Hallo, ich habe jetzt schon alle meine Klassenkameraden gefragt, ob sie mir helfen können, doch niemand versteht es. Wir mûssen anhand des Textes der unten zu sehen ist den Titel erklären, aber meiner Meinung nach kann man den Titel nicht erklären, da er nicht zum Text passt. Wäre mega nett wenn jemand helfen könnte
DONT TRUST YOUR COMPUTER
Today at school, I was really missing Rowdy, so I walked over to the computer lab, took a digital photo of my smiling face, and e-mailed it to him.
A few minutes later, he e-mailed me a digital photo of his bare ass. I don't know when he snapped that pic.
It made me laugh.
And it made me depressed, too.
Rowdy could be so crazy-funny-disgusting. The Reardan kids were so worried about
grades and sports and THEIR FUTURES that they sometimes acted like repressed middle-aged business dudes with cell phones stuck in their small intestines.
Rowdy was the opposite of repressed. He was exactly the kind of kid who would e-mail
his bare ass (and bare everything else) to the world.
"Hey," Gordy said. "Is that somebody's posterior?"
Posterior! Did he just say "posterior"?
"Gordy, my man," I said. "That is most definitely NOT a posterior. That is a stinky ass.
You can smell the thing, even though the computer."
"Whose butt is that?" he asked.
"Ah, it's my best friend, Rowdy. Well, he used to be my best friend. He hates me now."
"How come he hates you?" he asked.
"Because I left the rez," I said.
"But you still live there, don't you? You're just going to school here."
"I know, I know, but some Indians think you have to act white to make your life better.
Some Indians think you become white if you try to make your life better, if you become
successful."
"If that were true, then wouldn't all white people be successful?"
Man, Gordy was smart. I wished I could take him to the rez and let him educate Rowdy.
Of course, Rowdy would probably punch Gordy until he was brain-dead. Or maybe Rowdy,
Gordy, and I could become a superhero trio, fighting for truth, justice, and the Native American way. Well, okay, Gordy was white, but anybody can start to act like an Indian if he hangs around us long enough.
"The people at home," I said. "A lot of them call me an apple."
"Do they think you're a fruit or something?" he asked.
"No, no," I said. "They call me an apple because they think I'm red on the outside and white on the inside."
"Ah, so they think you're a traitor."
"Yep."
"Well, life is a constant struggle between being an individual and being a member of the community."
Can you believe there is a kid who talks like that? Like he's already a college professor impressed with the sound of his own voice?