Excuse me, I think there is a little brown stuff on your nose

Paul Serilla Serilla Warfare

A while back, I was reading about this television journalist who had a syndicated interview show out of California in the mid- to late '60s.

This guy was known for being incredibly belligerent to his guests, who were generally publicity-hungry minor celebrities or extremist political figures.

He raked everybody over the coals, played no favorites, and took no prisoners. Some people said his surly attitude grew out of the pain of losing a leg to amputation during the war.

Others said he was just a jerk.

In the late '60s, this journalist happened to have the musician Frank Zappa as a guest. It was still a time when men with long hair were pretty unorthodox, and of course, Zappa was never particularly a mainstream figure.

Anyway, the first thing this journalist said when Frank came on was, "I guess that long hair makes you a girl."

Zappa simply responded, "I guess that wooden leg makes you a table."

The moral of the story isn't to rip on the disabled (what kind of outfit did you think we were running here?) or even the old standby of "Do unto others, yadda, yadda ... ." The real moral is don't let your mouth write checks that your butt can't cash - know when to shut up.

The reason I got started thinking about that story is I realized how few people know when it is inappropriate for them to keep yabbering on like the Olson twins heaped up on cocaine and pixie sticks (I once read that all big Hollywood stars do drugs, and they don't get any bigger than that adorable duo).

Even as you read this, in avoidance of actually paying attention in class, someone in the room is flapping their gums incessantly without saying a single intelligible phrase. Every class has a yapper - the kind of person that thinks any lecture with less than 800 people qualifies as a personal discussion section between themselves and the professor.

The only thing they seem to remember from grade school is that there is no such thing as a stupid question, but they seem to forget that there is such a thing as a stupid answer that goes on for 20 minutes, makes no sense, and serves only to stroke their own over-inflated ego.

The real reason these people get on my nerves, besides the fact that they waste the rest of the class's time, is they really think all this brown-nosing is worth it. The little sycophants just keep shoveling and even when the professor couldn't give a peso in Denmark about what they are saying, they don't give up.

Listen, nobody cares about how the professor's last point relates to Nietzche's concept of man vs. superman, this is "Bio for Blondes" and we want to hear the professor we are paying good money to teach us. Could you for once have an unexpressed thought, please?

Don't get me wrong, an active thirst for knowledge and a desire to get the most out of every educational moment can be OK. But seriously, slugger, let somebody else step up to the verbal bat. Take a breath between your monologues and wait in the on-deck circle for a couple of minutes.

What's almost as bad is the opposite end of the scale - the person in the back who is too cool for anyone and anything. I know what you're saying, that sounds like the modus operandi of a college newspaper columnist: groan and moan and complain the whole day through, never making any real contribution to the good of the whole.

Well, it is an easy distinction to miss, but let me take myself as an example. I, for example, am too cool for virtually nothing. Ask anyone who's met me - however, I do hate just about everything. It's OK because I'm not saying I am too good for anything, I just find fault at every turn.

But at least I listen before I pass my meaningless judgments. These people hear nothing but their own arrogance, and I don't know how they do it, but they have the ability to sneer really loud. To be honest, I don't know what people who know everything are doing in school, but I guess it fills the time between drinking alone and participating in fads so vapid and boring that no one else will ever want to participate in them.

Actually, the best part is none of the people who this column is about will ever read it. This is one check I am pretty sure no one would ever own up to enough to cash. The too cool crowd only reads revolutionary periodicals like SPIN and the yappers will be too busy kissing up to the professor before and after class - and when do they have time to read anything besides all the suggested readings they have to catch up on?

- Paul Serilla just wants some peace and quiet, so ruin it for him by e-mailing him at pserilla@umich.edu

11-21-97