Boston Public
Chapter Ten

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Fyvush Finkel says, "African-American Black colored Negroes." No, really, he does.

Before the episode, we get a disclaimer: "Due to some sexual content, parental discretion is advised." My roommate says, "Isn't this a show about a high school?" Word.

And now, the longest look back at previous episodes lines ever. Previously on Boston Public: Milton and Lisa got caught in flagrante de-basement; Coach Kevin threatened to turn Milton in; The Exposition Fairy overheard the tell-tale conversation; Lauren invited Anthony Heald to a dinner party, and he said, "As your date?"; Anthony Heald told Principal Steven that he's in love with Lauren; Anthony Heald told Lauren that he's thinking of adopting a baby; Harvey told a student that it was his job to get the student's black ass into college; Steven told Lauren that Harvey is a world-class bigot, and that she protects him, and Lauren took umbrage to the implication that she's racist; Anthony Heald told Harvey he was going to make it his mission to have him discharged, and Harvey promised Anthony Heald a war.

Okay. They promoted this episode up and down the line-up, with the tag-line "you'll never believe how this one ends." So let's settle in and wait for the big twist. And wait. And wait. Look, here are my two friends, Vladimir and Estragon. Let's all wait for the big twist ending together.

Lauren "less uptight now that I'm scorin'" Davis and Harry "John Ashcroft is going to be Attorney General because of all his cronies in the" Senate are at somebody's apartment. It might be Lauren's. Or it could be Harry's. He's reading a student's sample college application essay, and she's working on a laptop that's not connected to a phone line, which means she's about to surf the web and look at Cheryl Holt's website. Harry reads from the sample essay: "Life is like playing basketball on grass. It looks pretty and soft, but the ball takes funny bounces. When you fall you get dirty. In the end, it's about trying to score your goals without stepping in dog poop." Lauren says it makes sense, which is a lie. First of all, you don't score "goals" in basketball, you score points. Secondly, you don't "score" goals in life, you reach goals. Finally, basketball is fundamentally a team sport, not an individual one, and so you don't place your own desire to score points above the good of the team, which Kobe Bryant has to relearn every damn season, hogging the ball for weeks before he remembers that the team does better when he passes the ball occasionally. The guy's got fucking Shaq on his team, and he won't dish it off. But I digress. Suffice it to say, this is a bad essay built upon a silly and weak analogy, and Harry is right when he says, "Harvard's gonna say 'step right up' when they read this." Meanwhile, as predicted, Lauren is looking at Holt45.com. She asks Harry if he's seen it this week. "Why, are we on it?" Lauren says, "No, but Milton is." What else is new? Harry says, "What else is new?" Me and Mr. Senate, we've got the same sense of humor. But I'm cuter.

Anyway, Lauren shows him Cheryl's "content" for this week: a charming cartoon of Milton Buttle and Lisa "My-Fair-Lita" Greer humping, complete with porno sound effects. "I think that's a student," says Lauren. "Lisa Greer," says Harry. "I had her once. As a student." Heh. Lauren wants to know if there's a germ of truth in this, as there are in all of Cheryl's cartoons. Harry says, "Okay, first of all, where was the germ of truth in Milton's rectal equestrian face dive? Secondly, Lisa Greer is beautiful, and she also happens to be a pretty serious student. She'd be horrified to sleep with a teacher. Trust me. I asked." But could it be true? Shut up, Lauren, he said no, it couldn't. But as Harry looks at the computer screen and listens to the passionate cries of the animated figures mingling in ecstasy, he furrows his brow. He seems to be thinking, "Sex with students was supposed to be my deal. How come David Kelley chickened out on it with me and Slow-lita, and now Joey Slotnick gets to shmeck with a pretty young thing?" A question for the ages.

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