"One cannot describe the status quo ante for the U.S. health care system -- the system that existed before Obamacare -- as a free market in health care. Health care and health insurance are among the most highly regulated industries, and in the case of health insurance the regulatory regime is a fragmented patchwork of conflicting state regulations."
Roderick pauses, and sips from a glass of water on the lectern.
"And so, one cannot characterize problems in the old system as market failure. It would be more apt to describe it as regulatory failure, or government failure."
Members of the Old Ivy Political Economy Club applaud Roderick's paper enthusiastically. Roderick beams, and waves to the crowd as he leaves the lectern. Lily Chang winks seductively as she passes him.
"Thank you, Roderick, For our next presentation, Penny Whiffenpoof will deliver her empirical study of marginal pricing in the Lake City S&M market. Penny?"
Penny strides onstage dressed in a black leather jacket, thong and high heels. She carries a whip.
Backstage, Roderick calls Mr, Smiley.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mr. Smiley, it's Roderick."
"Hello, Roderick." Mr. Smiley is always pleasantly surprised when Roderick calls, because he does not look at the little thing on the phone that says who is calling. Smileys think it's impolite to check to see who is calling.
"I just delivered part four of my paper on health insurance."
"That's nice."
"Also, Christmas is coming soon."
"Yes, I suppose so," says Mr. Smiley matter-of-factly. Mr. Smiley doesn't seem too excited about Christmas because in Smileyville, every day is either Christmas Day, Christmas Just Happened or Soon It Will Be Christmas.
"What would you like for Christmas?"
"Oh, I don't know..." Mr. Smiley ponders the range of possible gifts. Not that there's much to ponder, since Smileys invariably give one another pickles, cheese or chocolate, or birdhouse kits that fathers and sons can build together. Oddly shaped and brightly colored bird houses.
"Heh!" says Roderick. "I'll bet you would like a nice slab of Emmenthal cheese."
Mr. Smiley thinks about a nice slab of Emmenthal. The thought makes him smile.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Smileys Do Not Squeeze...
Members of the Old Ivy Political Economy Club stop babbling to one another as Lily Chang steps to the podium. Per usual, Lily is impressively hot in her daringly low-cut and tightly-fitting bright pink cocktail dress. This morning, Lily added a chapter to her book in progress, How to Succeed Through Hotness.
"Just a few announcements before we start." Lily ruffles through her notes, pausing to display some cleavage. "The Annual Christmas Party will be here, in this room, next Saturday the fourteenth. Jews are welcome to attend if you refrain from whining about Christmas music or mentioning pogroms and the Holocaust. We already celebrated Hanukkah last week, so just shut up about it already." She pauses, and glares at a fourth-year student in the front row. "This means you, Joshua."
"Okay, okay!" says Joshua. "I was only kidding about the pogroms."
Lily continues. "We will celebrate Ramadan whenever that is. Kwanzaa is on the holiday break, so you can celebrate that at home. If anyone is offended or feels left out, you are welcome to organize your own religiously themed holiday party." A hand shoots up in the back of the room. "Yes, Albert?"
"What about atheists?"
"You are welcome to organize an atheist holiday party, although so far as I know there are no atheist holidays."
At Old Ivy, there is no competition or conflict over allocation of student activity fees, because there are no student activity fees. Each club charges whatever it likes for membership, and students who want to organize a party may do so and fund it however they like, including admission fees.
"Moving along...," Lily shuffles her notes again and shows a little more cleavage. "...there will be another "overflow" presentation of papers this coming Wednesday at noon. Roderick will deliver part four of his presentation, and Willard Fong will present his paper QE2: WTF? There will be a free lunch."
There is a general hubbub in the room as members of the club look at one another in confusion and consternation.
"Okay, that was my little joke. There's no such thing as a free lunch, it will be ten bucks."
Audible sighs of relief, and scattered applause.
"Now I'd like to introduce Roderick, who will deliver part three of his long thing about health insurance."
"Thank you, Lily," says Roderick, stepping to the lectern. As he passes Lily, she whispers something in his ear that he doesn't quite catch, but it seems to be an invitation and includes a word that sounds like "duck".
Roderick launches into his presentation. "You may recall from the first session that we discussed a three-part categorization of health and medical services: emergency care, for which it is difficult to speak of a "market" per se; services that are medically necessary but not urgent; and discretionary services. Today, I will outline policy solutions for urgent care and discretionary care, and on Wednesday I'll outline policy solutions for everything else.
"We begin with urgent care. It may surprise you to learn that this category accounts for just two percent of all health care spending. Under existing law, emergency rooms must treat all patients regardless of ability to pay, and most states offer subsidies to hospitals to fund free care. The quality of emergency care in the United States is excellent.
"It seems to me that emergency care is comparable to police and fire services: there is a reasonable case to be made that these services are a public good and should be made available to anyone regardless of ability to pay. Like police and fire, emergency care should be funded at the state and local level, since states and municipalities are best able to monitor quality and compliance, and to determine appropriate levels of service. There is no compelling reason for a Federal role in funding emergency health services, except to provide research grants, support emergency medical training and education and to assist local jurisdictions with capital spending.
"Since the Federal government already does these things, the appropriate course of action is to do nothing."
There is a murmur of approval in the room.
"At the other extreme, discretionary care, the policy options are also easy. There is no reason why anyone should be forced to subsidize breast implants, sex change operations, laser vision treatment and so forth. Discretionary care is also subject to moral hazard, and not an insurable risk. Those who want these services should pay for them out of their own pockets.
"Now, some might point out that it's not fair that wealthy people will be able to afford breast implants and psychotherapy, but poor people will not. They will seek to form an alliance with those who provide these services -- plastic surgeons, psychotherapists, acupuncturists, chiropractors, massage therapists, "past lives" counselors and the like -- that these services are all medically necessary. To which I have two responses: first, there are many things in life that are not fair; wealthy people have nicer homes and cars than poor people, and send their children to private schools. It's not possible for everyone to have the same share of the wealth, and in most areas of policy we don't even try.
"My second response is simply that risks are either insurable or they are not insurable. Discretionary medical spending is not insurable due to the moral hazard; this is true whether the insurance is underwritten by the government, by charities or a for-profit insurance company. European-style government-run health insurance programs do not cover discretionary health care expenses for the simple reason that they can't afford to do so. In this country, Medicare does not cover discretionary treatments, for the same reason.
"So, unless you are a Communist I think you will agree that discretionary medical spending is best left to the free market, and the Federal government should do nothing.
There being no Communists among the membership of the Old Ivy Political Club, the audience responds to this line with heartfelt applause.
Lily steps to the lectern and whispers to Roderick: "Nice presentation. Would you like to squeeze my buttocks?"
Roderick does so, and departs.
Later, in the Dining Hall, Roderick sits with Molly and Megan.
"I delivered the third part of my presentation on health insurance today," he announces, "and then I squeezed Lily Chang's buttocks."
"Really?" says Molly, raising her eyebrows. "How do her buttocks compare to mine?"
Roderick thinks about his response, recognizing this to be a trick question. Truth be told, Roderick has never actually squeezed Molly's buttocks, though he has seen them and snuggled against them many times.
"Your buttocks are the best," he murmurs, an answer that seems to satisfy Molly.
Megan chimes in. "I have lovely buttocks."
Roderick can't disagree with Megan on this point. He has observed Megan's buttocks at close quarters many times, and her buttocks are right up there with Molly's, maybe a little nicer, but he would never mention that last part in front of Molly.
Later, Roderick calls Mr. Smiley.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mr. Smiley, it's Roderick."
"Hi, Roderick."
"Whatcha doing?"
"Oh, you know, the usual thing for a Sunday evening." Roderick understands this to be Smiley code for "nothing".
"I delivered the third part of my paper on health insurance today."
"That's nice."
"And at dinner we discussed buttocks, and the squeezing thereof."
Mr. Smiley isn't quite sure how to respond to this. Smileys, as a rule, do not squeeze one another's buttocks, nor do they consider it polite to discuss any body part "down there". Mr. Smiley understands, however, that Roderick can't be expected to comprehend Smiley ways. He thinks about happy cows, and smiles.
"That's nice."
"Just a few announcements before we start." Lily ruffles through her notes, pausing to display some cleavage. "The Annual Christmas Party will be here, in this room, next Saturday the fourteenth. Jews are welcome to attend if you refrain from whining about Christmas music or mentioning pogroms and the Holocaust. We already celebrated Hanukkah last week, so just shut up about it already." She pauses, and glares at a fourth-year student in the front row. "This means you, Joshua."
"Okay, okay!" says Joshua. "I was only kidding about the pogroms."
Lily continues. "We will celebrate Ramadan whenever that is. Kwanzaa is on the holiday break, so you can celebrate that at home. If anyone is offended or feels left out, you are welcome to organize your own religiously themed holiday party." A hand shoots up in the back of the room. "Yes, Albert?"
"What about atheists?"
"You are welcome to organize an atheist holiday party, although so far as I know there are no atheist holidays."
At Old Ivy, there is no competition or conflict over allocation of student activity fees, because there are no student activity fees. Each club charges whatever it likes for membership, and students who want to organize a party may do so and fund it however they like, including admission fees.
"Moving along...," Lily shuffles her notes again and shows a little more cleavage. "...there will be another "overflow" presentation of papers this coming Wednesday at noon. Roderick will deliver part four of his presentation, and Willard Fong will present his paper QE2: WTF? There will be a free lunch."
There is a general hubbub in the room as members of the club look at one another in confusion and consternation.
"Okay, that was my little joke. There's no such thing as a free lunch, it will be ten bucks."
Audible sighs of relief, and scattered applause.
"Now I'd like to introduce Roderick, who will deliver part three of his long thing about health insurance."
"Thank you, Lily," says Roderick, stepping to the lectern. As he passes Lily, she whispers something in his ear that he doesn't quite catch, but it seems to be an invitation and includes a word that sounds like "duck".
Roderick launches into his presentation. "You may recall from the first session that we discussed a three-part categorization of health and medical services: emergency care, for which it is difficult to speak of a "market" per se; services that are medically necessary but not urgent; and discretionary services. Today, I will outline policy solutions for urgent care and discretionary care, and on Wednesday I'll outline policy solutions for everything else.
"We begin with urgent care. It may surprise you to learn that this category accounts for just two percent of all health care spending. Under existing law, emergency rooms must treat all patients regardless of ability to pay, and most states offer subsidies to hospitals to fund free care. The quality of emergency care in the United States is excellent.
"It seems to me that emergency care is comparable to police and fire services: there is a reasonable case to be made that these services are a public good and should be made available to anyone regardless of ability to pay. Like police and fire, emergency care should be funded at the state and local level, since states and municipalities are best able to monitor quality and compliance, and to determine appropriate levels of service. There is no compelling reason for a Federal role in funding emergency health services, except to provide research grants, support emergency medical training and education and to assist local jurisdictions with capital spending.
"Since the Federal government already does these things, the appropriate course of action is to do nothing."
There is a murmur of approval in the room.
"At the other extreme, discretionary care, the policy options are also easy. There is no reason why anyone should be forced to subsidize breast implants, sex change operations, laser vision treatment and so forth. Discretionary care is also subject to moral hazard, and not an insurable risk. Those who want these services should pay for them out of their own pockets.
"Now, some might point out that it's not fair that wealthy people will be able to afford breast implants and psychotherapy, but poor people will not. They will seek to form an alliance with those who provide these services -- plastic surgeons, psychotherapists, acupuncturists, chiropractors, massage therapists, "past lives" counselors and the like -- that these services are all medically necessary. To which I have two responses: first, there are many things in life that are not fair; wealthy people have nicer homes and cars than poor people, and send their children to private schools. It's not possible for everyone to have the same share of the wealth, and in most areas of policy we don't even try.
"My second response is simply that risks are either insurable or they are not insurable. Discretionary medical spending is not insurable due to the moral hazard; this is true whether the insurance is underwritten by the government, by charities or a for-profit insurance company. European-style government-run health insurance programs do not cover discretionary health care expenses for the simple reason that they can't afford to do so. In this country, Medicare does not cover discretionary treatments, for the same reason.
"So, unless you are a Communist I think you will agree that discretionary medical spending is best left to the free market, and the Federal government should do nothing.
There being no Communists among the membership of the Old Ivy Political Club, the audience responds to this line with heartfelt applause.
Lily steps to the lectern and whispers to Roderick: "Nice presentation. Would you like to squeeze my buttocks?"
Roderick does so, and departs.
Later, in the Dining Hall, Roderick sits with Molly and Megan.
"I delivered the third part of my presentation on health insurance today," he announces, "and then I squeezed Lily Chang's buttocks."
"Really?" says Molly, raising her eyebrows. "How do her buttocks compare to mine?"
Roderick thinks about his response, recognizing this to be a trick question. Truth be told, Roderick has never actually squeezed Molly's buttocks, though he has seen them and snuggled against them many times.
"Your buttocks are the best," he murmurs, an answer that seems to satisfy Molly.
Megan chimes in. "I have lovely buttocks."
Roderick can't disagree with Megan on this point. He has observed Megan's buttocks at close quarters many times, and her buttocks are right up there with Molly's, maybe a little nicer, but he would never mention that last part in front of Molly.
Later, Roderick calls Mr. Smiley.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mr. Smiley, it's Roderick."
"Hi, Roderick."
"Whatcha doing?"
"Oh, you know, the usual thing for a Sunday evening." Roderick understands this to be Smiley code for "nothing".
"I delivered the third part of my paper on health insurance today."
"That's nice."
"And at dinner we discussed buttocks, and the squeezing thereof."
Mr. Smiley isn't quite sure how to respond to this. Smileys, as a rule, do not squeeze one another's buttocks, nor do they consider it polite to discuss any body part "down there". Mr. Smiley understands, however, that Roderick can't be expected to comprehend Smiley ways. He thinks about happy cows, and smiles.
"That's nice."
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Health Insurance in Smileyville
"Ahem." Roderick checks the mike and waits for silence. The Old Ivy Political Economy Club meets tonight to hear part two of Roderick's paper on health insurance.
He continues. "In the first part of this paper, I discussed the heterogeneous nature of health care services, and drew a distinction between urgent care, care that is medically necessary but not urgent, and care that is truly discretionary. I pointed out that at the two extremes, one can argue that there is a robust market for discretionary services (such as laser vision surgery), but that it is difficult to speak of a market at all for urgent care.
"Turning attention to health insurance services (as distinguished from health care services), we should draw a distinction between those risks that are insurable and those that are not. Insurable risks have specific properties: they are (1) well-defined and specific; (2) measurable; (3) predictable in a large population, and (4) distributed at random in the population. This last point covers the concepts of adverse selection and moral hazard, which I will illustrate with examples.
"It is possible, for example, to write an insurance policy that indemnifies a homeowner from losses in a fire because the risk is well-defined, measurable and the insurance industry has lots of data about the incidence of fires. Such policies necessarily exclude coverage in the case of arson by the homeowner, just as life insurance policies generally exclude coverage in the case of suicide. Arson and suicide are examples of moral hazard, where the insurance beneficiary can influence the probability of a claim.
"Insurance pools that do not prevent moral hazard will be subject to adverse selection, or the tendency to attract high-risk individuals. In other words, a fire insurance pool that does not exclude arson will attract a disproportionate number of potential arsonists and soon run out of money. This is true regardless of who underwrites the policy; the principles of insurance apply to government-issued insurance and private insurance alike.
"Health insurance is particularly susceptible to moral hazard. As previously noted, there is an entire class of health services that is discretionary, and entirely within the control of the beneficiary. There are other kinds of moral hazard in health insurance that are more subtle. For example, doctors are more likely to prescribe expensive medical treatments when they know that the patient has a generous health care insurance plan. Studies have shown that there are patterns in the distribution of medical diagnoses that are best explained as profit-maximizing by health service providers.
"In the political debate about health insurance, much attention is given to the question of insurance for those with pre-existing conditions. This is considered the acid test of any credible policy proposal, and it is the justification for the individual mandate. Aside from the fact that the actual incidence of this problem is greatly exaggerated, the most important thing to consider is that while this is a political and social question, it is not an insurance question at all. A person who is already diagnosed with Huntingdon's Disease, for example, does not face the risk of high medical expenses; they face the certainty of high medical expenses. It is not possible to write an insurance policy that will cover the cost of treatment for Huntingdon's Disease among the population of those already diagnosed with the disease, for the simple reason that such an insurance pool would rapidly become insolvent unless premiums are set so high to make it too expensive for anyone to purchase.
"In other words, it is not possible for anyone -- for-profit companies, charitable institutions or the government -- to insure against the cost of health care for previously diagnosed conditions. The only possible course of action is to subsidize the cost of these policies."
Roderick notices that Lily, who is exceptionally hot tonight in her low-cut and tightly fitting black cocktail dress, is motioning to him and pointing to her watch.
"Looks like I'm out of time here, so I'll deliver part three in another session." Roderick takes his papers and steps away from the podium, to polite applause.
Lily steps to the podium. "Thank you, Roderick, I'm sure we're all looking forward to that. Next on the agenda tonight, I would like to welcome fourth-year student Rodney Tinklestein, whose paper is titled "Bitcoin: The New Reserve Currency."
Rodney, who is something of a rock star among fourth years, steps to the podium amidst thunderous applause.
Backstage, Roderick calls Mr. Smiley. "Hello, Mr. Smiley, it's Roderick."
"Hello, Roderick."
"I just delivered the second part of my paper about health insurance."
"That's nice." Mr. Smiley doesn't really understand health insurance. In Smileyville, you go to the doctor when you are sick, and somebody else pays.
He continues. "In the first part of this paper, I discussed the heterogeneous nature of health care services, and drew a distinction between urgent care, care that is medically necessary but not urgent, and care that is truly discretionary. I pointed out that at the two extremes, one can argue that there is a robust market for discretionary services (such as laser vision surgery), but that it is difficult to speak of a market at all for urgent care.
"Turning attention to health insurance services (as distinguished from health care services), we should draw a distinction between those risks that are insurable and those that are not. Insurable risks have specific properties: they are (1) well-defined and specific; (2) measurable; (3) predictable in a large population, and (4) distributed at random in the population. This last point covers the concepts of adverse selection and moral hazard, which I will illustrate with examples.
"It is possible, for example, to write an insurance policy that indemnifies a homeowner from losses in a fire because the risk is well-defined, measurable and the insurance industry has lots of data about the incidence of fires. Such policies necessarily exclude coverage in the case of arson by the homeowner, just as life insurance policies generally exclude coverage in the case of suicide. Arson and suicide are examples of moral hazard, where the insurance beneficiary can influence the probability of a claim.
"Insurance pools that do not prevent moral hazard will be subject to adverse selection, or the tendency to attract high-risk individuals. In other words, a fire insurance pool that does not exclude arson will attract a disproportionate number of potential arsonists and soon run out of money. This is true regardless of who underwrites the policy; the principles of insurance apply to government-issued insurance and private insurance alike.
"Health insurance is particularly susceptible to moral hazard. As previously noted, there is an entire class of health services that is discretionary, and entirely within the control of the beneficiary. There are other kinds of moral hazard in health insurance that are more subtle. For example, doctors are more likely to prescribe expensive medical treatments when they know that the patient has a generous health care insurance plan. Studies have shown that there are patterns in the distribution of medical diagnoses that are best explained as profit-maximizing by health service providers.
"In the political debate about health insurance, much attention is given to the question of insurance for those with pre-existing conditions. This is considered the acid test of any credible policy proposal, and it is the justification for the individual mandate. Aside from the fact that the actual incidence of this problem is greatly exaggerated, the most important thing to consider is that while this is a political and social question, it is not an insurance question at all. A person who is already diagnosed with Huntingdon's Disease, for example, does not face the risk of high medical expenses; they face the certainty of high medical expenses. It is not possible to write an insurance policy that will cover the cost of treatment for Huntingdon's Disease among the population of those already diagnosed with the disease, for the simple reason that such an insurance pool would rapidly become insolvent unless premiums are set so high to make it too expensive for anyone to purchase.
"In other words, it is not possible for anyone -- for-profit companies, charitable institutions or the government -- to insure against the cost of health care for previously diagnosed conditions. The only possible course of action is to subsidize the cost of these policies."
Roderick notices that Lily, who is exceptionally hot tonight in her low-cut and tightly fitting black cocktail dress, is motioning to him and pointing to her watch.
"Looks like I'm out of time here, so I'll deliver part three in another session." Roderick takes his papers and steps away from the podium, to polite applause.
Lily steps to the podium. "Thank you, Roderick, I'm sure we're all looking forward to that. Next on the agenda tonight, I would like to welcome fourth-year student Rodney Tinklestein, whose paper is titled "Bitcoin: The New Reserve Currency."
Rodney, who is something of a rock star among fourth years, steps to the podium amidst thunderous applause.
Backstage, Roderick calls Mr. Smiley. "Hello, Mr. Smiley, it's Roderick."
"Hello, Roderick."
"I just delivered the second part of my paper about health insurance."
"That's nice." Mr. Smiley doesn't really understand health insurance. In Smileyville, you go to the doctor when you are sick, and somebody else pays.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Four-Part Fugue
Dorabella has to travel to Lake City today, so there is no Story Hour today at Dorabella's Bookstore. Instead, Dorabella posts this picture of a bunny:
Meanwhile, Mr. Smiley calls Mr. Smith to say hello.
"Sorry, Mr. Smiley, gotta run, on my way to Pacific City, will call later this week, OK?"
"OK," says Mr. Smiley, a little disappointed.
Roderick's phone rings. It's Lily Chang.
"Hello?"
"Roderick, it's Lily."
"Hi."
"The Political Economy meeting is postponed to the middle of the week, do you mind?"
"Um, no, that's fine."
"So why don't you come over now."
"Um..."
"I'm completely naked."
"Aren't you chilly?"
"No, the thought of you has me in flames."
"I have to do some laundry this afternoon, maybe some other time?"
"OK," says Lily, a little disappointed.
"Who was that?" says Molly, who is sprawled on the floor with her Counterpoint book, completely naked.
"It was Lily. She's completely naked and wants me to come over."
"That's nice. Can you explain what retrograde inversion means?"
"That's where the you play the melody backwards and upside down."
"Oh."
Silence.
Molly stretches. "Why did you tell her you have to do laundry?"
"It's just a ruse. She just wants to have sex with me."
"Really?" Molly squints. "Yes, I suppose that's possible."
Roderick calls Mr. Smith to say hello, but the call goes straight into voicemail. "Hi, Dad, thought I'd catch you before you leave, but I guess you've left already. Have a nice trip to Pacific City."
As soon as Roderick hangs up, his phone rings. It's Mr. Smiley. Roderick chats with Mr. Smiley while Molly writes a four-part fugue, making use of the retrograde inversion.
"Sorry, Mr. Smiley, gotta run, on my way to Pacific City, will call later this week, OK?"
"OK," says Mr. Smiley, a little disappointed.
Roderick's phone rings. It's Lily Chang.
"Hello?"
"Roderick, it's Lily."
"Hi."
"The Political Economy meeting is postponed to the middle of the week, do you mind?"
"Um, no, that's fine."
"So why don't you come over now."
"Um..."
"I'm completely naked."
"Aren't you chilly?"
"No, the thought of you has me in flames."
"I have to do some laundry this afternoon, maybe some other time?"
"OK," says Lily, a little disappointed.
"Who was that?" says Molly, who is sprawled on the floor with her Counterpoint book, completely naked.
"It was Lily. She's completely naked and wants me to come over."
"That's nice. Can you explain what retrograde inversion means?"
"That's where the you play the melody backwards and upside down."
"Oh."
Silence.
Molly stretches. "Why did you tell her you have to do laundry?"
"It's just a ruse. She just wants to have sex with me."
"Really?" Molly squints. "Yes, I suppose that's possible."
Roderick calls Mr. Smith to say hello, but the call goes straight into voicemail. "Hi, Dad, thought I'd catch you before you leave, but I guess you've left already. Have a nice trip to Pacific City."
As soon as Roderick hangs up, his phone rings. It's Mr. Smiley. Roderick chats with Mr. Smiley while Molly writes a four-part fugue, making use of the retrograde inversion.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Absence of Underwear
At Old Ivy College, admission is certain but graduation anything but. Each student must pass a set of rigorous -- some would say sadistic -- exams, and do a public presentation: a lecture, music recital, art exhibition or some other contribution to the public domain. Students begin early; to succeed in the fourth year presentation, one must practice, practice, practice. There are ample opportunities for students to speak, publish, perform and exhibit.
Today, in Joseph Wharton Hall, Roderick presents a paper to the Old Ivy Political Economy Club. A note on the venue: Old Ivy College has no affiliation whatsoever to Joseph Wharton or the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. The Trustees of Old Ivy simply thought Wharton was a smart fellow, and dedicated the Political Economy building to his memory. On his way to the lecture hall, Roderick pauses to read a plaque in the lobby:
The lecture hall is packed. Roderick prepares his notes backstage while Lily Chang addresses the crowd with a few announcements.
"Now it's time for today's paper. I would like to introduce Roderick Smith, second-year student, who will deliver Part One of his paper on "How to Fix Health Insurance."
Roderick steps onstage and shakes hands with each of the three panelists, officers of the Old Ivy Political Economy Club, who are seated to the right of the podium. Last, he shakes hands with Lily, who wears a stunningly low-cut yellow dress.
"I'm not wearing any underwear. See me afterwards," she whispers as he drops his notes on the podium. Roderick thinks about what he's doing after the presentation: some logic problems, help Molly with Rhetoric, study for the Political Economy test, call Mom and Dad, call Mr. Smiley, visit Megan. Lily's lack of underwear is intriguing, to say the least, but so much to do, so little time.
He taps the mike. "Hello!
"Today I'm going to talk about how to fix health insurance. To begin with, I'd like to stipulate two things: I don't know a thing about how to prevent disease, cure the sick, help people live longer lives or improve life expectancy, which is the ultimate end of health care. This is simply a discussion about health insurance, or how to pool risks and pay for health and medical treatments.
"The second thing I'd like to stipulate is that while we conventionally speak about health care as if it is a single class of goods and services, it is actually several different sets.
"The first class of goods and services I will call urgent care: that which is necessary to keep someone alive. This includes such things as treatment for gunshot wounds, victims of natural disasters, terrorism and the like, as well as treatment for medical emergencies such as heart attacks, strokes and so forth.
"The second class of goods and services I will call medically necessary care: treatment that is medically necessary to cure or ameliorate a defined condition, but does not need to be applied immediately to save the patient's life. An example of this would be a surgical procedure to clear partially blocked arteries; the patient's long-term survival depends on having this surgery, but there is some discretion about when to schedule it.
"The third class of goods and services I will call discretionary care. This includes a range of medical treatments, from cataract surgery to hip replacement, that improves the quality of life for the patient, but the patient can live without it.
"In public discourse, it's customary for advocates of a government role in health care to speak about market failure in health care, and to lump all health care goods and services together and treat the entire category as a public good.
"Now I grant that it's difficult to speak of a market for emergency services. When you're hit by a car, you don't ask the ambulance driver to check prices at several hospitals before choosing where to take you. Arguably, there is a public interest in not having patients bleed to death just outside the emergency room simply because they don't have insurance. In any case, it's a matter of settled Federal law that emergency rooms must treat all patients, insured or not, including non-citizens.
"At the other extreme, purely discretionary care, there is a robust market for treatment such as laser eye surgery, plastic surgery, sports medicine, and so forth. These treatments are rarely covered by health insurance, but providers compete aggressively for business and prices are relatively low.
"Even in the middle ground of treatment that is medically necessary but not urgent, the experience of the Amish -- who have a religious objection to insurance -- shows us that it is certainly possible for groups to shop around for medical treatment and negotiate aggressive prices.
"So the first thing we need to do when we think about solutions is to stop talking about treatment for gunshot wounds and sex change operations as if they are the same thing.
"Next week I'll talk about solutions." Roderick steps away from the podium, to generous applause.
Later that evening, Roderick snuggles against Molly, and thinks about Lily with no underwear. He rarely thinks of Molly with no underwear, because she never wears any.
Today, in Joseph Wharton Hall, Roderick presents a paper to the Old Ivy Political Economy Club. A note on the venue: Old Ivy College has no affiliation whatsoever to Joseph Wharton or the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. The Trustees of Old Ivy simply thought Wharton was a smart fellow, and dedicated the Political Economy building to his memory. On his way to the lecture hall, Roderick pauses to read a plaque in the lobby:
Wharton lobbied successfully in Washington, D.C. for tariff laws protecting U.S. manufacturing. He was a defender of large business and evolved into a staunch Republican. He successfully lobbied for the use of nickel in the U.S. coinage, but his lobbying for nickel tariffs was only partially successful, probably because he had a virtual monopoly on production in the U.S."Wow," thinks Roderick, "an exemplar of rent-seeking."
Wharton became widely known as a leader of the Industrial League of manufacturing concerns, and the main lobbyist and President of the American Iron and Steel Institute. Wharton successfully lobbied for a bill in the Pennsylvania General Assembly supporting Limited Partnerships to allow more participation of capital in enterprises with risk.
Wharton wrote extensively on economic matters, including protective tariffs and business cycles. In 1881 Wharton donated $100,000 to the University of Pennsylvania to found a "School of Finance and Economy" for this purpose. He specified that the Wharton School faculty advocate economic protectionism, as he had when lobbying for American businesses in Washington.
The lecture hall is packed. Roderick prepares his notes backstage while Lily Chang addresses the crowd with a few announcements.
"Now it's time for today's paper. I would like to introduce Roderick Smith, second-year student, who will deliver Part One of his paper on "How to Fix Health Insurance."
Roderick steps onstage and shakes hands with each of the three panelists, officers of the Old Ivy Political Economy Club, who are seated to the right of the podium. Last, he shakes hands with Lily, who wears a stunningly low-cut yellow dress.
"I'm not wearing any underwear. See me afterwards," she whispers as he drops his notes on the podium. Roderick thinks about what he's doing after the presentation: some logic problems, help Molly with Rhetoric, study for the Political Economy test, call Mom and Dad, call Mr. Smiley, visit Megan. Lily's lack of underwear is intriguing, to say the least, but so much to do, so little time.
He taps the mike. "Hello!
"Today I'm going to talk about how to fix health insurance. To begin with, I'd like to stipulate two things: I don't know a thing about how to prevent disease, cure the sick, help people live longer lives or improve life expectancy, which is the ultimate end of health care. This is simply a discussion about health insurance, or how to pool risks and pay for health and medical treatments.
"The second thing I'd like to stipulate is that while we conventionally speak about health care as if it is a single class of goods and services, it is actually several different sets.
"The first class of goods and services I will call urgent care: that which is necessary to keep someone alive. This includes such things as treatment for gunshot wounds, victims of natural disasters, terrorism and the like, as well as treatment for medical emergencies such as heart attacks, strokes and so forth.
"The second class of goods and services I will call medically necessary care: treatment that is medically necessary to cure or ameliorate a defined condition, but does not need to be applied immediately to save the patient's life. An example of this would be a surgical procedure to clear partially blocked arteries; the patient's long-term survival depends on having this surgery, but there is some discretion about when to schedule it.
"The third class of goods and services I will call discretionary care. This includes a range of medical treatments, from cataract surgery to hip replacement, that improves the quality of life for the patient, but the patient can live without it.
"In public discourse, it's customary for advocates of a government role in health care to speak about market failure in health care, and to lump all health care goods and services together and treat the entire category as a public good.
"Now I grant that it's difficult to speak of a market for emergency services. When you're hit by a car, you don't ask the ambulance driver to check prices at several hospitals before choosing where to take you. Arguably, there is a public interest in not having patients bleed to death just outside the emergency room simply because they don't have insurance. In any case, it's a matter of settled Federal law that emergency rooms must treat all patients, insured or not, including non-citizens.
"At the other extreme, purely discretionary care, there is a robust market for treatment such as laser eye surgery, plastic surgery, sports medicine, and so forth. These treatments are rarely covered by health insurance, but providers compete aggressively for business and prices are relatively low.
"Even in the middle ground of treatment that is medically necessary but not urgent, the experience of the Amish -- who have a religious objection to insurance -- shows us that it is certainly possible for groups to shop around for medical treatment and negotiate aggressive prices.
"So the first thing we need to do when we think about solutions is to stop talking about treatment for gunshot wounds and sex change operations as if they are the same thing.
"Next week I'll talk about solutions." Roderick steps away from the podium, to generous applause.
Later that evening, Roderick snuggles against Molly, and thinks about Lily with no underwear. He rarely thinks of Molly with no underwear, because she never wears any.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Parking Lot
Today is the twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity; for services at Saint Cecilia Chapel, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale performs the J.S.Bach cantata BWV 116 Du Friedefürst, Herr Jesu Christ ("Thou Prince of Peace, Lord Jesus Christ"). Amy Scharf sings the Soprano aria, Mrs. Dowager sings the Alto, one of the ringers sings the Tenor and Zack sings the Bass while fondling Amy's buttocks.
Mr. Fletcher of the Theology faculty delivers today's inspirational message, the subject of which is "Twenty-Fifth Sunday of Trinity: Just Counting Down Days to the Holidays." He steps to the lectern and clears his throat.
"Today is the twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity, a day which holds absolutely no significance in the liturgical calendar, except that it follows the twenty-fourth Sunday after Trinity and precedes the twenty-sixth Sunday after Trinity. In some years, the twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity is the last Sunday before Advent, but not this year.
"So I have nothing to say today.
"Coffee and doughnuts will be served in the foyer."
Mr. Pipes closes the service with a rousing organ postlude.
In the foyer, Roderick and Molly help themselves to doughnuts and coffee. Molly takes two doughnuts -- as you may know, Molly is always hungry and eats large amounts of food but somehow remains slender and svelte. Roderick takes a jelly doughnut.
"How's yours?" he asks, taking a large bite with lots of jelly.
Molly bites into her cream doughnut. "Mmmmmmmmmph," she says.
After services, Roderick and Molly part ways -- Molly heads to the Conservatory to work on the Ives Concord Sonata, while Roderick proceeds to the Ballroom for a meeting of Old Ivy Republicans. (Old Ivy Democrats meet at a table for four in the cafeteria).
Lily Chang stands at the entrance to the Ballroom; she's wearing a daringly tight and low-cut black dress. As Roderick enters the Ballroom, she beckons. "Can I speak with you for a minute?"
"Um, OK." Roderick lets Lily lead him into one of the private offices next to the Ballroom.
The door slams behind them, and Lily embraces Roderick, rubbing his groin. "I want this!" she hisses.
Roderick unwinds himself. "Um, maybe later." Roderick really wants to hear what Mr. Parvelescu has to say today. He exits the office and secures a seat in the front row. Lily follows and occupies the seat next to him.
Today's forum is typical for Mr. Parvelescu; he has no prepared remarks, but will respond to questions from students selected at random. The first questioner today is Katie Summersbee, third year Political Economy student.
"In the wake of the recent issues with the Obamacare rollout, can President Obama restore his credibility?"
"No."
The next questioner is Roger Fauntleroy, fourth year History of Banking: "What is the probability that Democrats will win back the House in 2014?"
"Zero."
Next up: Roderick. "Can the Republicans win back the Senate in 2014?"
Mr. Parvelescu has to ponder this one. "As things stand today, they're three seats short of a majority. West Virginia, South Dakota and Montana all look like pickups for the Republicans. To gain control, they must win the "toss-ups" seats currently held by Democrats -- Alaska and Arkansas -- and convert at least one of those currently "leaning" Democrat. That includes North Carolina, Louisiana, Michigan and Iowa."
"Follow-up question: how can the Republicans accomplish that?"
"Don't nominate morons."
In the next section of today's forum, Lily Chang reads from a list of prospective 2016 Presidential candidates and Mr. Parvelescu comments. Lily stands up, sorts through some index cards, then reads aloud from the first:
"John Kasich."
"Boring. Might not carry his own state."
"Rick Perry."
"Good track record as governor of a big state, terrible 2012 campaign. Voters have short memories, with some polish and coaching, he can re-introduce himself. I am available at my usual fee."
"Paul Ryan."
"Kind of wonkish. Effective as House Budget chair, which is an entirely different kind of job. Couldn't carry Wisconsin for Romney."
"Bobby Jindal."
"Helps with the Indian-American vote. Terrible speaker."
"Rick Santorum."
"Please."
"Ted Cruz."
"No way a first term Senator can win the Presidency. Oh, wait..."
"Marco Rubio."
"Over-rated and incoherent."
"Rand Paul."
"I like him. Not sure that Americans are ready for his Libertarian streak, but time will tell."
"Scott Walker."
"Likable guy, good Q factor. Something of a fifty-one percenter, wins by the skin of his teeth. Doing good things in Wisconsin, but I'm not sure how he plays on a national stage."
"Chris Christie."
"Kind of a gasbag, but the Presidency is mostly gasbaggery. Good "man on the street" appeal, virtually impossible for Dems to demonize him as a rich guy the way they did with Romney. Good streetfighter."
"Thank you, Mr. Parvelescu."
Meanwhile, in Pacific City, Mr. Smith checks in at the Acrophilia Suites. His first choice, the local Unique Hotel, is sold out this week.
"Thank you for staying at the Acrophilia Suites Mr. Smith. Here's your room key, and the elevator is over there." The desk clerk points over Mr. Smith's shoulder.
Trailing his roll-on overnight bag, Mr. Smith steps into the "bubble" elevator. "Yoicks," he thinks. He checks the little card they gave him at the front desk. Top floor.
The elevator rises rapidly, exposing a grand atrium surrounded by suites accessed by catwalks. Mr. Smith presses himself against the elevator door.
Stepping out onto the catwalk, he creeps towards his room at the far end, pressing himself as close to the wall as possible, averting his eyes from the precipitous drop to the atrium floor. "Eep,"he thinks.
Finally, Mr. Smith reaches his room, unlocks the door, drags his suitcase inside and exhales. In the bedroom, he draws the curtains aside to check the view. Is it a view of the Pacific, as advertised? Nope. Parking lot.
Mr. Fletcher of the Theology faculty delivers today's inspirational message, the subject of which is "Twenty-Fifth Sunday of Trinity: Just Counting Down Days to the Holidays." He steps to the lectern and clears his throat.
"Today is the twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity, a day which holds absolutely no significance in the liturgical calendar, except that it follows the twenty-fourth Sunday after Trinity and precedes the twenty-sixth Sunday after Trinity. In some years, the twenty-fifth Sunday after Trinity is the last Sunday before Advent, but not this year.
"So I have nothing to say today.
"Coffee and doughnuts will be served in the foyer."
Mr. Pipes closes the service with a rousing organ postlude.
In the foyer, Roderick and Molly help themselves to doughnuts and coffee. Molly takes two doughnuts -- as you may know, Molly is always hungry and eats large amounts of food but somehow remains slender and svelte. Roderick takes a jelly doughnut.
"How's yours?" he asks, taking a large bite with lots of jelly.
Molly bites into her cream doughnut. "Mmmmmmmmmph," she says.
After services, Roderick and Molly part ways -- Molly heads to the Conservatory to work on the Ives Concord Sonata, while Roderick proceeds to the Ballroom for a meeting of Old Ivy Republicans. (Old Ivy Democrats meet at a table for four in the cafeteria).
Lily Chang stands at the entrance to the Ballroom; she's wearing a daringly tight and low-cut black dress. As Roderick enters the Ballroom, she beckons. "Can I speak with you for a minute?"
"Um, OK." Roderick lets Lily lead him into one of the private offices next to the Ballroom.
The door slams behind them, and Lily embraces Roderick, rubbing his groin. "I want this!" she hisses.
Roderick unwinds himself. "Um, maybe later." Roderick really wants to hear what Mr. Parvelescu has to say today. He exits the office and secures a seat in the front row. Lily follows and occupies the seat next to him.
Today's forum is typical for Mr. Parvelescu; he has no prepared remarks, but will respond to questions from students selected at random. The first questioner today is Katie Summersbee, third year Political Economy student.
"In the wake of the recent issues with the Obamacare rollout, can President Obama restore his credibility?"
"No."
The next questioner is Roger Fauntleroy, fourth year History of Banking: "What is the probability that Democrats will win back the House in 2014?"
"Zero."
Next up: Roderick. "Can the Republicans win back the Senate in 2014?"
Mr. Parvelescu has to ponder this one. "As things stand today, they're three seats short of a majority. West Virginia, South Dakota and Montana all look like pickups for the Republicans. To gain control, they must win the "toss-ups" seats currently held by Democrats -- Alaska and Arkansas -- and convert at least one of those currently "leaning" Democrat. That includes North Carolina, Louisiana, Michigan and Iowa."
"Follow-up question: how can the Republicans accomplish that?"
"Don't nominate morons."
In the next section of today's forum, Lily Chang reads from a list of prospective 2016 Presidential candidates and Mr. Parvelescu comments. Lily stands up, sorts through some index cards, then reads aloud from the first:
"John Kasich."
"Boring. Might not carry his own state."
"Rick Perry."
"Good track record as governor of a big state, terrible 2012 campaign. Voters have short memories, with some polish and coaching, he can re-introduce himself. I am available at my usual fee."
"Paul Ryan."
"Kind of wonkish. Effective as House Budget chair, which is an entirely different kind of job. Couldn't carry Wisconsin for Romney."
"Bobby Jindal."
"Helps with the Indian-American vote. Terrible speaker."
"Rick Santorum."
"Please."
"Ted Cruz."
"No way a first term Senator can win the Presidency. Oh, wait..."
"Marco Rubio."
"Over-rated and incoherent."
"Rand Paul."
"I like him. Not sure that Americans are ready for his Libertarian streak, but time will tell."
"Scott Walker."
"Likable guy, good Q factor. Something of a fifty-one percenter, wins by the skin of his teeth. Doing good things in Wisconsin, but I'm not sure how he plays on a national stage."
"Chris Christie."
"Kind of a gasbag, but the Presidency is mostly gasbaggery. Good "man on the street" appeal, virtually impossible for Dems to demonize him as a rich guy the way they did with Romney. Good streetfighter."
"Thank you, Mr. Parvelescu."
Meanwhile, in Pacific City, Mr. Smith checks in at the Acrophilia Suites. His first choice, the local Unique Hotel, is sold out this week.
"Thank you for staying at the Acrophilia Suites Mr. Smith. Here's your room key, and the elevator is over there." The desk clerk points over Mr. Smith's shoulder.
Trailing his roll-on overnight bag, Mr. Smith steps into the "bubble" elevator. "Yoicks," he thinks. He checks the little card they gave him at the front desk. Top floor.
The elevator rises rapidly, exposing a grand atrium surrounded by suites accessed by catwalks. Mr. Smith presses himself against the elevator door.
Stepping out onto the catwalk, he creeps towards his room at the far end, pressing himself as close to the wall as possible, averting his eyes from the precipitous drop to the atrium floor. "Eep,"he thinks.
Finally, Mr. Smith reaches his room, unlocks the door, drags his suitcase inside and exhales. In the bedroom, he draws the curtains aside to check the view. Is it a view of the Pacific, as advertised? Nope. Parking lot.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
The Concert
"Whatcha doing?" asks Megan.
"Nothing." Roderick is, in fact, doing nothing. Currently, he is stretched out on his bed, hands behind his head, sitting up slightly.
Megan is nude, as is often the case when she visits Roderick. She checks herself in the mirror. "Do you think I'm fat?"
Roderick understands this to be a trick question. "No, not at all" he says. This answer is at least partially honest; Megan certainly is not obese, nor even plump, nor zaftig. On the other hand, she's not svelte and catlike, like Molly,
"Really?" says Megan, curling up next to Roderick and doing her best to get some attention.
"Yes, really." Roderick hates it when people demand his attention.
"So, um, did you and Molly do, you know, it, over the summer?"
"No, we still have nineteen months to go before we hit the deadline." Roderick doesn't ask what or who Megan did this summer, knowing full well that she most likely did everyone in sight.
"I did it with the entire Baritone section of the Lake City Opera."
"All at once?"
Megan frowns. "No, sequentially. I'm not a slut, you know."
"Not that there's anything wrong with that."
"No, there's nothing wrong with it." Megan is President of the Old Ivy Ladies' Shooting Society, known colloquially as "Sluts with Glocks".
Roderick is curious. "Who else did you do this summer?"
"All of the straight male summer interns at Lake City Opera."
"Wow!" says Roderick. There were five hundred summer interns this summer, all unpaid.
"His name was Fred." Megan and Roderick crack up at that comment.
"Anyone else?" asks Roderick, feeling nosy.
"Well...there was the maestro,"says Megan, wistfully.
Her tone arouses Roderick's curiosity. "A love interest...?"
Megan ponders that. "He let me stick around long enough afterwards to fetch his slippers."
Roderick thinks about whether that is sufficient evidence of a love interest, and decides against. Meanwhile, Molly arrives. "Hi, Megan."
"Do you mind that I'm sprawled naked on the bed with Roderick?"
Molly is puzzled. "Why should I mind?"
"No reason." Megan fiddles with Roderick's internet radio and tunes in the Messaien Channel.
Molly is in the process of shedding her own clothing, but pauses, pants around her ankles, and cocks her head. "Messe de la Pentecote, Sortie, Le Vent de l'Esprit...Messaien's own recording on the organ of St. Trinite."
Megan frowns. "I thought it might be Jennifer Bate's recording."
Molly tugs at her pants and flings them to the other side of the room, then pulls her shirt off over her head. "No, I don't think she ever recorded the work. Can you move over a little? I want to cuddle." Roderick moves slightly to his left, noodging Megan. Molly curls up next to Roderick.
Roderick's cell phone rings. On the display, it says Mr. Smiley. Roderick answers. "Hello, Mr. Smiley!"
"Hi Roderick."
"What's up?"
"Oh, you know...nothing." Mr. Smiley is sitting by the Duck Pond in the center of Smileyville, watching the ducks, who seem very busy.
"I'm in my room with Megan and Molly."
"Uh-huh."
"They're naked."
"That's nice."
"We're listening to Olivier Messaien's Messe de la Pentecote for organ, played by the composer on the organ of St. Trinite in Paris."
"Oh, yes, St. Trinite. I went there to hear Messaien improvise when I was in Paris with Hello Kitty. She was already sliding from the booze, coke and meth, and threw up in the park outside the church. During the concert she wandered off with some lesbians to score meth and I didn't see her again for three days. I was going to dump her then and there, but she begged me to take her back and I couldn't say no. Later in that trip we went to Berlin and wrote our names on the Wall."
"How was the concert?"
"What concert?"
"At St. Trinite. The one you went to see with Hello Kitty."
"Oh, that concert." Mr. Smiley pauses, and thinks about it. "It was nice."
"Nothing." Roderick is, in fact, doing nothing. Currently, he is stretched out on his bed, hands behind his head, sitting up slightly.
Megan is nude, as is often the case when she visits Roderick. She checks herself in the mirror. "Do you think I'm fat?"
Roderick understands this to be a trick question. "No, not at all" he says. This answer is at least partially honest; Megan certainly is not obese, nor even plump, nor zaftig. On the other hand, she's not svelte and catlike, like Molly,
"Really?" says Megan, curling up next to Roderick and doing her best to get some attention.
"Yes, really." Roderick hates it when people demand his attention.
"So, um, did you and Molly do, you know, it, over the summer?"
"No, we still have nineteen months to go before we hit the deadline." Roderick doesn't ask what or who Megan did this summer, knowing full well that she most likely did everyone in sight.
"I did it with the entire Baritone section of the Lake City Opera."
"All at once?"
Megan frowns. "No, sequentially. I'm not a slut, you know."
"Not that there's anything wrong with that."
"No, there's nothing wrong with it." Megan is President of the Old Ivy Ladies' Shooting Society, known colloquially as "Sluts with Glocks".
Roderick is curious. "Who else did you do this summer?"
"All of the straight male summer interns at Lake City Opera."
"Wow!" says Roderick. There were five hundred summer interns this summer, all unpaid.
"His name was Fred." Megan and Roderick crack up at that comment.
"Anyone else?" asks Roderick, feeling nosy.
"Well...there was the maestro,"says Megan, wistfully.
Her tone arouses Roderick's curiosity. "A love interest...?"
Megan ponders that. "He let me stick around long enough afterwards to fetch his slippers."
Roderick thinks about whether that is sufficient evidence of a love interest, and decides against. Meanwhile, Molly arrives. "Hi, Megan."
"Do you mind that I'm sprawled naked on the bed with Roderick?"
Molly is puzzled. "Why should I mind?"
"No reason." Megan fiddles with Roderick's internet radio and tunes in the Messaien Channel.
Molly is in the process of shedding her own clothing, but pauses, pants around her ankles, and cocks her head. "Messe de la Pentecote, Sortie, Le Vent de l'Esprit...Messaien's own recording on the organ of St. Trinite."
Megan frowns. "I thought it might be Jennifer Bate's recording."
Molly tugs at her pants and flings them to the other side of the room, then pulls her shirt off over her head. "No, I don't think she ever recorded the work. Can you move over a little? I want to cuddle." Roderick moves slightly to his left, noodging Megan. Molly curls up next to Roderick.
Roderick's cell phone rings. On the display, it says Mr. Smiley. Roderick answers. "Hello, Mr. Smiley!"
"Hi Roderick."
"What's up?"
"Oh, you know...nothing." Mr. Smiley is sitting by the Duck Pond in the center of Smileyville, watching the ducks, who seem very busy.
"I'm in my room with Megan and Molly."
"Uh-huh."
"They're naked."
"That's nice."
"We're listening to Olivier Messaien's Messe de la Pentecote for organ, played by the composer on the organ of St. Trinite in Paris."
"Oh, yes, St. Trinite. I went there to hear Messaien improvise when I was in Paris with Hello Kitty. She was already sliding from the booze, coke and meth, and threw up in the park outside the church. During the concert she wandered off with some lesbians to score meth and I didn't see her again for three days. I was going to dump her then and there, but she begged me to take her back and I couldn't say no. Later in that trip we went to Berlin and wrote our names on the Wall."
"How was the concert?"
"What concert?"
"At St. Trinite. The one you went to see with Hello Kitty."
"Oh, that concert." Mr. Smiley pauses, and thinks about it. "It was nice."
Sunday, November 3, 2013
A Glass of Squashberry Juice
Standard Time has arrived, which pleases Mr. Smiley. Smileys do not observe Daylight Savings Time, or any other time, leading to the impression that they tend to arrive at events more or less at random. In many contexts this would be a problem, but so far as services at the Church of Irony this past summer it was not; at the Church of Irony, services never start at the expected time.
After services at St.Cecilia, Roderick and Molly cross the road to attend the Old Ivy Inn's Craft Beer Festival, held each year in the Ballroom. Everyone is admitted, regardless of age, since no beer is actually served in the Ballroom. Those who wish to be served must exit the Ballroom and enter the adjacent Oak Room; there, a sign declares that the Washington County Sheriff enforces state law on underage drinking. No doubt, this sign is sufficient to deter the law-abiding youth of Old Ivy College from imbibing unlawfully.
Glo Beer, the leading "cheap, but filling" beer brand, sponsors craft beer festivals in college towns around the country as part of its "Great American Beer" grassroots marketing campaign. There's an interesting story behind the rise of Glo Beer. Founded by Heinrich Hohenzollern in 1896 in Lake City and marketed under the Kaiser Beer brand, the company rebranded in 1918 as Goeringbrau in recognition of the famous World War I ace. Growing rapidly in the 1930s, the company expanded its Lake City brewery to offer Adolf Hitler Ale and Brownshirt Lager, which was adopted as the official beer of the German-American Bund.
In 1945, the company rebranded its Deutschland Uber Alles beer as Global Beer and discontinued all other brands. Sales grew rapidly in the postwar era thanks to a strong following among Lake City locals, closet Nazi sympathizers and the company's strong support for stock car racing.
In the 1990s, the company officially shorted the brand name from Global Beer to Glo Beer. This was shortly after Vevey Brands of Switzerland, the global food and drink conglomerate, acquired the company and introduced the long-running Gimme a Glo advertising campaign. Sales rose rapidly on the strength of this campaign, so that Glo is now the number #1 beer brand in the world, a point that is less remarkable when you consider that Vevey owns the #2 and #3 beer brands. Vevey also owns the #4 brand, Veldtbrau, which is sold only in Southern Africa, where it is widely used as currency.
Just inside the Ballroom, there is a cardboard cutout of Ricky Reckum Jr., who drives the famous "Blue Deuce" #2 car in NASCAR, sponsored by Glo Beer. Ricky is the most popular driver in NASCAR, though not because he is a particularly good driver; indeed, his only win came last year in the rain-shortened Lake City 400 when the red flag came out just after the top twenty cars pitted for fuel; at the time, Ricky was in twenty-first place. Ricky owes his popularity primarily to his appeal to the average NASCAR viewer, who identify with amiable and unintelligent people of little accomplishment; and also to his father, the legendary Ricky Reckum. The senior Reckum raced his Hudson Hornet with one hand and held a Global Beer in the other, periodically discarding empty cans out the driver's side window. One of these projectiles triggered the famous "Big One" at Talladega in 1968, which took every other driver out of the competition, leaving Ricky to coast home to victory. NASCAR later banned littering while racing, but by then Ricky had retired because his beer belly was too big to fit through the window of his Hudson.
The first table features the Redmeat brand attended by a bikini-clad booth babe. Roderick selects a colorful bottle. "What's this?" he asks.
"That's our Redmeat Seasonal Pumpkin Fudge Porter, says Booth Babe.
"Oh," says Roderick, returning the bottle. "Where do they make it?"
"The Glo Mega-Brewery in Lake City."
Roderick and Molly move on to the next table, also attended by bikini-clad booth babes and featuring Dirty Sweatsocks Objectional Ale.
"Aren't you chilly?" asks Molly of one of the booth babes.
Booth babe shrugs. Seeing Roderick select a bottle from the table, she points animatedly. "Flavored with rotten eggs!"
Roderick and Molly move on. The next table features Blammo! craft beer, which is sold in large bottles shaped like an erect penis. In a subtle touch, the booth babes wear bikinis that prominently feature the Blammo! logo on the front of their bikini bottoms.
Molly whispers to Roderick: "I think Megan likes this brand." Roderick chuckles.
Meanwhile, in Smileyville, Mr. Smiley pours himself a glass of squashberry juice.
Smileys, as a rule, prefer fruit juice to beer. It's not the flavor; they just like the pretty colors.
After services at St.Cecilia, Roderick and Molly cross the road to attend the Old Ivy Inn's Craft Beer Festival, held each year in the Ballroom. Everyone is admitted, regardless of age, since no beer is actually served in the Ballroom. Those who wish to be served must exit the Ballroom and enter the adjacent Oak Room; there, a sign declares that the Washington County Sheriff enforces state law on underage drinking. No doubt, this sign is sufficient to deter the law-abiding youth of Old Ivy College from imbibing unlawfully.
Glo Beer, the leading "cheap, but filling" beer brand, sponsors craft beer festivals in college towns around the country as part of its "Great American Beer" grassroots marketing campaign. There's an interesting story behind the rise of Glo Beer. Founded by Heinrich Hohenzollern in 1896 in Lake City and marketed under the Kaiser Beer brand, the company rebranded in 1918 as Goeringbrau in recognition of the famous World War I ace. Growing rapidly in the 1930s, the company expanded its Lake City brewery to offer Adolf Hitler Ale and Brownshirt Lager, which was adopted as the official beer of the German-American Bund.
In 1945, the company rebranded its Deutschland Uber Alles beer as Global Beer and discontinued all other brands. Sales grew rapidly in the postwar era thanks to a strong following among Lake City locals, closet Nazi sympathizers and the company's strong support for stock car racing.
In the 1990s, the company officially shorted the brand name from Global Beer to Glo Beer. This was shortly after Vevey Brands of Switzerland, the global food and drink conglomerate, acquired the company and introduced the long-running Gimme a Glo advertising campaign. Sales rose rapidly on the strength of this campaign, so that Glo is now the number #1 beer brand in the world, a point that is less remarkable when you consider that Vevey owns the #2 and #3 beer brands. Vevey also owns the #4 brand, Veldtbrau, which is sold only in Southern Africa, where it is widely used as currency.
Just inside the Ballroom, there is a cardboard cutout of Ricky Reckum Jr., who drives the famous "Blue Deuce" #2 car in NASCAR, sponsored by Glo Beer. Ricky is the most popular driver in NASCAR, though not because he is a particularly good driver; indeed, his only win came last year in the rain-shortened Lake City 400 when the red flag came out just after the top twenty cars pitted for fuel; at the time, Ricky was in twenty-first place. Ricky owes his popularity primarily to his appeal to the average NASCAR viewer, who identify with amiable and unintelligent people of little accomplishment; and also to his father, the legendary Ricky Reckum. The senior Reckum raced his Hudson Hornet with one hand and held a Global Beer in the other, periodically discarding empty cans out the driver's side window. One of these projectiles triggered the famous "Big One" at Talladega in 1968, which took every other driver out of the competition, leaving Ricky to coast home to victory. NASCAR later banned littering while racing, but by then Ricky had retired because his beer belly was too big to fit through the window of his Hudson.
The first table features the Redmeat brand attended by a bikini-clad booth babe. Roderick selects a colorful bottle. "What's this?" he asks.
"That's our Redmeat Seasonal Pumpkin Fudge Porter, says Booth Babe.
"Oh," says Roderick, returning the bottle. "Where do they make it?"
"The Glo Mega-Brewery in Lake City."
Roderick and Molly move on to the next table, also attended by bikini-clad booth babes and featuring Dirty Sweatsocks Objectional Ale.
"Aren't you chilly?" asks Molly of one of the booth babes.
Booth babe shrugs. Seeing Roderick select a bottle from the table, she points animatedly. "Flavored with rotten eggs!"
Roderick and Molly move on. The next table features Blammo! craft beer, which is sold in large bottles shaped like an erect penis. In a subtle touch, the booth babes wear bikinis that prominently feature the Blammo! logo on the front of their bikini bottoms.
Molly whispers to Roderick: "I think Megan likes this brand." Roderick chuckles.
Meanwhile, in Smileyville, Mr. Smiley pours himself a glass of squashberry juice.
Smileys, as a rule, prefer fruit juice to beer. It's not the flavor; they just like the pretty colors.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Ainsworth, the Missing Tabby
Mr. Smiley has a new toy.
Meanwhile, Roderick is home for the car show at the Beaune Estate -- an annual event to which Beauneville denizens bring the cars they drive every day. Molly and Megan join him for the event.
Mr. Whitaker down the street wanted to buy this Hudson Hornet as soon as it arrived at Beauneville Motors. Mrs. Whitaker, however, demurred. "Too sporty," she said. Mrs. Whitaker is not known for being adventurous.
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The Whitakers purchased this DeSoto instead, which they still own.
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Mr. Ackerman, of the Ackerman's Market Ackermans, remains loyal to the Packard brand. Even after Packard merged with Studebaker and ceased production, Mr. Ackerman purchased this 1956 Packard Clipper, which is really just a Studebaker with Packard branding. "I would never buy a Studebaker," he huffs. To Mr. Ackerman, Studebakers are for the lower sort.
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Mr. Van Zandt, the butcher, likes to work for Mr. Ackerman, but thinks his taste in cars is a little priggish. Mr. Van Zandt still drives his father's 1941 Studebaker.
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When she was shopping for a car, Megan took this little number for a test drive before she settled on her 1964 Mustang. "I loved this car, but I'm too buxom to drive it," she laughs. Roderick ponders that, then agrees. This car is definitely not for the buxom.
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Everyone admires Mr. Filbert's Hudson, but think he looks silly in a cowboy hat.
Mr. Wickett, of Wickett's Bazaar, owns one of two identical 1956 Oldsmobile Holidays owned by Beauneville denizens. (Miss Honeychurch owns the other, which she uses to drive her many cats to the vet).
Mr. Wickett likes to tell a funny story about this car. One day, when Dickie Wickett was about six years old, he saw Miss Honeychurch's car parked in front of Zeppelin Drugs. Thinking it was the family car, he opened the back door and released about a dozen cats, who promptly ran in every direction.
Officer Grady -- not the Officer Grady we know, but his dad -- was right there, and yelled "Hey! This is not your father's Oldsmobile!" Years later, Grady wanted to sue General Motors over this advertisement, but Mr. Barrister convinced him the lawsuit was a no-hoper.
Mr. Wickett loves to tell that story, and cracks up whenever he tells it. Molly doesn't get it. And Dickie gets a little tired of hearing about it.
Miss Honeychurch isn't amused, either. She recovered most of the cats, but Ainsworth never returned home. For some years afterwards, Beauneville residents reported Ainsworth sightings, but all were apocryphal.
Meanwhile, Roderick is home for the car show at the Beaune Estate -- an annual event to which Beauneville denizens bring the cars they drive every day. Molly and Megan join him for the event.
Mr. Whitaker down the street wanted to buy this Hudson Hornet as soon as it arrived at Beauneville Motors. Mrs. Whitaker, however, demurred. "Too sporty," she said. Mrs. Whitaker is not known for being adventurous.
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Officer Grady -- not the Officer Grady we know, but his dad -- was right there, and yelled "Hey! This is not your father's Oldsmobile!" Years later, Grady wanted to sue General Motors over this advertisement, but Mr. Barrister convinced him the lawsuit was a no-hoper.
Miss Honeychurch isn't amused, either. She recovered most of the cats, but Ainsworth never returned home. For some years afterwards, Beauneville residents reported Ainsworth sightings, but all were apocryphal.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
The Conditional Conjunction
Every college has a policy governing the use of alcohol and illegal drugs. Every college except Old Ivy which, true to form, does things its own way. The matter is up for discussion in today's quarterly Board meeting. Appropriately enough, the Board meets in the Board Room.
"Good morning gents, and madam," says Board Chairman Mr. Fuddle, nodding to Miss Token. Miss Token, who is part black, part Hispanic, part Native American and bisexual is actually highly valued for her strategic contribution, since Old Ivy makes no effort at all towards diversity. She is also hot, and prefers short, tight skirts.
"Good morning!" says Miss Token. The other members of the Board also respond, with varying levels of enthusiasm.
Mr. Fuddle proceeds with the first order of business. "I received a letter last month from the Association of College and Universities. It says we should take a hard look at policies on binge drinking and take active steps to promote safe and legal use of alcohol."
"Do we have a policy on binge drinking?" asks Miss Token.
"Yes," says Mr. Gruff of the Philosophy faculty and Dean of Student Life. "Our policy is that we don't care what students do as long as they don't disrupt the exams. lectures, seminars, concerts or other college events. And if they do disrupt those things we don't care if they do so because of alcohol or drug use, we just throw them out on the first offense."
"That works for me," says Miss Token. There is general assent from the other members.
"What about drinking in students' rooms?" asks Mr. Billabong, who is new to the Board.
"Technically," says Mr. Armstrong, of the Political Economy faculty and Dean of Residence Life, "we don't own the rooms since we went condominium ten years ago. The South Quad Condominium Association has rules, which they post, and advises that state law prohibits underage drinking unless one of the exceptions applies."
"Exceptions?" Clearly, Mr. Billabong isn't up on the details of state law governing underage drinking.
Mr. Armstrong sighs. "The Condominium Association tells the students that underage drinking is prohibited except on private property (taverns and liquor stores excepted), for religious purposes, for medical purposes, for educational purposes, for government work or with parental consent."
"Gosh," says Mr. Billabong. "That's a lot of exceptions! How do you enforce them all."
"We, the Members of this Board and the employees of Old Ivy College, don't enforce them at all," responds Mr. Armstrong. "The South Quad Condominium Association, a legally separate entity with no connection to Old Ivy College except that the same individuals serve on both Boards and meet consecutively in this room, enforces the policy. I should note, however, that the Condominium Association has no employees other than Mr. Featherton, who runs the annual online auction."
"What about the police?" asks Miss Token.
"Sheriff Nottingham in Stapleton or one of his deputies will respond if there is a disturbance. We had one back in 1982, when Figgie Gordon chained himself naked to the Thinking Tree to protest what he said was an absence of thought."
Mr. Fuddle interjects. "Thank you for that briefing, Mr. Armstrong. Any other comments or questions on this issue?"
"What about Federal law?" asks Miss Token. You can always count on Miss Token to bring up questions of Federal law.
"Well," says Mr. Armstrong, warming to the subject, "the Department of Education publishes rules under Title IX, and we would have to comply with them if we had a varsity athletic program."
"If," says Mr. Gruff, with emphasis on the conditional conjunction, "we had a varsity athletic program."
"But...we don't have a varsity athletics program," says Miss Token.
"Exactly," says Mr. Armstrong. "There are also rules governing colleges and universities that accept Federal research grants or disburse Federal student grants and loans, and we would have to comply with those IF we accepted Federal research grants or disbursed Federal student grants and loans."
"I get it!" laughs Miss Token. "IF we did that stuff. But we don't!" There is a round of laughter from the other Members.
Meanwhile, in his room, and with his parents' consent, Roderick pours himself a glass of Beauneville Ale. Mr. Smith likes to say that Roderick can also qualify under the religious exception, as he is a practicing member of the Church of Occasional Beer; and the educational exception applies as well, since it is important for a youth to know how to drink a beer.
Beauneville Ale, a product of the Beauneville Brewery, has a special secret ingredient that gives it a unique flavor. I'd tell you what the ingredient is, but it's a secret. It's not pumpkin.
"Good morning gents, and madam," says Board Chairman Mr. Fuddle, nodding to Miss Token. Miss Token, who is part black, part Hispanic, part Native American and bisexual is actually highly valued for her strategic contribution, since Old Ivy makes no effort at all towards diversity. She is also hot, and prefers short, tight skirts.
"Good morning!" says Miss Token. The other members of the Board also respond, with varying levels of enthusiasm.
Mr. Fuddle proceeds with the first order of business. "I received a letter last month from the Association of College and Universities. It says we should take a hard look at policies on binge drinking and take active steps to promote safe and legal use of alcohol."
"Do we have a policy on binge drinking?" asks Miss Token.
"Yes," says Mr. Gruff of the Philosophy faculty and Dean of Student Life. "Our policy is that we don't care what students do as long as they don't disrupt the exams. lectures, seminars, concerts or other college events. And if they do disrupt those things we don't care if they do so because of alcohol or drug use, we just throw them out on the first offense."
"That works for me," says Miss Token. There is general assent from the other members.
"What about drinking in students' rooms?" asks Mr. Billabong, who is new to the Board.
"Technically," says Mr. Armstrong, of the Political Economy faculty and Dean of Residence Life, "we don't own the rooms since we went condominium ten years ago. The South Quad Condominium Association has rules, which they post, and advises that state law prohibits underage drinking unless one of the exceptions applies."
"Exceptions?" Clearly, Mr. Billabong isn't up on the details of state law governing underage drinking.
Mr. Armstrong sighs. "The Condominium Association tells the students that underage drinking is prohibited except on private property (taverns and liquor stores excepted), for religious purposes, for medical purposes, for educational purposes, for government work or with parental consent."
"Gosh," says Mr. Billabong. "That's a lot of exceptions! How do you enforce them all."
"We, the Members of this Board and the employees of Old Ivy College, don't enforce them at all," responds Mr. Armstrong. "The South Quad Condominium Association, a legally separate entity with no connection to Old Ivy College except that the same individuals serve on both Boards and meet consecutively in this room, enforces the policy. I should note, however, that the Condominium Association has no employees other than Mr. Featherton, who runs the annual online auction."
"What about the police?" asks Miss Token.
"Sheriff Nottingham in Stapleton or one of his deputies will respond if there is a disturbance. We had one back in 1982, when Figgie Gordon chained himself naked to the Thinking Tree to protest what he said was an absence of thought."
Mr. Fuddle interjects. "Thank you for that briefing, Mr. Armstrong. Any other comments or questions on this issue?"
"What about Federal law?" asks Miss Token. You can always count on Miss Token to bring up questions of Federal law.
"Well," says Mr. Armstrong, warming to the subject, "the Department of Education publishes rules under Title IX, and we would have to comply with them if we had a varsity athletic program."
"If," says Mr. Gruff, with emphasis on the conditional conjunction, "we had a varsity athletic program."
"But...we don't have a varsity athletics program," says Miss Token.
"Exactly," says Mr. Armstrong. "There are also rules governing colleges and universities that accept Federal research grants or disburse Federal student grants and loans, and we would have to comply with those IF we accepted Federal research grants or disbursed Federal student grants and loans."
"I get it!" laughs Miss Token. "IF we did that stuff. But we don't!" There is a round of laughter from the other Members.
Meanwhile, in his room, and with his parents' consent, Roderick pours himself a glass of Beauneville Ale. Mr. Smith likes to say that Roderick can also qualify under the religious exception, as he is a practicing member of the Church of Occasional Beer; and the educational exception applies as well, since it is important for a youth to know how to drink a beer.
Beauneville Ale, a product of the Beauneville Brewery, has a special secret ingredient that gives it a unique flavor. I'd tell you what the ingredient is, but it's a secret. It's not pumpkin.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Are You Molly Bloom?
Today is the twentieth Sunday after Trinity. In the St. Cecilia Chapel, Mr. Mendelssohn leads the Old Ivy Bach Chorale in today's cantata, J.S. Bach's BWV 180, Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele (Adorn yourself, oh dear soul). Mrs. Dowager sings the alto solo, a ringer sings the tenor solo, Zack sings the bass solo and Emily Scharf sings the soprano solo with Zack's hand firmly planted on her buttocks. Fourth year Philosophy student Mädchen Smith delivers the inspirational message for today, Adorn yourself at Forever 21.
The children of Beauneville gather in a circle for Sunday Reading Time. Dorabella squeezes her ample bottom into the Reading Chair and continues to read from The Blue Trolley.
She continues to read.
Back to the story.
Meanwhile, Molly Bloom sits and reads in the Student Union beneath Natasha's recently installed mural, which is aptly named Molly Bloom's Moist Pink Vagina. Another student -- Molly recognizes him from Rhetoric class -- approaches the mural, gazes at it intently.
"Excuse me," he says to Molly, "you're Molly Bloom, aren't you?"
"No," says Molly.
The children of Beauneville gather in a circle for Sunday Reading Time. Dorabella squeezes her ample bottom into the Reading Chair and continues to read from The Blue Trolley.
At the station, the Blue Trolley waited patiently for Fred and his Dad to return from the ice cream parlor. Thomas the Tank Engine rolled up the adjacent track pulling two coaches and stopped.Dorabella holds the book aloft to show the picture.
"Good morning!" said Thomas.Another picture.
"Clang, clang!" said the Blue Trolley.
Thomas pulls out an iPhone. "Look at me!" he says. "I'm texting!"
"Clang, clang!" said the Blue Trolley.
Thomas held the phone at arms length and took a selfie. "See?" he says, showing off the picture.
"Clang, clang!" said the Blue Trolley.Dorabella puts the book down. The gathered children clap happily.
Thomas the Tank Engine chuffed away. Just as Fred and his Dad returned from the ice cream parlor, The Little Engine That Could Arrived. "Good morning!" said The Little Engine That Could.
"Good morning!" said Fred.
"Good morning!" said Fred's Dad.
"Clang, clang!" said the Blue Trolley.
"Where are you going?" asked Fred.
"I am going to pull this train of good food and toys over the mountain to the little children on the other side."
"Are you sure that's possible? All those big engines over there said it can't be done."
"Well, poop on those fuddy-duds. I will just say 'I think I can, I think I can, I think I can' over and over again and pull this long train of good food and toys over the mountain to the children on the other side."
"That is ridiculous Bergsonian twaddle," said Fred. "Your ability to pull that train over the mountain depends solely on the tractive effort you can produce, which depends on the power transmitted to your driving wheels and the factor of adhesion. If the mass of the train exceeds your tractive effort on the steepest grade, you will roll backwards down the hill. The forces of physics are not affected by the content of your train or the needs to the intended recipients."
"Well," said The Little Engine That Could, "that's your opinion." He tugged on the train and started to roll out the station. "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can..."
About ten minutes later, the train rolled backwards into the station, The Little Engine That Could still coupled to the front but clearly exhausted. He said nothing.
"See?" said Fred.
"Clang, clang!" said the Blue Trolley.
Fred his Dad boarded the Blue Trolley and they departed.
"Are we heading home?" asked Fred.
"Clang, clang!" said the Blue Trolley. "Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clickety-clack!"
Soon, they arrived at the station on Duck Pond Road, near their house.
"Goodbye, Blue Trolley!" said Fred.
"Clang, clang!" said the Blue Trolley.
Fred's Dad drove home, taking care to avoid small children and pets playing in the street. He parked the Packard in the shade of the squashberry tree, which groaned with fruit. Mom met them at the front door, and so did Zeppelin, Mr. Wuffles and Spot, who pushed Not A Bunny's wheeled aquarium.
"Hello, everyone!" said Fred.
Then everyone played tag, which was great fun for everyone but Not A Bunny, who had no way to tag anyone back so he was always "it".
Meanwhile, Molly Bloom sits and reads in the Student Union beneath Natasha's recently installed mural, which is aptly named Molly Bloom's Moist Pink Vagina. Another student -- Molly recognizes him from Rhetoric class -- approaches the mural, gazes at it intently.
"Excuse me," he says to Molly, "you're Molly Bloom, aren't you?"
"No," says Molly.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
The Blue Trolley
Today is the nineteenth Sunday after Trinity, an otherwise unremarkable spot in the liturgical calendar. Mr. Mendelssohn leads the Old Ivy Bach Chorale in today's cantata, Ich elender Mensch, wer wird mich erlösen (Wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me). Mary Ellen Ricardo of the Economics faculty delivers the inspirational message for the day, "How to Find a Good Obstetrician."
Roderick, sitting next to Megan in the third pew on the right, recognizes one of the altos. She occupies the room next to his in South Quad. "Do you know her?" he inquires of Megan.
"It's Melanie Fishbreath. She's PTBL."
"PTBL?"
"Presumed To Be Lesbian." At Old Ivy, altos are PTBL and tenors are PTBG.
Services over, Roderick, Molly and Megan adjourn to the Old Ivy Inn for brunch. Roderick invites Melanie to join them. They sit at a smallish table to the right of the fireplace. Roderick orders scrapple, applesauce and toast; Molly orders scrambled eggs and bacon; Megan orders fried eggs and scrapple; Melanie orders granola.
"I'm really not a lesbian, you know," says Melanie, pouring milk on her granola. As if anyone asked. "I just like to sing Alto."
Roderick, Molly and Megan exchange knowing looks.
"Personally," says Roderick, reaching for the butter, "I consider toast to be simply a platform for butter."
Dorabella has a new book for reading hour. As the children of Beauneville gather in a circle on the floor, Dorabella squeezes her ample bottom into the Reading Chair, and holds the book aloft for all to see. "The Blue Trolley," she announces.
"Ooooooooooh," say the gathered children of Beauneville.
Dorabella begins to read:
She continues:
"Ooooooooooh," say the gathered children of Beauneville.
Dorabella continues:
"Awwwwwww," say the gathered children of Beauneville.
Meanwhile, in Smileyville, Mr. Smiley has just received a package, which he opens with relish. It's a model Isetta, complete with bubble camper. Proudly, he removes it from the packaging and places it on the dining room table.
Mr. Smiley ponders the car and camper and dreams of driving down the highway, Clotilde by his side, little Alexander in the back seat, an ample quantity of pickles and cheese in the camper. The idea makes him smile.
Roderick, sitting next to Megan in the third pew on the right, recognizes one of the altos. She occupies the room next to his in South Quad. "Do you know her?" he inquires of Megan.
"It's Melanie Fishbreath. She's PTBL."
"PTBL?"
"Presumed To Be Lesbian." At Old Ivy, altos are PTBL and tenors are PTBG.
Services over, Roderick, Molly and Megan adjourn to the Old Ivy Inn for brunch. Roderick invites Melanie to join them. They sit at a smallish table to the right of the fireplace. Roderick orders scrapple, applesauce and toast; Molly orders scrambled eggs and bacon; Megan orders fried eggs and scrapple; Melanie orders granola.
"I'm really not a lesbian, you know," says Melanie, pouring milk on her granola. As if anyone asked. "I just like to sing Alto."
Roderick, Molly and Megan exchange knowing looks.
"Personally," says Roderick, reaching for the butter, "I consider toast to be simply a platform for butter."
Dorabella has a new book for reading hour. As the children of Beauneville gather in a circle on the floor, Dorabella squeezes her ample bottom into the Reading Chair, and holds the book aloft for all to see. "The Blue Trolley," she announces.
"Ooooooooooh," say the gathered children of Beauneville.
Dorabella begins to read:
Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Fred, who lived in a little Cape Cod house on Duck Pond Road with his Mommy, his Daddy, his pet dog Spot, his pet cat Mr. Wuffles, his pet goldfish named Not A Bunny and his pet tarantula named Zeppelin.She holds up the book so everyone can see the picture of Fred, Mommy, Daddy, Spot, Mr. Wuffles, Not A Bunny and Zeppelin in front of a little Cape Cod house.
She continues:
One day, Fred was gathering squashberries with Johnny, another little boy who lived across the street. As Fred reached for a squashberry lodged in the Arctostaphylos Uva-Ursi -- which Fred's Dad refers to as 'that green plant out front that spreads everywhere' -- he saw a caterpillar crawling amongst the leaves.Dorabella holds up the book to show a picture of Mr. Pflinger's car before the accident.
"Look!" he said, pointing. "A caterpillar!"
"I'm going to stomp on him!" said Johnnny, lifting his leg.
At that moment, Johnny's mother called from across the street. "Johnny Winklemeyer, you come home right now and eat your lunch!"
Johnny paused, his foot in mid-air, then spun and ran across the street where he was struck and killed by a passing BMW Isetta 300 driven by Mr. Hugo Pflinger, local collector of Isettas. Mr. Pflinger was rather miffed, as he had just waxed and detailed the car and due to damage to the front end was stuck waiting inside until the Fire Department arrived.
"Ooooooooooh," say the gathered children of Beauneville.
Dorabella continues:
While Fred pondered the concept of karma, his Dad beckoned to him. "Come, Fred," said Dad. "We're going for a ride on the Blue Trolley."Dorabella pauses again to hold up a picture of the trolley.
Fred clambered aboard his father's 1957 Packard Clipper, the post-merger model that was really a Studebaker President with Packard badging. "Vroom, vroom," said the Packard, as they accelerated down Duck Pond Road.
Shortly, they arrived at the trolley station. "Look!" said Dad, pointing. "The Blue Trolley is waiting for us." Sure enough, a trolley stood patiently at the station and, appropriately enough, the trolley was blue.
"Good morning, Mr. Blue Trolley," said Fred.Dorabella puts the book down. "To be continued!" she says.
"Clang, clang!" said the Blue Trolley.
Fred and his Dad clambered aboard and took their seats.
"Clang, clang!" said the Blue Trolley again, as they began to move.
"Where are we going, Mr. Blue Trolley?" asked Fred.
"Clang, clang! Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clickety-clack!" replied the Blue Trolley.
"Not a very good conversationalist, is he?" whispered Fred to his Dad.
Soon, they arrived at another station and debarked to the platform. Fred's Dad pointed across the street. "Look, an ice cream store! Let's go get some ice cream."
Fred thought this was a pretty good idea. As they crossed the street, he held onto his Dad's finger, tightly. All the more so having observed the encounter between little Johnny and the business end of a BMW Isetta 300, if a BMW Isetta 300 can be said to have a business end.
"Awwwwwww," say the gathered children of Beauneville.
Meanwhile, in Smileyville, Mr. Smiley has just received a package, which he opens with relish. It's a model Isetta, complete with bubble camper. Proudly, he removes it from the packaging and places it on the dining room table.
Mr. Smiley ponders the car and camper and dreams of driving down the highway, Clotilde by his side, little Alexander in the back seat, an ample quantity of pickles and cheese in the camper. The idea makes him smile.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Two-Wheeled Joy
The Beauneville Bicycle Company occupies a small building on the corner of Railroad Avenue and Tenth Street, about two blocks from the Red Trolley Diner. Established in 1893 at the height of America's Bicycling Craze, the company first planned to build a bicycle railway connecting Beauneville and Stapleton modeled on the Mount Holly and Smithville Bicycle Railway.
Company directors reconsidered the business plan in 1894 when the Beauneville Electric Railway began operations, as market research suggested that prospective customers preferred sitting over pedaling. Turning to the street bicycle market, the company rolled out its aptly named Goliath high-wheeled bicycle in 1895. Sadly, the Goliath was obsolete from its inception and sales were limited to a batch of ten purchased by the Stapleton Police Department. There is no truth to the rumor that the Stapleton Police Department purchased the Goliaths solely because Mayor Henry Gittings also happened to sit on the Board of Beauneville Bicycle Company. That is sheer coincidence.
In the wake of the failed Goliath, Beauneville Bicycle Company turned to the manufacture of standard "safety" bicycles, from which they have not deviated since. Beauneville Bicycle Company products are highly prized by Beauneville denizens, many of whom are avid bicyclists; the environs of Beauneville being well-suited to bicycling as the roads are wide, well-paved, thinly trafficked and generally free of hills.
Although bicycles are handed down from generation to generation -- there are seven or eight stored in the Smith's carriage house -- every Beauneville youngster longs for his very own shiny Cruiser or Cruisette. After school, one sometimes sees children gathered outside the showroom on Railroad Avenue, noses pressed to the glass. On Christmas morning, in many homes, a child peeps around the corner of the living room to see a Cruiser standing in its fendered glory, a moment captured in the Company's famous advertising tagline: "Gee, Dad! It's a Beauneville!"
Beauneville Bicycle Company's products are well suited to local needs. The Beauneville Boxster comes in quite handy when toting a load of apples:
Today, Roderick pedals the bike paths around Old Ivy College with Molly, Megan and Natasha on his classic Beauneville Town and Country:
Molly has the version with a little basket in front:
Buxom and bubbly Megan is a more casual bicyclist because, as she takes pains to point out, she jiggles. Unsurprisingly, her bicycle is red, and is designed to avoid contact with her ladyparts:
Natasha, of course, eschews the local product; she prefers, instead, an imported Schindelhauer "Ludwig XVIII", fully equipped with Pinion P1.18 gearbox, CNC-machined disc brakes, Brooks saddle and Gates’ Center- Track System. "It only cost Daddy 5,000 Euros" she likes to say, dismissing out of hand any questions about the euro-dollar exchange rate.
"Why is your bicycle called "Ludwig XVIII?" asks Molly.
"I think he's the King of Germany," says Natasha.
"Germany is a Federal Republic, and hasn't had a monarch since 1918" says Roderick. "Also, there never were Kings of what we now call Germany, only of its constituent parts Prussia, Saxony, Wurttemburg and Bavaria; the monarch of Germany was an Emperor and not a King. There were King Ludwigs of Bavaria, but only three of them and not eighteen. The last of them, King Ludwig III, ruled until November, 1918, when the monarchy ended under politically ambiguous circumstances and without an actual abdication."
"Look at me, I'm jiggling!" says Megan.
Roderick observes that Megan does indeed jiggle when she bicycles, although to be perfectly honest Megan jiggles when she does just about anything.
This year at Old Ivy Roderick plans to attend Sunday services at St. Cecilia chapel, but he will not sing in the Bach Chorale; it's a time management thing. Another reason: word has got out that men who sing in the Chorale can pretty much have their way with the sopranos, so there is no shortage of prospective baritones this year.
Emily Scharf was disappointed and tried to persuade him to sign up again. Actually, she groveled at his feet and begged him to accept sexual favors in return for contributing his voice; but when Roderick's mind is made up...
Company directors reconsidered the business plan in 1894 when the Beauneville Electric Railway began operations, as market research suggested that prospective customers preferred sitting over pedaling. Turning to the street bicycle market, the company rolled out its aptly named Goliath high-wheeled bicycle in 1895. Sadly, the Goliath was obsolete from its inception and sales were limited to a batch of ten purchased by the Stapleton Police Department. There is no truth to the rumor that the Stapleton Police Department purchased the Goliaths solely because Mayor Henry Gittings also happened to sit on the Board of Beauneville Bicycle Company. That is sheer coincidence.
In the wake of the failed Goliath, Beauneville Bicycle Company turned to the manufacture of standard "safety" bicycles, from which they have not deviated since. Beauneville Bicycle Company products are highly prized by Beauneville denizens, many of whom are avid bicyclists; the environs of Beauneville being well-suited to bicycling as the roads are wide, well-paved, thinly trafficked and generally free of hills.
Although bicycles are handed down from generation to generation -- there are seven or eight stored in the Smith's carriage house -- every Beauneville youngster longs for his very own shiny Cruiser or Cruisette. After school, one sometimes sees children gathered outside the showroom on Railroad Avenue, noses pressed to the glass. On Christmas morning, in many homes, a child peeps around the corner of the living room to see a Cruiser standing in its fendered glory, a moment captured in the Company's famous advertising tagline: "Gee, Dad! It's a Beauneville!"
Beauneville Bicycle Company's products are well suited to local needs. The Beauneville Boxster comes in quite handy when toting a load of apples:
Today, Roderick pedals the bike paths around Old Ivy College with Molly, Megan and Natasha on his classic Beauneville Town and Country:
Molly has the version with a little basket in front:
Buxom and bubbly Megan is a more casual bicyclist because, as she takes pains to point out, she jiggles. Unsurprisingly, her bicycle is red, and is designed to avoid contact with her ladyparts:
Natasha, of course, eschews the local product; she prefers, instead, an imported Schindelhauer "Ludwig XVIII", fully equipped with Pinion P1.18 gearbox, CNC-machined disc brakes, Brooks saddle and Gates’ Center- Track System. "It only cost Daddy 5,000 Euros" she likes to say, dismissing out of hand any questions about the euro-dollar exchange rate.
"Why is your bicycle called "Ludwig XVIII?" asks Molly.
"I think he's the King of Germany," says Natasha.
"Germany is a Federal Republic, and hasn't had a monarch since 1918" says Roderick. "Also, there never were Kings of what we now call Germany, only of its constituent parts Prussia, Saxony, Wurttemburg and Bavaria; the monarch of Germany was an Emperor and not a King. There were King Ludwigs of Bavaria, but only three of them and not eighteen. The last of them, King Ludwig III, ruled until November, 1918, when the monarchy ended under politically ambiguous circumstances and without an actual abdication."
"Look at me, I'm jiggling!" says Megan.
Roderick observes that Megan does indeed jiggle when she bicycles, although to be perfectly honest Megan jiggles when she does just about anything.
This year at Old Ivy Roderick plans to attend Sunday services at St. Cecilia chapel, but he will not sing in the Bach Chorale; it's a time management thing. Another reason: word has got out that men who sing in the Chorale can pretty much have their way with the sopranos, so there is no shortage of prospective baritones this year.
Emily Scharf was disappointed and tried to persuade him to sign up again. Actually, she groveled at his feet and begged him to accept sexual favors in return for contributing his voice; but when Roderick's mind is made up...
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Autumnal Equinox
Today is the Autumnal Equinox, the first day of Autumn. The Smileys pack the bubble van and prepare for the return to Smileyville.
But first, Sunday dinner at the Smiths. Everyone's coming, including Grandma and Grandpa. Roderick, Molly and Megan drove down from Old Ivy this morning; Mary Bloom caught the train from Lake City last night so she can attend together with Mr. and Mrs. Bloom, Margaret, Catherine and Mr. Fuzzums.
Miss Kitty declines to attend.
Mr. and Mrs. Smith serve dinner promptly at one. On the menu: roast pork, apple sauce (made from freshly harvested Beuneville Beauties); and little green things.
Grandma wants to know what everyone did for the summer.
"Well," says Mr. Smiley. "We took a boat to Europe and visited Brest, Mont. St. Michel, Giverny, Versailles and Paris. Then we took a train to Brussels and Amsterdam, after which we visited Cologne, Dusseldorf, Hamburg, Berlin, Leipzig, Prague, Vienna, Venice, Milan, Florence, Pisa, Rome, Naples, the Amalfi Coast and Capri. Then over to Marseilles, Nice, Cannes, a brief side trip to Barcelona, the Basque country, Gascony, then up the Loire and back to Paris, where we transferred to the Brest train and the steamer back to America."
"Wow!" says Megan. "Quite an itinerary!. What did you think of Europe?"
Mr. Smiley, pauses to ponder, then responds. "It was nice."
"They have very nice cheese in Amsterdam," Clotilde volunteers.
"We saw bubble cars in Milan" adds Mr. Smiley. "A remarkable collection."
"What about you, Molly?" asks Grandma. "What did you do this summer?"
"I learned Charles Ives' Concord Sonata, advanced a degree in karate and posed for the mural Natasha's doing for the Student Union at Old Ivy."
"A mural? That's wonderful! What's it called?"
"Molly Bloom's Moist Pink Vagina."
Mary Bloom, not wishing to be outdone by her older sister, boasts of her summer accomplishments. "I earned $30,000 through prostitution in Lake City this summer. That's all taxable income, of course, so I set up a Subchapter S corporation so I can write off my expenses: the large four-poster bed, velvet handcuffs, the maid's uniform and schoolgirl outfit, large quantities of Listerine and also the occasional abortion should the need arise."
Mr. Bloom leans toward Mr. Smith and whispers proudly: "She's majoring in Business."
Mr. Smith nods. "Clever girl."
"What did you do this summer, Roderick?"
Roderick swallows a bite of roast pork slathered in applesauce, and pushes the little green things to one side of his plate. "Oh, the usual. I worked at the canoe barn, polished the Roadmaster daily and interviewed at Old Ivy for the Jay Gould Society."
Megan is intrigued. "The Jay Gould Society? I interviewed for that, too! What did they ask about in the interview?"
"They just wanted to know why I'm interested in Business."
"They asked me the same thing. What did you tell them?"
"I told them I want to make a lot of money by any means necessary and shelter it all from taxes. How did you answer?"
Megan looks sheepish. "I told them I want do work towards gender equity and equal opportunity for women in business."
Roderick smiles awkwardly. He likes Megan, and thinks she's really creative and stuff, but really, sometimes she is just self-defeating and dumb. "Well," he says, hoping someone will change the subject, "I guess we'll hear from them pretty soon."
Megan spent the summer as one of several hundred unpaid interns at the Lake City Opera.
"That must be hard, being one of so many interns." says Mrs. Smith sympathetically, serving the pie.
"There are advantages," says Megan, spooning some ice cream. "I only had to blow the Maestro once."
Little Alexander, sitting patiently in his oddly-shaped and brightly colored high chair, is bored. "Want cheese!" he screams.
Clotilde indulges him with a nice piece of cheese. But that's to be expected because Smileys, as you know, like to indulge their children.
But first, Sunday dinner at the Smiths. Everyone's coming, including Grandma and Grandpa. Roderick, Molly and Megan drove down from Old Ivy this morning; Mary Bloom caught the train from Lake City last night so she can attend together with Mr. and Mrs. Bloom, Margaret, Catherine and Mr. Fuzzums.
Miss Kitty declines to attend.
Mr. and Mrs. Smith serve dinner promptly at one. On the menu: roast pork, apple sauce (made from freshly harvested Beuneville Beauties); and little green things.
Grandma wants to know what everyone did for the summer.
"Well," says Mr. Smiley. "We took a boat to Europe and visited Brest, Mont. St. Michel, Giverny, Versailles and Paris. Then we took a train to Brussels and Amsterdam, after which we visited Cologne, Dusseldorf, Hamburg, Berlin, Leipzig, Prague, Vienna, Venice, Milan, Florence, Pisa, Rome, Naples, the Amalfi Coast and Capri. Then over to Marseilles, Nice, Cannes, a brief side trip to Barcelona, the Basque country, Gascony, then up the Loire and back to Paris, where we transferred to the Brest train and the steamer back to America."
"Wow!" says Megan. "Quite an itinerary!. What did you think of Europe?"
Mr. Smiley, pauses to ponder, then responds. "It was nice."
"They have very nice cheese in Amsterdam," Clotilde volunteers.
"We saw bubble cars in Milan" adds Mr. Smiley. "A remarkable collection."
"What about you, Molly?" asks Grandma. "What did you do this summer?"
"I learned Charles Ives' Concord Sonata, advanced a degree in karate and posed for the mural Natasha's doing for the Student Union at Old Ivy."
"A mural? That's wonderful! What's it called?"
"Molly Bloom's Moist Pink Vagina."
Mary Bloom, not wishing to be outdone by her older sister, boasts of her summer accomplishments. "I earned $30,000 through prostitution in Lake City this summer. That's all taxable income, of course, so I set up a Subchapter S corporation so I can write off my expenses: the large four-poster bed, velvet handcuffs, the maid's uniform and schoolgirl outfit, large quantities of Listerine and also the occasional abortion should the need arise."
Mr. Bloom leans toward Mr. Smith and whispers proudly: "She's majoring in Business."
Mr. Smith nods. "Clever girl."
"What did you do this summer, Roderick?"
Roderick swallows a bite of roast pork slathered in applesauce, and pushes the little green things to one side of his plate. "Oh, the usual. I worked at the canoe barn, polished the Roadmaster daily and interviewed at Old Ivy for the Jay Gould Society."
Megan is intrigued. "The Jay Gould Society? I interviewed for that, too! What did they ask about in the interview?"
"They just wanted to know why I'm interested in Business."
"They asked me the same thing. What did you tell them?"
"I told them I want to make a lot of money by any means necessary and shelter it all from taxes. How did you answer?"
Megan looks sheepish. "I told them I want do work towards gender equity and equal opportunity for women in business."
Roderick smiles awkwardly. He likes Megan, and thinks she's really creative and stuff, but really, sometimes she is just self-defeating and dumb. "Well," he says, hoping someone will change the subject, "I guess we'll hear from them pretty soon."
Megan spent the summer as one of several hundred unpaid interns at the Lake City Opera.
"That must be hard, being one of so many interns." says Mrs. Smith sympathetically, serving the pie.
"There are advantages," says Megan, spooning some ice cream. "I only had to blow the Maestro once."
Little Alexander, sitting patiently in his oddly-shaped and brightly colored high chair, is bored. "Want cheese!" he screams.
Clotilde indulges him with a nice piece of cheese. But that's to be expected because Smileys, as you know, like to indulge their children.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
The Eagle and the Lambs
The children of Beauneville gather for Reading Time at Dorabella's Bookstore. Mr. Smiley is reading today. He squeezes into the Reading Chair, and the little ones arrange themselves into a circle. Holding the book so the tots can see the cover, Mr. Smiley reads the title: "The Eagle and the Lamb."
"Ooooh!" say the children, who like animal stories.
Mr. Smiley reads:
"I read Also Sprach Zarathustra some years ago," says Mr. Smiley. "In German."
"Really!" says Dorabella. "What did you think of it?"
Mr. Smiley ponders a moment. "It was nice."
"Ooooh!" say the children, who like animal stories.
Mr. Smiley reads:
Once upon a time, in the land of Flemm, there was a flock of cute little lambs. The lambs spent most of their days grazing in the pasture, because that's pretty much what lambs do. One little lamb, whose name was Petunia, was quite a bit smarter than the rest of the flock, which isn't saying much since lambs aren't the sharpest denizens of the animal kingdom, but in relative terms at least she was smart."The End" says Mr. Smiley. He rises from the Reading Chair and returns the book to Dorabella, who stands behind the register.
One day, Petunia decided that she was totally fed up with grazing and decided to wander away from the flock. Her sisters -- named Flossie, Millie and Zeppelin -- bleated a warning. "Petunia, you mustn't wander away from the flock. The eagle is evil, and he will eat you."
Petunia ignored them. "Stupid bourgeois morality" she muttered to herself, and continued to wander.
Soon thereafter, an eagle, named Fred, swooped down and landed in front of Petunia, blocking her path. "Good morning, little lambie," he said. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Fred, and I'm going to eat you."
"That's not very nice," said Petunia. "Also, it's evil."
"Evil, shmevil," said Fred. "I'm hungry. Also, Nietzsche says it's wrong for the weak to restrain the strong."
"What, are you an adolescent?" asked Petunia. "Nietzsche is an idiot."
"I beg your pardon?" said Fred, indignantly. "He is the greatest of philosophers."
"Philosophy, shmilosophy. Why should I give a moment's thought to some dude who says it's OK for you to eat me?"
"You can't just pick and choose philosophy based on your personal interests."
"I just did. Poof." Petunia made a dismissive gesture. "Nietzsche can bite me."
"I guess I can't convince you," said Fred. "But I'm going to eat you anyway."
"You can certainly try, but you might want to reconsider. I'm wearing a suicide belt, and if you eat me your feathers will be spread far and wide in this pasture."
"Suicide belt? I don't see a suicide belt."
"It's under my wool."
"You're bluffing."
"If you think so, go ahead and try to eat me. You'll see."
"Sorry lambie. It's in my nature to eat you." With that remark, Fred gobbled up Petunia. A moment later there was a huge explosion, and pieces of Fred went flying everywhere.
Back in the pasture, Flossie, Millie and Zeppelin heard the boom and stopped grazing for a moment.
"There goes Petunia," said Flossie, between bites.
Zeppelin stopped chewing for a moment. "Stupid eagles."
"They can't help it," said Millie. "It's in their nature."
"So much for nature," said Flossie.
"So much for Nietzsche," said Zeppelin.
"I read Also Sprach Zarathustra some years ago," says Mr. Smiley. "In German."
"Really!" says Dorabella. "What did you think of it?"
Mr. Smiley ponders a moment. "It was nice."
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
A Grand Offering
The Church of Metaphor split from the Unitarian Church in 1887, following the inspirational preaching of Dr. Wilfred Homily, who famously wrote that "this thing we worship is a metaphor for something." Dr. Homily's flock soon divided into two camps; one founded the Church of Metaphor, the other founded the Church of Something. The Church of Metaphor suffered a further schism in 1922 in a doctrinal dispute over use of the words "like" and "as"; devotees thereof founded the Church of Simile, a congregation of which meets in Stapleton each Sunday afternoon.
Roderick wants to learn more about business careers, and Mr. Smith has arranged a tour of Beaune Valve. Debbie Flack, Vice President of Public Relations, meets him in the lobby. "Good morning, Roderick!" she chirps, extending a hand.
"Good morning." Roderick isn't sure if it's Miss Flack, Mrs. Flack or Miz Flack, so he skips the honorific altogether.
Miss Flack beckons. "We'll begin in my department." She leads Roderick into a large room with many cubicles filled with young people typing on computers. "My team handles all of Beaune Valve's social media operations."
Roderick is amazed. "Wow, people get paid to use Twitter and Facebook?"
Miss Flack laughs. "Oh, we don't pay them, they're interns." She continues down the hallway to a large corner office. Knocking, she gestures to Roderick to enter. "Roderick, meet Debbie Credit, Chief Financial Officer of Beaune Valve."
Behind the desk is an attractive forty-ish woman in a business suit, who stands to greet him. "Good morning, Roderick!"
Roderick isn't sure whether it's Miss Credit, Mrs. Credit or Miz Credit, so he skips the honorific. "Good morning!"
Mrs. Credit beckons to a chair; Roderick sits; Debbie Flack departs. "So!" says Mrs. Credit, "I hear you're at Old Ivy."
Roderick nods.
"What are you studying?"
"Oh, you know...Logic, Rhetoric, Mathematics, History of Banking..."
"And you're interested in business?"
"Yes."
"Well, the first rule of business is to make money. That means you have to know how much you make on everything you sell. That's where my team comes in. The Controller, Mr. Harianus, runs the cost accounting system so we know about all of the costs that go into every valve we make."
Roderick writes this down.
"The second rule is to manage the money you make. Miss Kashflo, the Treasurer, keeps track of our surplus cash, invests the money for short periods and makes sure we have enough cash in the bank every other week to make payroll.
"The third rule is to minimize taxes. That's where Mrs. Dee Duction comes in. She manages our Federal, state and local tax liability."
"How did you get to be CFO?" Roderick wonders.
"I got promoted last year from Treasurer. Before that, I worked for five years for the accounting firm of Beatum and Cheatum, where I got my CPA."
"What was it like working for Beatum and Cheatum?"
"It sucked. They treat you like crap, because they know that a CPA is a meal ticket, and you can't get one without some experience at an audit firm. But c'est la vie."
Roderick thanks Mrs. Credit and departs. He's learned enough to know that he doesn't want to be a CFO.
"Come on back next week, and I'll introduce you to some more people" says Debbie Flack, perkily.
Meanwhile, Mr. Smiley places a dollar in the collection plate at the Church of Metaphor. It's a grand offering.
Roderick wants to learn more about business careers, and Mr. Smith has arranged a tour of Beaune Valve. Debbie Flack, Vice President of Public Relations, meets him in the lobby. "Good morning, Roderick!" she chirps, extending a hand.
"Good morning." Roderick isn't sure if it's Miss Flack, Mrs. Flack or Miz Flack, so he skips the honorific altogether.
Miss Flack beckons. "We'll begin in my department." She leads Roderick into a large room with many cubicles filled with young people typing on computers. "My team handles all of Beaune Valve's social media operations."
Roderick is amazed. "Wow, people get paid to use Twitter and Facebook?"
Miss Flack laughs. "Oh, we don't pay them, they're interns." She continues down the hallway to a large corner office. Knocking, she gestures to Roderick to enter. "Roderick, meet Debbie Credit, Chief Financial Officer of Beaune Valve."
Behind the desk is an attractive forty-ish woman in a business suit, who stands to greet him. "Good morning, Roderick!"
Roderick isn't sure whether it's Miss Credit, Mrs. Credit or Miz Credit, so he skips the honorific. "Good morning!"
Mrs. Credit beckons to a chair; Roderick sits; Debbie Flack departs. "So!" says Mrs. Credit, "I hear you're at Old Ivy."
Roderick nods.
"What are you studying?"
"Oh, you know...Logic, Rhetoric, Mathematics, History of Banking..."
"And you're interested in business?"
"Yes."
"Well, the first rule of business is to make money. That means you have to know how much you make on everything you sell. That's where my team comes in. The Controller, Mr. Harianus, runs the cost accounting system so we know about all of the costs that go into every valve we make."
Roderick writes this down.
"The second rule is to manage the money you make. Miss Kashflo, the Treasurer, keeps track of our surplus cash, invests the money for short periods and makes sure we have enough cash in the bank every other week to make payroll.
"The third rule is to minimize taxes. That's where Mrs. Dee Duction comes in. She manages our Federal, state and local tax liability."
"How did you get to be CFO?" Roderick wonders.
"I got promoted last year from Treasurer. Before that, I worked for five years for the accounting firm of Beatum and Cheatum, where I got my CPA."
"What was it like working for Beatum and Cheatum?"
"It sucked. They treat you like crap, because they know that a CPA is a meal ticket, and you can't get one without some experience at an audit firm. But c'est la vie."
Roderick thanks Mrs. Credit and departs. He's learned enough to know that he doesn't want to be a CFO.
"Come on back next week, and I'll introduce you to some more people" says Debbie Flack, perkily.
Meanwhile, Mr. Smiley places a dollar in the collection plate at the Church of Metaphor. It's a grand offering.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Decoration Day
Tomorrow is Memorial Day in most areas of the United States. In Beauneville, it is just a regular Monday; on Thursday, May 30, Beauneville celebrates Decoration Day.
You might think that Beauneville didn't get the memo when Congress passed the Uniform Monday Holiday Act on June 28, 1968. That legislation official renamed Decoration Day to Memorial Day and moved it from May 30 to the last Monday in May.
In fact, Beauneville got the memo and ignored it.
The Post Office will be closed, of course, and if you have any business at the Elmore Bigelow Butts Federal Building in Stapleton you would be well advised to postpone your trip until Tuesday. In Beauneville, however, life will be normal tomorrow.
Another thing missing in Beauneville: veterans. Beauneville denizens have a long history of avoiding military service as much as possible; not out of a principled objection to war so much as an instinctive desire for liberty and an aversion to being used as cannon fodder.
Old Ivy has recessed for the summer. Roderick, Molly, Mary Bloom, Anna and Megan gather at Mr. Smiley's house; Mr. Smiley and Clotilde want to catch up with the latest news and gossip. Alexander naps.
Clotilde offers some pickles and cheese to Roderick. "What are you doing this summer?" she wonders.
Roderick chews. "Working at the canoe barn again. The money's good, and it's nice to be here in town."
"And you, Molly?"
Molly shrugs. "You know, the usual. Playing the piano, teaching karate, nude modeling..."
It's Mary's turn. "I'll be turning tricks with Daddy's clients. He's pimping for me." Mr. Smiley does not understand what "pimping" means, but he thinks that turning tricks is a good thing, because magic is nice.
Anna plans to live with the Blooms, work on her singing, do some solo gigs and generally relax.
Megan has exciting news. She's going to be an unpaid summer intern at Lake City Opera, along with three hundred other college students. Her submission for staging Das Rheingold helped her get a foot in the door, but she clinched the matter in her interview with LCO's Executive Director, Maestro Sergio Cazzo. Kneepads played a role.
"We're doing Le Nozze di Figaro in August," she beams.
Mr. Smiley is curious. "Where will you live in Lake City?"
"Maestro Cazzo has a room in his house where I can stay. It's very convenient, right next door to his bedroom so we can consult on libretti and stuff."
Molly suspects monkey business. "Isn't that a little...unusual? You know, for a young single woman..."
Megan frowns. "Ummm...I don't see why. After all, he has a wife. Her name is Rosina."
Later that day, the Smileys attend services at the Grand Sanctuary of the Church of Metaphor, in a shabby little storefront on Railroad Avenue.
You might think that Beauneville didn't get the memo when Congress passed the Uniform Monday Holiday Act on June 28, 1968. That legislation official renamed Decoration Day to Memorial Day and moved it from May 30 to the last Monday in May.
In fact, Beauneville got the memo and ignored it.
The Post Office will be closed, of course, and if you have any business at the Elmore Bigelow Butts Federal Building in Stapleton you would be well advised to postpone your trip until Tuesday. In Beauneville, however, life will be normal tomorrow.
Another thing missing in Beauneville: veterans. Beauneville denizens have a long history of avoiding military service as much as possible; not out of a principled objection to war so much as an instinctive desire for liberty and an aversion to being used as cannon fodder.
Old Ivy has recessed for the summer. Roderick, Molly, Mary Bloom, Anna and Megan gather at Mr. Smiley's house; Mr. Smiley and Clotilde want to catch up with the latest news and gossip. Alexander naps.
Clotilde offers some pickles and cheese to Roderick. "What are you doing this summer?" she wonders.
Roderick chews. "Working at the canoe barn again. The money's good, and it's nice to be here in town."
"And you, Molly?"
Molly shrugs. "You know, the usual. Playing the piano, teaching karate, nude modeling..."
It's Mary's turn. "I'll be turning tricks with Daddy's clients. He's pimping for me." Mr. Smiley does not understand what "pimping" means, but he thinks that turning tricks is a good thing, because magic is nice.
Anna plans to live with the Blooms, work on her singing, do some solo gigs and generally relax.
Megan has exciting news. She's going to be an unpaid summer intern at Lake City Opera, along with three hundred other college students. Her submission for staging Das Rheingold helped her get a foot in the door, but she clinched the matter in her interview with LCO's Executive Director, Maestro Sergio Cazzo. Kneepads played a role.
"We're doing Le Nozze di Figaro in August," she beams.
Mr. Smiley is curious. "Where will you live in Lake City?"
"Maestro Cazzo has a room in his house where I can stay. It's very convenient, right next door to his bedroom so we can consult on libretti and stuff."
Molly suspects monkey business. "Isn't that a little...unusual? You know, for a young single woman..."
Megan frowns. "Ummm...I don't see why. After all, he has a wife. Her name is Rosina."
Later that day, the Smileys attend services at the Grand Sanctuary of the Church of Metaphor, in a shabby little storefront on Railroad Avenue.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Commencement
Today is Whit Sunday, the first day of Pentecost. In the Saint Cecilia Chapel, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale performs J.S.Bach's cantata BWV 34 O Ewiges Feuer, O Ursprung der Liebe, which translates roughly as Oh Eternal Flame, Oh Source of Love. Mrs. Dowager sings the Alto aria, one of the ringers sings the Tenor recitative and Zack sings the bass recitative.
Once again there is no Soprano solo, so Emily sings in the Chorus. Emily is grumpy today; "eternal flame" reminds her of that chlamydia infection.
Mr. Twitchy of the Theology faculty delivers the inspirational message for today. He steps to the lectern, places his note thereupon, clears his throat, and reads aloud:
Mr. Pipes ends the service with a vigorous recessional.
Today is also Old Ivy's Commencement Day, when students, parents and alumni gather to recognize the few who actually manage to secure a degree. Commencement ceremonies are held in the Quadrangle, by the Thinking Tree. The Old Ivy Chamber Orchestra provides the music; Roderick joins, playing second clarinet.
Commencement begins precisely at noon, with a processional of the faculty and graduates as the Chamber Orchestra plays the Funeral March from Beethoven's Third. The music is appropriately somber, to recognize the many who enrolled, but did not graduate.
In lieu of the conventional tam, the Old Ivy faculty vie with one another for the most ridiculous hats. This year, Miss Quimm of the English Lit faculty appears to be in the lead:
Miss Quimm's course in erotic fiction is consistently one of the most popular courses at Old Ivy, though it carries no degree credit.
However, the Political Economy faculty steals the show:
This year, the Commencement Committee sent speaking invitations to President Obama, Senator Marco Rubio, Governor Chris Christie and Angelina Jolie. None responded, so, per custom, the Committee selected Mr. Droop of the Philosophy department at random. Mr. Droop steps to the lectern.
"Class of 2013, you are full of yourselves today. But soon you will learn that life is short and that all of your accomplishments are pointless. In the Universe, whether you graduated today or not is a matter of complete indifference. Now go kill yourselves. Or not. It's all the same to me."
The Chamber Orchestra concludes the ceremony with the final dance from Ravel's Daphnis and Chloe, which is somewhat challenging as a recessional as it is in 5/4 time.
Meanwhile, in Beauneville, Mr. Smiley sits at this customary table in the Cafe Venice and sips his Caffe Mocha. It's nice.
Once again there is no Soprano solo, so Emily sings in the Chorus. Emily is grumpy today; "eternal flame" reminds her of that chlamydia infection.
Mr. Twitchy of the Theology faculty delivers the inspirational message for today. He steps to the lectern, places his note thereupon, clears his throat, and reads aloud:
And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak with other languages, as the Spirit gave them utterance. And there were dwelling at Jerusalem Jews, devout men, out of every nation under heaven. Now when this was noised abroad, the multitude came together, and were confounded, because that every man heard them speak in his own language.He pauses, and takes a sip of water. "I don't really get this, so let's move on to the other reading for the day, from John 14:23-31:
Jesus answered him, “If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words. And the word that you hear is not mine but the Father's who sent me.Mr. Twitchy pauses and looks around the Chapel. "Isn't that nice? Let's hear it for Jesus!" The congregation breaks out into thunderous applause.
“These things I have spoken to you while I am still with you. But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I will come to you.’ If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you before it takes place, so that when it does take place you may believe. I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of this world is coming. He has no claim on me, but I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father. Rise, let us go from here."
Mr. Pipes ends the service with a vigorous recessional.
Today is also Old Ivy's Commencement Day, when students, parents and alumni gather to recognize the few who actually manage to secure a degree. Commencement ceremonies are held in the Quadrangle, by the Thinking Tree. The Old Ivy Chamber Orchestra provides the music; Roderick joins, playing second clarinet.
Commencement begins precisely at noon, with a processional of the faculty and graduates as the Chamber Orchestra plays the Funeral March from Beethoven's Third. The music is appropriately somber, to recognize the many who enrolled, but did not graduate.
In lieu of the conventional tam, the Old Ivy faculty vie with one another for the most ridiculous hats. This year, Miss Quimm of the English Lit faculty appears to be in the lead:
Miss Quimm's course in erotic fiction is consistently one of the most popular courses at Old Ivy, though it carries no degree credit.
However, the Political Economy faculty steals the show:
This year, the Commencement Committee sent speaking invitations to President Obama, Senator Marco Rubio, Governor Chris Christie and Angelina Jolie. None responded, so, per custom, the Committee selected Mr. Droop of the Philosophy department at random. Mr. Droop steps to the lectern.
"Class of 2013, you are full of yourselves today. But soon you will learn that life is short and that all of your accomplishments are pointless. In the Universe, whether you graduated today or not is a matter of complete indifference. Now go kill yourselves. Or not. It's all the same to me."
The Chamber Orchestra concludes the ceremony with the final dance from Ravel's Daphnis and Chloe, which is somewhat challenging as a recessional as it is in 5/4 time.
Meanwhile, in Beauneville, Mr. Smiley sits at this customary table in the Cafe Venice and sips his Caffe Mocha. It's nice.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Mr. Smiley Just Smiles
Mothers Day. Roderick awakes in his room at home, where he's spending the weekend. To his left, Molly lies nude and prostrate. To his right, buxom and bubbly Megan snoozes. Taking care not to wake either girlfriend, he extricates himself from the pile, slips on his bathrobe and pads downstairs to make breakfast for his Mom.
Last Thursday, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale celebrated the Feast of the Ascension with a performance of Bach's Cantata BWV 11 Lobet Gott in Seinen Reichen (which translates as Praise God in His Kingdoms). Zack sang the Bass arias, a ringer sang the Tenor, Alicia Manly (who says she's not a lesbian) sang the Alto and Emily warbled the Soprano soli For such a special event, as is the custom, members of the Old Ivy Chamber Orchestra joined the performance; there were three trumpets, tympani, two flutes, two oboes (the Reed siblings), violins, violas, celli and one string bass. The bassist kept breaking into riffs on "A Night in Tunisia" during the breaks, but nobody joined in.
Buttocks were not fondled.
On Friday night, Roderick, Molly and Megan drove home in the Roadmaster. (Megan's car is in the shop, or so she says). Yesterday, the three of them puttered around, doing the things they usually do in Beauneville -- hanging out at Dorabella's, visiting with Mr. Smiley in the Cafe Venice, lunch at the Red Trolley, and such. In the evening, Megan wanted to sleep over.
Roderick thought it best to check with Molly. "Do you mind if Megan sleeps with us?"
"It's fine with me as long as you don't 'do it' with her."
"That would be awkward."
And so the three of them slipped under the covers. Molly cuddled on one side and Megan, ever hopeful, cuddled up against Roderick on the other side.
Roderick decides to surprise Mrs. Smith by cooking the scrapple for breakfast. "Happy Mothers Day!" he exclaims as Mrs. Smith arrives.
"Oh, thank you!"
"Why don't you just sit down and relax while I get this ready. Coffee?"
Mrs. Smith assents to a cup of coffee. The scent of scrapple has lured the other denizens to the kitchen. Mr. Smith shuffles in attired in his customary bathrobe; Megan arrives in one of Roderick's bathrobes, which is a bit too large for her; Molly arrives nude.
Roderick serves everyone from a huge platter with stacks of scrapple, while the diners pass a bowl of applesauce.
Mr. Smith takes note of Molly's absence of clothing. "Molly, are you warm enough?"
"Yes, thank you. It's a lovely day outside."
Everyone agrees that it is indeed a lovely day.
Megan feels a need to clear the air. "Roderick doesn't fuck me yet. He's promised to fuck Molly first."
Roderick agrees. "That's true. A pledge is a pledge."
Molly infinitely prefers the expression 'do it' over the word 'fuck', but the cat is out of the bag. "Of course, there's no guarantee that he will fuck you after he fucks me."
Megan just smiles. Roderick changes the subject. "Megan's quite taken by Wagner. She's working on a new production concept."
Mr. Smith is impressed. "Really? How interesting!"
"It's true," says Megan. "It's 'good-bye Jane Austen' for me. I'm exploring my German heritage."
"I thought the Cupcakes came from Slovenia" remarks Mrs. Smith.
Megan dismisses the comment. "Slovenia, Germany...whatever."
Meanwhile, Mr. Smiley, Clotilde and little Alexander attend the Church of Irony, where today's sermon is Motherhood and Apple Pie: Two of the Things I Hate About America. After the service, they attend refreshments in the lobby, where the other congregants insult them and make fun of Alexander. Mr. Smiley just smiles.
Last Thursday, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale celebrated the Feast of the Ascension with a performance of Bach's Cantata BWV 11 Lobet Gott in Seinen Reichen (which translates as Praise God in His Kingdoms). Zack sang the Bass arias, a ringer sang the Tenor, Alicia Manly (who says she's not a lesbian) sang the Alto and Emily warbled the Soprano soli For such a special event, as is the custom, members of the Old Ivy Chamber Orchestra joined the performance; there were three trumpets, tympani, two flutes, two oboes (the Reed siblings), violins, violas, celli and one string bass. The bassist kept breaking into riffs on "A Night in Tunisia" during the breaks, but nobody joined in.
Buttocks were not fondled.
On Friday night, Roderick, Molly and Megan drove home in the Roadmaster. (Megan's car is in the shop, or so she says). Yesterday, the three of them puttered around, doing the things they usually do in Beauneville -- hanging out at Dorabella's, visiting with Mr. Smiley in the Cafe Venice, lunch at the Red Trolley, and such. In the evening, Megan wanted to sleep over.
Roderick thought it best to check with Molly. "Do you mind if Megan sleeps with us?"
"It's fine with me as long as you don't 'do it' with her."
"That would be awkward."
And so the three of them slipped under the covers. Molly cuddled on one side and Megan, ever hopeful, cuddled up against Roderick on the other side.
Roderick decides to surprise Mrs. Smith by cooking the scrapple for breakfast. "Happy Mothers Day!" he exclaims as Mrs. Smith arrives.
"Oh, thank you!"
"Why don't you just sit down and relax while I get this ready. Coffee?"
Mrs. Smith assents to a cup of coffee. The scent of scrapple has lured the other denizens to the kitchen. Mr. Smith shuffles in attired in his customary bathrobe; Megan arrives in one of Roderick's bathrobes, which is a bit too large for her; Molly arrives nude.
Roderick serves everyone from a huge platter with stacks of scrapple, while the diners pass a bowl of applesauce.
Mr. Smith takes note of Molly's absence of clothing. "Molly, are you warm enough?"
"Yes, thank you. It's a lovely day outside."
Everyone agrees that it is indeed a lovely day.
Megan feels a need to clear the air. "Roderick doesn't fuck me yet. He's promised to fuck Molly first."
Roderick agrees. "That's true. A pledge is a pledge."
Molly infinitely prefers the expression 'do it' over the word 'fuck', but the cat is out of the bag. "Of course, there's no guarantee that he will fuck you after he fucks me."
Megan just smiles. Roderick changes the subject. "Megan's quite taken by Wagner. She's working on a new production concept."
Mr. Smith is impressed. "Really? How interesting!"
"It's true," says Megan. "It's 'good-bye Jane Austen' for me. I'm exploring my German heritage."
"I thought the Cupcakes came from Slovenia" remarks Mrs. Smith.
Megan dismisses the comment. "Slovenia, Germany...whatever."
Meanwhile, Mr. Smiley, Clotilde and little Alexander attend the Church of Irony, where today's sermon is Motherhood and Apple Pie: Two of the Things I Hate About America. After the service, they attend refreshments in the lobby, where the other congregants insult them and make fun of Alexander. Mr. Smiley just smiles.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Mr. Smiley's Conundrum
Today is Rogate, the fifth Sunday after Easter. At the St. Cecilia Chapel, the Old Ivy Bach Chorale performs the Bach cantata BWV 87 Bisher habt ihr nichts gebeten in meinem Namen, which translates as Until Now You Have Asked For Nothing in My Name. As the Chorale gathers to warm up before the service, Emily Scharf raises her hand.
Mr. Mendelssohn peers at Emily over his glasses. "Yes, Miss Scharf?".
"Why do they call it Rogate?"
Roderick rolls his eyes. Everyone knows that the Sundays are named after the first word of the Gregorian introit for the day. Emily is so dumb. Nevertheless, he feels compelled to fondle her buttocks.
Once again, there is no Soprano solo, so Emily sings in the Chorale, where her buttocks are close at hand. Mrs. Dowager sings the Alto solo, a ringer sings the Tenor and Zack sings the Bass.
Mr. Twitchy of the Theology faculty opens the inspirational message with the daily Bible reading, from the book of James:
"I have no idea what any of this means."
Mr. Pipes closes the service with a rousing postlude.
After the service, Roderick stops in to see Megan, who did not attend the service. She answers his knock naked, her hair dishevelled. "Come on in," she beckons. "Don't mind me, I'm writing."
Roderick doesn't mind.
"What are you working on?"
"It's a concept for staging Wagner's Ring Cycle. Lake City Opera is sponsoring a contest for student writers."
"Bunny stories are on hold?"
With a wild gesture, Megan conveys her exhaustion with bunnies. Children's books are not her forte. No opportunities for BDSM.
"Want to read it?" Megan thrusts a manuscript into his hand. Roderick sits on the bed and begins to read.
Megan rolls her eyes. "Have to. Opera audiences are really stupid."
Roderick continues to read.
Megan stretches out on her stomach, buttocks exposed. "No. Why?"
Meanwhile, in Beauneville, Mr. Smiley pays a social visit to Miss Penny, the town treasurer. Actually, it's not just a social visit; he wants to make a donation to the town coffers.
Miss Penny gestures to a cheap chair in her tiny kitchen. "Why don't you sit down? Would you like a cup of coffee? I have one of those little machines."
Mr. Smiley doesn't really care for coffee, but it's impolite to decline a proffered beverage. "Yes, thank you."
Miss Penny fiddles with the machine for a minute, then places a cup of coffee before Mr. Smiley. She does not offer cream and sugar.
Tentatively, Mr. Smiley sips the coffee, which tastes like swill. He grimaces slightly.
"Want to know how to save money on coffee?" Miss Penny confides. "Recycle the coffee pods!"
Mr. Smiley isn't quite sure how to respond. "Doesn't it, um, impact the flavor?"
"Double savings!" exclaims Miss Penny, triumphantly. "It tastes like swill, so I drink less."
This is a bit of a social conundrum for Mr. Smiley. On the one hand, one should never say anything not nice about a hostess' food and drink. On the other hand, Miss Penny seems to have let the cat out of the bag.
"It's nice," he murmurs.
Mr. Mendelssohn peers at Emily over his glasses. "Yes, Miss Scharf?".
"Why do they call it Rogate?"
Roderick rolls his eyes. Everyone knows that the Sundays are named after the first word of the Gregorian introit for the day. Emily is so dumb. Nevertheless, he feels compelled to fondle her buttocks.
Once again, there is no Soprano solo, so Emily sings in the Chorale, where her buttocks are close at hand. Mrs. Dowager sings the Alto solo, a ringer sings the Tenor and Zack sings the Bass.
Mr. Twitchy of the Theology faculty opens the inspirational message with the daily Bible reading, from the book of James:
But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.Mr. Twitchy closes the book, clears his throat, pours a glass of water from the pitcher on the lectern, drinks, then addresses the audience.
For if any be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he is like unto a man beholding his natural face in a glass:
For he beholdeth himself, and goeth his way, and straightway forgetteth what manner of man he was.
But whoso looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deed.
If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain.
Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.
"I have no idea what any of this means."
Mr. Pipes closes the service with a rousing postlude.
After the service, Roderick stops in to see Megan, who did not attend the service. She answers his knock naked, her hair dishevelled. "Come on in," she beckons. "Don't mind me, I'm writing."
Roderick doesn't mind.
"What are you working on?"
"It's a concept for staging Wagner's Ring Cycle. Lake City Opera is sponsoring a contest for student writers."
"Bunny stories are on hold?"
With a wild gesture, Megan conveys her exhaustion with bunnies. Children's books are not her forte. No opportunities for BDSM.
"Want to read it?" Megan thrusts a manuscript into his hand. Roderick sits on the bed and begins to read.
Der Ring des NibelungenRoderick pauses. "I see that you're offering clues about the symbolism."
Production Concept by Megan Cupcake
First Opera: Das Rheingold
Scene One
The setting is a lovely German village by the Rhine River. Three lovely German maidens frolic naked in the river near a pile of gold. An Orthodox Jew named Alberich arrives and tries to have sex with them. They decline, so he takes the gold, which gives him world power but everyone hates him. This explains German anti-Semitism.
Megan rolls her eyes. "Have to. Opera audiences are really stupid."
Roderick continues to read.
Scene TwoSubtle, thinks Roderick. Megan joins him on the bed, her long reddish hair not really covering her large unrestrained breasts. Roderick notices that she has shaved her pubic hair in the shape of a valentine.
The setting is Berchtesgaden. Wotan is Hitler and Fricka is Eva Braun. They awake and admire Hitler's new home, the Eagle's Nest, seen in the background. Eva/Fricka wonders how it was built and who paid for it. Hitler/Wotan tells her that he hired the Jewish industrialists Fafner and Fasolt and promised them beaucoup Reichsmarks in return, but now he's a little short because he can't inflate the currency like they did back in 1922. Fasolt and Fafner arrive and demand their money. When Hitler/Wotan can't come up with it, they take the maiden Freia and depart. Freia, who wears her long blonde hair in braids and is costumed in a dirndl, symbolizes young German women held in thrall to Jewish Industrialists.
Scene ThreeRoderick puts down the manuscript. "Have you seen The Producers?"
Hitler/Wotan and Goebbels/Loge go to the Berlin suburb of Nibelheim, where Alberich the rabbi runs a sweatshop and uses the power of a ring forged from the stolen Rhine gold to force honest German laborers to work for him to produce more gold. He also practices BDSM with Mime, his brother, with Alberich as dom and Mime as sub. Hitler/Wotan and Goebbels/Loge use trickery and the Nuremburg Laws to steal the ring, and they use its power to force Alberich to carry the gold to Berchtesgaden.
Scene Four
Hitler/Wotan pays off Fasolt and Fafner with Alberich's gold. They return Freia, then Fafner kills Fasolt, takes the gold and runs off to Poland, joins the Communist Party and hides in a bunker. To Wagner's grand and noble music, Hitler/Wotan, Eva/Fricka, Freia, Goebbels/Loge and other Nazi luminaries parade into the Eagle's Nest which is bedecked with swastikas.
Megan stretches out on her stomach, buttocks exposed. "No. Why?"
Meanwhile, in Beauneville, Mr. Smiley pays a social visit to Miss Penny, the town treasurer. Actually, it's not just a social visit; he wants to make a donation to the town coffers.
Miss Penny gestures to a cheap chair in her tiny kitchen. "Why don't you sit down? Would you like a cup of coffee? I have one of those little machines."
Mr. Smiley doesn't really care for coffee, but it's impolite to decline a proffered beverage. "Yes, thank you."
Miss Penny fiddles with the machine for a minute, then places a cup of coffee before Mr. Smiley. She does not offer cream and sugar.
Tentatively, Mr. Smiley sips the coffee, which tastes like swill. He grimaces slightly.
"Want to know how to save money on coffee?" Miss Penny confides. "Recycle the coffee pods!"
Mr. Smiley isn't quite sure how to respond. "Doesn't it, um, impact the flavor?"
"Double savings!" exclaims Miss Penny, triumphantly. "It tastes like swill, so I drink less."
This is a bit of a social conundrum for Mr. Smiley. On the one hand, one should never say anything not nice about a hostess' food and drink. On the other hand, Miss Penny seems to have let the cat out of the bag.
"It's nice," he murmurs.
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