Revenge of Parliamentary Procedure
London Model United Nations opened up yesterday, thus marking the beginning of my stint as Togo. I quite purposefully use the word "stint" instead of "tenure" just now since I am, as of 9 a.m. Greenwich Mean Time, unofficially retired as Head Diplomat and self-appointed King of Togo. But before I get to that decision, let me give a brief recap of the first day of MUN.
After arriving and quickly registering for the conference at the Victoria and Albert Museum, the students from our University decided to get some lunch, and began to walk around the neighborhood looking for something suitable. We eventually ended in a sandwich shop, but because the VA Museum is quite close to Harrod's I decided to dip out and go across the street with two friends to get something tasty in the food halls. Mission accomplished, my friends. I bought a Salmon, leek, and caramelized onion quiche, as well as a Scotch Egg, and enjoyed the bloody hell out of both of them on the steps of the museum with two friends.
Prior to the opening ceremonies of the MUN, we were advised to attend brief lectures regarding parliamentary procedure and formatting written resolution. Now, just to set this moment up properly, I want to take a brief moment to talk about the mechanics and philosophical underpinnings of comedy; specifically, I want to talk about the twin phenomena known as the "beat" and the "inversion of expectations". The latter occurs when an element of the unexpected is injected into a situation. A basic example would be the old 'arrow through the head' gag. You see a guy with that gear on, and you can only say, "Wow, that guy got shot in the head with an arrow, yet he is still walking around. Haw haw!!" Mind you, this may not be that funny to us to today, but in the 1890's I expect it was a proper gut-buster, and it does serve illustrative purposes still.
The former element, the "beat", deals with pacing issues. Comedy is, as the cliche holds, all about timing, be it on written word, spoken routine, or visual performance. The "beat" is that brief moment just prior to a punchline, when people savor the set-up and prepare to have their expectations overturned. In instances where the set-up is the punchline (for instance, deadpan humor where understatement or feigned seriousness makes something funny), the beat is the hanging period in time when the audience is unsure if the speaker is serious or not. Given a wink or a sly smile, and the audience is relieved by virtue of having something they thought was serious end up being tongue-in-cheek. Their moment of pause gives way to relief and gratitude, which is expressed through laughter.
Back to the lectures: While the speaker was introducing the topics, he said he felt confident we were familiar with all this since he expected that we had been studying and practicing parliamentary procedure and resolution drafting for weeks, or possibly months. Just as I was opening my mouth and preparing to join the diffuse laughter that I expected to ripple through the audience, the speaker moved on to the first point of his presentation. This guy was utterly serious about the expectations for preparation. Realizing that I couldn't laugh now, I sat there with a half-open mouth, which I quickly turned into a fake yawn, and slumped down in dejection.
By the way, did I mention that out of some 250 plus men (out of 500 total delegates), I was the only one there not wearing a suit? Awkward.
After some blahblahblah opening speech by some Minister of Parliament, Lord Widepenny or somesuch, we broke up into our smaller committees, and I went to the room where the African Union Peace and Security Council (AUPSC) would be meeting. Out of 15 members, only 9 were there last night, and we quickly opened debate, at which time I realized I hadn't the faintest notion of how parliamentary procedure actually works. It was a dizzying flurry of people calling out "point of parliamentary order" and "the chair recognizes...." followed by "the speaker yields to point of information". The worst part was these people in my group were like parliamentary procedure Gestapo. They kept challenging the chair (who has been doing this for eight years, apparently) on his knowledge and application of the rules, which led to an exchange of passages from the rule manual; a rule "quote-off", if you will. When the chair asserted his ultimate authority, the rest of the proceedings were marked by much eye-rolling, sighing, and arms being cast upwards to heaven. It was like...hmmm...what exactly was it like? Well, if you imagine crossing parliamentary procedure nerds with sports geeks who yell at the TV, I think you would have a close approximation. It was akin to watching the most boring parts of C-Span while some guy yells, "C'mon Senator Akaka, get yer goddamn head out of yer ass already! You just gonna let them sit there and pass amendments on yer ass all day? Aw naw, don't filibuster, what the hell kind of coaching decision was that!!"
Actually, I have a few pictures from our Union here someplace...let me just see if I can find them...ah, yes, here we go. Here is a snapshot I took of the other members on the AUPSC:
After arriving and quickly registering for the conference at the Victoria and Albert Museum, the students from our University decided to get some lunch, and began to walk around the neighborhood looking for something suitable. We eventually ended in a sandwich shop, but because the VA Museum is quite close to Harrod's I decided to dip out and go across the street with two friends to get something tasty in the food halls. Mission accomplished, my friends. I bought a Salmon, leek, and caramelized onion quiche, as well as a Scotch Egg, and enjoyed the bloody hell out of both of them on the steps of the museum with two friends.
Prior to the opening ceremonies of the MUN, we were advised to attend brief lectures regarding parliamentary procedure and formatting written resolution. Now, just to set this moment up properly, I want to take a brief moment to talk about the mechanics and philosophical underpinnings of comedy; specifically, I want to talk about the twin phenomena known as the "beat" and the "inversion of expectations". The latter occurs when an element of the unexpected is injected into a situation. A basic example would be the old 'arrow through the head' gag. You see a guy with that gear on, and you can only say, "Wow, that guy got shot in the head with an arrow, yet he is still walking around. Haw haw!!" Mind you, this may not be that funny to us to today, but in the 1890's I expect it was a proper gut-buster, and it does serve illustrative purposes still.
The former element, the "beat", deals with pacing issues. Comedy is, as the cliche holds, all about timing, be it on written word, spoken routine, or visual performance. The "beat" is that brief moment just prior to a punchline, when people savor the set-up and prepare to have their expectations overturned. In instances where the set-up is the punchline (for instance, deadpan humor where understatement or feigned seriousness makes something funny), the beat is the hanging period in time when the audience is unsure if the speaker is serious or not. Given a wink or a sly smile, and the audience is relieved by virtue of having something they thought was serious end up being tongue-in-cheek. Their moment of pause gives way to relief and gratitude, which is expressed through laughter.
Back to the lectures: While the speaker was introducing the topics, he said he felt confident we were familiar with all this since he expected that we had been studying and practicing parliamentary procedure and resolution drafting for weeks, or possibly months. Just as I was opening my mouth and preparing to join the diffuse laughter that I expected to ripple through the audience, the speaker moved on to the first point of his presentation. This guy was utterly serious about the expectations for preparation. Realizing that I couldn't laugh now, I sat there with a half-open mouth, which I quickly turned into a fake yawn, and slumped down in dejection.
By the way, did I mention that out of some 250 plus men (out of 500 total delegates), I was the only one there not wearing a suit? Awkward.
After some blahblahblah opening speech by some Minister of Parliament, Lord Widepenny or somesuch, we broke up into our smaller committees, and I went to the room where the African Union Peace and Security Council (AUPSC) would be meeting. Out of 15 members, only 9 were there last night, and we quickly opened debate, at which time I realized I hadn't the faintest notion of how parliamentary procedure actually works. It was a dizzying flurry of people calling out "point of parliamentary order" and "the chair recognizes...." followed by "the speaker yields to point of information". The worst part was these people in my group were like parliamentary procedure Gestapo. They kept challenging the chair (who has been doing this for eight years, apparently) on his knowledge and application of the rules, which led to an exchange of passages from the rule manual; a rule "quote-off", if you will. When the chair asserted his ultimate authority, the rest of the proceedings were marked by much eye-rolling, sighing, and arms being cast upwards to heaven. It was like...hmmm...what exactly was it like? Well, if you imagine crossing parliamentary procedure nerds with sports geeks who yell at the TV, I think you would have a close approximation. It was akin to watching the most boring parts of C-Span while some guy yells, "C'mon Senator Akaka, get yer goddamn head out of yer ass already! You just gonna let them sit there and pass amendments on yer ass all day? Aw naw, don't filibuster, what the hell kind of coaching decision was that!!"
Actually, I have a few pictures from our Union here someplace...let me just see if I can find them...ah, yes, here we go. Here is a snapshot I took of the other members on the AUPSC:
And here is one of our eight year veteran chairman:
Here are some of my fellow members reacting to the news that I, unlike them, have kissed girls before:
And here I am (on the left) pumping some iron to get psyched up to debate some issues:
So, while sitting through just over a little over 1 1/2 hours of debate, I decided I couldn't face another six hours of debate on Saturday, followed by three more on Sunday. Therefore Togo is a no go. (Editorial note: I also debated using Togo is no mo' at this point; I'm not sure which one is better, so I am including both.) So to the people in the African Union Peace and Security Council, I say this: Whenever you look back at Andy, think fondly of me. While I wasn't there long, I hope I made a good impression on everyone. And as I pass through this life and occasionally recall my brief stint with you folks, I'll always think of you as...
...NERDS!!!!!
posted by YMMV @ 12:26 PM
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