FYS

1. Megan Lewis
FYS
Stereotype Questionnaire
Business Man: A white man, thirty to forty years of age. Clad in a black suit, he steps out of his nice new
mustang or other some such expensive car. H glances around, before looking at his stupidly gold watch.
It’s ridiculous how much it cost him, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s a business man. His hair is short
and cropped, because obviously, long haired males are lame-ass bums.
A Rich Person: This person, male or female, is armored in only the finest of dead animal furs.
Accessorized with shiny baubles and glittering pieces of junk, they prance around showing the world
that they obviously own it with the authority that only a minor deity may command. Also, they are white
as new snow and hate equal rights.
A Typical Person My Age: You first smell the fine aroma of sweet stinky weed, followed by the sounds of
laughing and inebriated joy. Wearing a shitty t-shirt commemorating the adventures of Pink Floyd,
Hendrix, or even the wonderful Doobie Brothers, they ride on their Stallions of illegal contraband with
style and grace only a sad, sorrowful existence could provide. I’m talking about the people within the
band community, as is tradition.
A Poor Person: Granted the boon of welfare, they spend their cash on their succulent Pabst Blue
Ribbon. Ragged couch in the front lawn, they sip their fine beverage watching their spawn play among
the buffalos and other inbred children of the neighborhood.
A Smart Student: Book in hand, they incessantly talk about their moronic sporting events, competing
with each other with honeyed, poison laced words. Condescension leaking from their pores, they smug
their way through high school, until they reach the cesspit that is higher education, until they reach their
tipping point and slowly fall into the maelstrom that is failure.
A Stubborn Person: Foot tapping like an impatient pug dog, they stride around with their high horse
particularly elevated. Prancing around with aplomb and their rugged self-assuredness, they ride on with
their thoughts, unheeding of their own stupid mouths.

2. A Young Mother: She smokes, she drinks, she does all the fun things that slowly drive death forward just
a little more, Ignoring her little ones cries and foisting them off to another relatives care, she parties just
a little more every day. There can only be one dancing queen in this town, and it’s going to be her.
An Old Person: Crouched over from the weight of a weary age, they soldier on through with the
unbreakable will of a thousand years. They have gazed into the end, and the end into them, and they
know no fear. Or they do, and they ignore, just like they ignore their taste buds and just eat whatever.
Either way, it’s cool.
A Foreigner: Skin of a not white person, they come into the country with only their wills and their weird
languages to guide them. Weird culture, weird food, weird religion, they are wreathed in a cloak of
undistinguishable unknown.
A Stock Trader: Mitt Romney. ‘Nuff said.
A Bus Driver: Stealing my change, he rides. Telling me I can’t ride for free, he rides. I know not what he
rides for, but damn does he ride.
A Singer: Always singing, always off pitch, always being an offensive prick, never once shutting up, they
share similarities with before mentioned stubborn person class.