Howie Part II: Revenge of the Literate

Howie, my pet. Since posting my last, it came to me that perhaps some of my previous comments may have seemed hurtful, nay, even mean. Let me just state for the record that I feel it to be my bounden duty to educate those whom I feel to be in need of my help. In fact, I feel like feelings, those that you truly, deeply feel, feel more heartfelt when felt up under a cashmere sweater . . . sorry, sidetracked. (Using the same word, over and over and over and over again, has a bit of a drowsy, soothing, hypnotic effect, does it not? Of course, what can one do, when one has the vocabulary of an invertebrate? A difficult quandary, to be sure.)

And I apologize to any more junior members of my audience, who may or may have ever felt up anything at all.

Now, it seems, I must apologize yet again, as I may have just insinuated that no human female voluntarily comes within several leagues of the Fearless Defender of Truth and Italics in the History of Education.

Should I display how truly, deeply, really sorry I feel, yet again? I feel like this examination of all of our feelings might become monotonous at some point.

And it just did. For a moment there, I thought I might have accidentally strayed from my own blog to Howie's. Hmmmmm. But, back to the matter at hand. Just to refresh everyone's memory, here's the previously quoted passage from Howie's blog:

I am not a so-called «bot» and I am not stupid. I am an education major at Princeton University and you do not get into an Ivy League school by being stupid. My GPA is a steady 3.8. I wish to educate those who I feel are uninformed, and I have been vilified. I feel that once you open your mind, you will feel that there is a progressive answer to today's issues. You have to open your mind not keep it narrow. I am messenger for progressive change. My views are shared by many people.

Howie, Howie, Howie. What are we going to do with you? I pray to all gods and idols that were ever made, not release you upon an unsuspecting elementary school class. Can you even imagine walking innocently into your first day in the third grade and finding . . . Howie? Perhaps he'll do us all a favor and join Teach for America, and get himself sent to the worst, most crime-ridden high school any ghetto has ever seen. As a true liberal, and lover of the people, he would no doubt love them even more at very, very close range. He can tell them about how, coming from a college which costs more per year than their entire family's income, he really, truly, knows how they feel, understands them, and wants to educate them.

So Howie. I will now, out of what piddling quantity of goodness remains in my cold, bitter soul, let you in on a secret. The best way to lose all, and I do mean every last single drop, of credibility as a member of the hoi polloi, is to . . . anyone with me here? Anyone? That's right, go to an incredibly exclusive university, populated almost entirely with the very wealthy, and set oneself up as an intellectual. Yep, that's it all right. The only people who will, for the rest of his life, be able to look at Howie without hatred are well-educated wealthy white people. And they will not tolerate him until he learns to spell.

It seems that in order to complete our analysis of the paragraph above (which is, after all, from one of the greatest philosophers of our time; it would be foolish to dismiss it hastily) we shall have to post yet again, perhaps even later this evening. The Editorial fingers weary, and zombies need to be fed. Wait a minute . . . and I had to ask what we were going to do with Howie, when the answer was right at my rotting, gnawed fingertips!