05x01 - Fizz Ed

[bunniefuu]

Okay, students, here's your reading
assignment for tonight: scenes one through

five in Doctor Faustus. Sorry I don't
have actual copies of the play for you

but, you know... the budget.

Hey, Mr. O., I can't read this.

I can't read mine, either.

Hmm... I can just make out
the words "incipient migraine."

I apologize for the quality of these,
class. The school's photocopier is so very

old. Darn budget.

Mr. O'Neill!

Sorry!

So it's clear that in the case of
Chechnya, conflicts that took generations to

develop will certainly not be
resolved in a period of months.

Excellent report, Jodie. Would you
like to give your classmates a clearer

picture of the hostilities by
pointing out Chechnya on the map?

Um, Chechnya became independent in ,
and this map was printed before then.

It's completely outdated.

That's right, Jodie. I guess they think
since I teach history I don't need any

supplies created after V-E Day!

Class, I thought as an exercise in
imagination, we could deprive ourselves of

one of our customary creative tools. So
today, let's all try to paint a picture

without using the color red.

But I like red. It reflects
my passionate nature.

I'm sure it does, Brittany, but, well,
I ran out of it yesterday and there's no

money to get any more.

So you see, Ms. Li, the other teachers
and I thought if we could maybe take some

of the money we've been spending on
school security and instead spend it on

school supplies...

Mr. O'Neill, do you have any idea what
a satellite transmission jammer costs

these days?

Um...

Mr. White?

Yeah?

Why aren't you out there practicing
with the other gridironers?

Um, the face mask fell off my helmet.

So? Get a new helmet.

I can't. Coach says we're out of money.

That's it! The school financial
predicament has reached crisis proportions!

So what we're really talking about is
a lens of fiscal focus concentrating the

diffused light of our students'
discretionary spending into a laser beam of

economic clout.

Mr. Lamm, I like the way that sounds.

How many soda machines do
we have in this institution?

Two in the cafeteria and
one in the teachers' lounge.

Three? No, we need at least
four times that number.

But can we really make up the budget
deficit with the proceeds on cans of soda?

Oh, it's not the cans.
It's the exclusive contract.

What contract?

See, what I do is represent your interests
to the soda companies. I say to each

of them, "I've got a high school that's
willing to sell no other beverages but

yours in its cafeterias, at its dances,
sporting events, whatever. They'll

advertise and sell your
product exclusively."

Advertise?

Tasteful little posters. "And all you
have to do, Mr. Soda Company Fatcat, is

hand over, oh, let's say $ ,
to be used as the school sees fit."

$ , ...

And that's if we don't
get a bidding w*r going.

Hmm... you don't think it's unseemly
to have advert - promotion - inside

school corridors?

Ms. Li, our kids see advertising when
they turn on the TV, when they log onto

the web, when they drive the highways
and walk through the malls. Do we really

want school to be a sheltered ivory
tower that fails to prepare them for life

outside its walls?

Hmm, I never thought of it
that way. Did you say $ , ?

Class, our planetarium trip has been
canceled due to lack of funds, so your

assignment tonight is to locate Orion
the Hunter in the sky, then write an essay

on why you think he needs to
carry a w*apon to feel like a man.

Attention, students. An acute paper
shortage prevents us from sending home an

announcement about the school review
meeting. So please remind your parents that

it's the th at : .

What'd she say? The th?

Thank you.

Why didn't she come on before the
bell rang so we could hear her?

Well, considering it was about a school
review meeting, I'd have to say, who cares?

Wait a minute. The th is a Sunday. Who
holds school review meetings on Sunday?

Daria, the th isn't a
Sunday. It's Super Bowl Sunday.

Be an American, Daria.

Super Bowl Sunday?

So Stacy showed me her outfit for
Sunday and she had, like, this solid

cream-colored top and I said, "Stacy,
it's a Super Bowl party. Guys yelling and

jumping up and down and banging into
stuff and dip, Stacy, dip!" So she decided

to go with a print instead. You know what
I always say. Dip is short for dipsaster.

That's wonderful, honey.

Did you know Ms. Li called a school
review meeting for Super Bowl Sunday?

Really? That's odd. Well,
maybe she's not a football fan.

I think she's trying to pull something.
If I were you, I'd make it a point to go

to that meeting and pay
extra-close attention.

Daria, you know your father and I
have to go to Eric's Super Bowl party.

What?!

Or I'll look like I'm not a team player.

I have to spend another Super Bowl with
a bunch of freakin' lawyers?! And their

freakin' lawyer highballs and
lawyer cigars?! Lousy stuck-up...

Jake! I called in some favors around
the office and found five people who

promised they'd talk to you.

You did?

Excuse me but doesn't anybody
want to hear about Stacy's pants?

Hello? The high school principal called
a public meeting she doesn't want anyone

to attend.

Daria, if you're so
concerned, why don't you go?

What?

You owe me hugely for making me miss
the biggest football game of the year.

You hate football.

Hey! Don't try any of your twisty-turny
mind games on me, Morgendorffer.

So if I may sum up: our young people
are our greatest resource. Therefore, let

us mine that resource and allow their
thirst for refreshment to fuel their

thirst for knowledge. That, ladies and
gentlemen, is empowerment. Thank you.

Yahoo!

Well, if that's not inspiring then
I wasn't named fourth runner-up for

Principal of the Year by the tri-county
chapter of the Asian-American Women in

Education's Caucus. Now I'm sure you all
want to get home and watch the game but

first we've allotted... three minutes for
public commentary on Mr. Lamm's proposal.

Nobody? Very well, then.

Excuse me.

Um, yes, Ms. Morgendorffer?

You're planning to make soda companies
bid against each other for the right to

market their products in Lawndale High?

That's right. All you kids have to do
is what you'd do anyway: drink soda.

Does that mean that everywhere I
turn I'll run into a vending machine?

Well, there wouldn't be much value to the
contract if the product weren't easily available.

And what else?

Nothing but a few small discreet
advertising posters in the halls. Nothing in

questionable taste. And, if we're lucky,
an exciting new high-tech scoreboard

for athletic events, boys' and girls'.

So the school will, in effect, be
endorsing the soda? Is that really the

school's role, to become a shill?

Miss... do you drink soda?

Huh? Of course.

So?

This isn't about whether I like soda.
It's about whether a public high school

should be using its status as a place
of authority to serve as one more

marketing tentacle of corporate America.
With the taxpayers subsidizing it.

Surely you give your friends enough credit
to know when they're being taught and

when they're being sold to?

I give them enough credit to figure out
about three seconds after those machines

arrive that they can't trust this
institution. The few who still do.

Oh, dear... darn it, our time is up.
I've got Super Bowl fever. Go, teams, go!

This whole thing sucks. They shouldn't
be selling stuff to people under the

guise of educating them. Don't you think
it's totally unethical and underhanded?

I don't know. Let me mull
it over for a few minutes.

MISSING SCENE:

Is it my imagination or is something about
the school different today? Hey, Daria. Jane.

Isn't it great to have all these
new soda machines everywhere?

It's so easy to get a drink.

And hyperglycemia.

I like these machines. They're so bright,
so soothing... You know, we're getting

a new scoreboard and a whole bunch
of equipment out of this deal.

And new pompoms and everything.

And all you have to do for it is
name your firstborn after Ultra Cola.

What?

You weren't going to call
him Kevin Junior, were you?

Oh, Kevvy, I hope
you're not disappointed.

Ultra... Ultra Thompson. "Now starting
for the Miami Dolphins at quarterback,

Ultra... Cola... Thompson.
Hooray!" Yeah, it's cool.

Hey.

You've got to do something about this.

About what?

About that.

Oh, yeah. Yeah, that's kind of sleazy.

Are you going to talk
to someone about it?

I'd have to go to the
superintendent of schools.

So will you?

I don't know. It's bringing in
a lot of money to the school.

But you just said you think it's sleazy.

Well, yeah. But the Lawndale Model
Congress is going to Washington next month

and for the first time in three years
we don't have to sell rolls of gift

wrap to pay for the bus.

No. Instead they're selling you colored
sugar water while pretending to give you

an education.

Hey, you drink soda, don't you?

That's not the point.

I just don't think a few little posters
are that big a deal. In a week, you

won't even notice them.

All the worse.

Daria, if you don't
like it, you complain.

I don't complain.

That's all you ever do.

I mean, I don't get involved.

Then I guess you don't
really care that much, do you?

All he wanted, just once, was to eat
at the table. But she had a hankering to

howl. "Shih tzu? I hardly know
you!" Next, on Sick, Sad World.

Do you think I complain a lot?

What are you bitching about now?

I'm serious. I asked Jodie if she'd
talk to somebody about these soda posters

and she said I should do it
since I'm so good at complaining.

Why don't you do it?

Well, let's see. Aside from the fact
that I'm already considered a square peg

and a malcontent, there's the small
problem that everyone loves all this money

coming in, and I seem to be the only
one troubled by where it's coming from.

So what? You're still right.

Thank you.

And you have every right
to moan and groan...

Thank you.

As long as you try to
do something about it.

Why does it have to be me?

Because nobody else will.

But that's what's so infuriating.

Ah, ah, ah.

What?

There you go, complaining again.

You owe me hugely for making me get
involved in school district politics.

What are you talking about? I just asked
you to walk me here. You're not even

going in.

Hey! Don't try any of your rhetorical
gymnastics on me, Morgendorffer. You sound

a little nervous.

No, I don't.

My mistake.

You can go in now.

Eep!

... and that's why I really think it's
inappropriate to be using the school as a

venue for this cola
company's advertising.

Ms. Morgendorffer... I hope you don't
mind that I punched your name up on the

computer before you came in. You have
a very impressive academic record.

Um, thanks.

But very little in the
way of extracurriculars.

What does that have to do with anything?

Well, I can't help wondering. Do you
really object that strongly to a few soda

machines, or is this protest perhaps an
exercise in extracurricular involvement

to put on your college applications?

What?

Do you drink soda, Daria?

That's not the point.

Lawndale High is now the only school
in the county running a surplus. I was

going to talk to Leonard Lamm about writing
a contract proposal for all our schools.

Mr. Cartwright, you're right. I'm not
a big one for participation. I went

against my instincts coming here today,
and when word gets around I'll probably

be even more isolated than I already am.

Oh, I don't...

But I did it because, as little affection
or respect as I have for my fellow

students, they don't deserve to be treated
as a demographic by their own school.

All that contract's trying to do is
make the educational experience better.

Then just come to Lawndale High
and see if that's happening.

I'll think about it.

Um, that doesn't sound very convincing.

I'll think about it.
Thank you for coming in.

Well, it's been four weeks and I'd say
we've done a stellar job of making Ultra

Cola available to our students.

Well, you might say so, and I'm sure
I'd agree with you but unfortunately that

won't hold up in court.

Huh?

The idea wasn't making the product
available to the students. It was making the

students available to the product. The
Ultra Cola people say your sales aren't

what they should be. You do want to make
your quotas, don't you? Or the school

won't get that nice big check.

Oh, my gosh. What do I have to do?

Well, we need to take it up a notch.

I've got a bad feeling about this.

MISSING SCENE:
: : , --] : : ,
planets' relative distance from the sun.
But we did that two weeks ago, Ms. B.

And now we're going to do it again, Charles. Unless you wish
to spend the period in independent study? No... not the closet.
: : , --] : : ,
students. A three-dimensional model of our
solar system, graciously provided by Ultra Cola.
: : , --] : : ,
might support the process of carbonation." Or I
can just spend the rest of the day in the teachers'

bathroom, staring at the tiles. Good Ultra Cola morning,
students. I am pleased to announce an Ultra Cola schedule change.
: : , --] : : ,
get to your Ultra Cola lockers, organize your Ultra
Cola backpacks, and still enjoy a delicious Ultra Cola.
: : , --] : : ,
try to make Mr. DeMartino use Ultra
Cola in his class lessons, do you?

Argh! Stupid... argh! Stupid cola... argh... frngn...
brmflp... marketing contract... argh... ! What was the question?

Oh, Kevvy, it's terrible! How can I face the
world? It's okay, babe. You look, uh... cute.

What do you mean? Kind
of, uh... round and shiny.

Uh... I like that in a woman?

Ow!

I hate this stupid uniform! You can't
build a human pyramid in this. Everybody

keeps rolling off! Oh, God...
my arms. I can't feel my arms!

You see? You're still falling short of
your quotas. And I don't need to tell

you, those sales have to be made up.

I don't know what to do. I put in all
the machines they asked for. I put up all

the advertising they asked for. I
instituted the learning aids. What more can I

do? What more can I do?

If only the students had some motivation
to drink soda beyond simple thirst.

But that's crazy talk. What
other motivation could there be?

You're right, it's stupid. By the way...
how are your students' grades this period?

Huh?

Don't you people like having that new
scoreboard? Don't you like the digital

tackling dummies and the new towels that
don't smell like a farm animal's privates?

Um... sure.

Well, why don't you
show your appreciation?

Do you want us to call the Asian-American
Women in Education's Caucus again?

No! I want you to drink more soda,
damn it! Soda! Soda! Soda, soda, soda!

But we drink that bulk-up
powder, Ms. Li. For the ladies.

Forget bulking up, damn it. Who on this
team has an average below C? Never mind.

Just put up your hand if your average
is above C. Okay, the rest of you. I'll

raise your average half a point for
every ten cans of Ultra Cola you drink. If

you've got a average, drink cans
and you'll have a ! We'll call it an

extra-credit mini-course in the
science of motivation. What do you say?

All right, men. Give 'em hell.
And drink, my lads, drink.

Ms. Li, are you sure
you want to do this?

Just what are you saying, Mr. MacKenzie?
It's unethical? Immoral? In direct

conflict with my role as an educator?

Well, yeah, but mostly I was thinking
I'm the only one on the team who can count

by halves.

Hmph! Note to self: calculators
for the football team. ASAP!

Ah. I love the smell
of cola in the morning.

The Oakwood Taproots look ready for a
whipping, but our Lawndale Lions aren't

here to do the clipping. I see mighty
Mack... but where, oh, where, could the

other Lions be?

All right, girls... just
the way we rehearsed it.

Win, Lions, win! Fight, Lions, fight!
Drink Ultra Cola till your pants feel tight!

Run and pass and block and blitz. Drink
Ultra Cola and never mind the zits.

Go... Lions!

Hold on, folks. I've got star QB Kevin
Thompson on the phone. Kevin, tell the

loyal fans what you just told me.

Um, hey everybody. Uh, how's it going?
Um, I'm real sorry about this but, um,

the Lions have to forfeit.
We've all got... tummy aches.

Oh, no, Kevin! To what do you
attribute this? The dreaded influenza?

No. Too much Ultra Cola! I
got to go to the bathroom.

Drink up, damn it!

Eep.

Leonard Lamm says a forfeited home
game is a violation of our contract with

Ultra Cola. I'm already in deep horse
plops for missing the sales quotas.

What about all that soda the team drank?

Yeah, yeah, but he said since it was from
the cafeteria, it didn't count! It had

to come from the machines. But nobody
told me. Nobody told me, I tell you!

Calm down, Ms. Li. Maybe you should lay
off the Ultra Cola for a little while.

Lay off the Ultra Cola? Can't lay off
the Ultra Cola. Got to drink. Drink cola.

I told you to drink up, damn it!

I know. Call the elementary schools.
They're always looking for a cheap field

trip. Tell them to get their kids over
here right away for soda, soda, soda!

Do you think that's...

Just do it! I can't just sit here.
I've got to move some product, damn it!

Attention, students. Everyone
out in the halls for soda. Now!

Must drink soda. Soda from machines.
Everybody gather round the pretty machines.

Ooh!

Open up, you lousy damn machine!
Give up the soda in your bowels!

Soda! Soda! Must have soda! Oh!

Everybody keep drinking!

So the gigantic soda machines
are gone from the hallways.

But still in the cafeterias.

And the advertising
is gone from the walls.

But still in the school paper.

And the Ultra Cola logo
is gone from the uniforms.

But still on the tickets.

I take it you don't consider this an
all-out triumph for the forces of good.

Did they or did they not
release Ms. Li from the hospital?

Good point, but come on, Daria. They
changed the Ultra Cola contract so they

can't advertise inside the school, and
thanks to Ms. Li's little freak-out, no

one traced it to you. Isn't
that some kind of victory?

I don't know. Ask those people.