All language subtitles for Daria - 05x01 - Fizz Ed

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 1991, 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It's completely outdated.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 $50,000 to be used as the school sees fit."

$50,000...

And that's if we don't get a bidding war 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 $50,000?

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 weapon 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 30th at 6:00.

What'd she say? The 30th?

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 30th is a Sunday. Who holds school review meetings on Sunday?

Daria, the 30th 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.

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 500 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.

Class, there's been a change in our lesson plan.

Today we'll discuss the 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.

Now, the reason for the change is that I've received a brand new... learning aid.

"Why, look, students. A three-dimensional model of our solar system,

graciously provided by Ultra Cola.

Ultra Cola: the favorite beverage in any universe."

"We can use it to discuss which planets' atmospheres 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.

From now on, the period between classes will be increased from five minutes to ten,

allowing you more time to get to your Ultra Cola lockers, organize your

Ultra Cola backpacks, and still enjoy a delicious Ultra Cola.

Ultra Cola: the refreshing way to learn.

You don't think they're going to 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 60 average, drink 20 cans and you'll have a 61! 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.

Written by Glenn Eichler
www.outpost-daria.com

Synchro by Atrabilogie