Where Are the Students of Color At UCSC?

Authorities have discovered the remains of intrepid naturalist Ted Stridewell in the woods just above the UC Santa Cruz campus, two months after his disappearance. Just what was Stridewell doing up there?

"Searching for the fabled Student of Color, no less." says his fifth hippie life partner of thirteen months, Shiela Gerbins. "He knew in his heart of hearts they existed, and the need to prove it consumed him."

And how. Three months ago, Stridewell journeyed bravely into the forests of UC Santa Cruz to find and document these elusive and folkloric beings. He made the following statement in a press conference just before he disembarked.

"You know that mural outside the college nine apartments? It really speaks to me. I mean, 'Where are the students of color at UCSC?' Yes... yes, exactly... where? Where are they? They're around here somewhere. The next time you see me, I will have documented proof that these shy and misunderstood creatures exist. Wish me luck. Oh, and fuck whitey."

And it was with this final poignant statement that Ted Stridewell hauled his cracker ass into the untamed wilderness of the UCSC Upper Campus Nature Preserve.

One month following the beginning of his expedition, all contact with Mr. Stridewell was lost, until some hikers stumbled upon his campsite. Stridewell, along with much of his equipment, was found horribly dismembered and obliterated. But authorities did manage to recover several of his journals and audio recordings, most of them relatively intact.

The following are transcripts of these recordings. You may find some of them disturbing, particularly the final ones.

Day 1

Stridewell: I've established a base camp two miles north east of Tree Nine. The hike was relatively uninteresting, and the weather is fair. A few Asian sightings on the way up here, but those guys don't count. I'm fully stocked up on hummus and clove cigarettes, and preparing to bed down for the night.

Day 3

Stridewell: Nothing much to report. I spilt some hummus on my Che Guevara t-shirt. Man, fuck George Bush.

Day 10

Stridewell: Finally some progress. I was snoozing on a rock and was awakened by a rustling in a nearby hedge. Something's been watching me, I know it. The thing made tracks back into the woods when it knew I was awake. Whatever it was, it definitely had some pigment to it. I'm getting pretty excited here.

Day 13

Stridewell: No more occurances since the last entry. It's become apparent to me that sitting out in the woods and waiting for 4:20 PM to roll around isn't getting me anywhere. So I'm taking action. I've decided to implement a calling technique. This involves cupping the hands around the mouth in a very particular way and... here, I'll do it right now.

(Ted can be heard making a very peculiar noise. It sounds like the beat to Snoop Dogg's Drop It Like It's Hot, repeated quickly over and over again.)

Stridewell: I also have another very complex call to show you. If this doesn't bring in an SOC, I don't know what will.

(Stridewell begins whistling Mexican Hat Dance.)

Day 17

Stridewell: (Breathing heavily, with the sound of rustling folliage, as if he's hiding in a bush) I'm really excited, I've just made a huge breakthrough. I've come across a frontage road running through the backwoods and there's an SOC standing right there, no more than 20 yards away from me, next to the street. He appears to have discovered an abandoned vehicle and is examining the contents of the engine compartment.

Okay, Stridewell, get a grip on yourself. (Clears throat tentatively) I will now come out from hiding and attempt to establish first contact. (More rustling, and footsteps.)

Motorist of Color: Jesus Christ, you startled me.

Stridewell: How. Me human. Me come in piece.

Motorist of Color: Um... what the hell?

Stridewell: (Whispering into recorder) The Student of Color appears relatively unintimidated by my intrusion into its natural habitat. I can only assume this is because it has had limited to no contact with humans, which would explain why it bears no natural fear of me.

Motorist of Color: Yeah, er, okay. Say, do you have a cell phone I could borrow? Mine's out of batteries and I'm having a bit of car trouble here-

Stridewell: He appears to be attempting a rudimentary form of communication. I believe he's asking for food. (To Motorist) Hun-Gree? Want... food?

Motorist of Color: What? Erm, I'm fine really. Criminy, you smell bad.

Stridewell: (Into Recorder) I will now attempt to offer him some of my left over Tofu Humus Patty.

Motorist of Color: That's really disgusting. Wait, are you homeless? Okay buddy, here's a couple bucks. Don't spend it on booze.

Stridewell: My God... The creature has just offered me human currency. My mind is reeling with the implications. What's that sound?

(The sound of a car approaching can be heard as it comes to a stop.)

Driver: Hey Al, what up? Car trouble?

Motorist of Color: Yeah man, can you gimme a ride back to campus?

Driver: No problem. Who's that weird guy in the bush?

Motorist of Color: Some mentally handicapped vagrant. He's really creeping me out. Let's go.

(The car pulls away)

Day 18

Stridewell: I just can't get my head around it. How can a creature so... separate from normal society possibly acquire a thing like human currency? I would have thought I was hallucinating except that I'm holding the dollar bills right here in my hand. He was even wearing what appeared to be... a t-shirt... and jeans. This is absurd. My world is collapsing, you have no idea how this feels. The next thing you know, they'll be attending the actual university, not just hiding in the trees. God I need to get high. (Audible bong ripping).

Day 21

Stridewell: Something's been... following me. Watching me. I'm really rather frightened right now. I've only heard it, never really got a good look at it. All I know is that it's big... and brown. Definitely very brown.

Day 22

Stridewell: (Panting) Been on the run pretty regularly for the past 24 hours. Only time to stop for pot. It's close, and I can just feel it's intentions aren't good. I'm not frightened, I'm terrified. This is fucked up. (Long, frightened pause) Oh shit!

(The heavy rustling and cracking of foliage can be heard)

Stridewell: Oh fuck me, he's huge. Seven and a half feet tall... brown... I do believe this specimen must be of the genus Negronicus. (The indistinguishable growling of a grizzly bear is heard) I want to run, but at the same time, I'm elated. How many people get to.... Hey buddy, you're a big boy aren't you? (More growling) According to lore and history books from the 50's, poking this species with a stick is the best way to establish common ground. They also excel at basketball. Here buddy... there you go. See? I come in peace. (Growling becomes more agitated) Let's stay calm, let's not get too, what is it.... Hyphy? That's it. Hyphy.

(The growling converts at this point to a full on roar. Stridewell's screams, as well as the sound of ripping clothing and flesh, last for about a minute before being replaced with the sound of crunching bones. Finally, there's a dull plopping noise as the creature shits nonchalantly in the woods and walks away.)

And so ends the legacy of Ted Stridewell. Will anybody ever again feel inclined to search for the mysterious Student of Color? Stridewell did, and he payed the ultimate price, making it more clear than ever before that nature just doesn't intend for many people at Santa Cruz to, well, quit focusing on frivolous racial issues that don't even apply to this campus or for that matter make any sense.

....

The mural at College Nine is dumb.