• Format
  • Publications (documents)
• Type
  • Text
• Source institution
  • Western Carolina University
• Identifier
  • HL_WesternCarolinian_1995-09-28_Vol61_No05_19

September 28,1995 Western Carolinian 19 Editorials ound It Guest Columnist Michael Swink "Where is that...?" "Have you seen my..." "I thought I left it here?!" "Someone had to have picked it up because I know where I put it." "Well maybe it's over there;... go look." "Have you found it yet?" "It's got to be here somewhere." "Yes, I'm sure it's here somewhere!" Sound familiar to you? I bet if we all think real hard we can recall times in our lines when we were looking for something. This something could be anything like a meal card, a set of car keys, the mate to that odd sock in the laundry, the final source for that paper that's due tomorrow, the last five cents needed to get a drink, the answer to #9, that small piece of paper with that girl's (or guy's) phone number on it, your glasses, or the tape that fell down behind the seat of the car. No matter what it was, we've all been in situations where we've had to search for something. Sometimes we're successful; sometimes we aren't so successful. But nevertheless, we can all agree that it's not very fun or encouraging to be looking for something and not be able to find it. I know this situation very well. There have been times when I have turned a room upside down looking for something and times when I have exhausted every source searching for the right answer. I don't about you but I don't like to be "in-the-dark" concerning anything. This feeling comes from an experience I had growing up. I was raised in a small town not far from here. I had a good childhood and my years in elementary and high school were okay. I had no major complaints. I wasn't poor; I wasn't rich. I always had a place to sleep, food on the table and a family that loved me. I was raised in church and played just about every sport that came along in high school. In looking at things one could say, he didn't have it that bad. In all honesty I didn't. But there was something missing. I noticed that there was a void in my life. Something was missing that I couldn't quite put my finger on. I didn't have any idea what it was but I knew that it was bothering me. So, I began looking for the answer. I diligently searched anywhere and everywhere. I tried anything and everything. I got to know anyone and everyone. Then all of a sudden I looked up, in the middle of my search, and recognized that I was 18 years old and that void was still there. Nothing I had tried, done, experienced, or seen had filled that emptiness inside. I found myself scratching my head and wondering? "There has got to be more to life than this!?!" Here I was a college freshman and I had no hope. I was getting desperate! Then, one Thursday night, I met this girl. She was different than anyone I had ever met before and we quickly became good friends. Every time I was around her I noticed that there was something different about her. She was always so happy and she looked at everything in a positive way. Nothing could get her down. When was around her I was happy, but when apart 1 knew that something was missing. After awhile it began to really cause me to think, "What does she have that I don't?" Finally, one day I asked her what it was that made her so different, what it was that kept her going, and what it was that made her so happy all the time. What she shared with me, changed my life. All the years I had been searching to fill the tremendous void in my life and she had the answer. I could not believe it! She didn't tell me some trivia fact, give me some formula, or even introduce me to a new drug She told me about a person Who had made the change in her life and that his name was Jesus Christ. She told me how much He loved me, how He died in my place on the cross as full payment for my sins, and how He provided for eternal life be rising again from the grave. I knew about Him, but I never realized just how much He loved me and everyone else who has ever taken in a breath of aii At that moment I realized the need in my life and that need was a personal relationship with Jesus. I prayed and asked him to forgive me of my sins and to be my personal lord and Savior. Immediately, I knew that the void in my life was filled anc that I had the same joy my friend had. Not only do I have joy, but I also have hope in that no matter what happens I know that I have an eternal home in heaven because of the gift, that is offered to everyone, that I excepted from Jesus. We all have questions that we're looking fo the answer to. I still have questions to this day anc the amazing thing is that all the answers are founc in The Bible (the Word of God). What are your questions? The Bible says, "Ask and it shall be given you, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you." (Luke 11:9) Sometimes answering the question alone can be tough. It took a friend to show me "the answer." If you have any questions and you're nol sure what the Bible has to say about them. Write them down and send them to me. Together we can find the answer. My address is: WCU 329A Reynolds Cullowhee, NC 28723 The opinions expressed in these articles do not represent that of the Western Carolian or the University. The American Way & Why I'm Thankful By Earle Wheeler "To Be An American" ^ God bless these United States where all reams come true. One nation, under Fluoxetine, wavePSyCh0tr°PiC dfUgs for a11' From amber sho CS u appetite suPpressants to vast seas of talk owWs- WhV be shy? Why be fat? Why mind your n goddamned business? America is the cure. A bl ?eVeral insPirir>g incidents come to mind. boy 'rUCk fu" of Patriotic. red-blooded young anoth°m f°r 3 n'8hl °f fun and games-They paSS and iCr y°Ung boy who has Just 8°tten off work his faSthWalklng along the side of the road to meet rearin t *'the convenience store. These God- sati g' andsorr>e men decide to start a converts the neighborly thing to do. 0ne of h'd y°U Say something to me, Faggot?" '•Jem in the back of the truck says. to BM u b°y just keePs walking. He just wants -« nome alive. of the tn° ?eSe S'X southern gentlemen leap out punk ™ck and start walking after this rude c°urteou t "'SCem t0 b°ther himself ,0 ^ his attenr V thr°W r0cks at him" Just t0 get the mark?"' °f Course- but being to drunk t0° nit red-bloori h flVe feet away they fa" on mm like long hai H W°lves' kick,n6 and punching their Ntchi- target umil he is unconscious and God0nthesideoftneroad- waggjn„ th a" thc gUldance counselors, S 'heir dangling fat chins at cowering children, telling them they're crazy for not believing in God. That'll set them straight. Tears stream out of my eyes at the thought of lost, insane youths without child-molesting obese sociopaths to counsel them. Thank you, American Public Schools, for lending a hand in the molding of our children, for stigmatizing every drop-out as a loser, for setting up attendance policies for worthless classes, for a ninth grade civics teacher having sex with their students, for teachers who sit back and laugh while boys fight like rabid animals. God bless Scan-Tron tests for our sanity. God bless Prozac™ for giving Geraldo one last season. God bless fathers who scream and shake at their kids because they are too scared to want to play. We don't want scaredy cats and sissies in America. God bless impassive, worthless mothers who can do nothing about anything. God bless all the rich kids in the Honors English classes. God bless parents who can pay their children's way through college. God bless every institutional learning facility. Why not share your feelings more? Why not open up? You don't need to be shy anymore. We're one religion under drugs, here. We're high on God. See the glow in our faces? It's from RAPTURE. We're not perfect in America, no, just forgiven. Forgiven of rape and murder. Forgiven of religious perjury. Forgiven of judging you. The most common side-effects of America are loss of appetite, weight loss, nervousness, anxiety, insomnia, diarrhea, and sexual dysfunction. These are usually mild and can be controlled by adjusting the dose. Let US control the dose for you. Don't want people calling you craaaazy and eeeevil. God bless ivory towers to lock our children in. Thank you for class after class of the same thing. Thank you for being here to teach me. Thank you for not understanding everything I say. Thank you for living in the past. Thank you for preparing us for the job market. Thank you for molding us. Thank you for a country flooded with PhD's. Thank you for making sure everyone gets real smart real fast money back guaranteed. Thank you for assembly lines. Thank you for 18-year-old alcoholics. Thank you for underage children having sex with college students. Thank you for free condoms in the local infirmary to keep these worthless inbred psychotic young fuck-ups from procreating and perpetuating their alien species. Let us take a moment to extend a hand to the religious RIGHT for always being RIGHT. This is, after all, GOD's country (thus reads the PEPSI™4 billboard), and anyone who don't get down on his knees and pray every night then screw his wife in the missionary position for pro-creative purposes just better get the hell out of town! We made special colored and faggot and injun killing viruses and we can make one for you too. One that can home-in on low serotonin levels in the brain. We don't want your kind here... we've read pamphlets about you... we know... Thank God for people who murder the secretaries of abortionists. Thank God for people to pray for your soul every night. Thank God for people who will tell you to smile, 'cause if you ain't smiling, we've got no idea what's on your mind. TO BE AN AMERICAN: To be an American is to put prayer back in school, to make it easier to ostracize the flag burning apple pie raping ATHEIST. I recall a particularly patriotic incident in eighth grade. A sickly, asthmatic, unattractive boy sits in his history class, trying to take a test, while the teacher walks through the aisles, tugging her Depends™ out of her crack, reciting the Lord's prayer. Like magic the young boy fails that test and every test thereafter. After class, the other children shun him like a skunk... they can smell his difference though the stale school air. To be an American is to ask what someone is thinking, then shrink back in terror at the vulgarity of it... "No one used language like that," my mother says, and I time travel back to the elementary school bus, where I sat and faced the word "FUCK" carved into the seat in front of me for years. Did I break down and cry? Did I throw my hands up to the sky and pray for forgiveness for seeing that WORD? You bet I did because I am fucking proud t be a goddamned American son of a bitch, and ver few can say that and get away with it.

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: 1995-09-28
  • Date digitized: 2019-11-19
• Extent
  • Dimension: 14" x 11.25"
  • Pages: 24 pages
• Subject - Topic
  • College student newspapers and periodicals
  • Cullowhee (N.C.) -- Newspapers
  • Universities and colleges -- North Carolina -- Cullowhee -- Newspapers
  • Western Carolina University -- Periodicals
• Location
  • Jackson County (N.C.)
  • Cullowhee (N.C.)
• Source institution
  • Western Carolina University
• Source Collection
  • WCU Students Newspapers Collection
• Identifier
  • HL_WesternCarolinian_1995-09-28_Vol61_No05
• Repository
  • Western Carolina University Hunter Library