Not really. If taxes go up, people need more help with investments, not less."

"So I guess the health care bill won't be repealed."

"It wouldn't have been repealed if the other guy won absent a filibuster-proof majority in the Senate."

"Our candidate had a serious plan to reform entitlements."

"Voters don't care about that. They don't want to hear about shared sacrifice. They want soundbites, photo-ops and free phones."

"Doesn't this mean the country is going to hell in a handbasket?"

"Sort of. But look at it like this. You and I think that the guys who won are going to implement terrible policies that will ruin the country. We're either right or wrong about that. If we're wrong, the country will turn out all right. If we're right, we'll still be right when the next election comes around."

"But we have 7.9% unemployment! Doesn't that prove that the incumbent's policies are bad?"

"Voters don't care about the unemployment rate. They care about free phones."

"So what do we do now?"

"Go and spend time with Molly."

"Thanks, Dad."

That evening, Roderick cuddles under the comforter with Molly. "I called my Dad to talk about the election. He told me to spend time with you."

Molly smiles and cuddles back. "What election?"

Irony

In the conservatory, Pamela Primrose plays Poulenc’s Pastorelle for Piano perfunctorily. It is the penultimate piece in her practice period. Happily, she closes with works of Domenico Scarlatti, her favorite composer. With flying fingers, she plays sonati: D minor, G major, A minor, G minor, another D minor….

Pamela pauses.

Primping her pink pinafore, she sighs. Tonight is the big date with Albert. Will he turn out to be her true love? Barring that, will he at least fuck her quickly, so they can get on with the rest of their lives? She ponders this point, a little surprised at that she would think the word ‘fuck’.

She sighs again. It’s hard to live alliteratively.

Meanwhile, in Human Figure class, Albert sketches Molly ruefully; he’s bummed that she is so beautiful, yet unavailable. Tonight is the big date with Pamela; she is pretty and petite but seems a bit persnickety. Hopefully, she’s not prim, prudish or puritanical. So far as sex is concerned, there is no room for procrastination.

In his History of Banking class, Roderick listens intently to Mr. Rothschild. “In the last lecture, we covered the Peruzzi and Bardi banking families, how they built wealth through manufacturing and trade, then lost it all by lending to princes, popes and kings. Today we will cover the rise and fall of the Medici Bank.”

Mr. Rothschild proceeds to detail how numerous banking families competed in the latter half of the fourteenth century, but the Medicis emerged as the dominant banking family as they consolidated political control in Florence and were able to exile their competitors. Lending to kings and popes, the Medicis negotiated special privileges and subsidies that enabled them to earn above-average profits in the textile trade, which in turn increased the capital they could lend.

This arrangement worked well for many years, but the Medicis ran into trouble when Edward IV defaulted on his loans, causing the failure of the London branch in 1478. The bank continued to decline until 1494, when the Charles VIII of France, an ally of the Pope, invaded Florence and seized the remaining assets.

“Why do we care about this?” asks Mr. Rothschild, rhetorically. “The idea of a free market is sometimes cast by its supporters and detractors as a legacy from an earlier period. But the historical actors in the period we’re looking at had no concept of economic liberty. They built their fortunes through close collaboration with the state, facilitated the activities of the state, and owed their business existence to the state.”

Roderick thinks this is kind of interesting, but at the moment he is more interested in Megan’s seeming interest in Henry, and whether or not he should promote Emily to second girlfriend.

At seven-fifteen, Roderick, Molly, Emily, Anna, Henry, Megan, Natasha, Pamela and Albert gather outside the Auditorium for the screening of Bob Le Flambeur. It’s quite crowded, so they split up; Roderick sits with Molly and Emily; Anna with Natasha; Henry with Megan; and Pamela with Albert.

Megan chats animatedly with Henry. She begins to wonder if she should have that tattoo removed from her left inner thigh, the one that says “Roderick and Megan 4 Ever”.

Albert and Pamela chat about Domenico Scarlatti until the movie begins; then, as the streets of Montmartre unfold on the screen, he places his hand beneath Pamela’s pink pinafore, and is pleased to discover that her panties are not present. Pamela is shocked, deliciously so.

After the movie, Roderick and Molly return to his room and snuggle under the covers. Molly seems lost in thought. “I love irony,” she murmurs.

“Pamela and Albert seemed to get along well”, says Roderick.

“Yes, they did,” whispers Molly. “I hope it works out for them. They both want so desperately to…well, you know.”

Roderick snuggles Molly. “Speaking of which…”

A Vote for Democrats

Today, for the umpteenth Sunday in Trinity, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale performs the Bach Cantata BWV 115 Mache Dich, Mein Geist, Bereit (which translates roughly as Prepare Yourself, My Soul).

The Chorale sings in the original German

Mache dich, mein Geist, bereit,
Wache, fleh und bete,
Dass dich nicht die böse Zeit
Unverhofft betrete;
Denn es ist
Satans List
Über viele Frommen
Zur Versuchung kommen.

Which the very erudite audience that fills St. Cecilia Chapel today understands as:

Get thyself, my soul, prepared,
Watching, begging, praying,
Lest thou let the evil day
Unforeseen o'ertake thee.
For in truth
Satan's guile
Often to the righteous
With temptation cometh.

Emily Scharf, Mrs. Dowager, one of the tenor ringers and Zack sing the solo parts.

Mr. Bling of the Theology department delivers today's inspirational message. Today's topic: A Vote for Democrats is a Vote for Satan.

After the service, Roderick, Molly, Anna, Megan, Zack, Emily Scharf and Natasha gather and walk across College Road to the Old Ivy Inn for Sunday brunch. Natasha's parents agreed to pick up the check in lieu of visiting.

Roderick sits between Megan and Molly. "Where's Henry?" asks Megan.

"Natasha invited us," Roderick whispers back. "I guess Henry couldn't make it."

"Oh." Roderick notes a slight look of disappointment from Megan which he thinks is...interesting.

With Election Day coming up, conversation necessarily revolves around politics.

"I thought Mr. Blick was a little over the top today", says Emily between bites of omelet.

Everyone stares at her.

As a rule, Beauneville denizens and their campus brethren at Old Ivy do not discuss politics over meals. This is not a matter of etiquette; there is nothing wrong with discussing politics. It's more a matter of disinterest; everyone knows for whom they will vote, and that's that. Bringing up politics at a meal is like standing at the corner of Twelfth and Main and shouting 'Hey, everyone, I don't know how things work around here.' It simply isn't done.

Also, for the record, in the election of 1924 all recorded votes in Beauneville went for Coolidge. Most people in town are still for Coolidge, or for whomever they think Coolidge would endorse.

In the election of 1964, there were no votes recorded for Lyndon Johnson.

Anna is puzzled. "What is this Democrat Mr. Blick speaks about?"

Roderick proceeds to explain to Anna how American politics work, launching into a brief even-handed history about how the Democrat Party favored slavery and killing Indians, started the Civil War, imposed Jim Crow laws in the South and then, under Wilson, fired all African-Americans working for the government and promoted the Ku Klux Klan; and, on the other hand, how the party of Lincoln freed the slaves and promoted free land, the transcontinental railway, high tariffs and the Gold Standard, and how Coolidge kept everything cool. Then Hoover messed up the Republican brand by promoting big government, but Ronald Reagan won the Cold War.

Not surprisingly, Natasha marches to the beat of her own drummer. "I'm going to vote for President Obama because he supports single mothers."

"What do your mom and dad think? The President likes to demonize wealthy people." Roderick normally avoids political discussion, but is feeling Quixotic today.

"They're voting for the President, too."

"They're not concerned about higher taxes?"

"No, they have a good accountant and won't have to pay more. But they think that all the other wealthy people should pay more."

Megan chimes in. "All I care about is gun rights."

Later that evening, Roderick cuddles with Molly. "I think Megan is interested in Henry," he whispers.

Molly turns to face him. "Really?" She ponders. "Yes, I think that might be a good match. But how will you feel about losing your second girlfriend, Mr. 'I-Have-More-Girlfriends-Than-Time'?"

Roderick shrugs. "That's life, I guess. There's still Emily."

Everything Other Than Taxation

The Business department at Old Ivy College offers a single major, in Tax Accounting. Forbes Magazine recently asked Mr. Vanderbilt, head of the department, to comment on this. His response:

Corporate fads come and go. In the Nineteen Sixties, conglomerates were the thing; in the Nineteen Seventies, it was Marketing. Leveraged buyouts were hot in the Nineteen Eighties, and in the Nineteen Nineties Information Technology was the next new thing. In the Two Thousands, everyone wanted to get in on Outsourcing, Globalization and Securitization.
Over the last fifty years taxation and its avoidance is the single constant in business.

Privately, Mr. Vanderbilt expresses the same sentiment more succinctly:

Everything other than Taxation is bullshit.

Henry Witherspoon is enrolled in the Tax program. His transition from Kulturpunk to aspiring accountant was rather abrupt. One day, he revered Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, Robert Schumann and Bettina von Arnim; the next, he thought little about anything other than accelerated depreciation, tax-loss carryforwards and Subchapter S corporations. Some find this hard to understand.

"I simply can't understand how Henry Witherspoon can go from Kulturpunk to Tax Accountant," says Molly as she eats lunch with the usual crowd.

Megan has no trouble understanding Henry. "It's all about pussy," she says.

Anna, on Roderick's left, whispers to him: "What is this pussy...like cat?" Roderick just smiles.

Molly doesn't understand. "What do you mean...all about pussy?"

"Henry wanted sex with Natasha," Megan explains. "Natasha is a Kulturpunk. Henry understands that the shortest way to a woman's pussy is through her soul. So Henry became a Kulturpunk, too."

Molly frowns. "But if that's true, why did he stop?"

Before Megan can answer, Natasha joins them. She wears a black leotard and jeans; the leotard exposes her very shapely figure. Today, her black hair is gathered in a bunch and tossed over her right shoulder. Natasha takes a seat at the end of the table, to Roderick's right.

"God, the brats are driving me crazy. I try to Skype them now and then, and every time it's like 'Hi, Felix! Hi Fanny!' and they just sit there and drool and scream for Mrs. Pampers. And they can't even walk yet. I think Witherspoon must have defective genes or something, because these kids are turning out to be retards."

Roderick wants to say something conciliatory in response, but his mind is focused at the moment on how hot she looks. Meanwhile Molly, sitting across from Roderick, thinks she understands now why Henry is no longer motivated by the possibility of sex with Natasha.

Henry Witherspoon joins them, taking the one remaining seat at the table directly across from Natasha. "Hello, everyone!" he says, cheerfully.

Natasha glares. "Traitor! Apostate! Turncoat!" she hisses.

Henry glares back. "Bitch! Slut! I'll sue for custody!"

"My father will crush you like a bug!"

Roderick interjects. "It's nice that the two of you can communicate your feelings."

In the evening. Roderick and Molly work on Logic, Rhetoric and Mathematics in her room. Around ten, they set the clocks forward and slip under the covers.

Molly snuggles against Roderick. "What about you?" she whispers. "Are you motivated solely by the possibility of pussy?" she giggles.

Roderick recognizes this to be a loaded question. He snuggles back.

The Invitation

Roderick coaches Albert, who will meet Pamela in a few minutes.

"Be assertive. Girls like alpha males. But don't come on too strong. Be yourself. Ask her to talk about herself, girls like that. Tell her she looks nice. But don't overdo it, or she'll think you're desperate. Tell her you like Domenico Scarlatti."

"I do like Scarlatti."

"Not just any Scarlatti, it has to be Domenico Scarlatti. Not Alessandro, Francesco, Giorgio, Giuseppe, Pietro or Rosa Scarlatti. She thinks they're all lame. Has to be Domenico Scarlatti."

"OK"

"Wipe the paint off your hands. Don't ask her to model for you the first time you meet her."

"Um...."

"Just casually see if she wants to join you at some campus event, you know, ever so casual. Like, it would be kind of cool if she joins you, but hey, whatever. We're all going to see Bob le Flambeur in the Auditorium on Monday, maybe she'd like that."

"What's Bob le Flambeur?"

"Bob le Flambeur is a 1956 French gangster film directed by Jean-Pierre Melville. Inspired by American film noir, it is often considered a precursor to the French New Wave. It's part of a series of classic French films co-sponsored by the Old Ivy Film Club and the Old Ivy French Club."

Meanwhile, Anna coaches Pamela.

"Let him know you like him. But don't come on too strong, guys don't like girls who are pushy. And don't look desperate. Try to be sexy, but not slutty. And try to be open-minded."

"He has to like Domenico Scarlatti."

"Okay, okay, ask him about that but try to be flexible. He'll probably ask you for a date. Don't go to his room on the first date. If he doesn't seem sure, suggest something casual, like maybe he'd like to escort you to the screening of Bob le Flambeur on Monday."

"What's Bob le Flambeur?"

"Bob le Flambeur is a 1956 French gangster film directed by Jean-Pierre Melville. Inspired by American film noir, it is often considered a precursor to the French New Wave. It's part of a series of classic French films co-sponsored by the Old Ivy Film Club and the Old Ivy French Club."

Roderick, Albert, Anna, Pamela, Molly, Megan and Natasha all meet in the lobby of the Dining Hall. Everyone grabs a plate of food for dinner, then takes a seat at the table in a carefully planned fashion, so that Albert and Pamela sit next to one another.

Helpfully, Roderick gets the ball rolling between the two of them.

"Albert's having a birthday this month," he says to Pamela.

"Really?" Pamela replies, turning to Albert. "Me too. How old will you be?"

Albert takes a sip of milk. "Twenty-one. And you?"

Pamela instantly blushes. "Oh. Me too."

There is an instant shock of recognition between the two.

After a slightly awkward pause, Pamela asks "Do you like music?"

"Oh yes" says Albert. "Especially music for keyboard from the late Baroque period."

"Who is your favorite composer?"

"Well, that's a tough one...there are so many...but I guess if I had to name one composer it would be...Scarlatti."

Natasha, sitting on the other side of Pamela, winces.

Pamela is interested, but suspicious. "Which Scarlatti?"

"Oh, Domenico, of course."

Pamela's heart goes thumpety-thump.

"So I was wondering," says Albert, "if you would like to come with me to see the screening of Bob le Flambeur at the Auditorium on Monday night. Bob le Flambeur is..."

Pamela interrupts: "...a 1956 French gangster film directed by Jean-Pierre Melville. Inspired by American film noir, it is often considered a precursor to the French New Wave. Melville is well known for his tragic, minimalist film noir crime dramas, such as Le Doulos, Le Samouraï and Le Cercle Rouge."

Wow, thinks Albert. She completes my sentences.

Albert and Pamela agree to attend Bob le Flambeur together.

Later that evening, Molly cuddles with Roderick. "I think it's nice that Albert and Pamela are going out together."

Roderick agrees. "Hopefully, things will work out for them."

"If they do, we should throw them a twenty-first birthday party."

"And a deflowering party."

They snuggle and snooze.