How Edwin Nazario is Batman (Option Four)

The central message in Hasan Minhaj's Patriot Act episode "why billionaires won't save us" reminds me a lot of the lawyer Edwin Nazario from the book Bodega Dreams. To summarize, the episode discusses how billionaires shirk responsibilities (such as taxes), cover up their own wrongdoings, and manipulate society all under the guise of charity. On top of that, society often overlooks the aforementioned list of wrongdoings because the guise works to raise the image of the donor in the public eye. The one example in the episode that most clearly conveyed the message to me is that of Bruce Wayne, a.k.a. Batman. The show likens the actions of many billionaires to those of Wayne, specifically in the way that Wayne Enterprises causes destruction to society by day, but that same society hails Batman as a hero by night for helping fix issues in the very society that suffers because of him. This part reminds me of the actions of the lawyer Edwin Nazario in my book Bodega Dreams. The residents of East Harlem view and treat Nazario as a celebrity, as their savior. When Chino's apartment building is set on fire, its residents are devastated until Nazario comes along, at which point their devastation turns into the willingness to do anything Nazario requests of them. At the end of the book, however, it is revealed that this fire was set by none other than Nazario himself. Similar to Bruce Wayne and the other billionaires discussed in the episode, Nazario covers up the injustices he does to society- receives praise for helping fix them even- by providing pretty words and favors. The only difference between Nazario and the billionaires is that the billionaires use their own money, while Nazario takes advantage of Bodega's.

The Great Re-rewritten Ending (Option Six)

[3rd person p.o.v.]

Lying on his mattress on his pool, Gatsby lay thinking about Nick's words. "You ought to go away" he'd said.

Gatsby hadn't even given the though a single consideration before dismissing it. Of course he couldn't leave right now. He had to be here when Daisy called so he knew what she was planning on doing.

So he knew what she was planning on doing. That last thought echoed inside Gatsby's head as he stared up at the yellowing leaves on the branches that hung above the pool. It was still early fall, so the leaves hadn't completely lost their green yet. And amidst the green and yellow were speckles of red, and orange.

It's a beautiful sight, Gatsby thought. Just like Daisy. And when Gatsby turned his head a bit to the right, he saw the branches that the leaves had fallen off of. They had looked beautiful when the leaves were there, but the leaves had finished their purpose with them and left, now leaving the branches looking scraggly and dead. Just like Daisy, Gatsby's mind repeated.

His certainty that Daisy would call him had begun to waver. He wanted to be sure of her actions before he took any of his own, but, then again, hadn't he been sure of what her actions would be yesterday afternoon? Hadn't she assured him she'd tell Tom she was leaving him because he'd never had her love? And that certainly isn't what had happened.

With all the weight of a central dogma believed to be true for five years, the realization struck Gatsby that Daisy would never be strong enough to take a decision which may possibly inconvenience her.

He should phone her. He'd phone three times, and if she didn't respond within the hour, Gatsby would put his own life first for the first time in five years.

And with that, Gatsby threw his towel in a lump on the mattress, got out of the pool, and went into the house.

It was on the 2nd attempt that Gatsby heard shots outside. Within five minutes the deed was done. Gatsby ran back outside to find his towel with a bullet hole shot through it, a body in the bushes, and a few of Wolfsheim's men looking very confused.

Nick had a lot of questions when he came back from work.

America (Option Two)

America is a country of the free
There's equal rights for you and me
We've all heard it, but we all know that's not completely true
The land I call America may be a different place for you

This sweet land of liberty
Was marred by decades of slavery
As women fought for the vote and racism ran rampant
Some of this great country's thunder was dampened

As Native Americans were dragged from their home in chains
And the Japanese were thrown into camps in the Great Plains
I don't need to recount the stories, you've heard them
The stories of oppression and bloodshed that we all condemn

America has had a rough past, and the present certainly isn't perfect
We still have certain groups suffering from discrimination and neglect
But there's still some good in us, let's discuss it
Because while we aren't perfect, we're slowly getting the spirit

Like on 9/11 when the Twin Towers fell
And emergency workers rushed in despite the yells
412 emergency workers lost their lives in the fray
And we still applaud their bravery to this very day

And the freedom of speech that we enjoy in this nation
Is an envy in other countries ruled by dictation
There's so much diversity here, and while we're still figuring out how to handle it,
Where else can you live in one town yet meet every corner of the planet?

So yes we're still improving: at least we aren't denying our wrongs anymore
Say what you might about this country, it's gotten better than before
You can't fix things you don't notice, so keep coming with the criticism
But maybe while you're at it, don't completely lose you patriotism

What to the Native American is your America? (Option Three)

[Time: the Trail of Tears, Speaker: A Native American Chief]

Pardon me dear officer, but allow me to ask. Why do you gather my men here? What do I, or any of my kinsmen, have to do with the passage of your 'Indian Removal Act?' This Act is named after us, and concerns us, but what permission from us was taken during its making? The answer is none. Are we expected to submissively give up the lands that our forefathers have spent generations taming, and express our devout gratitude for the unknown western lands your government sees itself as blessing us with?

Such will not be the case. I say it with a sad sense of disparity between us. I am not included within this nation's glories! The blessings in which you, at this day, rejoice are not enjoyed in common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, safety, and political representation fought for by your fathers is shared by you, not me. The victory at Yorktown which brought freedom and life to you has brought oppression and death to me. This United States of America is yours not mine. You may rejoice this government, I must mourn.

Fellow-humans; above your national, tumultuous joy of acquiring new land, I hear the mournful wail of millions! Whose chains, heavy and grievous, are weighed down by the knowledge that they are losing their lands, their liberties, that they have rightfully owned for thousands of moons. I must faithfully remember those bleeding children of sorrow this day, who were ripped from this world by hunger and sickness while forcefully being moved thousands of paces from their homelands.

Allow me to ask one final question officer. What, to the Native American is your America. What, to the Cherokee, Chickasaw, Muscogee, or Seminole is your America? I answer: a country of gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. Picture yourselves in our lives for just a day, picture yourselves experiencing the bombast, fraud, deception, and pain we do, and you will say with me, that for bloody oppression and revolting barbarity, America reigns without a rival.