U.S. Students Dumber than Ever

ourth and eighth-graders tested nationwide really screwed the pooch on a recent history exam, while 12th-graders were about as dumb as expected, the Education Department announced Thursday. The Bush administration was not impressed, calling the results "a shocking wake-up call of historicalistical proportions." More than 29,000 students took the history test that's part of the National Assessment of Educational Ineptitude, known informally as "Operation: Dumbo Drop."

Among fourth-graders, 67 percent had at least a basic understanding of the concept of history itself, though few could name any specific events. 13 percent showed no sense of events happening in the past at all, beyond a vague concept of everything happening "yesterday." That was three percentage points higher than in 1994, the last time the test was given.

Some 29,600 students, 87 percent of them apparently high on drugs at the time, took the test in 2001. The randomly selected test-takers answered multiple-choice, short-answer and essay questions with only a slightly higher success rate than a control group of lab mice trying to play "Axel-F" on a small Casio keyboard during the exam. Students were alarmingly befuddled by questions like these for fourth-graders:

Pilgrims came to North American in the 1700's fleeing what in Europe?
(a) the bubonic plague.
(b) religious persecution.
(c) Napoleon's army.
(d) Godzilla.


Only 45 percent answered correctly with (b).

What was a major cause of the Civil War?
(a) East Coast rap calling out West Coast rap.
(b) People in the North and in the South disagreed over slavery.
(c) Montel Williams.
(d) The assassination of Archduke Ferdinand.


Correct answer: (b); 57 percent answered correctly.

The answers to the multiple-choice questions, however, looked like the minutes from a meeting of MENSA when compared to the short-answer section of the test. Asked to write in their own answer to the question "Who led Germany during World War II?" 57 percent of the students wrote "Arnold Schwarzenegger." The second and third most-frequent responses were no less alarming: "Tupac!" and "banana."

Deanna Norvich, an education historian and NAEI board member, called the students' answers "fuckin' hilarious" and said the seniors' scores were "about what you'd expect from a bunch of Taco Bell trainees."

"Since the seniors are very close to voting age or already have reached it, I wouldn't be at all surprised to see more professional wrestlers elected to public office in the near future. I'd be frightened if I weren't looking at the bright side: No way in hell someone younger than me is going to come and take my job in the next millennia. These kids couldn't operate a salad shooter."

She added: "Clearly, our high schools are failing to teach U.S. history well to these paste-eating morons. And by the time they're seniors there's no way you're going to get them to stop fucking and doing blow long enough to learn about Benjamin Franklin. It's just not happening."

According to the National Assessment Governing Board, the independent group that develops the NAEI for the Education Department, only 17 percent of fourth-graders scored above the "vegetable" level. Of those, 11 percent scored at the "head injury" level and another 3 percent fell into the higher "slow country cousin" grouping. Alarmingly, only 2 percent scored in the "can handle plastic silverware" group, the highest level attained in the test this year.

To be sure, many questions were tough, especially those asked of older students. An example:

There were many significant factors that led American colonists to form the First Continental Congress in 1774. Among them were colonial frustrations with laws passed by the British Parliament. What is your name?

Thirty-nine percent got that one right.

The NAEI is given in different subjects periodically, though always to predictably pathetic results that make adults feel smart again after their bank account has been drained by a ten year-old hacker. The 2001 national history test was the first given since 1994, when it was designed to test the effects of crop dusting on the nation's youth.

NAEI scores in geography are scheduled to be released this summer, with Vermont crossing its fingers that the state will be recognized for the first time ever on an NAEI exam.

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Ever since the beginning of time, man has wondered at a way to know exactly what time it is. "Is it even really the beginning of time?" he wondered. What if it was the end of time, or the middle? No point in plowing the field today if it's going to be the end of time. But you probably shouldn't party too hard if it's just the beginning, since that's a long time to spend hung over. And, come to think of it, what time of the day is it? I could be late for the orgy.

In medieval times, it was believed that one could tell time by throwing rocks at a calf. If the calf was unaffected by being hit with the rocks, it was nighttime. If the calf became agitated, it was noted that the time was daytime. If the calf was hit in the head and died instantly, it was exactly noon, and time for sandwiches.

The ancient Sumerians are thought by many to be the first culture on the planet to take timekeeping seriously, but this is doubted by many who knew them. The Sumerians were famous bullshitters, and they also claimed to have invented the elevator, the toaster oven and rock 'n roll. Conversations with ancient Sumerians are said to have been infuriating affairs, since they constantly interrupted with comments like "Yep, invented that" and "No way, we had that a long time ago. Seriously, like a million years ago. You guys are just getting that now?" The Sumerians were eventually killed off by the Egyptians, who didn't know what time it was but knew how to kick a lot of ass.

When they ran out of ass to kick, the Egyptians grew bored and became obsessed with making sure their breakfast wasn't late. This was no simple task since nobody ever had any idea what time it was, so when they wanted to know they had to ask the king, who made up a number in a confident-sounding voice. Eventually the king got tired of people asking all the time and he ordered the Egyptian scientists to build some kind of magic device to tell the time while he was taking his naps.

As was their solution to everything, the Egyptian scientists built a pyramid. This didn't do them any good at all. But when the pyramid collapsed due to faulty rock stacking, they noticed that the pile of rubble cast a different shadow depending on the time of day. The scientists quickly put this discovery to use, hiding in the shadow and popping out to scare the holy shit out of any villagers who happened to wander by.

After several years of this routine, a scientist named Obel-Ra noticed that every time they scared a certain villager on his way to get water from the river, the scientists always found themselves crouching in the shadow next to the same urine stain in the sand left over from the Great Supa-Scare of 3551 B.C. While pondering the relevance of this information, Obel-Ra missed his cue and the villager went unscared for the first time in several years. Obel-Ra was promptly kicked off the scaring team and ostracized from the Egyptian scientific community.

Ostracism, while bad for your social life and your skin, does tend to afford one plenty of time to ponder scientific insights. And if it weren't for Obel-Ra's banishment, we might still be wondering today when to take our two o'clock break. Luckily for us, Obel-Ra used his time alone to ponder his discovery and develop a timekeeping device he called the Obelisk. Egyptian for "Obel's Man-Handle," the Obelisk was a tall, four-sided tapered monument that Obel-Ra advertised as "actual size, ladies." During the daytime, the Obelisk would cast a shadow over a set of lines on the ground, which would indicate the hour of the day. And at night, what do you care what time it is? You're drunk. Go home and go to bed.

Though the Obelisk made Obel-Ra famous and revolutionized Egyptian life, it was not without its flaws. For example, during the winter, when the sun's arc through the sky kept closer to the horizon, it was always four o'clock. Rather than doubt the almighty Obelisk, most Egyptians just changed their working hours to 7am-3:30pm during the winter, which meant they were always just getting off work and never had to do anything they didn't want to do.

Obel-Ra, however, was keenly aware of the problem, and he spent the next years slaving away in an attempt to develop a better timekeeper. After 20 years he finally perfected the sundial: a small, portable device that used a style pointed at the north celestial pole to cast a shadow which accurately told the time year-round. However, when Obel-Ra was on his way to show his new invention to the King, a scientist hopped out from behind a pile of rubble and startled Obel-Ra so badly that he dropped the sundial, which was destroyed. Obel-Ra was again ostracized after beating the man to death with his own leg, and he kept his inventions to himself after that.

Eventually somebody else figured out how to make a sundial, and people pretended like it worked for hundreds of years until the first wristwatch was fished out of a Chinaman's ass in 1841, changing timekeeping history forever.

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Don't wet your pants, readers, but the news is true: I have returned from my mission: impossible and can safely say it was more precisely mission: not-too-bad. At times with my traveler's discount I could arrange a pretty swank motel and it was mission: quite-enjoyable. However, on the darker side, there were certain areas of the South where it was more like mission: avoid-violation; the less said there the better.

When I left you all mysteriously shortly before the New Year began, I explained how everything was so hush-hush the details could not be revealed. Has anything changed? No, and don't bug me about it. I didn't say anything in that Barbara Walters interview and I'm not about to give it up so easily for you. Suffice to say that the problem was "taken care of" in a mafia/Navy S.E.A.L. sort of way, but—hey! That wasn't Barbara Walters at all! Didn't even look like Barbara Walters, but I just figured she had more cosmetic surgery. It seems so obvious now, with no tape in the camera and a ninja working the soundboard. Oh, well, no since dwelling on that.

I have returned, though, and I am almost nearly improved, or at least 100% as good as I was before. If anything, I have improved for my venture. There comes a time at which every man must go into the woods and go crazy for a stretch of time to really know themselves; that's what the Indians used to do. When you can turn your head, look over your shoulder, and see the other side of your face, then you know yourself sufficiently to return to the cozy life. Any minor neck injuries can be worked out with a chiropractor, or a large man in an alley who has had informal chiropractic training.

If there is a bittersweet part of my journey, it is that America will never know the sacrifices I have made to ensure its future. At least not until 2005, by which time Future Bob should have reported it sometime in the past already. But even if that day never comes and that article is never edited properly, I can live in anonymity. I didn't drag ass across America's outback and brave death and fire (and sometimes splinters) for fame and glory, or flame and gory. I did it for the future. Show's what that rewards. Don't count on me to do it again, everyone—bail yourselves out next time.

I've had enough of living in the past, though. Unless I could live in 1965 for a small period of time and see the Beatles play live, that would be sharp. But for me, I busted my ass for the sake of the future, and that's what I'm concentrating on.

First and foremost is shaping up the commune. Any fool can see leaving Ramrod Hurley in charge while I was gone was the worst mistake I made since suggesting to Rob Schneider he had a viable film career. I apologize whole-heartedly for the devil-embracing way he ran the commune, and mostly for the blasphemous columns he ran in my stead. Ramrod is entitled to his own opinions and beliefs, of course, but he is wrong. If I ever get him out of my old office I'll take my revenge out of his ass with methodical, metric-based accounting procedures.

Yes, the commune will be the commune of the past from now on—challenging authority, walking hand in hand with the outsiders, and giving voice to the voiceless, as long as they can do sign language or something. We shouldn't have to just make up what they're saying. the commune is not a tool or puppet for the rich gluttons who run this country—just this one. When I started the commune, I had a vision that one lone reporter with nothing but a stout heart and true vision could call the president a gaylord and there was nothing he could do about it. I still think that's true. Especially now that the tide seems to be turning against ol' "president" Bush again.

By the way, you may hear allegations of a missing columnist by the name of Sampson L. Hartwig who was last seen in my company. This is just more establishment rhetoric to bring down the threat that is Red Bagel. There was never such a columnist, no matter what the spin doctors or Hartwig family says. This ratty old hat? It's mine. I bought it while on the road.

It's good to be back.

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