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M ILLUSTRATION BY MEASE
French transfer student mimes his way into racism
J
ust when you think your school is aptly sensitive to cultural issues, someone goes and paints their face. Pierre Thomas, a French transfer student, is a mime and has been wearing the traditional makeup and clothing of his people for months now. The issue has just surfaced after attendees of a Tau Kappa Epsilon Halloween party saw Thomas and found his outfit to be “more offensive than the Z-word.” “You can’t just go around in whiteface and expect nobody to make a big deal about it. The worst part is that our Euro-normative classmates hardly took notice,” said Culturally Aware on Whitman Encounters. “That is why I hate frats,” said GDI Joe in response to the thread started by Culturally Aware. Neither Pierre nor his offended counterparts are Greek-affiliated, but still went to hang out at TKE to complain about TKE. After a fruitless phone interview with Pierre, The Pioneer was finally able to sit down with him to discuss the repercussions of what has been deemed “maybe a hate crime.” “[Gesticulates feverishly],” Thomas said. Thomas looked surprised about the backlash of his outfit, although his highly drawn eyebrows give him the perpetual look of astonishment. “Pierre seems to be trapped in a glass case of emotion,” said translator Andrew Christensen, interpreting some of Thomas’ more animated gestures. “[Either scratching head with confusion or addressing a lice problem likely caused by the ugly French hat he wears every day],” Thomas added. The administration has yet to set a precedent for whiteface incidents but is likely to side with
Whitman Encounters on this one. “The website just seems to be a voice of reason on campus,” said George Bridges, who went on to admit that he really only looks at the site to see posts about himself. “This site exists as a sort of social safety net around campus, catching all of the issues the rest of the school overlooked and raising them anonymously to other anonymous people anonymously,” said Anderson C-Section Resident Assistant Nathan Sany, who admits to posting under the name “Anonymous.” “I think some of the great debates of our time have gone on behind the veil of passive aggression that the site so artfully builds.” Thomas joined in on the online discussion but was appalled by students’ inability to verbally communicate their problems, relying upon means other than talking to voice otherwise stifled opinions. At least that is how he appeared to feel, but in the interview all he revealed was “[miming eating his own vomit].” By the end of the ordeal, Thomas has two teardrops added to his makeup. It seems to be an emotional cry for help, but Walla Walla Police Department gang specialist Maxwell Barbosa feared other possibilities. “Those tears could represent people he has killed or time served in prison. Or perhaps the number of people he has mimed killing, or time mimed to be spent in jail.” Whether or not Thomas has killed anyone over the ordeal is beyond the point. The more important issue is that students on a website anonymously came forward and expressed that they were offended. Thomas’ lack of awareness for the other students’ culture of hypersensitivity was, frankly, hyperinsensitive.
ore sensually invasive than TKE’s blaring of Top Guns soundtrack every year, the smell of food cooking from the Inter-fraternal Iron Chef competition wafts over every corner of campus. Held annually on the roof of TKE, the four fraternity’s chefs as well as one representative from Bon Appétit face off in a cook-tothe-death competition. Each chef is allowed one student aide. This year, TKE chef Gary “Jack” Daniel and his kitchen aide Joey Cathcart say that they are preparing homestyle cooking for the contest. “It would really help if we could have real ovens up here, and not these solar ovens! Whit-
man’s greenness is really not helping us live up to our full cooking potential,” said Cathcart. Ironically, last year’s competition left dozens of students green in the face, due to the solar oven’s inability to properly cook meat. Phi Delta Theta’s Chef Robert and his aide Alex Hello busily prepare for their meal, scrambled eggs with a secret red sauce that they call Siree-acha, which is apparently Chinese for pepper and MSG. Two years ago, before last year’s food poisoning fiasco, Bon Appétit’s chef swept the competition with a delicious onion omelet. “The eggs weren’t even eggs, they were from a carton,
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and I think that onion had mold on it,” said Chef Robert, enraged with the judge’s decision. Bon Appétit’s chef this year is on his guard, buying only the freshest ingredients to ensure that no slights can be made against him. “We will be making Mashed F-ing Potatoes this year,” said Chef Gary, “and maybe some herbed f—ing rice while we’re at it.” With the competition underway, this reporter need only sit and wait while the solar ovens heat up all the necessary ingredients and the campus anxiously looks to see which chef will win and make their fraternity the top frat on campus.
The Debater Y
ou know what sucks more than the Prentiss Dining Hall hours, Whitman’s new website or Tim Tebow? The scrawny but remarkably obnoxious infestation of high-school debaters that plague our campus every fall. You know they are coming when all the leaves begin to die, along with any hope of eating at Reid Campus Center for a few days, or finding any unclaimed cozy location within a two-mile radius. Reid is the Mothership for the debaters who transform the building into something that resembles a temporary refugee center for Sandy or Katrina victims. But these four-eyed, pimple-faced encyclopedias have also been reported to commandeer dorm halls, the library and even George Bridges’ bed-
Debacle room for a night. If the oversized suits with baggy slacks and neon-colored dress shirts weren’t enough, then the cart o’ facts that they proudly wield behind them might make a Whitman student inclined to conveniently push them in front of their Greyhound bus as it pulls up to drop off more mismatching nerds. They only perpetuate their geeky reputation by each claiming to have come up with the holy grail of debate jokes: “I’m a master ‘bater ... get it??” (Here’s a better one, losers, “I’m a cunning linguist ... get it?” My guess is they wouldn’t.) The entire situation is compounded by the fact that Whitman seems to be perfectly okay with allowing Reid to fester with these roaches while they eat away at students’ resources and nerves. So what’s the solution to all this? Histo-
ry (and annoying debaters) tells us that the easiest way to eradicate a group of people is through creating internal conflicts. I suggest that the unfortunate losers of each debate be forced to partake in a Battle Royale. This two-birds-with-one-stone approach allows for less Whitman resources to be used, and it gives the debates (which will be open to Whitman students) an added flavor to spice things up. Not only will there be more motivation for the debaters to do well, but Whitman students will also benefit from the Battle Royales (which will be fought using only binders and fountain tip pens) throughout the tournament. Finally, the lone tournament victor will be given a suit that is actually tailored and then promptly sent back home to gather the next year’s unsuspecting contestants.
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Dubblebaby by Toby & Sam Alden
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