• Format
  • Publications (documents)
• Type
  • Text
• Source institution
  • Western Carolina University
• Identifier
  • HL_WesternCarolinian_1985-10-31_Vol50_No11_05

WESTERN CAROLINIAN OCTOBER 31, 1985 PAGE 5 Carl Brickman, Jr. BRICKMAN LIGHT. A THIRD LESS SERIOUS THAN THE REGULAR BRICKMAN. MY FIRST EVANGELICAL RAID AND OTHER THOUGHTS Ahhh, the halo. A symbolic representation that I am the "chosen one;" the lone conservative on the Western Carolinian staff that will lead the liberal bias out from its decrepid state of idealist, ridiculous "Utopian society" dreamstate into the real, harsh reality of this world, showing them the "right" side and convincing a conversion. But some will be stubborn; they would still vote Mondale/Ferraro if given the chance again. Christ's conversion track record wasn't perfect, so I know I can't come close. Yet I feel as though it's my duty to express what I strongly believe to be the way for Americans to live and at the same time maintain a societal stability This mandates a restriction on immoral t< havior. This is, however, the opinion of many, so I am not starting out with a blank slate. My "tabula rosa" theory, which supports my desire to save future generations, maintains that today's society can improve through implementation of appropriate legislation, thus promulgating a harmonious state of nature for our children. If today's generation can live within the bounds of decided, accepted moral principles, our children will be better off, don't you think? The "liberal Utopian" view (rather, a dream) suggests that we can live in today's society (which accepts abortion, illegal use of drugs, child pornography, and homosexuality) and expect a rise in the standard of living, as well as a better compatability with our fellow man. They call it logical thinking in letting a man do whatever he wills while allowing him freelance justification. I call it passing the buck to Carl III. Voltaire once said that what we learn from history is that we don't learn from history. The acclivious immoral trend is unwavering. What happened to Voltaire, Jr? He wouldn't have passed the buck...unless he rebeled against "stupid dad who just can't see how we kids see things. He doesn't know anything." Sure, Carl, Jr. had fights with dad, but he never ran away from home...for more than a few hours. The halo. It gave me inspiration to venture downtown (with head held high) to preach against immorality at the local-college-hangout- brothel,"Ziggy's." Newin my evangelical motif, I was a little nervous, but confident that I could debate my point convincingly. "Let me see your I.D." "Why, don't I look 18, pal?" "Shut up, smart ass, where's your I.D.? (I Fumble for my license) O.K. There's a three dollar cover charge." "I'm not drinking. The Bible preaches against drunkenness; see in my Jerry Faldwell Bible..." "Look, there's a three dollar cover whether you drink or not, you cheapskate." I figured it was worth the opportunity to really make a fool out of someone engaging in a blatent immoral act, so I pulled out three crisp bills and vaulted into the establishment. I peered around the corner and immediately spotted a licentious female type making suggestive physical gesticulations to the bartender. Too coherent. I looked for easier prey; afteraii.itwasmv "first time." I saw what I was looking for as I turned my head in exasperated reaction to the repulsive female's actions. He wasa local, a regular. He had a "Ziggy's" shirt on, which was ripped at the neck and under both arms, as well as an ear pierced by a safety pin. He was in all of his supine splender in the corner of the room, clumsily practicing 12 oz. curls. What clinched his misfortune was when he rolled over, unveiling the name "Robb" embroidered on his back. "You drunken swine! Don't you realize what you're doing? You are damning yourself! What do your parents thinkof you? Have you ever heard of the name Jesus? He looked in my general direction, groveled something about Joan Biaz and Vietman, attempted to stand but fell against the floor, striking his head against the beer-soaked cement, regaining unconsciousness. I had won! Soon I was to realize that it was a good possibility I had not changed the drunkard's mind on his way of living when I saw him clawing at an equally non- sober, poor excuse for a female. I guess I'll have to try more bureaucratic means next time, like making millions of dollars then finding a conservative candidate in a particular election. Which brings up two long-standing thoughts concerning contemporary politics. The Supreme Court is an interesting lot of late, what my Constitutional Law professer calls a "hot issue." Two liberal justices, Marshall and Brennen, are past the twilight of their careers. Marshall said he won't resign as long as he can crawl tothecapitol, because he knows Reagan will replace him with a conservative. Brennen (the main conspirator in writing the court decision of pro-choice) is quite sick. Not being too morbid, let's figure their remaining life spans to be, say, two more weeks; we will see a majority of conservatives, with the replacements being appointed by Reagan. Roosevelt's dream: To "pack the court." President Reagan, bringing America back. Apartied. I hate it; it's wrong: The suppression of blacks for decades! Last night on the news I saw two innocent white civilians get the stuffing beaten out of them. Botha, the situation is useless, bud. Take the money and run. So what if there are't any blacks with the capability to run the government; what do you care anyway? Sure, there will be total anarchy for many years, sure, they will be eating fried apples and fu-fu off of gold platters, but it is their land. You can't win. I'm sure Reagan will do what is obvious, if Marshall and Brennen retire, or meet another unfortunate fate, just as I'm sure Botha will continue shooting up the countryside and cause further unrest. I'm not sure Robb really even heard me. But what about intelligent college students? I've got my column to appeal, and hopefully change some views (..."leading those to the 'right' side"). To me, changing one mind makes a difference, and that is what the halo is all about. *c*>Ko-f a There will be no salvation for me today...The Gods of Doom have cast the final vote, and the situation cannot be salvaged,for itisonceagaintime to face the hideous MACHINE in the basement of Benton Dorm. Born in the depths of hell, this MACHINE is capable of makinggrown mencry...and lesser men have lost more than they ever could afford...Yes, my friends, it is Wash Day, and I am filled with much fear and grief... The situation is always the same: I wander into my room and notice that several of the plants are looking rather ill. Pursuing the cause of their misfortune, I find that the pile of clothing that is directly under them is emitting a "Green Fog" and slowly moving under itsown power. Suddenly, I flash back to the words my mother would scream at me when she made the almost fatal mistake of opening the door to my room. "Great Leaping Mother of God!!! Don't you realize that it is a SIN to let your clothing turn into mulch...I did not raise you to be a slob! Now then, you just beat those filthy things into submission, tell them to stop molesting your sister, and march down to the laundry room...You know how to use the...MACHINE..." The MACHINE. Those two little words bounce off the sharp edges of my brain as I begin the ritual of herding the wayward clothing (with the a id of a cattle prod and sharp stick) into the basket. They protest my actions and attempt to do me much bodily harm. Two pairs of Levi 501's attack simultaneously, and my screams of vengence can be heard throughout the building. But their advantage is short lived. In a cunning move I grab the bottle of Raid - Ant, Roach and Possessed Angry Clothing spray from the top shelf and administera stunning dose. Time isof the essence now, for if the clothing were to regain consciousness before they were in the washer, there would be a need to call out the National Guard for a napalm strike. On my way down to the wash room, the Fear starts. I hear the manic cries of others who were unluckyenough to incurthe wrath of the MACHINE. "Shit!! Shit!! It's got my new shirt...Oh, God...Look what it's doing with it!! Jesus, keep your body away from it...AARRugghtfft!M It's got my arm, help, Helllllp!!!..." The sickening sound of some hapless freshman being sucked into the warm, soapy water puts me on guard. There is only one way to go about this. With a brutal "Kamakazie" type scream, I kick open the door, throw my basket full of numbed clothing into the nearest MACHINE, slam the lid down, and rush toward the detergent dispenser. Smashing my head against the dispenser yields the desired results: TERROR AMONGST THE LINT BALLS" three boxes of Clorox All Color Bleach and one box of Tide come sliding out of the slot. I rip the tops off them as one would rip the pin from a grenade—with my teeth. After swallowing the contents of the box of Tide (a stupid mistake on my part, as I normally swallow one of the boxes of Clorox), I throw the remaining detergent, boxes included, into the abyss of the MACHINE. NOTE: It is vitally important that you give the MACHINES some form of "Sacrificial" offering. Anything will do...old socks, a copy of your English 101 book, or — if the MACHINE is in a particularly foul mood — your roommate. This keeps the damn MACHINES from becoming over- zealous and turning your laundry into one large grey slimy mass of useless textiles. The MACHINE rears back and begins the washing process. One can only pray at this point. Thirty minutes later, after the gnawing sounds have stopped, I return to inspect my clothing. This time the MACHINE has been kind. Onlyfourarticles of my wash load have been dyed pink. Although I cannot recall putting anything into the washer that was even remotely related to that shade, I ask no questions. No use in losing sleep over the antics of a warped, malcontented washer. But the Saga is far from over... Next stop is the device that we fondly refer to as the "Finster Fry and Die Laundry De-Liquifying Unit" (a dryer in laymans terms). There are only two possibilities when you put your clothing into one of these babies: You will either get a solid bundle of freeze-dried fabric (after the thing shuts down), OR, upon closing the door and pressing the "Start" button, you will be rewarded with a "F000MMMPH!!" sound that indicates that your clothing has been reduced to a handful of black ash and can only be got at through the Lint Catcher. Again I was lucky. It only managed to vaporise two or three socks and half of the money that was in my wallet (Yes, I often run my wallet through the wretched devices...It is a typical male trait). On my way out of the wash room I noticed that the freshman who disappeared into the MACHINE adjacent to mine had escaped during the "Rinse" cycle. He was lucky, I've seen what happens when they get stuck forthe full ride... Walking back to my room, it hits me that the only way to rid myself of all this trouble, is to simply wash the clothes more often. But then again, why bother. It is little tests like the MACHINE that prepares one for the real world... Even as this is being written, lean see my mother pacing around her house and snickering. She knows I'm getting what I deserve... L E T E T R S CAMPUS BEEFS I recently had some meetings concerning the cafeteria and the issue I raised in my letter two articles ago. I was told that these ridiculous policies would be checked on, and the problems would be resolved. We also addressed the problem of insufficient seating and excessive serving time when certain organizations hold their meetings in Dodson Careteria during serving hours. Again, I was informed that the matter would be checked on and the problem alleviated. Let's let the system work and observe its level of efficiency; however, from all early indication, it appears that student reported problems are taken rather lightly. I also found that the cafeteria decisions are made by the Food Advisory Committee which consists of both administrators and students. This year, the students involved are Todd Davis, Cathy Easterly, and myself. Although these meetings have never been announced in the past, they are public meetings, and they will be publicly announced in the future. This puts the monkey on the student body's back to attend these meetings and make a difference. Remember, if the students' views are out of sight, they are often out of mind and left unconsidered. We can and will voice the students' views, but if you, the students, have the time and the interest, I encourage you to attend. This invitation is also extended to senate and other public meetings. I would now like to draw your attention to the 1985-86 Student Handbook. On page thirteen, it states, "Coupon books also are available which may beusedatthe cafeterias and at the snack bar and restaurant in the University Center." If these coupons are good enough to be accepted in the UC, why in the world can I not eat there with my ID? That salad bar at the Top of the Stairs is much more appealing, and they allow a return trip. What do you think? Now, drop down to the last line of the same page and you will find, "Line breaking is not permitted." Since these are cafeteria regulations, and since they enforce every other regulation to the letter, I ask you why this particular regulation is so blatantly ignored. If a regulation is established and printed, it deserves to be enforced. An unenforced regulation is absolutely worthless. After all, fair is fair, and just is just. Let's get these same women that are so strict with the vegetables to get strict and enforce some discipline and courtesy. Enough of the cafeteria for today. Another problem has recently surfaced in Hunter Library. With the expanding microfilm selection, more and more students are forced either to view the films on the machines or make copies. Generally, one would think that it would be easier to make copies of the material so that the students could work on their projects whenever they have the time. In reality, the time, cost, and hassle involved is hardly worth the effort. The library currently has two microfilm copy machines. This is hardly sufficient to accomodate the number of students who use microfilm. It appears that they are attempting to reduce the usage by charging an exhorbitant fifteen cents per copy. However, the overusage of these two machines usually means that there is only one available to the students at a time. The "Out of Order" signs have become a common sight. We're not the only people who are tired of this. The constant re pair of these machines also annoys some of the library employees. My suggestion is that additional copy machines be procured to alleviate this problem. After all, since the microfilm library itself is expanding, the procurement of addition user equipment seems logical. by Tracy Gasperini THOSE BAD,BAD, COLUMNISTS Dear Editor, Please refer to the attached classified ad as found, much to my dismay, in the Western Carolinian. My response is "excrutiating" disgust. I am simply appalled and angry. As a parent of two teenage sons, soon to be of college age, I am greatly concerned. Sir, where are the boundaries? Are there no controls? Such as this off-sets the positive aspects of our university, and yes, our county. I will not sign my name as I will be sending a carbon copy of this letter to the Western Carolinian and I do not wish that the columnists have my name as I fear they might be somewhat disturbed and I am unsure of the next directions their energies will take. Most sincerely, A Concerned Citizen Dear Editor: Since when has your paper become the advertising agent for the males on campus to "seek fulfilling relationships and general gratuitous sex." If your paper keeps on, pretty soon the reading material in the classified ads will need to be rated "XXX". The past two issues of your paper has contained three separate ads in the classifieds which males are advertising for relationships. We know morals have changed in the last few years, but does a male have to advertise? It would seem that a relationship that needed to be advertised for, would not be worth having in the first place. If your paper must contain such ads, why not use some discretion and EDIT the contents ofthead. One recent ad asked for a "pair of soiled undergarments." Who would want a pair of someone else's unlaundered underwear? The three ads have only listed post office box numbers, no telephone numbers. Why not fellas? Ashamed to have the phone calls? We certainly would call and tell you what was thought of your untasteful ad. And, editor, why not edit your ads. We are sure better wording could be used on the ads could be more appropriate. Someone could probably use the ad space for advertising something more worthwhile, than "someone's soiled undergarments." Jackson Jones OUT OF THE MOUTH OF A CLOWN Dear Editor: I'm glad George Gordon raised objection to Robb Schrof in last week's paper. I think Shchrof should be fired, or write about something other than himself. Billy Idol is a rebel, but he has style. Schrof has none. His boyish capers are aimless.arro- gant and unintelligently absolved in a "know-all flippant matter." Corny as it sounds, it actually makes me ashamed of our newspaper. I'm sure enough of the student body think Schrof "cool" or he wouldn't be printed. I realize I can turn the other cheek or "eat his shorts" as I'm sure he will suggest like the neighborhood bully. But alas, dear editor, I wish to express my view (and there are others in agreement) that juvenille drivel is not material for a college newspaper. Maybe, "More babyish vindictive diatribe from Schrof" would be an appropriate subheading, at least then an act of subterfuge wouldn't be upon us. The Class Clown'86 P.S. Hotel vandalism is not even vaguely humorous. WEARING ENDANGERED SPECIES IS NOT HOT Dear Editor: In a recent issue of The Western Carolinian, fashion writers Karen Sue Howard and Stephanie Crocitto prudently reminded readers that if they buy furs (a "hot" fashion item), they may "produce a negative response from pro-animal rights friends or acquaintances who are more concerned about the welfare of furry creatures than they are about fashion." One quality that allegedly separates human beings from "lesser" animals is compassion. However, industries that exploit people or other animals have always flourished, because many people are either so thoughtless or so self-centered that they feel compassion only when it's convienient or self-serving. The fur industry is one of these exploitive industries. Millions of furry creatures, whose welfare concerns too few people, are trapped or raised in captivity each year, then slaughtered to give compassion- less but fashion-conscious people lovely coats to wear. Furs are gorgeous-even "weird" animal lovers like me admit that- but each fur coat results from the suffering and death of formerly living, breathing, metabolizing animals. Yes, they are just animals, but animals can feel lonely, they can feel afraid, they can feel pain. I wonder if most of us could be so glib about the death of animals if we saw the heaps of blood-slick, naked bodies after the pelts have been stripped off. I for one hope never to become so callous that I can endorse the slaughtering of animals for fashion's sake. I do not expect to convince anyone to stop buying furs or even care that animals suffer and die. I'm afraid that people who feel no compassion for "lesser" creatures can rationalize whatever is convenient. Theresa M. Norman THIS STRIP IS DCbUr)reL> to r/yt F.o,\*.±.H.A-S; H i".». C. RkiO JO Iri "OfrJn,-wTc " (rJ*-, TSA) l*lt/+kscril. WOn/tl/tX, r HoPf yo^ HfjKjc i*\o>?£ Tt-iPrf./ O/Vfc DwoaI rosrvrr, TKt TlLTIwt Sri}/-,- (O/VJlirl Oi- rtSOuf 30 dtTIVtF /Virtues.* ro 3/*y itfix rirep 02i\jrfeK.j,.L-ii,Jr>,t>v-^\ rt^o HM'J /veFt><-e55 to .s/}y JtUAHrto ^vrr-t I.D Wi'S (3&Y ~ Hei 8se/V Mr*-/ Us tOK 12. u/tfc/o /Vi>yy llNb W* ST)Lu (tfVT h/OUHe iltvy 0sjT\ WM> /CMnys- iv)a,gt i/cs f3t *>», «*, oh? Kone^ J^g JfrJ 1

The Western Carolinian is Western Carolina University’s student-run newspaper. The paper was published as the Cullowhee Yodel from 1924 to 1931 before changing its name to The Western Carolinian in 1933.

• Creator
  • Western Carolina University
• Format
  • Publications (documents)
• Type
  • Text
• Date
  • Date original: 1985-10-31
  • Date digitized: 2019-02-28
• Extent
  • Dimension: 22.75" x 15"
  • Pages: 14 pages
• Subject - Topic
  • College student newspapers and periodicals
  • Cullowhee (N.C.) -- Newspapers
  • Universities and colleges -- North Carolina -- Cullowhee -- Newspapers
• Location
  • Jackson County (N.C.)
  • Cullowhee (N.C.)
• Source institution
  • Western Carolina University
• Source Collection
  • WCU Students Newspapers Collection
• Identifier
  • HL_WesternCarolinian_1985-10-31_Vol50_No11
• Repository
  • Western Carolina University Hunter Library