A Letter to Lottie Dietrich

(This is to the building, not the person. I’m not Bruce Willis. I suppose it’s weird enough to write to a building, but that never stopped me before.)

As the one remaining wall from the never-grand, but always awkward building, formally known as Lottie D., is demarcated for destruction, it behooves me to spare a few lasting words for an old friend.

*Update* That building got messed up worse than Evander Holyfield.

I’ll always remember your asbestos-and-mediocre-art-infested walls, dirty floors, and rotting carpets. I won’t forget the distinct feeling of teen “angst” not quite available in other buildings on campus. I’ll remember how the prospects of winning a running race with the people around me always seemed to improve dramatically as I entered your decaying doors. The sorrow that emanated from the few poor sops who got stuck with lockers on the lower floor will stay with me. I’ll remember that, if someone ever came on campus with malicious intentions, the Lottie Dietrich folk wouldn’t even be notified. Yes, there is a lot I’m going to miss; a lot more than just miniature offices and low ceilings, eerily reminiscent of Being John Malkovich, are going to be lost when Lottie D. meets its penultimate demise. (Is “its” the right pronoun? What sort of gender do you attribute to buildings? Are they feminine like ships? Do they not get a gender, like rocks and people without genders?) Whatever the answer to my grammatical inquiry, that ugly building, once perched like an eagle over that atrophic field (The field doesn’t even have a name. We name all our fields, but that parcel of useless land gets nothing. We’re building things so fast we’ve run out of people to name them after), will stay with me.

But it isn’t just the zero tears that I will shed in remembrance of the past; no, Lottie Dietrich’s departure is going to change a lot for my future too. Consider:

Now that there is no building set aside for “artistically-enabled” students, and art classes are being spread around the school faster than Maurice Green running a 100 meter in his glory days, band class will take place in a trailer. If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, that this sounds like a great idea for an ABC reality hit (20 kids, 1 trailer, YOU decide who lives), you’re right. But you also might be thinking that a year of band in a trailer is a bit of a step in the wrong direction. Oh ye of little faith. I’m willing to bet that the acoustics of a trailer would beat Lottie D.’s shitty acoustics in a 50′s boxing match any day. Plus, band in a trailer sure as hell beats making sculptures on dirty urinals and developing pictures in old bathrooms in the language hall. EAT THAT ART FOLK!

*Update* I just learned that band isn’t in a trailer anymore, that it will instead take place inside Hall Student Center. Band 2, Art Folk 0.

Another potential impact of the construction, one that has gone completely ignored, is the impact it might have on Pembroke Hill Gang Violence Rates (commonly known as the PHGVRs). Everyone knows that the Pembroke Hill campus is a dangerous place, just look at the 2007 crime statistics (I don’t actually have any 2007 crime statistics, I did however make a brief Excel chart for what they might look like, see link.). View Graph (As a special side note, the one criminal act on the chart arose when an overzealous clothesline mother ran over a Showcase kid on her way to an evening of hot bargains. With deals that good, can you even blame her?) But with the rampant graffiti, lax security guards (that’s a joke, honestly, I haven’t seen jobs taken this seriously since Ken Lay (that’s a double joke, but seriously, we’ve got sweet security guards)), and the multitude of gang-related violence and deaths, it’s easy to believe that you might be scared to go to school in the morning. Reminds me a bit of Middle School, but I may get to Cults of Personality in a later article.

It doesn’t take much of a leap of faith to imagine how dangerous our alma mater will become. With skyrocketing violence rates, the school may have no choice but to bring Lottie Dietrich back from the dead (Once again, the building, not the person. AP Necromancy got pulled from the schedule. Maybe next year Dr. Graves.). Yet by the time they can finish the construction on LD 2.0, it may be far too late, and, with Pembroke engulfed in violent euphoria, the city will have no choice but to declare a state of emergency and seize control of the school. YES, in short, we will become what we fear most: a public school. SHOCK HORROR!

Not only that, but with Lottie Dietrich gone, and without a place to focus their angst, dark clothing, and My Chemical Romance music, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to surmise that the art kids may start to cluster. Everyone knows that art kids become most dangerous when in clusters. Remember Gremlins? Imagine that, but a thousand-times worse. View the chart to get a clearer picture.

There are of course multiple other scenarios of doom that become much more likely — a zombie infestation, an XDR-TB pandemic, and a serious dog fighting problem (sans Atlanta quarterback), but those I’ll save for another day.

Yet in all honesty, I couldn’t be more excited to be bidding that Titanic of a building (they’re alike in the destruction sense, not in size, or Academy Award-winning ability) goodbye. We get a sweet new “performing arts center” with high tech equipment and the lot. Larger rooms, less health problems, a few new faculty to inaugurate the building. The art building isn’t just going to be for the rejects anymore. Could this get any more exciting? Done and done. Rumor has it that the map to an enormous treasure is hidden on the back of the Declaration of Independence. Whoops, that’s the plot to National Treasure, not a rumor. My bad! If anything though, I’d like to think that the removal of Lottie D. from the Pembroke Campus is one of the final steps in our historic “get rid of the old shit” campaign. Perhaps it’s symbolic of a Pembroke renaissance. Hopefully this Renaissance focuses more on the art and creativity than on the rising importance of Papal prestige (Although the PHS Pope does have a nice ring to it). With a new headmaster, new staff, new buildings and big plans for the future, there are a lot of uncertainties, but there is also a lot to look forward too.

As a side note: What the hell is up with having the construction workers caged off like animals?

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