Words and Pictures Page #3

said words are lies.

Yeah, they're traps, she says.

Lies?

Traps?

She said that?

What about truth, power?

I think a pictures is a lot

more powerful than a word.

- Really?

- Mm-hmm.

How many think that?

Don't you?

No.

No.

"We hold these truths

to be self-evident

"that all men are created equal."

Self-evident, created equal.

Shocking words in their time.

Powerful.

"And endowed by their Creator

with certain unalienable rights."

Unalienable.

Unable to be given or taken away.

What a word.

"So that this nation shall

have a new birth of freedom

"and that government of the people,

"by the people, for the people

shall not perish from the earth."

"And the sons of former slaves

"and the sons of

former slave-owners

"shall sit down together at

the table of brotherhood."

Wow.

What was that?

Who did you hear in

that collage? Anyone?

Jefferson?

Lincoln.

King.

Words that began a

country, a whole country,

then protected it in a time of war,

and then dreamed it

better, made it better.

Words did that,

not pictures.

Words.

- Wow.

- This is war.

War!

So words are lies? Traps?

Yes. Even mine.

And pictures are?

Do I have to actually say it?

- Say it.

- All right.

- A picture is worth...

- Don't you dare say that.

- That is bullshit, and you know it.

- ...is worth a thousand words.

Good-bye, I'm tired.

You know, if words are lies,

then what's the truth?

A picture? Something you painted?

Here's a word for you.

Arrogance.

And here's a picture.

Pfft!

I am going to crush you.

Hey, Dad, so we're at The Grill

just finishing up drinks.

Hang on, hang on, hang on.

Hey.

Are you still at The Grill?

Yeah.

I hope that you're still coming.

Uh, I don't want to hold you up.

No, no, it's fine.

I really want you

to meet Catherine.

God, we're beat.

We did every hill in the county.

They're all flat now.

There you go, you see?

That's a good image.

That's a damn good image.

No, you flattened the hills by riding

over them like ironing wrinkles.

No, that's good, Tony.

Are... Are you writing?

You haven't sent me any

of your writing for ages.

You all right, Dad?

They're trying to take

the magazine away,

f***ing bastards.

You know, they're downsizing.

So...

So you're there with your girl?

Yeah, with Catherine.

Yeah?

You wearing your funny clothes?

Yeah, yeah.

Why can't you people

wear normal clothes?

You know, I mean, wear

the helmet, fine,

but drop the weird clothing

unless you're actually racing.

I mean, what if all car drivers

dressed like NASCAR racers?

Be f***ing silly, you know?

But you guys, you know?

You guys...

You know what?

I'm going to come.

I'll be like 20 minutes,

and we'll have dessert.

Dessert's on Dad.

No, Dad, don't.

Another time, okay?

What? Why?

Because you shouldn't drive, right?

Yeah.

Well...

Well, you want to come

here and stop by?

I can meet her.

No.

Okay, thanks, but, you

know, we're beat,

so another time.

You be well, all right?

You be well.

Sorry, guys.

- Is your dad coming?

- No.

He'll get you.

Princess, get in.

Come on, I'll drive

you to the door.

Leave her alone, Swint.

I can't. I'm sorry, I wish I could.

I honestly wish I

could, but I can't.

I think it's that geisha walk.

Just keep walking.

Your friend Emily here is

such an exotic beauty,

which is very rare to these parts.

- Come on, I'll drive you right to your desk.

- Come on, come on.

You dare me? Huh?

You dare me? Come on, Emily.

You are my Madame Butterfly.

Come fly with me.

Swint! What are you up to?

You know what, I'm

sorry, Mr. Cowan.

It's the hunt.

You know, it's eternal.

Park your car in the

street and get to class.

Okay, stop for a moment and hold

up your work so I can see it.

Are you satisfied?

Is that good enough?

Doesn't anybody want

to change the world?

Too late.

Ah, so then you strive to be what?

Complacent?

Not in this class.

Cole, if violent fantasy is

as far as you want to go,

at least make it your own.

I've seen that before.

Emily, start over,

correct the proportion.

Start over?

Yes, look at the neck.

You can elongate the neck,

but you still have to

have some balance.

Hey, Emily, Emily.

- Study Modigliani.

- Shh!

- It's good.

- Shut up.

- Swint?

- Miss?

Do you think a cartoon clich will

get you through my art honors?

It won't.

Okay, go back to work.

Come on.

All right, Miss, I'll change it,

but...

Calling this a clich

is kind of ironic,

because Mr. Marc said

that you teach cliches.

We weren't supposed

to say anything.

Mr. Marc's declared war on you,

so what are you going to do?

I don't know or care what

you're talking about.

Keep your focus on

improving your work.

Okay.

Imagine this is the best drawing

of a human brain you

have ever seen.

Now listen.

Listen.

"The brain's fundamental secret

will be laid open one day.

"But even when it has,

the wonder will remain

"that mere wet stuff

"can make this bright

inward cinema of thought,

"of sight and sound and touch.

"Could it ever be explained

"how matter becomes conscious?"

Not a thousand words.

Only roughly 50 by Ian McEwan

in his novel Saturday.

Now, are you telling

me that this picture

is worth more than these words?

Are you kidding?

Doesn't that clich piss you off?

You are students of honors English,

students of a language,

students of a literature.

Words are your gods,

and somebody is insulting

your religion.

And we're going to prove her wrong.

Now.

Hey, come and look at this!

This is crazy!

Mr. Marc!

Marc's got his stuff out.

Wow.

It's better than I thought.

We're not going to just lay

down for this, are we?

Aren't you in honors English?

Yeah, but it shouldn't be

all one-sided, you know?

Hey, Tony, it's me.

Listen, I'm really sorry

about last week, you know.

I was so tired,

I could hardly talk,

but I really want

to meet Catherine.

So let's arrange it, you

know, Friday, whenever.

Okay? So give me a call.

Hey, Kristen! Wait up, guys.

What do you have in the afternoon?

She got you, Mr. Marc.

Check that out.

You can't draw that well.

Yeah, that does look like you.

Uh-oh!

Brava, Signorina.

You throw a good punch.

I'm rocked.

My knees are wobbly.

I'm cut.

Beyond the boxing imagery, um,

is there a point?

Oh, I get it. You're being aloof.

No, that's fine. We need loofs.

Do you know where the

word "aloof" comes from?

- No.

- Dutch.

Sailing into the wind,

like a big ship.

You know what I have here?

I have a preview of

the coming issue

of the Croyden Lion just for you.

Read it and weep.

The next punch is mine.

Oh, and here's a seven.

Internationality.

Sorry? I didn't hear your response?

Antiegalitarianism.

It's a ten.

You had that ready.

Would you mind sailing off now?

You had that ready.

- Come on.

- You've been studying.

The title is "Who Are

You?" by Jack Marcus.

"I am a small poem on a

page with room for another.

"Share with me this white field,

"wide as an acre of snow,

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