Anatomy of a class discussion: Nietzsche disciples, hippies and butt-smoochers

And it's scary as hell.

Honestly, I think you could get a more balanced and level-headed group of people if you took 30 people at random from the West Virginia State Fair and Gun Show.

Haven't you ever wondered how the University manages to find such a huge crop of yo-yos for each class and what they do when they're not sitting next to you, doing a crossword puzzle and trying not to get drool on their shoes? Well, somebody has to. And since I get paid to do this ...

James Miller Miller on Tap

Let's start off with my favorite: The Nietzsche disciple. Generally, they have a slow, vacant look on their face, apparently weighed down by their giant intellect. They have a lot of stuff scribbled on their backpack and are covered with little pins from hang dog leftist causes that they rabidly support and barely understand.

He/she will usually reek of clove smoke and espresso and have a copy of "Beyond Good and Evil" hanging conspicuously from their pocket, as if to scream "Hey, I read complicated books of philosophy! I'm smart and all of those guys who beat me up in the eighth grade for painting my nails black are just tools of the establishment, man!"

Favorite quote: "Yeah man, that's just like what Nietzsche says in this book I'm reading. It's by Nietzsche. He's sayin' that all those Christian weirdos are just sheep, man. He says you just gotta do your own thing, man. You know, like be your own God, or like, Superman, or something. Yeah man. Nietzsche."

The Lost Stoner. This guy is easy to spot. A whiff of patchouli and the rustling wool of his Guatemalan sweater will herald his coming.

His hair is in the horrid middle stage of dreadlock transformation and looks as if he spent the morning smearing it with rubber cement and putting those little rings in it. Kind of a Timothy Leary Christmas tree.

Favorite quote: None, really. The men of the species usually keep quiet. The women can often be overheard speaking in high, childishly excited voices that come from the joy of being bra-less. Something about how they hugged a puppy in the Diag on a sunny day and will now be happy for the rest of the week and might even write a short story about it.

Oh, by the way, they just spent their last $50 on a navel ring and are grubbing quarters in front of Stairway to Heaven, but that's okay because they're really cool. Like a Phish show, or something.

The Apple Polisher (also known as Bobby Butt-Smoocher). The dead giveaway of the Apple Polisher is the nod. They nod vigorously to everything the professor says, as if having a personal conversation.

Often, he/she will have taken at least one other class with the professor and will use this previous relationship to foster a misplaced sense of intimacy with them.

Favorite quote: Given the fact that they have such a close relationship with the professor, they are given to addressing them by their first name, in that grating, nose-first way that raises the hackles on the back of your neck.

They make frequent comments like: "Well, Robert, my reading of Joyce here is that all of Western civilization is constructed upon the supremacy of the phallus. I mean look, even the book itself is shaped like a penis, if you roll it up and look at it right. See, I'm an expert on the phallocracy because I let the girls at the NOW meeting cut my hair. I've been to three whole Women's Studies seminars, so I know what's good for all women."

De facto Urban Outfitter employees. Just look for a crossword puzzle. These are the ones (girls for the most part) who would rather be anywhere else but class. Their eyes move about the room nervously. They shift their clogs under the desk in boredom.

If asked a direct question they will stare blankly and repeat the question back to the GSI, rephrased with a few hundred "likes." Most of the time they travel with a partner (because obviously, nothing is good if your friends don't think so), one in the same sorority or with the same shade of brown lipstick.

Favorite quote: "No way! With him? Eww, that is so gross! Well, she was so drunk at that two-way she probably didn't know what she was doing. I think she's fat. Do you think she's fat? Are we supposed to turn in a paper today or something?"

There are thousands more. Those of you dealing with these (and other) nimrods, please send me your observations via e-mail. The quest for knowledge and small-minded, personal attacks must not be impeded.

- James Miller is a Daily columnist. He can be reached via e-mail at jamespm@umich.edu.

09-08-98