—–

While the film delved into numerous issues, from bloated salaries to lack of oversight in spending, two of them were the most infuriating.  The first is the fact that the teachers’ union vehemently opposes any meaningful reform that it sees as a threat to its power.  While, as the film expresses, there are plenty of individual teachers who care about their students and put forth their best effort in the classroom, the NEA has become a bloated political organization that is interested only in protecting its power rather than in educating the students it pretends are its highest priority.  For instance, the NEA and its state chapters exert massive political influence over who is chosen to fill administrative posts that will negotiate contracts with them.  This enable them to keep policies in place such as the tenure system that manifests itself in a ridiculously unbelievable 99.97% teacher retention rate in New Jersey.  Watching Joyce Powell, head of the NJEA, try to spin her way around the facts presented to her is both laughable and maddening.  Until this mammoth self-serving organization can be dismantled, reforming public education will continue to be futile endeavor.

Equally vexing is the fact that New Jersey, like many states, continues to resist the successful introduction of voucher programs into its educational system.  While many charter schools such as North Star Academy and Hope Academy boasted better test scores than their public school equivalents, while spending less money, the Education Department of New Jersey approved only 1 of 22 applications to start new charter schools in the state.  Although there are many facts and figures that can be used to show why charter schools provide a superior education, the film made its most powerful argument by juxtaposing two pictures: one of mothers celebrating that their children now “have a chance” after they had won spots in the charter school lottery, and the other a heartbreaking visual of  a sobbing child who did not win that chance.  It is insane to think that we lack the political will to carry out such a simple solution, especially when there are so many who desire this change, and so many who are willing to implement it.

The political interests of the NEA, coupled with an educational bureaucracy that refuses to allow reform, enables this scenario to play out across our country again and again, as more and more students fall through the cracks of a severely corrupted school system.  It would seem obvious that the quality of our childrens’ educational experience would be our primary consideration when evaluating our educational system, but “The Cartel” unveils the corruption that allows our children to instead find themselves almost entirely ignored.  The film will begin playing in New York City and Los Angeles on April 16, and roll into other cities in the following weeks.  Check out the website for a detailed schedule of screenings and to find an action center where you can get more information on how to fight for the best possible education for your child.  If there is one thing we can all agree on, regardless of political background, our children deserve better.

So in the Monday New York Times, there’s a thoughtful piece trying to explain, quote, “the overwhelmingly liberal tilt of university professors.” Their shocker of a conclusion: It’s not about an obvious discrimination against conservatives – rather it’s just a silly, wrongheaded case of type-casting!

Yeah, it turns out that conservatives don’t want to be professors, the same way that men don’t want to become nurses. Righties abhor tweed and pipes the way dudes reject Dansko scuff proof clogs. One researcher calls this political typecasting – and includes journalism, art, fashion and therapy as other areas where conservatives refuse to draw a paycheck. Instead, conservatives head toward medicine, law enforcement, dentistry, the military and late night tv shows about unicorns.

Now think about that for a moment. The left gravitates toward fashion and therapy; the right toward medicine and might. What does this tell you? Well, in the former list of jobs, it’s almost impossible to create guidelines for success. Look at modern artists, and you’ll see there’s no way to predict who will make it and who won’t. But in the jobs favored by the right – standards are clearly drawn. You can gauge the difference between a good doctor and a bad one by the number of sponges left behind in your lower intestine (three by my last count).

But let’s cut to the chase. The real reason why professors are libs boils down to one word: tenure. I mean, imagine if you had a guaranteed job for the rest of your life. That means none of your ideas will ever be tested in the real world. Instead, you can blather all you want about how Bush orchestrated 9/11, how America is responsible for all that’s wrong with the world, and what a tremendous dude Che Guevara was.

The fact is, if we actually kept score on the success of liberal ideas throughout history – it just wouldn’t be fair to liberals.

And if you disagree with me, you’re probably a racist homophobe.

Tonight, the lovely Mary Walter, the sharp-as-a-tack Congressman McCotter, and the devastatingly handsome Jim Norton! ]]> http://bighollywood.breitbart.com/ggutfeld/2010/01/18/daily-gut-tenured-tools/feed/ 112 http://bighollywood.breitbart.com/ggutfeld/2009/11/02/daily-gut-tenure/ http://bighollywood.breitbart.com/ggutfeld/2009/11/02/daily-gut-tenure/#comments Mon, 02 Nov 2009 23:06:51 +0000 Greg Gutfeld http://bighollywood.breitbart.com/?p=256870 So over at Depaul University – allegedly a college – students and faculty are up in hairy arms over the denial of tenure to Melissa Bradshaw, a professor of “women’s and gender studies.” In case you don’t know what tenure is, it’s a guaranteed lifetime job. And in case you don’t know what “women’s and gender studies” are, join the club – neither do I.

And here we have a magnificent collision of two idiotic practices: tenure, which relieves professors of trying altogether, allowing them instead to pursue ideas that would fail miserably in a world of measurable achievement; and gender studies, a fuzzy field where earnest types angrily analyze the “phenomenon of gender.” Usually while wearing underwear made from hemp.

First, let’s tackle gender studies. The gist: being female is a social construct, internal sex organs be damned. The relationship between men and women is not about love, but power – a struggle between the powerless female against evil patriarchal man.

In short, I could have just said, “moogiebloogietoogie,” and it would have made more sense. I see gender studies as the post-modern dance of educational disciplines. People only enroll in it, in the end, to teach it. In that sense, gender studies is more like joining Amway, but without the delightful products cluttering up your garage. Because gender studies isn’t something that helps you do anything else but teach gender studies, it’s understandable why tenure is so vital here. What else are you going to do once people find you out?

The sad thing is, the world really needs gender studies – a truly literal version of it, however. Men don’t get women, and women don’t get men – and rather than spending so much time deconstructing phallic fantasies – we should be teaching the sexes how to respect each other during our daily lives. Do that, and you don’t just deserve tenure, you deserve some excellent toiletries.

If you’d like me to stop by, I have some anti-aging creams and serums I’d love to show you. You’ll like them so much, I bet you’ll want to sell them yourself!

And if you disagree with me, you’re probably a racist.

Tonight we’ve got Jim Norton, Jeffrey Ross, Jonah Goldberg, John Devore and a newcomer: Nicole Petallides from Fox Business Channel!

The show’s unique combination of serious social commentary, folk music and violent desert dirtbike action sparked a brief but intense popularity among young viewers, spawning the memorable catch phrase “you heap big dead, paleface” — uttered by Chutch whenever a villain questioned his Native American bona fides.

“Chutch” rose to #16 in the Nielsens in its debut year, a level of popularity it never repeated. Ratings continued to slip through 1974, hobbled by weak scripts and the increasingly bizarre behavior of Bronston, a gifted method actor whose obsession with his role as a mystical revolutionary pseudo-Indian led to an unfortunate and debilitating peyote habit. The series was finally replaced in 1975 by the gritty police drama “Torino Squad” starring Lash LaDouche.

Plagued by typecasting and peyote flashbacks, Jan-Peter Bronston never again found steady work in Hollywood; today he operates a roadside bleached cow skull shop from his trailer home outside Hemet, California. He occasionally travels to fan fairs in the far East, where the program remains a staple of North Korean daytime TV. Although he blames “Chutch” in part for his six failed marriages and numerous unsuccessful stays in rehab, he says he wouldn’t have traded the experience.

“For a short time, I was the voice of an entire generation,” he says philosophically. “And when we were cancelled, I got to keep the dirtbike.”

EPISODE 106: BURY MY HEART AT WOUNDED EGO

OPENING TITLE SEQUENCE

Mystic flute and chime music; soft focus lens shot of a young Chutch standing in candlelit sweat lodge of his Tribal Master, Marcuse

MARCUSE: Are you ready for your final test, Angry Turtleneck?

YOUNG CHUTCH: I am ready, master.

MARCUSE: Then try to snatch the grant proposal from my hand.

Chutch deftly grabs the binder from the wizened master.

MARCUSE: With this ankh medallion I now grant you the ultimate power, Angry Turtleneck — a Master’s degree from Sangamon State University. I pray you will use it wisely.

Cue action music by Quincy Taylor Horns; split screen montage of Chutch driving Jeep, kung fu fighting, grading quizzes, playing acoustic guitar for mountain lion.

ANNCR: Chutch… in color, man!

ACT ONE – RAP SESSION ON THE CAMPUS QUAD

CHUTCH: … and that’s why the Japanese needed to make that statement — they were speaking out against The Man’s imperial colonization of the indigenous Hawaiians.

FEMALE STUDENT #1: Groovy! You really know how to stick it to The Man, Professor Churchill!

CHUTCH: “Professor Churchill” is what The Man wants you to call me, little one. In my classroom, my name is Chutch. Why do you laugh?

FEMALE STUDENT #2: Because, well… we’re not in a classroom! We’re outdoors!

CHUTCH: Haven’t you been listening? “Classrooms” are only cells in the big global prison run by The Man. The Man didn’t build “buildings” to keep rain out, The Man built them to keep you in. See? That’s why I’m holding today’s rap lab outside, in the natural harmony of nature. It is the classroom of my people, the Arapazowee people. My desk is this grass, my chalkboard is this stick, my filmstrip is that sky.

MALE STUDENT #3: Far out, Profes… I mean, Chutch. Do all the other Arapazowees have red hair like you?

ZAPATA: Rowwwr!

CHUTCH: Easy, Zapata, the boy is young and ignorant. Billy, the path to wisdom means learning, but also unlearning. You must unlearn the Indian stereotypes fed to you by The Man. Not all Indians live in teepees, and do rain-dances, or have brown eyes. Among my people, the Arapazowees, there were redhairs, and blackhairs, and blondhairs with pattern baldness, even the Freckled Ones. We lived in peace and harmony with the elk — before The Man came and killed all the Arapazowee except me.

BILLY: I… I didn’t know…

CHUTCH: You couldn’t have known, Billy. The Man covered up the massacre in the media, and that’s when I swore my revenge. Think of it this way — if I’m not an Indian, why am I wearing this Indian hat and fringed buckskin jacket?

FEMALE #1: I think Billy has watched too many episodes of Johnny Nuance!

BILLY: Hey!

Everyone laughs, as the class is approached by Dean White.

DEAN WHITE: Chutch! I’ve been looking for you all over campus… teaching outside? This is outrageous!

CHUTCH: Mellow out, Dean. Real learning means getting out of that artificial plastic kaleidescope circus tent war machine you call “education.” It means sitting cross-legged out here, soaking in the sunshine of truth.

DEAN WHITE: Perhaps the students love your highly unconventional methods, but they leave me exasperated!

CHUTCH: I thought you wanted to talk to me about something.

DEAN WHITE: Indeed I do! You’ve really done it now, Chutch. The alumni are in an uproar, the Board of Regents is grumbling, and the state legislature wants your hide! I tried to talk them out of it, but after you exposed the Eisenhower-Hitler connection, they swore they were coming to take your Arapazowee sacred Talisman of Tenure!

CHUTCH: So The Man wants a little showdown, eh? Let this be the Arapazowee’s last stand.

BILLY: Chutch, over there — here they come!

Sudden sound of motorcycle engines; biker gang appears on quad, astride filthy choppers. They roar across the green, up a ramp, and vault in midair over the heads of Chutch and his students. Freeze Frame.

COMMERCIAL SPOT #1A

Singers
Go! Go! GO! With the Now Generation!
Pants! Pants! Pants! For a New Celebration!

ANNCR: New Montgomery Grants action flares! The now-scene pants with the Sta-Prest comfort that will blow your mind…

Echo-y sound EFX with pulsating lights and fuzz guitar; grainy color animation of hot air balloons and 1890 marching bands over M.C. Escher background

ANNCR (contd): Bold stripes and fringed patchwork paisleys that put The Man on notice – you are a new generation and you demand a new pair of slacks!

bellbottom rainbow arcs over polluted city — vacuuming a stream of hardhats, army generals, and cigar-chomping industrialist into its legs

VOICEOVER: Montgomery Grants Action Flares — now only $8.95 through Sunday. See the Youngwear Department of your local Montgomery Grants.

COMMERCIAL SPOT #1B

GROWLING SINGER: Chutch Power!

ANNCR: Now Action Chutch has twice the power… and twice the accessories!

BOYS: Right ON! [power salute]

ANNCR: Custom Bultaco dirtbike! Turtleneck! Life-like college grant proposals! Zapata with real growl action!

ZAPATA: Rorrrrwwrrr!

BOYS (look at each other and soul-shake) Radical!

ANNCR: And the ultimate in Chutch Power — the official Chutch Boulder University Native Studies Department, with Dome of Tenure!

BOY #1: You can’t up my teaching load, I’m going on sabbatical!

BOY #2: Grrr!

ZAPATA: Rowwwrrr!

GROWLING SINGER: Chutch Power!

ANNCR: Chutch and Comrades action sets, by Plastico. Wherever fine toys are sold.

ACT TWO – THE CHOPPER GANG

Return to Freeze Frame. Airborn choppers land on quad, causing students form protective circle of solidarity around Chutch.

CHUTCH: Stand aside, little ones. This is my battle.

LENNY THE BIKER: You made a whole bunch of the wrong enemies, Injun man! Now hand over that talisman, and nobody gets hurt!

CHUTCH: I could no more give you my talisman of tenure than I could give you my state merit raise, or the very sun itself. Now go. We are humble scholars, we mean you no harm.

LENNY THE BIKER: Heh heh. Suit yourself, Chief. Let’s get ‘em boys!

Choppers pop their clutches, careening toward Chutch and his class. Two choppers dig a circular dirt donut around Chutch while others snatch helpless students.

LENNY THE BIKER: Okay, Injun, we’re gonna have a little fun while you stand there and watch. But if you step out of that circle, we’re gonna kill you. 

Students scream as bikers beat students with hobnailed issues of National Review and Reader’s Digest.

LENNY THE BIKER: What are you laughing at, Injun?

CHUTCH (giggling): While you weren’t looking, I stepped out of the circle three times!

LENNY THE BIKER: All right, playtime is over. Boys, get out the Nixon campaign buttons.

CHUTCH: No! Leave the students alone! I’ll do what you say. You may take… you may take the Talisman of Tenure.

LENNY THE BIKER: Now you’re thinking straight, Chief. Let’s have a look at… wait a minute! You ain’t no Injun! Haw haw! Lookee here boys! Old Pro-fesser Crazy Horse here has got hisself a headful of red roots under his war bonnet!

Gang begins laughing as Chutch goes through slow burn. Misty lens flashback to sweat lodge.

YOUNG CHUTCH: How will I know I am a true Arapazowee warrior, Master?

MARCUSE: This I will tell you — when The Man comes to question his tenure, the warrior of the true path will make himself known by his actions. And filing a formal grievance with the Faculty Diversity Committee.

Flash forward to present. Chutch reaches boiling point, clenches fists.

CHUTCH: You heap big dead, paleface!

Chutch leaps through air in fierce flying kick. Freeze frame.

COMMERCIAL SPOT #2

Aerial helicopter shot of all new 1973 DMC Groovie winding through mountain roads.

ANNCR: Jan-Peter Bronston.

Jan-Peter: The wind in my hair. It means a lot to me. That’s why when DMC asked to do the Chutch Edition of the all-new 1973 Groovie, I insisted on high performance T-Top styling, bold mountain lion decals, and rich buckskin vinyl interior.

Windshield shot of Jan-Peter taking Chutch Edition DMC Groovie through mountain switchback. Scene changes to dragstrip, as Jan-Peter dons asbestos firesuit and helmet.

Jan-Peter(contd): Performance and style is what the ‘73 Groovie is all about. From the Groovie Hatchlin Squareback all the way to the high output Groovie Hugger GSXTSi — with its racing-inspired side scoops, green stripe polyglas radials, slotted mag-style hubcaps, and 105 cast iron ponies of double barrel carbureted Slant 5 power*. 

*Not available in California, Kentucky or Vermont

Jan-Peter(contd): And if luxury comfort is your bag, check out the ‘73 Groovie Civilienne Pescadero, with its exclusive quintaphonic 11-track sound system and a distinct opera-hole vinyl roof inspired by the great roadcars of east-central Europe.

Jan-Peter exits Groovie at exclusive Hollywood discotheque, handing keys to beaming valet.

Jan-Peter(contd): Thanks to DMC’s settlement with the UAW and new federal loan package, the ‘73 Groovie is available today. Visit your local DMC dealer for a test viewing, and tell ‘em Jan-Peter Bronston sent you. Maybe you’re ready to finally let the whole world know: you’re a Groovie man.

Pan Helicopter shot of Jan-Peter and Groovie on top of isolated rock outcropping; fade

ACT THREE – TAKING OUT THE TRASH

Unfreeze frame; Chutch flies through air in slo-mo, his mocassins of fury taking out two bikers; he takes out a third with a vicious kung-fu chop.

CHUTCH: Hai-Chomsky!

Momentarily dazed, the bikers get to their feet, swinging chains.

LENNY THE BIKER: Eat our shackles of oppression, intellectual!

ZAPATA: Rowwwwwrrrr!

BIKER: Let’s split, man! That dude’s packing endangered wildlife!

Bikers scramble for their choppers, as students pummel them with protest signs reading “FAR OUT” and “GROOVY.” Frightened, Lenny runs across the quad, but is taken down by a leaping Zapata.

ZAPATA: Rowwwwwrrrr!

CHUTCH: Good job, faithful cougar friend. (to Lenny) Now I think its time for you to tell me who sent you for the talisman, you stinking tool of the bourgeois!

LENNY THE BIKER: Aiiee! Anything, just get that wild animal off me! It was the Technocrats of Empire, over at the Boulder Savings & Loan! They were the ones! Because of your speaking Truth to Power, they couldn’t get a zoning permit to build that new ski development over the sacred Arapazowee burial ground! I didn’t have nothin’ to do with it!

CHUTCH: All right, Zapata. Let him up.

DEAN WHITE: Well, I guess that mystery is solved. Let’s all get back to class now, before anyone rocks the boat further.

CHUTCH: I’m afraid it’s not that easy, Dean. Quick, Zapata! To the Bultaco!

Chutch and Zapata leap aboard Chutch’s gleaming, fringe-festooned dirtbike and tear across campus, leaping over ivied hedges.

DEAN WHITE: Where is that brilliant fool going now?

BILLY: I’d say there’s some injustice to be undone, Dean.

Scene shifts to the boardroom of the Boulder Savings & Loan.

BALD WHITE MAN #1: Cigars and brandy, gentlemen? With our meddlesome tenured activist friend safely out of the way, I would like to offer a toast to [reveals master plan blueprints] Sacred Mountain Ski Resort! To oppression!

BALD WHITE MEN: Huzzah!

BALD WHITE MAN #1: Yes… magnificent… an exclusive paradise for the Bourgeois! And no Indians, not even pretend ones!

BALD WHITE MAN #2: Except for the ones buried there!

BALD WHITE MEN: Haw haw!

BALD WHITE MAN #1: Wait a minute… does someone hear an airplane?

Cockpit of Cessna.

CHUTCH: Okay, Zapata, this is it… put on this chute pack.

ZAPATA: Rowr?

CHUTCH: Don’t worry, faithful friend. Today, the chickens come home to roost for the Little Eichmanns at Boulder Savings & Loan. Geronimo!

Chutch, Zapata and dirtbike leap to safety, as Cessna explodes into fireball into Savings & Loan. Fade out. Fade in to campfire scene, as Chutch strums his acoustic guitar soulfully for a tired Zapata.

SONG: “Colorado Kung-Fu Justice Man”
Words & Music by Tommy Terry and Danny Boycey
Performed by Jan-Peter Bronston
From the ABC-Polyglam LP, “Arapazowee Nation” 

In the aspen covered Rockies there’s a legend often told
Of a tenured native shaman with a cougar, grey and gold
He had two fists of fury and a Master of Arts Degree
From accredited Sangamon State University

CHORUS
He was a Colorado kung fu justice man,
Fighting fascist critics across the campus land.
Office hours: Monday Wednesday Friday 9 to 10
Colo-RADO (kung fu)
Colo-RADO (kung fu)

With red hair in his hat and Arapazowee soul
Speaking truth to power was his only goal
Writing grants and lectures, a simple mountain life
A Bultaco for his horse and a cougar for his wife

FADE OUT
ROLL CREDITS