A Humorous Piece
by Julian Pollack
AKA Brotha Juls, the Family Juls
The Frére, Foolian,
And MendoMan,
I’m supposed to write something humorous for English class. But guess what. I don’t give a shit. I hate school. I don’t want to do it. It’s a rainy day and I’m sitting here at my computer in my plain white-T and my Nikes. And my boxers. That’s how I roll in the morning. I don’t wear pants until after I’ve taken a shower. But fo sho I be sportin dem Nikes. Yeea. I’ll take a shower after I’ve finished writing this thing. And then I’m going to have to go to my Walking class. We learn how to walk. It’s like I’m retarded[1] or something. Naw, I’m just playing. But it’s still a walking class. I have to take it to graduate Berkeley High. That would suck if I couldn’t graduate. I wouldn’t want people going around saying did you know Julian didn’t graduate because he failed Walking? Actually, I’m not going to Walking today. Or Heart Fitness, that’s what they call it. I love how administrations apply sophisticated names to hella dumb things. Let’s call a class where all you do is walk around the track like a goddamn mouse on a treadmill and listen to your iPod “Heart Fitness.” Oh, and occasionally you work out with vegetable cans as weights. I like to just be real about it and call it “Walking.” But I think the class is worthy of other names like “PESDAAWS” (PE For Students Who Don’t Actually Want To Do Shit) or “FCRSAAR” (Fitness Class For Retarded[2] Students Who Aren’t Actually Retarded).Yeah, fo sho. And if you can’t understand my language, go to Cody’s and get a Berkeley High Dictionary.
In truth, I will not be attending Heart Fitness this lovely, rainy, shitty March morning. That’s because I have to write this humorous piece. I was supposed to do it over the weekend but I got distracted. I was kickin it with fools and you know how it is. You just kick it for hella long and then before you know it’s Sunday night . And then you’re like, damn, I have copious amount of homework that must be done. But I just didn’t feel like doing my English homework. Yeah fo sho. So I just ate hella Dryer’s Peanutbutter Cup Ice Cream. Mmmmmm. That sheez is chronic. It be like grapes, blood.
So I’m probably just going to go to Math. If I can get there on time. AP Calculus AB. Actually, people call it “Calc.” I love how people can’t say anything these days. There are abbreviations for everything. You can’t say that at 9:30 you’re going to “Calculus.” You’re going to “Calc.” “Hey Brian, what math are you in?” “Oh I’m in Calc BC. That’s right, I’m a smart motherfucker.” Or “Did you do the Bio homework?” “Naw, bitch, I’m in AP Chem.” Well this year I’m in Enviro-Sci. Yeah, that’s right Environ-poo-poo-mental Science. AKA Boo-boo Class. We study trees. And my homie Abe was like “that’s what I smoke, blood!” More on that class later. I got to take a shower. Or else I’ll be late for Calc.
So if you’ve read this far, you’re probably thinking, man this sucks. What is the point of this piece of crap anyway? Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t know. It’s so I can get an A in Mr Bye’s class. Yeah, fo sho. I like A’s. But maybe I’ll get a B because it may not have enough “structure.” But it does. I am telling you, the reader, exactly what’s on my mind. That’s the structure, homie. So give me an A. I deserve it, just like everyone else. Everyone gets A’s these days. And why do we students strive to get A’s? To get into Yale. Or Columbia. Fuck Columbia. Columbia sucks. I got my letter in the mail the other day and it read:
Dear Mr. Pollack,
We regret to inform you that, like, we’re sorry and stuff, but there just, like, isn’t enough room for you. Sorry if you’re like sad or whatever. Try again next year. Maybe if you get your SATs to be 2350 instead of 2340 you’ll get in. A Kleenex is enclosed if you’re really disappointed. Oh, and there’s one for your mom, too. We wish you every success in your future endeavors, dumb-ass.
Sincerely,
Yeah, what a pisser. I should have written them back. If I did, I would have written:
Dear Columbia,
I regret to inform you that you and your shit school suck. Even if you would have accepted me, I wouldn’t have accepted you. Why don’t you just go back to your little Morning Side Heights hole and read this fine poetry:
He’ll roll on Columbia like it ain’t no thang
So come and see me on the track
And I’ll throw ya on tha ground to play patty-wack
Yeah that’s right boy I’m from B-Town
So don’t talk smack or ya fitsta get smacked
Right upside ya head
Yeah y’all beezees that’s what I said
I greatly appreciate your time and I look forward seeing you in New York in September. I will proceed and continue to rock the mic.
Sincerely,
Julian Pollack
Juilliard
It wasn’t until two weeks after the announced date that Juilliard sent out its letters. The letter I got from them had the same gist as the letter from Columbia. But I don’t care. I mean I do, but let’s just say I don’t. How about any of you out there who have been rejected from your top choice schools? Yeah, just say you don’t care, it wasn’t my top choice anyway. I didn’t spend much time on the essay in the app. Isn’t it funny these days how so many of us get rejected from the schools that are our top choices? It’s always the people who don’t really need to who get into the schools you want to go to. You’ll be talking to a friend, “Yeah, I’m really bummed. I just got rejected from Columbia.” And your friend will say, “Oh, I’m sorry. That sucks.” And you’ll ask the person where they got in and they’ll be like “I think I’m going to Brown. They gave me a full ride, so I think I’m about to go there. I don’t know, though. I also got into Yale and Columbia. Where do you think I should go?” And then just walk away. Go drink some Kool-Aid.
But about Juilliard. I can’t believe that place, man. They’re hella dumb. I spent so much time and money on the audition process that it’s not even funny. That’s why I’m not going to tell you about it. After all, this is a humorous piece. Not a Let-Me-Bitch-About-My-Life piece. But that’s basically what this is turning into. Don’t trip, chocolate chip, this is still hella funny and I know that you’ve been laughing. Yes, you have been laughing if you got this far. If you didn’t think this was funny you would have gone on to something else by now. Maybe you would be reading some other dude’s shit. Or maybe you have to read this and you don’t think it’s funny. Well listen up, asshole, I’m tired and need to sleep so it can’t be much longer.
There’s one part of my rejection from Juilliard that I thought was worthy of being reprinted on this fine piece of literature you are reading. I love euphemisms. I find them extremely funny. At the end of the letter it said:
You are, however, welcome to re-apply for the next school year should you continue to have an interest in this program, but please note that you may only re-apply two times receiving unfavorable results.
That last part is so funny. Basically it says:
We’re glad you want to come here but if you don’t get it on the second time, we never want to hear from your bitch-ass again, even if you practice and become one of the world’s greatest musicians, even if in a few years you are revered as one of the most up and coming musicians in the world, even if you have a major record deal that will bring the glory to the school, even if you will give the Admission’s Officer sexual favors. Two strikes, you’re out like a peach in pie.
They are so dumb. Why would you shoot your self in the foot like that? ljhkkhlkhjbjyfydtrsdtyskaj;dlfkjas;dfkjsa;dfk!?!!? That’s what’s up. I need to go eat some peanut butter cup ice cream. BRB.
Back. OMG, that sheez was so chronic. LOL! I needa go 2 bed bcause I haf 2 get up early and do more HW. I’ll tell u the rest of the story 2marow. Peace. TTLY. I mean TTYL.
**********Reader, read this next section when you wake up tomorrow*************
Hey! Morning. So u wanna hear the rest of the story? Here’s the rest of the story: there isn’t a rest. This is it. This is the end of the road, homie. So I hope you liked it. You better have liked it. And if you didn’t, whatever. I don’t care. The truth is, I woke up and I don’t have time to write more. I need to get to school so I don’t fail Walking. Peace.