Weaver Schwarzenegger ‘08

As one might imagine, the horrors of my home town are only distilled, purified, and bottled for prominent display in the quality of the local school system. In history, vocalized historical queries not explicitly answered in the text were answered with a scornful laugh from the instructor, and the declaration, “I’m not a historian!” Health was an entire semester of an ex-battered housewife, kneeling nun-like in front of the class, begging on her hands and knees for all of us to use a condom so we could at least graduate high school before we popped out a baby. In science, I was frequently and correctly sent to swim in the intellectual depths of Google. The diversity of the school’s population was such that before the age of 19, I had never once spoken to a homosexual or Jewish person. In 2001, the high school burned down and until this year, the majority of classes were conducted in converted house trailers.

My powers of articulation fail me when I attempt to broach the inadequacy of the town’s remedial high school. Students at this ramshackle place are actively encouraged to show up at whatever time would be most convenient for them, not expected to read or write anything on any timed basis, and pregnancy is so rampant that the ex-battered housewife who travels the county begging the student body to wear condoms doesn’t even bother to show up at their Health classes. Rather, pregnancy is encouraged at this den of delinquents. Teen mothers are given their own club within the school, to provide emotional and educational support for one another. This club is not exclusive in the least, and could perhaps better be described as society at large. They are even allowed to leave fifteen minutes early, in order to pick up their babies from the in-house daycare.

Due to rather severe social anxiety, my brother Bryan was forced to attend this hellhole for two years, where he managed to do well enough on their entrance exams that they left him alone for the next two. In order to graduate he had me complete a number of on-line courses for him that accounted for the junior and senior years of his education. In total, this took perhaps six hours. In total, perhaps as much as eight minutes of it was effortful.

It was during a two hour power session, where we were flying through four semesters of social studies that my brother finally asked me, “I still don’t get it. What’s the difference between a Republican and a Democrat?” The only time I had ever previously been so lost for words was when my Grandmother asked me, “BC, what do gay people… do?” Unlike my Grandmother, Bryan could easily chase me down if I ran away.

Clearing my throat, and blinking my eyes like a punched out boxer, I frantically scrounged through the file cabinet in my mind for some way to explain the political subtleties that divided the parties. For a moment the whole of American history flashed through my mind. I pondered the articles of Confederation, the Bill of Rights, and the Declaration of Independence. I thought of the Revolutionary War, Andrew Jackson’s disregard of the Supreme Court, and

Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. I thought of the enlightened philosophical debates between the Jefferson and Madison, and how their philosophical ideas had together, like the seeds of two healthy lovers combined to form a set of deformed twins. As though the Wonder Twins had slammed their rings together, and what had come out of it was a mongoloid gorilla and a bucket full of sanitarium drool.

I took a deep breath, looked straight in my brother’s eyes, and put voice to the majesty inside of me. “The difference between Republicans and Democrats is exactly like ‘Alien vs. Predator.’”

“The movie with Sigourney Weaver?”

“No, she was only in the Alien movies. Lance Henriksen was in ‘Alien vs. Predator.’”

“The guy with ball cancer that rides bicycles?”

“No, that’s Lance Armstrong. Lance Henriksen is the guy with the gravelly voice who played that weird detective guy on ‘Millennium.’”

“What was ‘Millennium?’”

“Nevermind,” I cleared my throat, feeling an oncoming tirade.

“Democrats are like Aliens. They’re ever-hungry, all consuming creatures with other-worldly ideas so divorced from grounded useful philosophical inquiry as to be dangerous to mankind. They are socialistic to the point that all matters must pertain solely to the collective or else lose all value. To an Alien, mankind exists for only one reason: to be preyed upon by Aliens and forced to give up their lives in order to incubate other Aliens. Their biological imperative demands that humans be forced give all they have just so one more Alien can be added to the collective.

“Similarly, they are egalitarian in the most offensive possible way. While they claim to celebrate all diversity by adopting characteristics of whatever misfortunate creature incubated them, what they really want more than anything else is for everyone to crawl around ventilator shafts, covered with mucus, and belching acid with every swish of their tail. When everyone is a mindless insectile drone, they can finally stop feeling guilty for having been born with a soul but without the strength of character and mental fortitude necessary to be an actual individual.

“If at all possible, Aliens avoid direct confrontation. While they easily constitute half of the extra-terrestrial population, and have incredible biological abilities they will not attack unless their opponents have been made to wander in either a literal of metaphorical maze for at least as long as it takes for their opponent to stop caring about whatever it was they went into the maze for in the first place. To an Alien, human meat is at its most tender when it has become apathetic, disoriented by infrastructure, and bone-weary of actually trying to get something done.

“Republicans are like Predators because they love to run around and kill people based upon a system of ethics that doesn’t really make sense upon closer examination. To a Predator, there’s no greater feeling than dropping out of the sky in order to prey upon a less technologically sophisticated civilization for no apparent reason whatsoever. They have no faculty of compassion, and when they set out to prey upon mankind, they typically prefer to harass dark-skinned people in warm climates or African Americans in crowded inner cities before anyone else.

“While your typical Predator apologist would have you believe that their species is actually very bound up in a system of honor and integrity, this is simply not true. While Predators may have at some point in the past actually have been capable of objective self-examination, it is clear that their belief system is now nothing more than an excuse to kill Aliens and any human being that gets in their way. Predators love confrontation to the point that they will search the whole galaxy, just to find a single life-form that is not exactly like it, for the sole purpose of blasting it to hell.

“Predators are also trying very hard to make themselves appear relevant to mankind. To this end they fashion their hair in styles that went out of vogue decades ago in attempts to trick people into thinking that “they’re with it” just long enough to severely fuck up their lives. They also play a lot of stupid sound bites, flash a bunch of stupid lights, and stock a trophy case full of a bunch of shit in order to dazzle their prey long enough to go for the kill.”

My brother rolled his eyes at me. “Brandon, that makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Exactly. It’s not supposed to make any sense. And just like ‘Alien vs. Predator” whoever wins we lose.”

Authors Note:

Feel free to repost this or e-mail it around as long as you include a link back here. I have no problem with that whatsoever.

Also, my good friend Elle from Beauty and the Beer is celebrating her birthday today. Happy birthday Elle!