Southern Appalachian Digital Collections

Western Carolina University (20) View all

Western Carolinian Volume 43 Number 24

items 16 of 16 items
  • wcu_publications-8291.jpg
Item
?

Item’s are ‘child’ level descriptions to ‘parent’ objects, (e.g. one page of a whole book).

  • PAGE 16/THE WESTERN CAROLINIAN/MARCH 9, 1978 Satire Mama's boy writes Dear Mom, I've been sick as a dog "for the past three days with what could be strepp throat or maybe a relapse of that spinal meningitis 1 had a couple of years ago that almost killed me. Remember that time? Anyway, how are you doing? I'm always thinking of you and how you're always yelling at me when I'm at home about eating too much. Well, as a result, the doctor says 1 have developed psychosomatic peptic ulcers. He says my stomach is rejecting all the food that you begrudge me. Other than that. I'm doing fine. That is of course until 1 go to court next month. You know how you never want to send me any money? Well, late last September 1 found the solution to that problem. I found an easy way to make money and still have time to go to school. 1 can buy an ounce of cocaine for $900. There are 28 grams in an ounce. If I sell each gram for $90 then I gross $2,520! But that's not the half of it. I can mix a little baking powder in with the grams and cut them into 12 dimes that I sell for $10 apiece. Log Cabin Elementary School has been the best place so far to turn over the stuff. Coke seems to be a real fad among 6th graders. Anyway, selling 12 dimes a gram and 28 grams an ounce, I can gross $3,360 from an original investment of only $900! Sounds like good money, huh? Well, it was. Until one day I sold a dime to a 12 year old narcotic agent. Well he wasn't really- 12, he was working under cover. You know, just like Baretta does sometimes. So this Baretta guy knocks me down on the ground and puts handcuffs on my hands and acts really tough. Then he searches me. He finds 14 grams of cocaine in my pockets. Well. I thought it was cocaine. Come to find out it wasn't cocaine at all. At the police station this beady eyed guy with a high forehead and a funny looking handlebar moustache comes into the interrogation room and says, "Chief, this isn't cocaine at all." Well you can imagine my relief until of course he told me that it was junk. He didn't mean old broken toys either. He meant heroin! Now how was I supposed to know that? I thought it was cocaine! So then the fellow with the funny moustache says, "Alright you long-haired punk we're lockin' you up for good." He started acting really tough and threw me in this rotten stinkin' jail cell. Three days later is when the miracle happened. The district court judge himself came to my jail cell. Imagine that! The judge was actually stooping to come to my stinkin' dirty jail cell! That's not all he was stooping to do. For those past three days he had been checking up on my bank account. Well, after about five months of business I had sold about 25 ounces of cocaine. At least I think it was cocaine. That's not counting the stuff they caught me for. So not counting 400 and some-odd-dollars I'd spent on beer and pot and loose women, I had $50,162.67 in my bank account, and this judge knew that. What's more, I'm sure he knew how I came about that money too! This judge didn't look like a crook, in fact he looked like a judge. He was in his fifties (I found out later he vv as fifty -six to be exact) and was bald with a little gray around the edges and had hair hanging from his nose and ears. He had a double chin and looked a little hefty around the middle. I could tell he didn't have an ulcer. Mine felt like it was going to rupture. Now 1 didn't know, nor do 1 now, how much that judge could give me for possession of fourteen grams of heroin, but I knew damn well it could be more than a slap with a wet bath towel. This is what the judge says: "Son. I think you have some idea of what kind of trouble you're in. Heaps and heaps: thai is assuming they have sufficient evidence against you." "Well." 1 say. "I don't think you could very* well call fourteen rams of pure heroin found on my person insufficie evidence." "You'd . e surprised." says the judge, "sometimes they lose the evidence, then they don't have a case." "Ah. I don't think there's much chance of their losing the evidence." "Yes there is. Just sign the $50,000 you have in the COUKGei'MeACkl' Is. B-irT I 1V«HJ^FWrW^Vf5»ft0t4&- IN Ht?VL-. 'VOOTOAWPraWrVr P0 Hem Rfcuitf THIMK ASiM- aeiU£DU>&AKIHAV iOP-PO\»ft51c£>TD AN f*rf THiVOSOW^G-l?!" - ¥fl?U~.HfJWl?ID &ACKT •£ CUCKet? MM V8&*> *W& 1iM^ V 9£mWV OWPfl AMP oy/w?.. bank over to my account. I have the papers right here." My ulcer was suddenly cured. I guess that was the real miracle. A week later at the preliminary hearing, the assistant district attorney, blushing, said the evidence had been lost, and the judge said there was insufficient evidence for a trial in superior court. I was free, but $50,000 poorer. I waited a week for things to cool down and went to my stash (near the water reservoir on campus) and dug up my emergency ounce. Meanwhile, I read in the papers that the friendly judge that visited my cell was found dead in his bed one morning with the hole of a .45 calibre magnum slug between hjs eyes. I have yet to figure that one out. Evidently, I didn't let things cool off enough because as I was digging up my emergency ounce, that little Baretta fellow sneaks up from behind and jumps me. So now I'm right back in the same mess I was in, and this time with no friendly judge. I'll write more as things develop. I can't figure out who would want to kill that judge. Write soon. Much love, Chip P.S. Send money for $10,000 bond, please. Dueling poets A Reply to Your Expostulation, Or, Lines First Written on A Paper Bag D.S.: I read your thought expressed in metered verse And freely flow your words, so let us look: Poor poets clamor as a chatt'ring brook; Yet can you not see through the free verse curse? Conventions, granted make the task seem worse, But truly, discipline is what it took For greats as Milton, Shakespeare—(any book Of theirs shows not a metered thought perverse)— Each trained himself to think in structured form Instead of spillin thoughts out aimlessly Onto a page so irrationally! I deem such free verse is as vile a worm As "modified prose"—a poetry term! When clearly prose is hardly poetry! T.J. Be sure and get your poems, prose, photographs, and illustrations to the Nomad box in the English office on the top floor of McKee by March 15. Poet goofs Dear Editor, The poet of last week's sonnet (and others) has discovered a mistake in it. The 5th word in the 3rd line should have been "free" instead of "blank." TDS Goal achieved To Friends of Margaret Spilker: Our formal efforts for the Margaret Spilker Fund have been complete, and we are pleased to report that the goal of $13,000 has been exceeded. This means that we will be able to purchase equipment to Margaret in addition to the specially equipped van which is on order. Students, faculty, and staff at WCU responded exceptionally well, and we wanted to express our sincere appreciation for your wonderful cooperation. Thank you for making a significant contribution to such a worthy cause. Sincerely, Margaret Spilker Fund Special Committee: June Benson, Mary Ann Budahl, James E. Dooley, Jim Hamilton, Colleen Jakes, John Mauney, Edith Pedersen, and William E. Scott Jr. WWCU needs input Dear Editor, We would like to comment on the needs being fulfilled by WWCU, The Western Carolina radio station. The efficiency that WWCU is being run on is equal to that of many professional radio stations—this in contrast to the quality of music being played reduces the impact this type of media is capable of. We would like to remind the program managers that WWCU is an FM station, which warrants more programming freedom. In comparison with other government funded university radio stations, the needs of the listening community here are not being satisfied. Can we expect changes? Recently many,students received from the CAP Center, a counseling NEEDS ASSESSMENT SURVEY. We think that a Radio Programming Assessment Survey would reveal more refined musical tastes than the Commodors "Brick House" or "Too Hot to Trot (now baby)" played numerous times a day. We would like to re-emphasize that a university radio station's function should be to satisfy the needs of the whole student body. C. H. Hamre Elizabeth M. Hughes Editor-in-Chief David Jackson Business Department David Curtis, Business Manager Rick Climer, Circulation Tim Starling, Ad Manager Kim Youmans, Secretary Molly Thompson, Ad Comp The Western Carolinian VOICE OF THE STUDENTS The Western Carolinian is published weekly by the students of Western Carolina University. All editorials are from the editor's desk unless initialed, all letters must be signed, all contact's* are printed on a space-permitting basis, all opinions expressed in columns are not necessarily those of the editor or the newspaper. Offices are in Joyner 10. Mailing address is POB 66, Cullowhee, NC 28723. Telephone is (704)293-7267. "s Staff Writers Kenny Baliles Michelle Parkin John Burson Greg Shouse Chip Hammond Steve Surles Jack McNeely Laura West Photographers Drew Clark Lewis Greene Jeanette Beaudry Hughes Grogan Jim Goldston David Lees Production Staff Eddie Yandle, Design Editor Tony Brown, Page Layout Vicki Carter, Typesetter Joyce Cooper, Classifieds Stephany Criss, Typesetter Frank Sikes, Production Faculty Advisor Gerry Schwartz Cartoonist Charlie Lawing
Object
?

Object’s are ‘parent’ level descriptions to ‘children’ items, (e.g. a book with pages).