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Becky awoke from a
lengthy nap in the Hall and yawned as she rose from the couch.
Seeing no one else in the Hall, she decided that this would be the
perfect time to get some cleaning done. She'd been meaning to go
through the junk under the staircase for some time, and so she
walked around to this neglected corner of the Lower Chamber and
began to dig through the debris. Under all the broken chairs, old
newspaper clippings, All Night Meeting programs and the like, she
came across a hole. It was not a large hole, but it was exceedingly
dark and looked very old. "Hmm...I wonder how long that's been
there?" said Becky. "Given all the stuff that was piled on top of
it, who knows what kind of interesting things could be hiding under
the Hall?" She put her face up to the opening, and felt a strong
draft blow up through her hair. "Well, I guess it couldn't be too
far to the bottom. Maybe I'll just see what's down there." So the
curious Custodian sat down at the edge of the crack and put her hand
through, but CRACK!!! the unsupported timbers she was sitting on
broke apart, and she was sent tumbling into the darkness.
Becky braced for
impact, but strangely she never hit anything. She opened her eyes
and to her surprise, she was falling through seemingly never-ending
shaft, lighted with gas lamps and with papers and bookshelves lining
the walls. After she overcame the shock of the situation, she
noticed that she was passing some of the long-lost treasures of the
Society: the minutes from the late 1980's, the gavel made from the
Toombs oak, the Society's deed to Demosthenian Hall. She even
thought she saw the minutes from Fall Quarter 1995, but she realized
it must have been an illusion -- she was getting a bit lightheaded.
She realized that whenever she DID hit the ground, she would surely
be killed but somehow, this didn't bother her much. Apparently it
shouldn't have, because THUD! she hit a soft, downy pillow and sent
feathers shooting into the air.
"Curiouser and
curiouser," said Becky, looking around the room. It was covered
with portraits, all of which had brass nameplates at the bottom
denoting who they were. A sign above the only door denoted the room
as the "Walls of Shame." It was certainly a motley crew, and this
observation was supported by the descriptions given on the
nameplates:
-- a Wellington
Andrew Stuart, grad. 1812, who led the Society in an abortive
attempt to take over Old College for the British. He was later
convicted of sodomy and illegal sale of alcohol.
-- a trio of
women, (Fanny Shapiro, Goldie Yandell, and Mamie Visser), never
members, whose attempts at gaining membership in the late 1880's
included climbing into the ceiling and shouting their maiden
addresses at the members below.
-- a Booger
Bowman, whose attempt at introducing electric lighting into the
upper chamber caused him to be electrocuted, along with 11 other
members who attempted to separate him from the current. We weren't
required to take physics back then.
-- most infamous,
a Bocephus Hortman, who climbed into Park Hall tower, took the bell,
and gave it to those nice people in yellow uniforms who asked him
for a favor after a football game. The bell still rests under the
50-yard line at Bobby Dodd stadium.
Becky shook her
head after she looked at these sorry faces from the past. Turning
from the walls, she noticed a table in the middle of the room. "Was
that there before?," she asked herself.
She looked closer,
and noticed a tiny cake in the middle of the table, and attached was
a note that said "eat me." Being an obedient lady, she took the
cake and began to chew on it. After a few bites, she noticed she
was beginning to feel a bit queer. "I think I'm growing!" she said.
The meeting was
called to order at 7:23. The minutes were read and approved by the
Society with minor changes. There were five first-time guests and 8
second- or third-time guests. Ms. Tomlinson was appointed
critic, and the Society moved into Committee Reports.
Mr. Hortman
addressed the Society as Treasurer, noting that the Society was not
going to return a deposit for a Sept. 7th rental of the Hall, due to
several contract provisions that were violated. He also asked the
Society to approve $120 for the purchase of a full page in the
Pandora. The report was accepted.
Ms. Ramirez
announced that budgets were due from the various committees to the
Finance Committee by the following meeting, to allow the Finance
Committee to draw up its quarterly budget.
The Society then
entered Special Elections, where an election was held to fill the
vacancy at Sergeant-At-Arms. Mr. Shumaker and Mr. Hodgins
were nominated, and Mr. Hodgins was elected.
Moving on to Old
Business, Mr. Pyrdum explained that he was forced to go on a
leave of absence. The University was not allowing him to take
classes due to a bureaucratic snafu, and thus he was ineligible for
membership this quarter. What, bureaucracy at THIS university?
With a bang of the
gavel, the Society entered New Business, and Mr. Carswell,
wondering about the nature of the end of the world, presented the
following:
Be It Resolved:
When we lose sincerity, civilization dies.
Respectfully submitted,
William J. Carswell
Ms. Visser
focused on the language of the resolution, comparing our current
decline with that of the Roman Empire but pointing out that its
collapse was not the end of Civilization. She suggested that
humanity is more resilient than is assumed by the resolution.
Mr. Stuart
noted that the diction of civilization, rather than the end of the
world, was important, but that the lack of sincerity is still not
fatal. He argued that the cycle of civilization is prompted when
technology outpaces morality and too many rifts are exposed in
society.
Mr. Brantley
presented himself as naturally sincere and direct, but noted that
there are several instances in which society expects insincerity.
He disagreed with this conventional wisdom, and asked members to
move beyond political correctness, even if it makes one look like an
ogre.
Mr. Pyrdum
rejected all forms of sincerity or human interaction as the
determinant of the end of civilization, and instead presented the
society with -- wonder of all wonders! -- harsh biological
determinism. He said that as long as we keep up the good work by
having sex and making babies, we'll have a civilization.
Mr. Weaver
preached a very individualistic notion of society in which everyone
cares about themselves and no one else. The loss of sincerity is
nonexistent -- no one was ever sincere in the first place.
Mr. Shumaker
noted that grocery stores are the center of our civilization,
and said his employment at Publix over the summer gave him a unique
perspective on this question. Responsibility and sincerity are at
the heart of it, and if everyone enjoyed life the way he enjoyed his
job, each person would strengthen our civilization.
Mr. Hodgins
disagreed with the resolution, for manners and tact were invented as
ways to preserve society through insincerity. He argued that human
interactions involve a variety of barriers, and sincerity is reached
in very rare and intimate situations.
Mr. Hortman
rose to say that it is impossible for civilization to die unless you
annihilate humanity. Civilizations die, but civilization as
a concept does not.
Ms. Tomlinson
took the floor to present the Society with two longstanding
philosophic traditions that are bringing down civilization.
Sophists, the prostitutes of the mind, currently run the country,
while sycophants, silly old men who don't know what's going on,
allow the sophists to control things. Both of them lead to the lack
of sincerity and abundant cynicism in society today.
The question was
called and passed 4-3.
Mr. Stuart
rose next as Chief Justice to sound a call to arms for the purpose
of displaying our superiority over the Heap. He presented the
following:
Be It Resolved:
The Demosthenian Literary Society should invite the losers across
the way into our hallowed Hall for the purpose of an Intersociety
Meeting.
Be It Further
Resolved: That the Judicial Council should write a letter
pursuant to the above and present it to the fools next Thursday.
Respectfully submitted,
Andrew H. Stuart
The question was
called and passed 11-0.
Mr. Pyrdum
marveled at the persuasive powers of Christopher Reeve at the
Democratic Convention and presented the following:
Whereas, the only
chance that Republicans have in the upcoming presidential election
is to begin crippling their actors,
Be It Resolved:
Arnold Schwarzenegger should be crippled as soon as possible in
order to obtain the 20-point gain Bob Dole desperately needs.
Respectfully submitted,
Carl Pyrdum
Ms. Ramirez
examined the motives behind the power of Reeve, which lies in our
inherent desire to help others. She noted that the Democrats must
harness this desire in order to win, and thus Reeve fit into their
presentation.
Mr. Hodgins
said the convention was an exercise in advertising which tried to
evoke a compassion that, frankly, he couldn't -- CRASH!!!!!
Becky's head broke
through the floor of the Upper Chamber and carried Howard and the
lectern with it. She suddenly stopped growing, but looked around
with her now enormous eyes at the familiar scene. "Hi guys!" she
said, blowing all those sitting in the audience against the back of
their seats. Unshaken by the interruption, Andrew climbed up Ms.
Richie's chin and pulled a bottle from his jacket. It contained
brown liquid, and had a label stating "Drink me." "Here," Andrew
said, "drink this and you should be OK." "No, drink me!" screamed
Howard, descending one of the huge fibers of Becky's hair and
fumbling with his belt. But before Howard had a chance to embarrass
himself, Becky gulped the seemingly tiny amount of elixir and
immediately shot down through the floor. Howard fell to the ground,
and the members repaired the shattered floor before the meeting
continued.
Unfazed by Ms.
Richie's abrupt entrance, Mr. Carswell stated that
Christopher Reeve's presence was a tacit endorsement of the Clinton
ticket. His willingness to use his disability in this way is
reprehensible.
The question was
called and failed (boy did it ever!) 3-4
Mr. Hudson
raged against some of the culinary paradoxes in our society and
implored us all:
if you're going to
do something, go all the way! He introduced the following:
Be It Resolved:
Do, or do not, there is no try.
Forcefully submitted,
Leo Hudson
Robby Smith
Ms. Tomlinson
reflected upon the futility of a caffeine-free diet Coke and brought
up Dr. Laura's demand of action rather than a "try" at something.
Ms. Polentz
commented on how the resolution jived with the evening's minutes,
and proceeded to proclaim that the Demosthenian way is not just one
beer, it's one hangover! Carpe diem is the spirit of the
resolution, but it is really about why one joins Demosthenian -- the
Heap is a "try." Our President the Patriot -- Go on, girl!
Mr. Hodgins
used warfare as a metaphor for the resolution, saying giving up in
battle and going home to say you tried is useless. He also equated
winning with doing and losing with trying, and reminded us that,
hey, he won the election tonight! With that comment, some of us DO
wish he hadn't!
Mr. Van Meter
took the floor next to thank the presenter for such a poignant
resolution. Comparing the resolution with the struggles in a book
he had been reading, The Good Soldier, he argued that this
resolution is less about winning or losing than about an attitude
with which you run the race.
Mr. Bowman
opposed the resolution in a literal sense, saying that there
obviously IS try. He countered that sheer force of will does not
ensure success, and that the truth of this resolution all depends on
how one frames the goal.
Mr. Smith
supported the resolution, stating that it calls upon an individual
to make a decision to perform to the best of his or her ability. He
agreed that the resolution is about attitudes, not outcomes, and
that Yoda wants you to be able to say you did your best in the end.
Mr. Choi
was outraged at what he called the bastardization of HIS resolution,
"To hell with fat-free Twinkies." As Mr. Hudson sunk lower in his
chair, Mr. Choi put forth that a fat-free Twinkie is a contradiction
in terms, and that the question is not about doing, not doing, or
trying -- it's all DO!
The question was
called and passed 5-2.
Following Ms.
Tomlinson's critic's report, the Society adjourned at 10:32.
Dazed by her rapid
growth spurts, Becky slumped to the floor. But she was in a
different room, and it seemed to her that a white rabbit had just
walked through the small door on the opposite side of the room. He
was wearing glasses and silver limet suit -- would anything ever
return to normal? She didn't know, but she was exhausted, and began
to sleep soundly on the cold mossy floor of the treehouse.
Submitted on this
12th day of October, 1996,
Ryan J. Van Meter,
Secretary |
University of Georgia 