Original subtitles

Okay, students,

here is 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It's completely outdated.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 ve-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 fat cat,

"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--

uh, 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.

- "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.

Uh, 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 pom-poms 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, kevie, 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 is 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 slight change

in our lesson plan.

Today we'll discuss the planet" relative distance from the sun.

But we did that two weeks ago, Ms. B.

And now we're gonna 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.

- 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.

- the refreshing way to learn.

You don't think they're gonna try to make Mr. Demartino

use Ultra Cola in his class lessons, do you?

Argh!

Stupid...

Argh!

Stupid cola... argh... friggin'...

Marketing contract...

Auuuugh!

What was the question?

Oh, kevie, 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.

Ohhhh.

Uh, I like that in a woman?

Nnuh!

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?

Whoo-hoo! Yeah! All right!

All right, men, give 'em hell,

and drink, my lads, drink.

Yeah! Whoo-hoo!

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.

Ugh! Ahhh!

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, uh,

the lions have to forfeit.

We've all got... tummyaches.

Oh, no, Kevin.

To what do you attribute this, the dreaded influenza?

No, too much Ultra Cola.

I've 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 from 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 really--

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 around the pretty machines.

Ooh!

Ooh, ooh, ooh!

Open up, you lousy damn machine!

Give up the soda in your bowels!

Soda, soda, must have soda, oh!

Arrgh, augh, ooh!

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.

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