Dear White People (2017–…): Season 3, Episode 4 - Volume 3: Chapter IV - full transcript
♪ Kicked up ♪
♪ I was 13, I was working ♪
♪ Tryna get my hands on
The first ding-a-ling ♪
♪ I was lurking
We were flirting ♪
♪ Baby boy, mmm
Can you be my king, king ♪
♪ Kicked up ♪
- ♪ I been watching you ♪
- ♪ Watching ♪
♪ Kicked up ♪
It's on the house,
you little chocolate croissant, you.
Nothing's free, Brooke.
Like my mommy always says,
"There's more in the mortar
than the pestle."
Well, like I always say,
"Pussy over patriarchy."
What you need to do is begin every
sentence with "trigger warning."
Got a big one.
Again?
Yeah, it's my favorite part of writing
for Pastiche.
Only getting coffee.
I asked for almond milk.
My bubble guts indicate that you cowed me.
- Here we go, gentlemen.
- And lady.
I don't see gender.
I've got the latest issue,
hot off the press.
Now, I don't normally do praise, but...
tipping my cap to Troy.
My dude made the cover of his first issue.
Never could have done a piece like this
without you.
♪ One, two, three, wake up! ♪
♪ Wake up! ♪
♪ Aww, yeah! ♪
♪ Wake up!
Kurt's never nice to new guys.
What do you got on him?
He... liked the piece I wrote?
It can't be that.
You are a hotter, smarter,
more unproblematically charming
version of him.
He can't beat you,
so he's joining you.
There were a lot of compliments in there,
but it still hurt.
Same puppet, new strings.
Please tell me Kanye West
changed his name to Troy Fairbanks
and started writing for Pastiche.
Couldn't help himself.
Damn, nigga.
Why?
Hey, Troy!
Psst!
Yo, did you, uh, read my story?
Depends if...
Will there be any follow-up questions?
Man, what did you think?
I just...
I feel like it went over folks' heads.
Maybe.
Maybe, at best,
it reads as though you have a...
third-grade understanding
of affirmative action.
"We all know with a name like Tyrone
on the res,
white folks...
ain't called my black ass back.
So I should just get high
and go to DeVry in peace." What?
Well, he took out all the context,
where I make fun of white folks
who complain
about affirmative action
denying them opportunities.
This motherfucker.
Bro, he took out all the white stuff
and now it's just a black guy
who's shitting on affirmative action.
Yes, it is.
This shit was supposed to be satirical!
It's more of a farce.
Which will prompt similar states
of exaggeration.
It serves a different agenda,
emphasizing entertainment...
over social commentary?
Are you going to just let me peter out
or will you interrupt me, for God's sake?
Yo, Troy.
I thought you disappointing folks
was a thing of the past.
I guess retro shit's in.
- Uh-uh.
- Mmm.
That's your I-can't-stay-for-grits
I-gotta-go face.
I know.
But stay, have fun.
I know how you love denigrating Troy.
Eh, it's lost its thrill.
Mmm. Well, tomorrow night, I'm all yours.
I will hang on your every word,
I will lavish you with love and laughter,
and even...
Oh. Okay, okay.
I'll see you tomorrow night.
I can't believe Kurt sandbagged me.
He put his testicles on your face?
I've heard of abuses of power, but...
- It's "tea bagged," Lionel.
- Oh, right.
Bro, my version
was all about making fun of anyone
who'd argue against affirmative action.
It was nuanced and had pathos
and the shit was funny.
Now I sound like a ComicView clip
that's aged poorly.
Egad. And those don't age at all.
You want me to beat Kurt up?
Or, more realistically,
outsource it to Al?
I mean,
Kurt looked me in the face and said,
"We could've never done a piece
like this without you."
You're their Get Out of Racism Free card.
- A mascot for...
- Ain't nobody talking to you, Abigail.
- You don't know me like that.
- Sorry.
And here we go.
- I know what you're going to say.
- You do?
You didn't want me to join Pastiche.
Not at first.
And I shouldn't be stepping
and/or fetching for white laughs,
and even though I've reached a goal,
it comes with responsibilities.
The world wasn't made for me,
so I have to work twice as hard,
blah, blah, blah.
Well, as long as it doesn't have anything
to do with fountains and genitals,
I... I think it's a step
in the right direction.
I get it.
I can't trust them to do the right thing,
so I have to just talk to Kurt
and demand what's fair.
Damn.
That's exactly what I would have said.
I thought you were tuning me out
all those years.
Well, I'll let you know how it goes.
Son.
The reason I called you here...
Do these jeans look ridiculous?
Oh.
You know what? I'm going for the...
the more casual, you know,
connect-to-the-student kind of thing.
- Okay.
- Hmm?
Okay, yeah, everyone's going to be like,
"Hey, who's the new sophomore
who came back to college
due to a midlife crisis?"
Yeah, see, see, I knew it.
I'm trying too hard.
Ah, no, Pops.
- You look good.
- Really?
Oh, shit! Dad's got a girlfriend!
♪ Dad's got a girlfriend ♪
♪ Dad's got a girlfriend ♪
Ain't got no girlfriend!
Get out of here!
See, you stopped worrying about my dirt,
so now you got time for your own.
Use a rubber, son.
- Hi! How's it going?
- Have a good one.
All right.
- Oh, organic chem. Good for you.
- Thanks.
- Hey!
- Hi.
- Working hard or hardly working?
- Working hard.
Got your usual for you.
My man.
I got a red eye, for Jen.
She's in the bathroom.
Who?
♪ I'm a good man ♪
- Someone's sitting there.
- Well, then I'll just sit over here, then.
Walter.
I'm messing with you.
You're a sly one, Sandra.
Busy day?
The Ivy League paradox.
Assign a 20-page paper,
watch the overachievers struggle
to cram all their genius
into such draconian confines.
Mmm. Hell, there goes your weekend.
I stop reading after page 20.
I only grade what I assign.
Don't write me up.
I would never.
Well, you're teaching them
a very valuable lesson.
And safeguarding my Martha's Vineyard
me time this weekend.
These kids will not turn Inkwell
into Thinkwell.
Thinkwell, Inkwell!
That's brilliant!
That's a beautiful dress you're wearing.
It's...
Stop school-sponsored slave labor.
Stop school-sponsored slave labor.
Honestly?
I'm jealous.
You're the hardworking everyman now.
Three jobs, a grad thesis.
When you write your memoir,
this is going to be a really
humanizing chapter.
- I haven't slept in 48 hours.
- Yeah.
Well, my biggest hurdle this year
was trying to organize my birthday
at my parents' Cape house.
Then I find out they gave it
to my Aunt Bethany that weekend.
It really rocked me.
Maybe you should get back to work.
Normally I'm turned on by strong women.
Now!
And this is not an exception.
Winchester's TAs are paid
the lowest rates in the Ivy by 50%.
We need a living wage.
Please, come support tomorrow night.
It's important.
Thank you.
I offered you one and you treated me
like a Jehovah's Witness.
No shade. They are doing the Lord's work.
A very specific version of the Lord.
Can I have another one, please?
Thank you.
Is Brooke even a lesbian?
Or is she just a...
sexual tourist?
Fuck how she identifies.
Get your face between them thighs.
Ooh, that's a fire-ass hook!
- SoundCloud, get your ass ready!
- She's right, Kelsey.
I'd have to hear it in the context
of the song.
- Sorry, Jennifer.
- No, I mean... do you like Brooke?
I'm...
intrigued.
Then go for it.
And if she is just a tourist,
then take her out to the Bronx
and show her where the Battery is.
I just made a pop culture reference.
- From the '40s.
- You're right.
I've been way too binary.
I'm about to switch it up
into seduce mode.
No, wait. Too thirsty.
Allure mode.
Ugh. Can we change topics, please?
I am not versed in lesbian drama.
Mmm. You're not any kind of verse,
Miss Keisha Lance Bottoms.
First the closet now your shell?
Happy coming out day!
Michael's... positive?
Yeah, he's a super optimistic guy.
No.
I know what "positive" means.
I work in a mobile health truck.
But at 22?
It must be hard.
And now I still feel like I'm on TA duty.
Where is your alcohol?
Oh, I have some in the bathroom,
but it's for cuts and bruises.
Back in your shell.
Also, there's beer in the bathtub.
Beer?
Ohh!
She a butch queen! Butch!
It's Troy's, so go easy.
Please leave Abigail out of this, man.
Wait a minute.
Wait a minute. Wait... Lionel.
I detect heterosexualities.
What's happening?
Troy's having a ki, or whatever you call
the straight equivalent.
A brodown.
She doesn't get to talk in the group,
so nobody would know.
Joining!
Totes fluent in barbershop talk.
Jay-Z, football, bitches. Et cetera.
Sorry, guys!
I told them you were having
a ki... onversation in here.
Yeah, we were just ki-onversating
about Troy's Pastiche situation.
"Situation." That's kind.
I'd say "fiasco." "Debacle."
Is "cataclysm" hyperbolic?
Greetings, whoever you are
drinking my beer.
- This library is closed.
- Aww.
But my Kindle is charged all the way up.
And this is delicious. Thank you.
I assumed Kurt hijacked your piece?
Just plays right into what everyone
already thought of me.
Kurt is your friend.
Tell him that his actions
are unacceptable,
and that he must never
betray your trust again
if the friendship is to remain intact.
Hmm.
I'm kidding. Fuck that nigga.
Appealing to better angels is pointless
with a sexy white devil,
but my usual alternative
might not be up your alley.
It's sex, isn't it?
It is sex.
Fuck Pastiche.
Burn that bitch to the ground.
If you're not going to own
your own shit,
use your access,
fix the system from the inside.
Your beloved Obama tried that and failed.
James,
please leave.
- I was literally here first.
- I know.
And it's bumming us all out.
Put them all on blast,
show the school
what racist dicks they are,
create a power vacuum, then take over.
No. You need to punch those motherfuckers
in all they throats.
Nah. They mad weird about
throat-punches at this school.
I don't get it either.
Well, I...
I guess, I hope, this impromptu
Situation Room was helpful.
We'll leave. We should leave.
We should leave.
So all the new congresswomen's
menstrual cycles sync up,
and they go on a murderous rampage
in a session.
Of course, menopausal Pelosi participates
so she doesn't feel left out.
So, the punchline is that women are awful.
- And efficient at governing.
- Solid.
- Uh, Troy, you got something?
- New news.
"Butt implants recalled,
VMAs canceled."
But first I've got to air a grievance.
Hey, man. Look, I'm sorry, okay?
About all the black guy big-dick jokes.
Listen, I'm happy to pull mine out
and prove that God has also blessed
the melanin-deficient.
And that was the day I became an atheist.
Actually, it's about my cover piece.
Your edit completely changed the message.
I mean, your version...
and I'm not just being precious
with my shit...
your version made me look
like an Uncle Tom.
- You're my boy, so I know...
- You're really doing this in public?
It's a Pastiche problem,
so I'm doing it at a Pastiche meeting.
Which I graciously invited you to join
after you forced me to read your material.
That's not how it went down,
but what's the point of bringing me on
if readers don't trust me
because they think I'm a sellout?
I go over every piece of material
to maintain tonal consistency.
That's my job. And I'm killing it.
Yeah, well, that was before I joined.
I put you on the cover, man.
Oh.
So I should be thankful
I'm your black mascot?
So what you're saying,
in front of my entire staff,
is that you want to be treated differently
than everybody else.
No.
I'm just saying you have a blind spot
when it comes to my perspective.
Oh.
I see, because you're black,
you want preferential treatment.
Why didn't you just say that?
- I'm not trying to say that.
- Nate, you have a spastic colon.
Should I do anything special for you?
Not sharing my medical information
would be a start.
Oh, well...
Too late for that now, I guess.
I owe you an apology.
Oh!
I see somebody's finally
talking to Abigail.
You know, the myth of meritocracy
should be a required course at every Ivy.
So...
if you're Hillary Clinton's fake laugh...
then what am I?
To them,
you're an alien.
A poised, articulate black man
who doesn't fit into stereotypes.
They can't process
your existence on Earth.
Keep fighting the good fight.
The Clintons and aliens
will inherit the earth.
It's in the Bible.
You coming in?
Hey.
Where's Gabe?
It wasn't my turn to watch him.
Well, I brought him some food
since you made him work late.
Is he on break?
Um, he's not working tonight.
That's weird. He said he'd be here.
Was there a last minute
schedule change or...
Sam, I really don't want to get into
other people's business.
Bitch, you live
in other people's business.
I know.
I just like the power
of withholding information.
I think he went here.
Why would he lie?
Damn.
The white ones ain't shit either.
Because with wages this low,
only wealthy grad students
can afford to be TAs,
and that means that students
are missing out on, you know,
working class perspectives
from their professors.
Thank you.
No shade, but what the hell do you know
about working class struggles?
Uh, well, for one,
that was all shade, Sharon.
I... I'll admit, yeah...
I... I grew up
with money that I didn't earn.
Uh, my parents are Republicans,
so of course they trusted the economic
theories of the people they voted for,
and lost everything.
As I mentioned,
my parents are Republicans.
Look, the TA money alone just...
it doesn't do the trick.
Okay? I got two extra jobs.
I still can't afford to pay
for my grad film,
let alone my tuition for next semester.
I never sleep,
and it's like I'm in
a long-distance relationship,
and my girlfriend fucking goes here.
So I'm invested.
And I want to help.
So, you didn't start caring about this
until, like, yesterday?
Got it.
Enjoy your poor tour.
Ooh.
It is springtime outside,
but it is chilly in here
from all of the shade.
I know. No.
Sam, I'm sorry.
For what?
- You're really going to make me say it?
- You're really going to fight me on this?
- I'm sorry I lied about working tonight.
- Among other things.
You and I never really talked
about money.
Don't try that
sin of omission bullshit, Gabe.
Wait, hold on.
I know how you see the world.
I was afraid if you knew
just how much we had...
That I wouldn't let you in?
- What does that say about me?
- We all have biases.
I fucking hate being judged
on my demographics.
You really think I'd do that to you?
No... To boyfriend Gabe, no,
but to hot-TA-I-have
a-reluctant-crush-on Gabe, yeah.
Hot?
Okay, cute.
- No, you know you fine.
- Oh, shit.
But how much money are we talking?
Oh, well, my parents were the ones
who sold the island to Jerry Skyler.
I'm not laughing.
Look, Sam, if you had looked at me the way
that they just looked at me in there,
it would've killed me.
- It would've killed us.
- Before there was an us.
I didn't know how much money you had.
Though I kind of assumed
you didn't have much.
You were earnest and hardworking
and socially conscious and...
your wardrobe.
Yours is not the wardrobe
of a wealthy man.
You just couldn't help yourself,
could you?
Gabe...
money will never factor into love for me.
Just... presents.
Lots of presents.
That were never purchased for me
with all this money you done had.
- That said...
- I knew it was too easy.
...if you ever lie to me again,
I am not extending
the Angela Bassett courtesy
of burning your shit in the driveway.
I'm going full Left Eye Lopes on that ass.
There have to be more recent references
for revenge arson.
So, like...
was there...
an armed guard at the entrance
to your neighborhood?
Oh, fucking God.
- Did you board planes on a tarmac?
- What?
- Or was there a jetway involved?
- You're ridiculous.
- How much money...
- Hey.
That took courage.
That was awful.
Both can be true.
But please, come back.
Just don't talk about yourself.
Or better yet, lie.
Okay.
Bye, Gabe.
- Who the hell is that?
- That's nobody.
- We don't care about her.
- It ain't... You right, it's nobody.
- You nobody!
- We don't care about her.
Oh, uh, thanks, Kelsey, but I...
I work in a coffee shop.
Look at the foam, foolie.
Oh. Is...
that a no smoking sign?
Ohh.
So no one's ordering or making coffee,
we're just chatting.
Cool.
It's supposed to be kissy lips,
but it's a long walk
from the other coffee shop.
Anyway, you were very sweet to me, and...
I was rude.
Maybe there's more in this mortar.
Hopefully there is no more
in this conversation, girl.
I am feeling harassed
and under-caffeinated.
Buh-bye.
Can I have a latt...
A latte.
Kurt should have pulled you aside
to harangue you,
like he does me.
He harangues you in public constantly.
You've never heard the things
he's said in private.
When someone shows you who they are,
stab them in the front.
You guys are both editors.
Does he rake over your shit like that?
Oh, yeah. My therapist told me
it's to create, like, a communal spirit.
Like we speak with one voice.
A voice that sounds uncannily like Kurt's.
Dude, I put so much into what I do.
I once took a story about
the science school's rush
to publish flawed peer reviews,
and I laid it out perfectly
in the shape of boobs.
And then here comes Kurt!
Troy, you're new,
but think of it this way.
Soon, the unyielding manipulations
of your best efforts
by talentless overlords will form a callus
over the joy and passion
you once had for writing,
and then, my friend,
you'll be ready to write for television.
Mornin', massa!
Excuse me?
That's how you address labor exploiters.
And as a TA, it feels quite apropos.
Son.
Our TAs are absolutely paid...
Peanuts!
And I'm allergic.
Our administration prides itself
on honoring and valuing
all of our employees.
You're supposed to represent our interests
to the administration,
yet you sweep our concerns under the rug
so that the plantation runs smoothly!
Dean of Students?
Try Dean of Slaves.
I am uncomfortable with that metaphor.
And I'm uncomfortable
trying to get an education,
helping other students with theirs,
driving for Lyft, tutoring,
and still wondering
how I'm gon' pay my rent.
But I'm guessing all your bills is paid!
Is this a read? Am I being read?
And we're coming for you.
Like when the Greatest Generation
stormed the beaches of Normandy.
I was a slave owner,
now I'm a Nazi.
Yeah!
Why don't you come by my office,
and we'll continue this discussion
using our inside voices
and less problematic anecdotes.
Never.
Oh.
He was so excited about those jeans.
Sorry to call out your pops.
But sometimes folks need to get
sliced and diced.
And I stays with a razor blade
under my tongue.
Cute shirt.
I got to come to this coffee shop more.
So, the Kurt thing...
What are we going to do?
I think I've got an idea.
Ohh.
Let's stare at him in anticipation
until he finally tells us.
♪ You are the motherfucking shit ♪
♪ You are great ♪
♪ Get up, get out
Get, get, get out ♪
♪ Get up, get out
Get, get, get out ♪
♪ Get up ♪
♪ Get up ♪
♪ Born dirty ♪
♪ Up ♪
♪ Out ♪
♪ Out, up ♪
♪ Out ♪
♪ Get up, get out
Get, get, get out ♪
♪ Get up, get out
Get, get, get out ♪
♪ Get up ♪
♪ Get up ♪
♪ Born dirty ♪
♪ Up ♪
♪ Out ♪
♪ Up, out ♪
♪ Out, up, out ♪
♪ Up, out ♪
Woo-hoo!
♪ I was 13, I was working ♪
♪ Tryna get my hands on
The first ding-a-ling ♪
♪ I was lurking
We were flirting ♪
♪ Baby boy, mmm
Can you be my king, king ♪
♪ Kicked up ♪
- ♪ I been watching you ♪
- ♪ Watching ♪
♪ Kicked up ♪
It's on the house,
you little chocolate croissant, you.
Nothing's free, Brooke.
Like my mommy always says,
"There's more in the mortar
than the pestle."
Well, like I always say,
"Pussy over patriarchy."
What you need to do is begin every
sentence with "trigger warning."
Got a big one.
Again?
Yeah, it's my favorite part of writing
for Pastiche.
Only getting coffee.
I asked for almond milk.
My bubble guts indicate that you cowed me.
- Here we go, gentlemen.
- And lady.
I don't see gender.
I've got the latest issue,
hot off the press.
Now, I don't normally do praise, but...
tipping my cap to Troy.
My dude made the cover of his first issue.
Never could have done a piece like this
without you.
♪ One, two, three, wake up! ♪
♪ Wake up! ♪
♪ Aww, yeah! ♪
♪ Wake up!
Kurt's never nice to new guys.
What do you got on him?
He... liked the piece I wrote?
It can't be that.
You are a hotter, smarter,
more unproblematically charming
version of him.
He can't beat you,
so he's joining you.
There were a lot of compliments in there,
but it still hurt.
Same puppet, new strings.
Please tell me Kanye West
changed his name to Troy Fairbanks
and started writing for Pastiche.
Couldn't help himself.
Damn, nigga.
Why?
Hey, Troy!
Psst!
Yo, did you, uh, read my story?
Depends if...
Will there be any follow-up questions?
Man, what did you think?
I just...
I feel like it went over folks' heads.
Maybe.
Maybe, at best,
it reads as though you have a...
third-grade understanding
of affirmative action.
"We all know with a name like Tyrone
on the res,
white folks...
ain't called my black ass back.
So I should just get high
and go to DeVry in peace." What?
Well, he took out all the context,
where I make fun of white folks
who complain
about affirmative action
denying them opportunities.
This motherfucker.
Bro, he took out all the white stuff
and now it's just a black guy
who's shitting on affirmative action.
Yes, it is.
This shit was supposed to be satirical!
It's more of a farce.
Which will prompt similar states
of exaggeration.
It serves a different agenda,
emphasizing entertainment...
over social commentary?
Are you going to just let me peter out
or will you interrupt me, for God's sake?
Yo, Troy.
I thought you disappointing folks
was a thing of the past.
I guess retro shit's in.
- Uh-uh.
- Mmm.
That's your I-can't-stay-for-grits
I-gotta-go face.
I know.
But stay, have fun.
I know how you love denigrating Troy.
Eh, it's lost its thrill.
Mmm. Well, tomorrow night, I'm all yours.
I will hang on your every word,
I will lavish you with love and laughter,
and even...
Oh. Okay, okay.
I'll see you tomorrow night.
I can't believe Kurt sandbagged me.
He put his testicles on your face?
I've heard of abuses of power, but...
- It's "tea bagged," Lionel.
- Oh, right.
Bro, my version
was all about making fun of anyone
who'd argue against affirmative action.
It was nuanced and had pathos
and the shit was funny.
Now I sound like a ComicView clip
that's aged poorly.
Egad. And those don't age at all.
You want me to beat Kurt up?
Or, more realistically,
outsource it to Al?
I mean,
Kurt looked me in the face and said,
"We could've never done a piece
like this without you."
You're their Get Out of Racism Free card.
- A mascot for...
- Ain't nobody talking to you, Abigail.
- You don't know me like that.
- Sorry.
And here we go.
- I know what you're going to say.
- You do?
You didn't want me to join Pastiche.
Not at first.
And I shouldn't be stepping
and/or fetching for white laughs,
and even though I've reached a goal,
it comes with responsibilities.
The world wasn't made for me,
so I have to work twice as hard,
blah, blah, blah.
Well, as long as it doesn't have anything
to do with fountains and genitals,
I... I think it's a step
in the right direction.
I get it.
I can't trust them to do the right thing,
so I have to just talk to Kurt
and demand what's fair.
Damn.
That's exactly what I would have said.
I thought you were tuning me out
all those years.
Well, I'll let you know how it goes.
Son.
The reason I called you here...
Do these jeans look ridiculous?
Oh.
You know what? I'm going for the...
the more casual, you know,
connect-to-the-student kind of thing.
- Okay.
- Hmm?
Okay, yeah, everyone's going to be like,
"Hey, who's the new sophomore
who came back to college
due to a midlife crisis?"
Yeah, see, see, I knew it.
I'm trying too hard.
Ah, no, Pops.
- You look good.
- Really?
Oh, shit! Dad's got a girlfriend!
♪ Dad's got a girlfriend ♪
♪ Dad's got a girlfriend ♪
Ain't got no girlfriend!
Get out of here!
See, you stopped worrying about my dirt,
so now you got time for your own.
Use a rubber, son.
- Hi! How's it going?
- Have a good one.
All right.
- Oh, organic chem. Good for you.
- Thanks.
- Hey!
- Hi.
- Working hard or hardly working?
- Working hard.
Got your usual for you.
My man.
I got a red eye, for Jen.
She's in the bathroom.
Who?
♪ I'm a good man ♪
- Someone's sitting there.
- Well, then I'll just sit over here, then.
Walter.
I'm messing with you.
You're a sly one, Sandra.
Busy day?
The Ivy League paradox.
Assign a 20-page paper,
watch the overachievers struggle
to cram all their genius
into such draconian confines.
Mmm. Hell, there goes your weekend.
I stop reading after page 20.
I only grade what I assign.
Don't write me up.
I would never.
Well, you're teaching them
a very valuable lesson.
And safeguarding my Martha's Vineyard
me time this weekend.
These kids will not turn Inkwell
into Thinkwell.
Thinkwell, Inkwell!
That's brilliant!
That's a beautiful dress you're wearing.
It's...
Stop school-sponsored slave labor.
Stop school-sponsored slave labor.
Honestly?
I'm jealous.
You're the hardworking everyman now.
Three jobs, a grad thesis.
When you write your memoir,
this is going to be a really
humanizing chapter.
- I haven't slept in 48 hours.
- Yeah.
Well, my biggest hurdle this year
was trying to organize my birthday
at my parents' Cape house.
Then I find out they gave it
to my Aunt Bethany that weekend.
It really rocked me.
Maybe you should get back to work.
Normally I'm turned on by strong women.
Now!
And this is not an exception.
Winchester's TAs are paid
the lowest rates in the Ivy by 50%.
We need a living wage.
Please, come support tomorrow night.
It's important.
Thank you.
I offered you one and you treated me
like a Jehovah's Witness.
No shade. They are doing the Lord's work.
A very specific version of the Lord.
Can I have another one, please?
Thank you.
Is Brooke even a lesbian?
Or is she just a...
sexual tourist?
Fuck how she identifies.
Get your face between them thighs.
Ooh, that's a fire-ass hook!
- SoundCloud, get your ass ready!
- She's right, Kelsey.
I'd have to hear it in the context
of the song.
- Sorry, Jennifer.
- No, I mean... do you like Brooke?
I'm...
intrigued.
Then go for it.
And if she is just a tourist,
then take her out to the Bronx
and show her where the Battery is.
I just made a pop culture reference.
- From the '40s.
- You're right.
I've been way too binary.
I'm about to switch it up
into seduce mode.
No, wait. Too thirsty.
Allure mode.
Ugh. Can we change topics, please?
I am not versed in lesbian drama.
Mmm. You're not any kind of verse,
Miss Keisha Lance Bottoms.
First the closet now your shell?
Happy coming out day!
Michael's... positive?
Yeah, he's a super optimistic guy.
No.
I know what "positive" means.
I work in a mobile health truck.
But at 22?
It must be hard.
And now I still feel like I'm on TA duty.
Where is your alcohol?
Oh, I have some in the bathroom,
but it's for cuts and bruises.
Back in your shell.
Also, there's beer in the bathtub.
Beer?
Ohh!
She a butch queen! Butch!
It's Troy's, so go easy.
Please leave Abigail out of this, man.
Wait a minute.
Wait a minute. Wait... Lionel.
I detect heterosexualities.
What's happening?
Troy's having a ki, or whatever you call
the straight equivalent.
A brodown.
She doesn't get to talk in the group,
so nobody would know.
Joining!
Totes fluent in barbershop talk.
Jay-Z, football, bitches. Et cetera.
Sorry, guys!
I told them you were having
a ki... onversation in here.
Yeah, we were just ki-onversating
about Troy's Pastiche situation.
"Situation." That's kind.
I'd say "fiasco." "Debacle."
Is "cataclysm" hyperbolic?
Greetings, whoever you are
drinking my beer.
- This library is closed.
- Aww.
But my Kindle is charged all the way up.
And this is delicious. Thank you.
I assumed Kurt hijacked your piece?
Just plays right into what everyone
already thought of me.
Kurt is your friend.
Tell him that his actions
are unacceptable,
and that he must never
betray your trust again
if the friendship is to remain intact.
Hmm.
I'm kidding. Fuck that nigga.
Appealing to better angels is pointless
with a sexy white devil,
but my usual alternative
might not be up your alley.
It's sex, isn't it?
It is sex.
Fuck Pastiche.
Burn that bitch to the ground.
If you're not going to own
your own shit,
use your access,
fix the system from the inside.
Your beloved Obama tried that and failed.
James,
please leave.
- I was literally here first.
- I know.
And it's bumming us all out.
Put them all on blast,
show the school
what racist dicks they are,
create a power vacuum, then take over.
No. You need to punch those motherfuckers
in all they throats.
Nah. They mad weird about
throat-punches at this school.
I don't get it either.
Well, I...
I guess, I hope, this impromptu
Situation Room was helpful.
We'll leave. We should leave.
We should leave.
So all the new congresswomen's
menstrual cycles sync up,
and they go on a murderous rampage
in a session.
Of course, menopausal Pelosi participates
so she doesn't feel left out.
So, the punchline is that women are awful.
- And efficient at governing.
- Solid.
- Uh, Troy, you got something?
- New news.
"Butt implants recalled,
VMAs canceled."
But first I've got to air a grievance.
Hey, man. Look, I'm sorry, okay?
About all the black guy big-dick jokes.
Listen, I'm happy to pull mine out
and prove that God has also blessed
the melanin-deficient.
And that was the day I became an atheist.
Actually, it's about my cover piece.
Your edit completely changed the message.
I mean, your version...
and I'm not just being precious
with my shit...
your version made me look
like an Uncle Tom.
- You're my boy, so I know...
- You're really doing this in public?
It's a Pastiche problem,
so I'm doing it at a Pastiche meeting.
Which I graciously invited you to join
after you forced me to read your material.
That's not how it went down,
but what's the point of bringing me on
if readers don't trust me
because they think I'm a sellout?
I go over every piece of material
to maintain tonal consistency.
That's my job. And I'm killing it.
Yeah, well, that was before I joined.
I put you on the cover, man.
Oh.
So I should be thankful
I'm your black mascot?
So what you're saying,
in front of my entire staff,
is that you want to be treated differently
than everybody else.
No.
I'm just saying you have a blind spot
when it comes to my perspective.
Oh.
I see, because you're black,
you want preferential treatment.
Why didn't you just say that?
- I'm not trying to say that.
- Nate, you have a spastic colon.
Should I do anything special for you?
Not sharing my medical information
would be a start.
Oh, well...
Too late for that now, I guess.
I owe you an apology.
Oh!
I see somebody's finally
talking to Abigail.
You know, the myth of meritocracy
should be a required course at every Ivy.
So...
if you're Hillary Clinton's fake laugh...
then what am I?
To them,
you're an alien.
A poised, articulate black man
who doesn't fit into stereotypes.
They can't process
your existence on Earth.
Keep fighting the good fight.
The Clintons and aliens
will inherit the earth.
It's in the Bible.
You coming in?
Hey.
Where's Gabe?
It wasn't my turn to watch him.
Well, I brought him some food
since you made him work late.
Is he on break?
Um, he's not working tonight.
That's weird. He said he'd be here.
Was there a last minute
schedule change or...
Sam, I really don't want to get into
other people's business.
Bitch, you live
in other people's business.
I know.
I just like the power
of withholding information.
I think he went here.
Why would he lie?
Damn.
The white ones ain't shit either.
Because with wages this low,
only wealthy grad students
can afford to be TAs,
and that means that students
are missing out on, you know,
working class perspectives
from their professors.
Thank you.
No shade, but what the hell do you know
about working class struggles?
Uh, well, for one,
that was all shade, Sharon.
I... I'll admit, yeah...
I... I grew up
with money that I didn't earn.
Uh, my parents are Republicans,
so of course they trusted the economic
theories of the people they voted for,
and lost everything.
As I mentioned,
my parents are Republicans.
Look, the TA money alone just...
it doesn't do the trick.
Okay? I got two extra jobs.
I still can't afford to pay
for my grad film,
let alone my tuition for next semester.
I never sleep,
and it's like I'm in
a long-distance relationship,
and my girlfriend fucking goes here.
So I'm invested.
And I want to help.
So, you didn't start caring about this
until, like, yesterday?
Got it.
Enjoy your poor tour.
Ooh.
It is springtime outside,
but it is chilly in here
from all of the shade.
I know. No.
Sam, I'm sorry.
For what?
- You're really going to make me say it?
- You're really going to fight me on this?
- I'm sorry I lied about working tonight.
- Among other things.
You and I never really talked
about money.
Don't try that
sin of omission bullshit, Gabe.
Wait, hold on.
I know how you see the world.
I was afraid if you knew
just how much we had...
That I wouldn't let you in?
- What does that say about me?
- We all have biases.
I fucking hate being judged
on my demographics.
You really think I'd do that to you?
No... To boyfriend Gabe, no,
but to hot-TA-I-have
a-reluctant-crush-on Gabe, yeah.
Hot?
Okay, cute.
- No, you know you fine.
- Oh, shit.
But how much money are we talking?
Oh, well, my parents were the ones
who sold the island to Jerry Skyler.
I'm not laughing.
Look, Sam, if you had looked at me the way
that they just looked at me in there,
it would've killed me.
- It would've killed us.
- Before there was an us.
I didn't know how much money you had.
Though I kind of assumed
you didn't have much.
You were earnest and hardworking
and socially conscious and...
your wardrobe.
Yours is not the wardrobe
of a wealthy man.
You just couldn't help yourself,
could you?
Gabe...
money will never factor into love for me.
Just... presents.
Lots of presents.
That were never purchased for me
with all this money you done had.
- That said...
- I knew it was too easy.
...if you ever lie to me again,
I am not extending
the Angela Bassett courtesy
of burning your shit in the driveway.
I'm going full Left Eye Lopes on that ass.
There have to be more recent references
for revenge arson.
So, like...
was there...
an armed guard at the entrance
to your neighborhood?
Oh, fucking God.
- Did you board planes on a tarmac?
- What?
- Or was there a jetway involved?
- You're ridiculous.
- How much money...
- Hey.
That took courage.
That was awful.
Both can be true.
But please, come back.
Just don't talk about yourself.
Or better yet, lie.
Okay.
Bye, Gabe.
- Who the hell is that?
- That's nobody.
- We don't care about her.
- It ain't... You right, it's nobody.
- You nobody!
- We don't care about her.
Oh, uh, thanks, Kelsey, but I...
I work in a coffee shop.
Look at the foam, foolie.
Oh. Is...
that a no smoking sign?
Ohh.
So no one's ordering or making coffee,
we're just chatting.
Cool.
It's supposed to be kissy lips,
but it's a long walk
from the other coffee shop.
Anyway, you were very sweet to me, and...
I was rude.
Maybe there's more in this mortar.
Hopefully there is no more
in this conversation, girl.
I am feeling harassed
and under-caffeinated.
Buh-bye.
Can I have a latt...
A latte.
Kurt should have pulled you aside
to harangue you,
like he does me.
He harangues you in public constantly.
You've never heard the things
he's said in private.
When someone shows you who they are,
stab them in the front.
You guys are both editors.
Does he rake over your shit like that?
Oh, yeah. My therapist told me
it's to create, like, a communal spirit.
Like we speak with one voice.
A voice that sounds uncannily like Kurt's.
Dude, I put so much into what I do.
I once took a story about
the science school's rush
to publish flawed peer reviews,
and I laid it out perfectly
in the shape of boobs.
And then here comes Kurt!
Troy, you're new,
but think of it this way.
Soon, the unyielding manipulations
of your best efforts
by talentless overlords will form a callus
over the joy and passion
you once had for writing,
and then, my friend,
you'll be ready to write for television.
Mornin', massa!
Excuse me?
That's how you address labor exploiters.
And as a TA, it feels quite apropos.
Son.
Our TAs are absolutely paid...
Peanuts!
And I'm allergic.
Our administration prides itself
on honoring and valuing
all of our employees.
You're supposed to represent our interests
to the administration,
yet you sweep our concerns under the rug
so that the plantation runs smoothly!
Dean of Students?
Try Dean of Slaves.
I am uncomfortable with that metaphor.
And I'm uncomfortable
trying to get an education,
helping other students with theirs,
driving for Lyft, tutoring,
and still wondering
how I'm gon' pay my rent.
But I'm guessing all your bills is paid!
Is this a read? Am I being read?
And we're coming for you.
Like when the Greatest Generation
stormed the beaches of Normandy.
I was a slave owner,
now I'm a Nazi.
Yeah!
Why don't you come by my office,
and we'll continue this discussion
using our inside voices
and less problematic anecdotes.
Never.
Oh.
He was so excited about those jeans.
Sorry to call out your pops.
But sometimes folks need to get
sliced and diced.
And I stays with a razor blade
under my tongue.
Cute shirt.
I got to come to this coffee shop more.
So, the Kurt thing...
What are we going to do?
I think I've got an idea.
Ohh.
Let's stare at him in anticipation
until he finally tells us.
♪ You are the motherfucking shit ♪
♪ You are great ♪
♪ Get up, get out
Get, get, get out ♪
♪ Get up, get out
Get, get, get out ♪
♪ Get up ♪
♪ Get up ♪
♪ Born dirty ♪
♪ Up ♪
♪ Out ♪
♪ Out, up ♪
♪ Out ♪
♪ Get up, get out
Get, get, get out ♪
♪ Get up, get out
Get, get, get out ♪
♪ Get up ♪
♪ Get up ♪
♪ Born dirty ♪
♪ Up ♪
♪ Out ♪
♪ Up, out ♪
♪ Out, up, out ♪
♪ Up, out ♪
Woo-hoo!