Eli

Analytical Paragraph: Eli

Ryan Schimpf

05-30-14

 

                In the short story “Eli” by Vincent Lam, each character is immoral for a different reason. The police officers said that “Eli is a bad man, and we find many such people are accident prone.” (p.167) This was their excuse for hitting Eli while arresting him. The doctor found out that Eli was hit because he didn’t have cuts on his hand like a person who had fallen would have had. The actions of the police are the most unjustifiable. Although they were arresting him, nothing in the story says that Eli was violent or resisting arrest. After biting the doctor, Eli said “Didn’t mean to bite you, man,” (p.178) meaning that he meant to bite the police officer to get revenge for when they had hit him. The fact that the police officers pushed him for no reason makes Eli’s actions the most justifiable; although Eli wanted and deserved revenge, he could have gotten it in a different way. Later in the story, the doctor puts a pair of scissors down beside Eli so he can cut the officers. When Eli came into the hospital, he wouldn’t sit still while getting stitches. The doctor switched to using staples because they were faster and would be easier to use. “Thunk Thunk. I put in a few extra just for the sting.” (p.178) The doctor decides that Eli is stubborn and deserves a few more painful stitches. It isn’t until after he inspects Eli’s hands that he realizes Eli didn’t actually fall - the police injured him. After he realizes this he gives Eli the scissors. The doctor is justified because Eli was pushed for no reason, and that the police were the real enemies. The police started this chain of immoral events, and sometimes getting revenge requires actions that some might find immoral.

The Witch and the Butterflies

The Witch and the Butterflies

 

 In the hush of the night, a stream of majestic butterflies flew toward a lone tree. An old hag living in a cottage adjacent to the knoll is on her way back from the nearby swamp. Now, as this old witch only had one eye, she couldn’t see as she began walking through the parade of butterfly wings.

“These darn bats,” said The Witch, “Always in my way!” They weren’t bats but she didn’t care, as she was in a hurry to return to her shack to brew her potions. Shooing away the butterflies with a spell book and a sachet of newts’ eyes under her arms, she scurried into her cellar.

The Witch began brewing a recipe from her book. Sparks and fire were shooting out of her cauldron. Purple and green mists were swirling around the room as she added ingredients into the pot. She added the newts’ eyes one at a time, and when the last one was in, a cloud of ashes exploded into her face.

“Oh drat!” As she read the book she said, “This calls for eyes of frog, not newt!” Angrily, the old woman ran out of her cottage only to run into the butterflies again.

“These stupid birds!” Once again she waved them off of her and continued to the swamp. After returning, she once again ran into the butterflies.

“I HATE THESE OWLS!” (They were still butterflies.) Breathing heavily, she scuttled to the top of the hill to figure out where all of the butterflies were going. At the top she noticed a fountain springing from the tree trunk. Each butterfly was landing in the stream going down the trunk, taking a drink, and the flying back.

“What’s going on here?” she said as one of the butterflies landed on her shoulder.

“We all used to be witches just like you,” the bug replied, “until we made a bad potion that turned us into these hideous beasts. This fountain is supposed to turn us back into humans, but we’ve been trying for weeks with no results!”

“Hideous is right!” replied The Witch. “I think I might just have a brew for you! I’ll be back!”

Excitedly she ran back to her cottage to retrieve the potion, cackling as she went. She arrived at the basement and swung the doors open. She got so excited knowing that the butterflies would soon be gone that had she tripped down the stairs. After picking up the potion she began running back. She got halfway to the butterflies when she tripped and dropped the small bottle containing the potion made of frogs’ eyes. The glass shattered nut The Witch did not falter. She called out to the butterflies.

“Hey you,” she said, “come and drink this!”

One by one the creatures came to drink.

“It’s not working!” said the butterflies. “We can’t be saved!”

“”This has to work!” replied The Witch.

In all the excitement the hag began to drink. Instantly The Witch was turned into a butterfly. It turns out she needed newts’ eyes all along.

 

Every Picture Tells a Story by Ryan Schimpf

 

            Although I enjoy seeing other people’s works at the art gallery, this trip was like Groundhog Day as I’ve been here twice already this month. I want to have a second opportunity to reinterpret the pieces in the gallery. I’m glad that instead of having to do a mock trial, we are going to the art gallery because most of the defense team is gone. As we walked down Ellis Street toward the gallery, we left the red brick walls of the school behind.

 

            As soon as we leave the school grounds, we crossed the street and passed a sushi restaurant where Mitchell immediately started playing ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA. Multitudes of houses are still wearing their Christmas lights. As we pressed onward, we passed an abandoned building that I recognized as the old location of a graphic design store which has now moved to a street parallel to the one my Grandmother lives on. I saw weeds and flowers breaking through the sidewalk reclaiming their land. We saw a professional looking building with the words ‘Kemp Harvey Kemp Inc.’ on it which honestly sounds just a little bit redundant to me.

 

            Everybody else looks excited to be doing this. I hope it’s obvious that that last sentence was facetious. I honestly think that nobody is thinking about this assignment right now. Looking around, I noticed our flappy feathered friends – or ‘birds’ to the layman – cradled in branches. As we walked down Ellis Street – a street I’ve not often frequented – I remembered that my dad works on one of the side-streets in a land surveyor’s office; my father’s career has nothing to do with art or English class so I continued down the street.

 

            When we got to the gallery, I found a piece of art called ‘Alice in NOT SO Wonderland’ by an artist whose name I don’t remember. Don’t even get me started on this piece – I hate it; but don’t worry there is a legitimate reason. In terms of composition, this piece is simplistic, and yet it seems to stand out – possibly because of the shock value of it. The shock value comes from the use of headless mannequin bodies, and bodiless mannequin heads. Going from left to right, there is a head that is hung by a noose that says “Option #2”, the “Option #1” is under it, and it is a box containing pill bottles. The middle of the piece contains a mannequin body with no head but a paper bag in its place. On the far right are three heads with electrical tape covering various facial features to represent the emotions of “hear no evil, speak no evil, and see no evil.” I feel that using drugs and violence to explain a Alice’s adventures in a mystical land is very overdone.

 

            This trip was very ironic as it was supposed to be enlightening and educational, and I was given the chance to reinterpret the pieces, but I found out that revisiting a gallery containing the same work twice will not make you re-analyze something so macabre.

 

Protest Poem

Gender inequality is really uncool,
Men and women are always compared.
All should be allowed to go to school,
The way one treats another is very unfair.

While women are often objectified,
Notice that it happens to all.
After years of women being considered less,
Not many notice the tables have turned on some.

Although women used to be treated as lesser than men,
Things have changes today.
But in some countries far from ours,
Some things stay the same.

A change is in order.
The time is now,
A change in the borders,
Our views on equality need to change just like time has changed our minds.

Philosophy Poem

Philosophy Poem

 

No man can be alone.

Although sometimes isolation can repair someone,

We are all connected.

Our actions and reactions affect others in the world.

 

We cannot exist by only making decisions for ourselves,

Our thoughts can affect others as well.

Our ideas affect the ways others think.

 

For when the bell tolls, it rings for us all to hear.

Ode to Ron Burgundy

Ode to Ron Burgundy

Man of legend,

Moustache of legend.

 

You have taken great strides in the world of news broadcasting.

With a voice that can make a kitten purr,

And salon quality hair.

A need for scotch and women.

You have raised sharks as your own,

And reached the number one ratings slot in San Diego.

You can talk to dogs, and women, without a flaw.

You’re one classy fellow,

And you wrote a hell of a book.

 

Your philosophy is that “Sometimes people don’t want the truth. They just want the news.”

This has allowed you to achieve fame.

With a tall glass of scotch and your fellow news team,

It’s that time again, to give people what they want – the news.

Parody of Sonnet XVIII by William Shakespeare by Ryan Schimpf

Parody of Sonnet XVIII by William Shakespeare by Ryan Schimpf

 

Shall I compare thee to Ron Burgundy?

Thou art more classy and more outstanding.

Critics do shake the esteem of the team,

And Ron’s voice hath a place in broadcasting.

Sometimes too bright the man of heaven race,

And often is his complexion outshone;

And every hair and hair always in place,

His tremendous work will never be done;

But his eternal sheen will never dim

Nor lose possession of that class thou ow’st;

Nor shall Death take the fame away from him,

When on T.V. his grandeur shall grow’th:

You are like him but he is much better,

That Ron Burgundy was a trend setter.