The Csillag-Dispatch
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Happy April Fools in advance from the Heves kids. Their handiwork? The latest in the long line of highly-anticipated Star-Dispatch publications.I don't know if I you can zoom into their stories, but I hope you can. And if not, i'll send a .pdf file if you're so inclined to know what's humorous to the youth of Hungary!
My plan, to hawk copies in the hall Monday, charging a nominal ten forint to cover the printing costs and spark a little interest in the English.
(And yes, that is me dancing with Emma Watson on page two.)
posted by jeremy @ 5:11 PM
3 comments
3 Comments:
Editor’s note: the first Star-Dispatch emerged in the
summer of 2003, a re-emergence of a long-forgotten
Camp Chief Ouray tradition. I figured chronicalling
the summer’s theme weeks would be a good way to keep
campers and staff amused and make me feel like I was
getting something out of my newly-minted journalism
degree. From there, LaVA and I took it on the road.
All the roads that wind the West. I think my sister
and I took it on the road, too, or rather the European
railways the next spring. And when summer came around
again, North Carolina was the new home of the
Star-Dispatch. I’m not sure if there was a
Stern-Dispatch, spilling the good stories of a
semester spent teaching German at the alma mater, but
if there wasn’t, there should have been. And now,
further away than ever before, the Star-Dispatch
steals the Hungarian word for star, tacks it up front,
and continues the grand legacy. Those who were given
the ability to make themselves laugh were given
happiness…
I went to Agi today to get approval to photocopy the Csillag-Dispatch. It took about two minutes of explaining. but by the time we were done, she was so excited that she took me next door to Herr Direktor's office. She barged into a meeting so that she could show it to him. He was impressed. Through translator Agi, he said "Good work, boy! Cognac or Wine?" I of course wanted to refuse the offer of a mid-day drink. I still had two classes to teach and papers to sell! So I said "Nein!" rather emphatically. Of course the German "Nein" sounds dangerously like "Wein!" Agi relayed to him that I was enthusiastically in support of wine, so he went to his liquor cabinet. Admittently opposed to this breach of protocol, I began pleading "Nein! Nein!" That must have come off as "Wein! Wein!" because he redoubled his efforts to get wine in my belly as soon as possible. Finally I manage to convince Agi that I was okay without an 11:00 drink, and Herr Direktor just shrugged his shoulders. He put the bottle of wine in a gift bag and handed it to me. Ahh, Hungary...
sold all 75 copies we made. ha ha, hungarian children, i tricked you into paying me to read english!!
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