Post by Morgan le Faye on Nov 25, 2014 18:34:02 GMT
Morgan le Faye stands in front of a rustic looking building with young people walking in and out of it behind her, most trying to avoid the camera. Morgan is dressed not in her magician attire but regular street clothes. In her hands is a microphone and on her face is her charming smile.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Morgan le Faye here and I’m standing outside Bunker Hill Community College, the prime institution for every grade thirteen student in the greater Boston area. You might remember it as the place Robin Williams’ character taught in Good Will Hunting, and to this day it is the only notable thing to EVER happen at a community college. I’m here today to get a feel for the students, to ask them some questions about their education in order to understand just why my next opponent, 8-Ball believes that he is so much smarter than his opponents. You’ll note that 8-Ball, and Herb –can I call you that- this is not meant to insult you, but you’ll note that Herb studied biology at a community college. Maybe things are different on the west coast, but here in the real world, community college was always seen as kind of a joke. But, let’s leave that to the students, shall we?”
Morgan motions for the camera to follow as she starts walking along the outside campus. The colder weather is obvious, as students are wearing jackets and generally seem to be in a rush. Morgan approaches a group of three students enjoying a meal and stops to introduce herself, asking for their participation in her little study.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you three a question or two about your choice in higher education,” Morgan began after getting their mild approval, “Okay! Now, feel free to just hop in and answer, I do hate formalities. First question, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the education you’re getting here at Bunker Hill, one being lackluster and ten being better than M.I.T. or Harvard, two much more respectable educational facilities in the great state of Massachusetts.”
The trio of students hesitate to answer, possibly due to Morgan’s leading question and her delivery. Before they even deliver an answer, instead mumbling in confusion, Morgan jumps in again.
“Clearly that’s a one on the scale. Now, a follow up. Would you say earning a degree here is something to be proud of, even knowing that they’ll give a degree to any idiot at community college so long as you can pay the cheap tuition and show up to class at least once a week?”
Again, the students don’t answer right away, though it’s clear on their expression that they are not enjoying the magician’s questioning. And as before, Morgan hops in to speak before getting a clear answer.
“There you have it, straight from the mouths of students. Even they aren’t proud of their education here. Which really has me wondering why Herb, my opponent, likes to think he’s channeling Socrates or something. Now I know you’re only community college educated, Herb, but Socrates was a Greek philosopher most famous for meeting Bill and Ted and going on a most excellent adventure.”
Morgan excuses herself from the trio of students and continues on her walking tour of the campus, speaking as she walks.
“Herb, you’ve been nothing but polite to me so I do hate that we’re meeting like this, but what can we do? You’d probably think our match is some futile endeavor or cosmic statement about the duality of man or some amateur pseudointellectual thing, but I think of it as an opportunity.”
“See, neither of us was overly successful in our debuts, but then again we were in tag matches and the blame can be shifted if need be. And now here we are, from a loss to another shot at the crown, so to speak. Almost ironic in a way, two people who love a spectacle in the running for a title aimed at the purity of the profession. But you know all about irony, I assume.”
“My point with you, Herb, is that you claim to be an intelligent sort but you smoke a plant and went to year five of high school. That’s not the makings of an intelligent man, Herb. You want to get high? Get high. We have that in common, though mine is literal. But don’t pretend to be something you’re not: an in-ring intellectual. I’ll be curious to see how smart you really are in our match. My hypothesis? You’ll be held back a year. ZVARRI!”
“Ladies and gentlemen, Morgan le Faye here and I’m standing outside Bunker Hill Community College, the prime institution for every grade thirteen student in the greater Boston area. You might remember it as the place Robin Williams’ character taught in Good Will Hunting, and to this day it is the only notable thing to EVER happen at a community college. I’m here today to get a feel for the students, to ask them some questions about their education in order to understand just why my next opponent, 8-Ball believes that he is so much smarter than his opponents. You’ll note that 8-Ball, and Herb –can I call you that- this is not meant to insult you, but you’ll note that Herb studied biology at a community college. Maybe things are different on the west coast, but here in the real world, community college was always seen as kind of a joke. But, let’s leave that to the students, shall we?”
Morgan motions for the camera to follow as she starts walking along the outside campus. The colder weather is obvious, as students are wearing jackets and generally seem to be in a rush. Morgan approaches a group of three students enjoying a meal and stops to introduce herself, asking for their participation in her little study.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you three a question or two about your choice in higher education,” Morgan began after getting their mild approval, “Okay! Now, feel free to just hop in and answer, I do hate formalities. First question, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the education you’re getting here at Bunker Hill, one being lackluster and ten being better than M.I.T. or Harvard, two much more respectable educational facilities in the great state of Massachusetts.”
The trio of students hesitate to answer, possibly due to Morgan’s leading question and her delivery. Before they even deliver an answer, instead mumbling in confusion, Morgan jumps in again.
“Clearly that’s a one on the scale. Now, a follow up. Would you say earning a degree here is something to be proud of, even knowing that they’ll give a degree to any idiot at community college so long as you can pay the cheap tuition and show up to class at least once a week?”
Again, the students don’t answer right away, though it’s clear on their expression that they are not enjoying the magician’s questioning. And as before, Morgan hops in to speak before getting a clear answer.
“There you have it, straight from the mouths of students. Even they aren’t proud of their education here. Which really has me wondering why Herb, my opponent, likes to think he’s channeling Socrates or something. Now I know you’re only community college educated, Herb, but Socrates was a Greek philosopher most famous for meeting Bill and Ted and going on a most excellent adventure.”
Morgan excuses herself from the trio of students and continues on her walking tour of the campus, speaking as she walks.
“Herb, you’ve been nothing but polite to me so I do hate that we’re meeting like this, but what can we do? You’d probably think our match is some futile endeavor or cosmic statement about the duality of man or some amateur pseudointellectual thing, but I think of it as an opportunity.”
“See, neither of us was overly successful in our debuts, but then again we were in tag matches and the blame can be shifted if need be. And now here we are, from a loss to another shot at the crown, so to speak. Almost ironic in a way, two people who love a spectacle in the running for a title aimed at the purity of the profession. But you know all about irony, I assume.”
“My point with you, Herb, is that you claim to be an intelligent sort but you smoke a plant and went to year five of high school. That’s not the makings of an intelligent man, Herb. You want to get high? Get high. We have that in common, though mine is literal. But don’t pretend to be something you’re not: an in-ring intellectual. I’ll be curious to see how smart you really are in our match. My hypothesis? You’ll be held back a year. ZVARRI!”
