Let’s have them three cheers and a slap on the ol’ ass, fellas, ‘cause this time there’s truly a cause for celebration! In a move of superb scheming and strategery that left even the best of us dazzled, rubbing our eyes like we haven’t slept for a few years, the best of the best at Stanford, the admins, have defeated racism in single combat.
Together. Using the power of friendship. They showed a movie. Friday night, when it was dark out, they used a projector in one of the rooms in building 200.
In the basement. No one else was invited.
Do you want to hear about the movie? I’m going to tell you about the movie. It was a heckuva movie, lemme tell you. Like nothing else we’ve seen in these parts, and these parts have seen a lot. It was called Tubman and that’s already something. Something deep, something secret, something we’ve all been looking for.
But it didn’t stop there—it wasn’t just some movie with the name TUBMAN on the screen and a fade to black, oh no. It was a wild movie, a full 112 minutes including credits, something like Kafka meets interior bathroom design.
See, there’s a tub in the movie Tubman. And I couldn’t say what happens to that tub, or I could but I’ve already told you what happens above.
Things work like that sometimes, see?
And the tub is man but in the end it’s not about the journey, it’s about the destination. And the destination is happyville mcNoMoreRacism, ‘cause things are just peachy now.
No more racism—we’re tub now. It got solved. Sure, we’ve still got sexism and classism and homophobia and a bundle of other things, but I’m confident now.
These things can be beaten. And we’ve got a bright future together, friends. As tubs. Tubmans. Tubmen.
