Stephanie Costa
Professor who looks like Jon Stewart
ENGL 111
April 20, 2009
Uncle Tom’s Cabin Essay
Throughout the text, Harriet Beecher Stowe continually places women, particularly mothers, at the heart of conflicts surrounding slavery, using their stories as examples for, or as the voice of morality and compassion about the issue of emancipation. Examples of this pattern can be seen in Eliza’s departure from an otherwise happy existence to save her son from being sold, Mrs. Shelby’s treatment of her slaves as her own children, and the more troubling instance of Prue’s act of infanticide while trying to protect her baby from slavery. After justifying these situations throughout the narrative, Stowe concludes the novel with personal pleas to mothers everywhere to stop perpetuating slavery, instead teaching their children the immorality of its practice, and to “pity those mothers that are constantly made childless by the American slave trade!” (624). Stowe’s intentions to use the universality of motherhood to draw female sympathy for her abolitionist cause seems transparent enough in these instances, but that does not account for her inclusion of the unusual and inconsistent results of mothering experienced by St. Claire in comparison to the other, more standard mother-child relationships. I question the inclusion of his childhood story, how it fits in with Stowe’s picture of Christian motherhood in the face of slavery, and what influence it has on the effectiveness of Stowe’s arguments.
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Stephanie Costa
Professor Uncle Tom
ENGL 111
April 20, 2009
Jon Stewart’s Classroom Essay
Throughout the class, the Jon Stewart look-a-like continually places everyone, particularly me, at the heart of conflicts surrounding elite literary bullshit, using the different editions of our books as examples for, or as the voice of stupidity and conversation-stifling without a stitch of exoneration. Examples of this pattern can be seen in 75% of people’s departure to an otherwise happy existence to save their semester from sucking, my elbow’s movement in my sleeves into my own ribcage, and the more troubling instance of my prudent act of texting everyone I know while trying to protect my sanity. After jerkifying situations throughout the seminar, Stewart concludes the class with personal pleas to other asshole grad students everywhere to stop perpetuating free thought, instead teaching their students the immorality of its practice, and to “pity those scholars that are consistently not as brilliant or well versed as I am in American colonial literature!” (666). Stewart’s intentions to use the universality of idiocy to draw no one’s sympathy for his elitist cause seems transparent enough in these instances, but that does not account for his inclusion of the unusual and inconsistent results of having a stick shoved up his ass while still considering himself more saintly than the others, clearly constipated while we sit through the class wanting to mother-fucking break their own wrists. I question the inclusion of every assigned reading or story, how it fits in with anyone’s picture of academics or the common good in the face of douchebaggery, and what influence it has on the effectiveness of me trying to kill myself every time I enter his classroom.
I’m selfish enough to want to get better,
but I’m backwards enough not to take any steps to get there.
Enough steps backwards.
I’m selfish
but not enough to want to get,
To take,
To get any.
I’m better there.
I
Hate
Greek
Myth
Ol
Oh
Gee
Why
Am
I
Still
Studying
This
Shit
For
Brains
I
Have
Shit
For
Brain’s
Not
Processing
Any
Of
These
Fucking
Greek
Name
Your
Price
And
I
Will
Pay
It
If
You
Will
Take
This
Test
For
Me
And
My
Shadow
Just
Want
To
Go
To
Sleep
And
Never
Wake
Up
Until
Now
I
Have
Never
Had
To
Learn
So
Many
Useless
Pieces
Of
Information
For
A
College
Test
Positive
For
Some
Sort
Of
Mental
Disorder
Is
What
My
Room
Is
In,
Total
Chaos
Is
What
Gave
Birth
To
The
Earth
And
Hell
And
Erotic
Love
My
Ass,
The
Guy
Living
Above
Me
Is
Banging
A
New
Chick
Every
Night,
And
Loudly
I
Must
Say
It
Ain’t
So
And
So
Is
Going
To
Do
Better
On
This
Fucking
Test
Than
I
Am
Giving
Up.
1) Look. Don’t look. Look. Don’t look. Look.
2) Smile. Listen. Don’t smile. Pretend to listen.
3) Lie.
4) Laugh.
5) Lie.
6) Look. Don’t look.
7) Be accidental on purpose. Smile. Don’t look.
8) Fidget.
9) Lie.
10) Laugh.
11) Don’t look.
12) Nod. Laugh.
13) Lie.
14) Smile.
15) Leave.
Solitary still? Rinse and repeat.
Fuck my life.com:
Everyone is going
To be saying it.
*Not as a website
Or conversation starter;
As an expletive.
*
I am telling you,
I have already heard it
More than a few times.
*
After a long night,
Before a worse afternoon,
While the alarm rings.
*
Not shit, balls, or damn,
Not what in the name of God,
Fuck my life.com.
*
Mark my words.
The Poetic is the Language of the Mapless
Exquisite corpse
Ideology
Interpellation
Principled agent
Principle
Agent
synchronicity
Free-rider
Freedom rider
Freedom fighter
Jungian
Narratology
Structuralism
Functionalism
Toleration
Combat effectiveness
Culture of Argument
Monologuist
Dialectic
Enlightenment
Romanticism
Gothic
Biloquism
Intragroup Variant
Interdependent utilities
Skinnerian
Shirker
Subvert
Oblique
Avant garde
Rationalistic
Modernist
Constraint
Paraplaxis
I have to pee.
Ok. Lets try this again.
I think my ankle might be broken. A hairline deal, something you can only see with xray that slowly decreases your chances of reproducing. I hope I don’t reproduce. My lips burn. Not the good kind of burn either; Chipotle was very disappointing, I must say. Too much rice, not enough cheese. As a general rule, there is never enough cheese. It’s weird listening to the music I used to think was so profound in Junior High. It’s really not bad though. Infinitely superior to “I kissed a girl…and I liked it” or that chick’s other song that was my 24 year old sister’s ringtone for 3 months; you know the one that sounds like a first grade lesson in opposites? Gotta hand it to her for giving the people what they want though. People get opposites. Shades of grey are scary: that’s why Sarah Jessica Parker is always talking about how dying your hair blond/red/turquoise is beautiful, like you are (or some shit), even though everyone knows she gets her professionally done because she has several thousands of dollars per month allotted to her beauty keeping regimen (you’d think she’d be better looking then). My head hurts. My head has hurt for the past 4 days. Every time I chew. But I must eat. Cheese. Rotten Fruit. I don’t want to eat rotten fruit; it’s sitting on the floor of my common room along with disassembled lampshades and chocolate covered pretzels that are 4 months old. I hate my roommates. The one next to my room is always making awkward squeaking noises and speaking like she’s an infant when her boyfriend’s over (I’m talking goo goo gaga, high pitched as prepubescent Hanson) and the other two are always either smoking in the room or chopping raw onions in it. Doesn’t matter what the meal. Breakfast: Onions. Lunch: Onions. Eating Ramen? Add onions. Eating spaghetti? Add onions. Cookies? Onions. Meatballs? Onions. Oatmeal? Onions. Wait? Is it 8am on a Sunday? I know what I should do! I should karate chop onions, then keep the extras in a DRAWER UNDER THE SINK. Like one of those oil based, scented candles, only more organic. I’m in college. I like organic. And green. And breaking other people’s can openers. And never taking out the garbage. It makes me mysterious. Gives the illusion that I have more pressing things to do than be considerate. Like listen to the same Radiohead song over and over again and invite my flamboyant bearded friends to sleep on the couch in only underwear and ski hat. You know, in case it gets cold. Then I can instruct him to leer at the weird girl who is always showering in the morning, eating cereal and mac and cheese, and going to class. She’s weird. Whose pov is this now? Fuck. Today I was washing my face, and I wasn’t sure if all the soap was gone or if it would go in my eyes, so I half blind turned around to get a towel. The wall got in my way. Good. Then 20 minutes later, on the way to rehearsal walking down Spruce, I slid on a piece of black ice, even though we haven’t had any precipitation in days. It was epic; I had a buis egg thing in my right hand, and I was zombily walking on the north side of the street, then my right foot slid forward until the ice ended while my left foot stayed where it was…before the ice. In a fraction of a second, I had gone from walking down the street to being in a full yoga lunge on the sidewalk, without dropping a knee or hand. And my sandwich survived. Then I got to rehearsal, and a girl who needed to drop off her paperwork for Miss Philadelphia (why does that exist?) came in yelling because she couldn’t find a printer open before 10am on a Saturday. She proceeded to throw her blackberry at the couch at full force, and it bounced off and knocked my open water bottle over all over me. My reaction was; “Oh. Good. ” Ricoched? Is that how you spell it? What language is that? I’m tired. My head hurts. I have to pee again.
Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs
Soma Consumer Electronics takes the ‘plasma phenomenon’ to a brave new level
Every comparison becomes impractical
Experiments
Does that mean
Roadwork somewhere along the way
(Understandable), joke with them (also understandable), tickle them (somewhat less understandable), or sneak up behind their back and scare the crap out of them (pretty incomprehensible, but hard to resist)
Go on for days or weeks or months or years, and I’ve already used everything in my vault
Statement
Actually okay, because I will never satisfy a woman, either
Nobody (myself included) truly knows how they act
Dropped by fucking EMI and ends up like Stone fucking Roses, who are actually a better fucking band, all things considered
Cusack, they are still seeing the optimistic, charming loquacious teenager he played
in Say Anything, a movie that came out more than a decade ago
Or (perhaps more accurately), my life as life
Charming loquacious teenager he played in Say Anything, a movie that came out more than a decade ago
Obvious for a long time, but never more so than the first time I saw a copy of The Sims, which I happened to find at her parents’ house in rural North Dakota
A bad idea
Profoundly enjoys asking me if I have a girlfriend
(Understandable), tickle them (somewhat less understandable), or sneak up behind their back and scare the crap out of them (pretty incomprehensible, but hard to resist
For the sexual bloodstream of Americana, and that all these Women Who Want Woody are being unconsciously conditioned to be less shallow than their sociobiology dictates
From the mass media, it’s that the only people who can make us happy are those who don’t strike us as being particularly desirable
Super thin Flatuspective screen, the Soma Plasma TV is the undisputed leader in nanopixel technology
Edited:
To a brave new level,
Every comparison becomes an impractical
experiment.
Does that mean
somewhere along the way
(pretty incomprehensible, but hard to resist)
I’ve already used everything in my vault?
Statement:
I will never satisfy a woman,
(myself included),
fucking roses.
All things considered—
The optimistic, loquacious Anything,
came out more than a decade ago.
Or (perhaps more accurately):
My life as life came out more than a decade ago;
But never more so than the first time
Which happened at her parents’ house.
A bad idea.
Asking
(and somewhat less understandable),
For the sexual bloodstream of Americana,
being unconsciously conditioned to dictate
From the mass media,
people who strike us as being particularly desirable:
Super thin.
Flatuspective screen.
The undisputed leader.
Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel
-Original
-If Sung by my mother
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
I suppose you expect me to give you a ride to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Maybe your friend Taylor’s mom’ will be there, and we can talk about the terrible girl in your dance class,
I should’ve stayed with my high school boyfriend
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt
(On the side of a hill in the deep forest green)
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
(Tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground)
Without no seams nor needlework
(Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain)
Then she’ll be a true love of mine
(Sleeps unaware of the clarion call)
Stephanie, can you sew your sister’s shirt?
(the tripping fields at my college were so green you could hear it)
We ran out of pepper? Whatever. I don’t use it.
(The birds outside my window are fucking annoying)
Grandma used to do needlework, you know. She made the piano bench.
(Wash your own sheets. Don’t touch my washing machine.)
I should’ve married my first boyfriend
(I don’t snore when I sleep)
Tell her to find me an acre of land
(On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves)
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
(Washes the ground with so many tears)
Between the salt water and the sea strand
(A soldier cleans and polishes a gun)
Then she’ll be a true love of mine
I wish I lived in the country
(I’d paint trees. And pigeons.)
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
(Someone clean the dog pee off the kitchen floor)
I never go in the ocean
(Your friend’s cop fiancé is yucky)
I really should’ve married my high school boyfriend
Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather
(War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions)
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
(Generals order their soldiers to kill)
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather
(And to fight for a cause they’ve long ago forgotten)
Then she’ll be a true love of mine
I want a new leather jacket
(Did I tell you how I used to have a red one but then the blacks got bused in and one of them STOLE it? And I had the receipt and, principal wouldn’t do anything, and then, the toast is burning you moron, grandma got a new one and they didn’t have red so I had to get brown.)
Parsley? Yeah add more. It’s pretty.
(I’m going to kill your sister if she doesn’t clean her room)
That Heather, I really like her. She’s kind of chubby though.
(I want a new puppy. What was I saying?)
I really, really should’ve married my high school boyfriend
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
Are you going to Scarborough Fair or not? Because I’m not driving you. Grey’s Anatomy is on.
YOU EXPECT ME TO MAKE DINNER NOW?
Now I don’t even remember what I was talking about
Oh right, I hate your father.
