FRIDAY, 17 MARCH, 2000, PHILADELPHIA

A Descent to Dorkdom: A Parable 4th grade. New public school. Didn't know anyone. Brandy ____ was a friendly girl and we started playing together at recess. She gave me a grey stuffed elephant that I cleverly named "Ellie". Then one day, Paige came up to me and said, "Look, you're new here, so I'll cut you a break. Catch a clue. NOBODY likes Brandy ____. And if you keep hanging out with her, NO ONE will like YOU either!" Next day, I was walking past the swings at recess where Brandy and I often bandied. "Hey! Where ya goin'?" called Brandy as I walked by, ignoring her. "You're STINKY, Brandy ____! I don't want to be your friend anymore!" I shouted. Or, if not 'stinky', then whatever the applicable moronic adjective of 1980 was. I felt immediately sickened, but felt in a muddy, bewildered kinda way that I did the 'right thing' by kowtowing to the majority. (Cue John Lennon song: Instant karma's gonna gitchooo…) Next year, new private school. First day, I am approached by Stephanie ____. "Hi, I'm Stephanie ____. My daddy owns Air Cal and the Seattle Mariners. What does your daddy own?" (ver batim) I stammered and emitted the sentence that would damn my social career for the next three years: "Er, uh, a house?" Karma is said to be threefold. I got precisely that. I was instantly metamorphosed into the Stinky Boy By The Swings for three years in penance of my one year of Brandy abuse. The moral of this story is obvious — rich kids are awful kids. Or, wait, I mean, don't be mean to people because of stupid peer pressure. Yah, that's the moral. Sorry about the confusion. But the epilogue is uplifting: All the dorks, losers and Stinky Boys and Girls from grade school have turned out to shine as adults. Have you noticed? All the Stephanie's seem to be married to marines with 8 kids by now — fat, and stuck in drab, unsatisfying lives in the 'burbs. It seems whenever I meet someone interesting, they invariably confess (eventually) to being the Stinky Boy or Girl by the Swings, 15–20 years ago. Long live the revolution.