WRITING101 Discussion 7 Cigarettes As A Form Of Money While watching Stalag 17, consider the unconventional form of money that was being used, namely cigar

WRITING101 Discussion 7 Cigarettes As A Form Of Money While watching Stalag 17, consider the unconventional form of money that was being used, namely cigarettes. Describe how cigarettes addressed each of the 3 functions of money. What function were cigarettes best and worst at satisfying? Has there ever been a situation where you have used a nonconventional form of money? Use the Radford article to support your position.Please answer in at least 500-words. APA formatStalag 17 audio transcript of this film clip is attached Stalag 17
Cookie: Sergeant J.J. Sefton. I guess it’s about time I told you a few more things about that Sefton guy.
If I was anything of a writer I’d send it in to the Reader’s Digest for one of those Most Unforgettable
Characters you’ve ever met… he was a big time operator; always hustling, always scrounging. Take for
instance the horse races. Every Saturday and Sunday he’d put on horse races. He was the sole owner
and operator of the Stalag 17 Turf Club. He was the Presiding Steward, the Chief Handicapper, the
Starter, the Judge, the breeder and his own bookie. He was the whole works, except that I was the stable
boy for five smokes a day.
G.I. #1: Gimme Equipoise, ten on the nose!
Sefton: Ten on the nose. Come one, come on!
Stosh: Ten on Schnickelfritz
Harry: Equipoise
Stosh: Schnickelfritz
Harry: Equipoise
Stefton: Come on, boys, the horses are at their post.
Stosh: Equipoise?
Harry: Equipoise.
Stosh: Ten on Equipoise.
G.I.: Five on Seabiscuit! Pay you when the Red Cross parcels come in.
Sefton: No credit.
G.I. #4: Have a heart, Sefton!
Sefton: Sorry. It’s against the rules of the Racing Commission. Any more bets? Ready Cookie?
Cookie: Ready!
Sefton: Let ‘em go! And they’re off and running at Stalag 17!
[crowd yelling]
Harry: Equipoise! Equipoise! What did I tell you, Animal?
Stosh: Come on, baby! Daddy’s going to buy you a piece of cheese!
Stosh and Harry: This way! This way! Straighten out, you dog! This way! That’s no horse, that’s dervish!
Please, please! For Daddy! For Daddy!
Stefton: The winner is number five, Schnickelfritz!
Stosh: Schnickelfritz! I told you Schnickelfritz! You made me bet on Equipoise!
Harry: I clocked him this morning. He was running like a doll.
Stosh: You clocked him! Why don’t I clock you?
Cookie: Another one of his enterprises was the distillery. He ran a bar right in our barrack, selling
Schnapps at two cigarettes a shot. The boys called it the Flamethrower, but it wasn’t really that bad. We
brewed the stuff out of old potato peels and once in a while a couple of strings off the Red Cross parcels,
just to give it a little flavor.
Stosh: It ain’t fair, Harry. I’m telling you it ain’t fair! My Betty, ain’t she beautiful? She married a Norcaster
leader.
Harry: So what! There’s other women!
Stosh: Not for me… Betty! [kissing sound] Betty… [crying]
Harry: Forget Betty, Animal. I’ll get ya a date with some of those Russian women.
Stosh: You’ll get me a date?
Harry: Sure. I’ll get ya into the Russian compound.
Stosh: How? Pinky Miller from Barracks 8 tried to get over there and they shot him in the leg!
Harry: It takes a gimmick, Animal, and I figured us a little gimmick.
Stosh: You did?
Harry: Sharp. Sometimes I’m so sharp it’s frightening.
Harry: To the Brick Kremlin!
Stosh: She’ll never forgive me!
Harry: Come on, Animal! What are you serving today, Nitric acid?
Cookie: I only work here. Talk to the management.
Harry: Alright! [coughs] Mr. Management! What are you trying to do, embalm us while we’re still alive?
Sefton: What’d ya expect for two cigarettes, eight year old Bottled-In-Bond? All the house guarantees is
that you don’t go blind.
Stosh: Blind? Blind! Harry! Harry! I’m blind! Harry, Harry, where are you? [crying] I can’t see, I’m blind,
Harry! Harry! I’m blind!
Harry: Blind? How stupid can you get, Animal?
Cookie: The killer-diller, of course, the real bonanza, was when Sefton put up the observatory. He
scrounged himself some high-powered Kraut lenses and a magnifying mirror and got Ronnie Begelow
from Barracks Two to put the whole shebang together for a pound of coffee. On a clear day you could
have seen the Swiss Alps, only who wanted to see the Swiss Alps? It was about a mile away, that
Russian delousing shack, but we were right on top of it. It cost you a cigarette or a half bar of chocolate a
peek. You couldn’t catch much through that steam, but believe you me, after two years in that camp just
the idea what was behind that window sure spruced up your voltage.
Let’s go. Twenty seconds to a customer.

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