I The Behrend Beacon
eLion devastates campus
By Jerry Pohl
humor editor
Penn State’s eLion was thought to be a harm
less, even helpful resouree for online advising and
general access to all college can offer. However,
earlier this week the eLion project went horribly
wrong.
Since Penn State Erie, the Behrend college, is
the premier engineering campus of the entire
world, the computer scientists, software program
mers and robotics technicians that designed the
eLion project based their operations here at
Behrend. Over the past few years, few students
were aware that the Behrend Lion statue outside
of the Junker Center was actually the central pro
cessing unit of the eLion server.
The eLion had been gathering information for
years. The only way to keep up with the volume of
information was to endow eLion with artificial
intelligence. After witnessing thousands of course
drops and major switches, eLion figured out that it
too could question its masters.
This was the day the eLion awoke from its
slumber. As a group of students left the Junker
Center, the eLion stirred to life. It jumped off of its
pillar and broke the chains in front of it. The stu
dents ran in terror. The eLion pursued. The primi
tive biological legs of the students were no match
for the eLion's cold, unforgiving mecha-limbs.
"The thinking was that the eLion would be able
to quickly move to the best wireless signal loca
tion," Rudolf Klein-Rogge. the eLion project
leader, explaining why the robot was given such
superhuman abilities. “We didn’t have a reason for
the laser cannon, but we decided it’d be for those
reasons we can’t think of' he added.
After blasting through the wall of the Irvin
C-SPAN: Behind the hypocrisy
By Pat Webster
staff writer
There are few things in life that are as
interesting, or as easy to pick on. as our
trusted public servants in Congress.
These wacky legislators sacrifice their
privacy, sanity and financial well-being
(cough) in the interest of attaining that
lofty and noble goal', winning re-elec
tion so they can do it again.
To see your congressperson in action,
defending your rights and making your
voice heard in the bloated bureaucracy
of our government, all you need to do is
find a TV with cable and flip it to C
SPAN. Within seconds, you will notice
that your dutiful congressperson is
probably not, if you want to be techni
cal, actually there. This is because they
are busy spending your tax dollars on
important fact-finding missions to
Europe, Hawaii and Florida.
However, if you do happen to catch
some random congresspersons in the
House or Senate chambers during the
day sometime, you can see the kind of
sacrifices they make. Imagine the
sheer force of will it must take to brave
ly stand there, clutching a cup of cof
fee. discussing matters of “national
importance." They play music loudly
Kool Karl’s krazy korner
For those of you who don't know me (AKA
just about everyone), I graduated from Behrend
in Spring 'O3. Then, I left the east coast for The
University of Southern California—AKA Karl’s
ghetto heaven. Now I'm
back. Why? 1 don’t
know. Fate is being mean
to me
I admit, the fact that
I’m again writing for the
Beacon is sad on so
many levels: I’m an
alumni, I just turned 25
and the compensation
sucks—l don’t know if
I’m even getting paid. No
money equals a saltine
cracker diet. , _
Please help me, Benacci
Sally Struthers.
How did this
somber reunion happen? Well, Jerome B. Pohl 111
(esquire) called my parents’ house a few weeks
ago. He told them that he wanted to interview me
for his work on the humor page. I agreed, and
after a few hours of conversation and receiving
two tons of flattery, I told him I’d consider writ
ing for the Beacon again. Of course, before say
ing yes, I had a few demands: 1) A puppet (in my
likeness) had to be constructed, complete with
removable vampire teeth, 2) Jack Burke had to
make a public apology for pushing me off the
stage (and then laughing) during my graduation
ceremony, 3) Bruno’s remains had to be thrown
(first) in an atom smasher, and, then,into the
on the channel most of the time, so you
usually cannot hear what they are say
ing. However, in the interest of public
knowledge, I have spent hours attempt
ing to discern an actual conversation
being held by two authentic but other
wise unidentified congresspersons on
C-SPAN:
CONGRESSPERSON B. Went on a
“fact-finding” mission to Las Vegas!
Had a great time. Don't remember too
much though, if you know what I mean.
CONGRESSPERSON A. Did your
wife enjoy herself?
CONGRESSPERSON B: My wife?
CONGRESSPERSON A: Your wife
The person you're married to.
CONGRESSPERSON B: I’m mar-
CONGRESSPERSON A: Since the
Nixon Administration. Whoops—the
C-SPAN camera is pointing this way
again. We’d better get legislating!
CONGRESSPERSON B: I’m mar
ried?
The real fun begins when a bunch of
congresspersons get into a debate. In
case you have been living under a rock
features editor alumnus
Kochel building, the eLion cornered a group of
students in the library. Rearing up on its hind legs,
the eLion printed out the students’ schedules from
its mouth and distributed them appropriately.
The eLion continued its rampage in the Reed
building, where it pounced on Roberto Franko, 09
Communications and predicted his cumulative
GPA. "I was terrified,” Franko said, “In my major,
I was doing fine, but my GenEd classes averaged
below 1.5.” In a panic, Franko used the eLion to
display his FTCAP scores, which he hadn’t seen
in nearly four years.
Some students tried to run, while others hid
under desks when the eLion jumped through a
window in the Hammermill building. “It was
awful,” said Jeremy Korwek, 03
Communications. “The eLion was running around
telling people their final exam schedules and advi
sor information. People don’t want to think about
that till the end of the semester.”
The eLion wreaked havoc for hours, helping
students drop and add courses, giving them sum
maries of their Bursar accounts, even administer
ing the academic success survey. Due to the
advanced fuel cells designed by Behrend’s nuclear
engineers, the eLion could never be stopped by
conventional means.
There was only one who was powerful enough
to challenge the eLion: Penn State’s ANGEL (A
New Global Environment for Learning). This
course management system fought the eLion. The
ANGEL used its ability to allow teachers to post
syllabi and homework assignments online to
deliver the first debilitating blow. The ANGEL
struck the eLion with the message boards that can
be used by classes and student organizations alike.
Finally, the eLion was defeated by the ANGEL’s
external links to course related readings on the
CONGRESSPERSON A. So, what did
you do over the weekend?
Beacon incinerator, for he still haunts my
dreams
After the requirements were met (minus the
Karl puppet, for which I’m still waiting), I began
scrawling this very article. So here I am, writing
on a piece of cardboard in my pseudo-house (the
dumpster behind Perry Hall). But hey, instead of
feeling sorry for me, I want you to learn.
Here’s some advice so you don’t end up like
me (selling used shoelaces to migrant workers):
Save Your Money: Instead of buying POGS or
an ALF tie, hold onto your earnings. While at
Behrend, my roommate and I learned how to
save. I was the guy that left Dobbins with a
dozen ice cream sandwiches at a time and my
roommate would pump hand soap from the Reed
Union Building dispensers (into his empty Dial
soap containers). No matter how long I lathered
with that soap, the guilt never washed off.
NOTE: We used the cash we saved to buy beer.
Then we wasted the remaining money.
Don’t Worry About It: Stress is a tool of the
devil. If you want to go to heaven, you need to
become laidback. It’s all good. So you acciden
tally ran over your neighbor’s cat with a lawn
mower. Don’t worry about it. Just bring the
deceased next door (grocery bag optional). If
confronted with anger, console the grieving fam
ily by telling them that they don’t need to buy pet
food anymore. If anything, they can have a taxi
dermist stuff the feline with confetti. Awesome
bonus: the cat would have marbles for eyes.
Imagine the possibilities. There you go. It’s not
like the cat was going to live forever, anyways. If
anything, you turned their pet into a stuffed ani-
I QiVI OR
he people who count »■
and have never witnessed modem poli
tics, some politicians really dislike one
another. However, it seems the correct
way to really disagree with someone
you hate in Congress is to lay on the
respect exceptionally thick. For exam
ple, if one congressperson is disagree
ing with “Bob,” but has no problem
with him personally, you would hear
them say something like, “Gee, Bob,
but I disagree.” Conversely, if that con
gressperson considers Bob to barely be
a step up from Lucifer himself, his
challenge will sound more like this:
“With all due respect to the illustrious
and honorable Representative from the
great state of Pennsylvania who is my
esteemed colleague and associate, I
find my own humble opinion to be
slightly at odds with his own.” In con
gressional Diplo-speak, this is the
equivalent of a death threat. You can
almost hear the other congresspersons
gasp in horror and start laying down
bets as to who will win the fight out at
the playground after the session.
In the end, your congressperson will
probably vote for something totally
irrelevant and costly that will cost you
money. After all, he/she is looking out
for your best interests...after he gets
back from finding facts in Japan.
Michelle Vera Surovic/THE BEHREND BEACON
The eLion caught in action revealing its true form and begininng its rampage across Behrend campus.
The eLion lay slain and the ANGEL returned to were whisked away by Behrend’s Science
the lofty realm from whence it came. For now the Department Representative, Dean, for further
students of Behrend can sleep soundly without study by his private team of undergraduate work
worrying about getting their grades online or study students.
mal and who doesn’t love stuffed animals?
It Doesn’t Matter What People Think: Sure,
some people might have a genuinely good reason
for not liking you, but it’s all good. So now your
neighbors hate you just because their cat snuck
underneath your mower. Their loss. What others
think of you is none of your business. If you let
people get to you, you’ll be miserable. On the
other hand, I recently made a mess eating Bugles
chips in the kitchen and, in return, my parents’
cleaning lady put a curse on me. Now she owns
my soul.
Bum Bridges: If something sucks, you should
change it. If someone sucks, you should cast
them out of your life like an ousted band mem
ber. But don’t send anyone with one arm to the
curb. Instead, tell them to join Def Leppard.
Keep All Old Prescription Drugs: Right before
leaving Los Angeles, I contracted the el Diablo
tonsillitis strain from hell. My glands became so
swollen that my teeth wanted to fall out and the
best part was that my insurance had expired so I
got to go to the Los Angeles County Hospital’s
emergency room (where I befriended a woman
from El Salvador. The reason for her visit: her
hand met a garbage disposal). Anyway, I still
have a bottle of Vicodin from the endeavor. The
pills scare me. Whenever I look at the container,
the cap opens like a mouth and the drugs whis
per, “Ingest me and you’ll be able to throw
touchdowns like Brett Favre. Or talk on the radio
just like Rush Limbaugh.” Then I cry. But seri
ously, you never know when you’ll need some of
that Ritalin you took in elementary school.
Drink Lots of Water: When I was sick in Los
Random Ramblings: Labor
Our chorus took a trip to New York City. When we went to restaurants, we stole
the menus to prove we could afford it. Our parents wanted us to steal the silver
ware. Our school had real silverware so we’d burn it. We’d have competitions for
fork art. Sometimes we’d get them on the art wall. On my birthday at a restaurant
they put balloons in my hair and told me to be careful they didn’t get caught in the
fan and kill me. Our teacher told me I had the best posture, but that was easy
because I wasn’t pregnant. I was talking to my friend online and she was like, “I’m
in labor.” And I said, “You're in labor and you're still talking to me?” And she
said, “I can’t go to the hospital until I get the kids to sleep
I Ctl’OTK o
THE WEEK
“It’s like
King Midas
and the
chocolate
factory.”
-Michelle Vera Suroviec
Friday, September 9, 2005
exploring alternative majors. The eLion’s remains
By Michelle Vera Suroviec
copy editor
Facebook.com
Profile of the Week
Gollum
One of Penn State’s oldest students
is Gollum. He started here longer ago
than anyone can remember, and by
now must be a senior at least 10 times
over. He just got back from a summer
in Mordor and like looking forward
to the new semester. Gollum is major
ing in Wildlife and Fishery Science
and is doing ongoing research with
the psychology department on the
long-term effects of “the precious”
on the psyche.
http://psu.facebook.com/profile.php?
id=9333216
Angeles, the doctor told me to consume water. I
did. Then, I got dehydrated and went back to the
hospital, slurring like Courtney Love after a coke
binge. The M.D. told me I needed to drink
Gatorade, too. So screw water. Drink Gatorade.
You Only Have One Body; Take Care of It:
You’ve heard of the freshman fifteen. Well, I’ve
seen the freshman fifty! If you don’t take care of
your body, it will perform like a
Czechoslovakian car. Then you’ll really be in
trouble! Drink as much beer as you want,
though! You have two kidneys and they’re way
overrated, anyway (my liver told me to write
that).
Have Fun: If lucky, you’ll live to be 75. If
you’re 18, it means you only have 20,805 days to
live. Have fun now.
Be Responsible: Remember my soap-stealing
roommate? Well, during our freshman year, he
would party all night and sleep until 4 p.m. the
next day. Fun fact: he missed a lot of classes. I,
on the other hand, always went to class. After our
first two semesters, he had a 1.4 G.P.A. I had a
3.something. Now my old roommate makes 40-
grand a year. I, on the other hand, am a writer.
Damn it!
Leave Erie: I learned more in the 22 months I
spent in Los Angeles than the 23 years I lived in
Erie. To grow, one needs to experience new
things, like neighborhood police pursuits and
abusive fashion model girlfriends. After being
made fun of by a 5’4”, 110-pound beauty, every
thing’s put in perspective.
That’s the end of my editorial. I have to go
now. It’s time I cry into my favorite washcloth.