Spring, 1998
I never realized how white I really was until now.
When I heard that Hot 97's Funk Master Flex was going to be DJing a party here at S.U., I was pumped. I was even willing to shell out $20 for two tickets. This was Funk Master Flex. I talked about it for two weeks. Funk Master Flex, ya ' kn' 'a' I mean? ["Do you know what I mean?" as Funk Master Flex says it]
So, I had two tickets, but when it was time to go to the party, I still hadn't asked the girl I wanted to go with, and she hadn't been in her room for the last two hours. Screw it. I was going anyway. This was Funk Master Flex. So I left.
I scalped my ticket for face value. I mean, you needed a student I.D. with this ticket, and the guy I sold it to didn't have one. I told him, but he didn't care. This was Funk Master Flex.
So I got inside, and didn't see one person I knew. By the end of the night, I saw four people whose names I knew, and only two of them talked to me. The music was great, all rap and raggae. It was like I was at an ABC party again. I danced with a few girls, but no one girl for too long. It was a party, though, and that ws cool. I wasn't out looking for a date, I just wanted to get my groove on.
Then I started to notice that people weren't just dancing around, they were avoiding me. I came up to one girl rom behind, and she started to grind with me. Then, she turned around and saw my face. She backed off, and signalled to one of her friends. Everyone in her little group stared at me. One of them came over and cut in. I knew what was going to happen. She was going to test me. I'd seen it before. She would get real close to me, and freak me. She wanted to see if I was down. She didn't think a white boy would know what was going on. She was wrong. I freaked her back. Bang, bang, bang. Pelvis against hip, lower, harder and faster.
All her friends laughed. They'd neveer seen a white boy dance like that. Sean Dugan said it best after the senior prom: "You dance like a sexual maniac!"
The rest of the night went on pretty much like that. Girls would dance with me, but only if I approached them from behind. Once they saw my face, they'd stop. One group of three spent the whole night laughing at me.
Here's the deal: If I can't dance, I don't really care. I know I wasn't the best dancer in the room, but I was there to have fun. No one else got laughed at. Unfortunately, I believe that that was because there were only three other white guys in the room of over 500 people: two of them had dates, and the other one didn't dance. I know I've got better rhythm than half of the fat asses that were in that room.
Nobody in that room was willing to take a white boy like me seriously. Oh, well. It's they're loss. They can all go home to Buffalo and Albany this summer. I'll be in Connecticut, listening to Funk Master Flex on Hot 97.
When do you feel like a minority? Have you been oppressed because of your beliefs or appearance? Tell Sham. Rachel Woods did:
...Smith is a meat-eaters worst nightmare. The dining system is setup so that there are dining halls in every dorm, and in each of those dining halls, there are vegetarian and vegan options. Half of our deserts are vegan. The meat-eaters here are such a minority that there is actually an informal club called OMOS (Oppressed Meat-Eaters of Smith)... there are quite a few militant veggies here too. I once got accosted for drinking milk by someone telling me that drinking milk was evil and that there was a government conspiracy to make people believe that they should drink milk.
Mail me your stories of 100 words or less, and I'll print them in the Summer issue. Then you'll be famous.
No more submissions, please
And then, I usually write about this issue. But I don't want to. All I want to remind you about is the poetry contest in the Poetry Corner. And, check this week's access stats here. * * *
Well, I finally did it. I removed Carrie Copenhagen from the Sham mailing list. Never again will Carrie Copenhagen receive a useless e-mail about what's going on in the land of Sham. Carrie Copenhagen's mailbox will no longer be filled with my so invasive letters inviting her to enjoy what you and I have written and drawn for her enjoyment. Don't write anything else for me with Carrie Copenhagen in mind, because she doesn't want to hear about it. Did you know that I taught Carrie Copenhagen how to write HTML, because she asked me to do so? Did you know that Carrie Copenhagen used to have a link to Sham on her page? Did you know that Carrie Copenhagen was the first person ever to take a link to Sham off of her page? Did you know that Brian calls her "Fat Carrie"? Not because she's especially overweight- she's no more overweight than I am. She's just mean. And "Bitch Knicki" was already taken. I'm sad that Carrie Copenhagen will no longer be reading Sham. Thank you, Carrie Copenhagen, for all the hemp necklaces. Thank you, my first spurned reader, for making life worth living...I don't know what that means...
And then there's "Ice Climber." I've been religiously plaing Nintendo Entertainment System games on my Mac (you can play them on PC also) for months. I usually only download games that I own, since this is the only "legal" way to play. However, I have downloaded a few games I never got a chance to buy, for preview uses only. That's where "Ice Climber" comes in. I played a lot of Nintendo games in my day, and owned more than 50 of them. But I had never been exposed to the horror that is "Ice Climber."
In this game, you are an Eskimo with a big mallet. You club baby seals, climb mountains, and eat your vegetables. Penguins fly, and polar bears wear sunglasses and boxers. Did I mention that you club baby seals?
I guess the "Eat your veggies" message is good, but clubbing baby seals? I have no problem with "Mortal Kombat" Blood Mode, but for some reason, clubbing baby seals seems a bit drastic. No wonder parents hated that machine.