Collegian
Page 4
Editorial
by James Martin
Collegian Editor
Thinking about the college
scene during the 1960'5,
evokes for me, a series of
mental images filled with
protests, rallies, marches and
riots. Important issues like
racism and the U.S. presence
in Viet Nam provided much
of the fodder for these
protests. It seemed that col
lege students were often a
moving, central force in the
change that was realized in
these matters. Being jailed
for protesting something with
which you disagreed was not
unusual.
We return our thoughts
now to Behrend College
1988, where it appears that
our greatest . problems revolve
around such pressing issues
as bad food, a small library,
icy sidewalks and complaints
Love Rob
Looking for Space
Study, study, I wanna study. Well, not really, but every once in a while
you gotta.
Where to go„ where to go? How about the library study room? It's
quiet, well lit and only about 120 degrees Fahrenheit. You know what
they say: Tight grading, loose shoes and a warm place to study. Sure,
take a sauna...study calculus...great mix. If some enterprising students
would start-a towel service we'd really have something.
If your sweat pores are "clean enough thank you." I guess you have
to sit downstairs: The study area that, creatively strives for recognition
as one of the earth's most densely populated regions with more people
per square yard than Hong Kong.
So the Behrend Library (soon to be known as the Behrend Book
Store Annex) is out. If you're looking for somewhere quiet like the
Gorge-excuse me-the Wintergreen Gorge eating and gathering Cafe.
Yea right, now try and call the Erie Public Dock 'Dobbin's Landing.'
But the landing is still a dock and the cafe is still a gorge. Like the
dock, the Gorge can be a little Loud. You might want to try somewhere
quieter like Erie Hall during a basketball game.
I would also joke that you could use a lobby, but unfortunely most
people already do.
By now, you're: "here we go, more complaints without solutions."
Well, as a matter of fact I do have a solution.
Behrend could forget about forcing the library to masquerade as a
library. Remove most of those books and we'd have a dandy study area.
We could do with a hundred of the most important ones. They have
plenty of room. Then they could call the library the Bookstore study
room, part of the growing bookstore complex at PSU Erie.
Aaaw forget it. Who really needs to study anyway?
The Death
of Activism
about money expended on a
bookstore the size of the
Astrodome. Have we become
petty and concerned with
nothing outside of our im
mediate and very small
world. I'm not sure, but I
prefer not to think so.
Perhaps all of the worlds
big problems have been
resolved and now we can all
kick back and concentrate on
fine—tuning some of the
smaller matters. Does this
mean that the threat of
nuclear war is gone? Does it
mean that there is no danger
of destroying our environ
ment by dumping toxic
nuclear waste? Maybe there
are no homeless, starving
people to worry about
anymore. Are all of these
problems solved? If not, why
C , •
' )
/ •
has the protesting stopped?
Have we just lost all interest?.
As I started to write this
editorial, I had a theory about
this. I theorized, (and I still
think I'm partially right), that
people become involved in
politics only when it benefits
them directly or if they feel
threatened. An Edinboro
professor of middle—eastern
studies pointed out that prior
to 1978 he had never been
asked to address a group.
Since 1979, the hostage situa
tion in Iran, and the growth
of fear about' conflict in the
middle—east, this same
professor has addressed over
200 clubs and organizations.
Another example: Thousands
of students protested the Viet
Nam war. It seems that it
must have taken only the
very real threat of being draf
ted to convince many that the
war in Viet Nam was
"wrong." I feel quite sure
that if the President and Con
gress decided to draft a
couple hundred thousand
troops to presereve
democracy on another con
tinent, that there would be a
sudden, intense interest in
politics.
But perhaps this theory
doesn't always explain
people's actions. What did
northern whites have to gain
by fighting for the rights of
blacks during the 1960'5.
Were they facing any real and
present danger? Was cleaning
up the environment any more
pressing an issue 20 years
ago than it is today? Clearly
all the good that has been
done cannot entirely be writ
ten off as arising from
selfserving motives.
I'm not trying to preach.
Voting is the entire extent of
my political activity, is this as
far as any of us are willing to
go? Perhaps the only real
danger we can indentify with
is not having a high paying
job following graduation. I'm
not trying to incite anyone to
riot, I think there are
probably more intelligent
ways of initiating change, I
just wonder if truly noble,
selfless motives still exist in
the 1980's
iViDEMEnIiFiIiTEDFIELAIZI
by Jim Hale & Terry Anthony
Collegian Staff Writers
When we left our heroes, they were downing a fei , brewskis in the company of several female midget
roller derby fans. But hark! They heard the call of the wild once again. They had an obligation to you the
students, faculty, and other human-like creatures. It was time to continue their neverending quest to define
"The Behrend Experience." This week the terrible two-some would delve straight to the heart of the
American College-- PARTY FEVER!
So without further ado, they shut off the TN., gave the rest of the beer and women to Spike, the killer
gerbil (move over, Spuds Mackenzie), and flew into the closet. When our heroes reappeared, they were
ready to research the social scene. Decked out in plaid sport coats, green polyester bell bottom slacks, and
suede clogs, they were dressed to kill. After splashing on that cologne that drives women crazy—Eau de
•Papermill— they felt certain tonight would be THE night.
• They jumped into their partymobile and cruised to the party with the top down (in January?). They hop
ped out of the car and made their entrance. Every eye turned and noticed their flashy fashions, which were
straight from the cover of GQ (Geek Quarterly). Noting what could only have been jealousy in the eyes of
their onlookers, they sauntered over to make themselves a tequila fanny-banger. Imagine their surprise
when they realized someone had switched the fanny-banger mix with lemon-scented dish soap. Not to be
intimidated, our jockeys of journalism made their way to the bucket of grain punch a drink foreign to
their taste buds until now. "What's in it?", asked Jim. "Bits of fruit," a voice said. Yummy. Jim' liked bits
of fruit. "And other stuff," another voice chimed in. Umm, Terry liked "stuff." See Jim drink. See Terry
drink. See Jim and Terry Drink. Drink fellas, drink. See Jim and Terry fall down. See how the room spins?
Now watch as we see those giants of journalism break a land speed record to pay homage to the great
porcelain goddess and place sacrifices at her majestic feet.
Feeling they had gathered enough facts to write the story, they strolled (stumbled) across the quad and
into some bushes to give another offering to the gods. When they emerged, they were not happy campers.
They had dribbled on their matching 6 inch-wide paisely ties. Oops. Bummer.
Next they stopped a friendly looking person for directions. When asked her name, she replied, "Jane
8.A." Oops. Bummer.
Not to be outsmarted, our newspaper pals flashed their press passes. It would have gotten them off the
hook if Terry wouldn't have had his pass tattooed on his belly button. When he flashed his pass, he really
flashed his pass! Oops. Bummer.'
Next they failed the sobriety test but they were framed! She made Jim spell "R.A.," a trick question.
Everyone knows Jim can't even spell his first name, let alone Jane's last name.
Yes, sports fans, it was a long and eventful night but they came home with the story. Gratuities from our
fans will be accepted in the Collegian office during regular business hours. But please do so quietly, be
cause those wonder-writers will be busy researching cures for hangovers.
Tune in next time as the lords of the journalism jungle try to define the typical college student. See you
then. Same Bat-time, same Bat
channel.
Fun in the Dorms
by Ed Mesita
Collegian Staff Writer
I got back from class, threw my
books down, and looked at the
clock. It was four o'clock.
"I'm gonna lay down for a
while," I told my roomate. "Wake
me in time for dinner."
"Sure," he said.
A while later I was awakened by
someone shaking me.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"What?" I replied, trying to
wake up.
• "I walked down the hall to talk
to Steve and Mike," he said. "Then
we decided to send out for pizza.
I'm sorry, but I forgot to wake you
up."
I sat up grabbed my alarm clock
It read 6:10.
I set it down and looked at my
watch. 6:10.
"Damm," I said. "Now I missed
dinner."
"I'm sorry," he said again.
I got up, grabbed my coat, and
walked out. Now I would have to
buy something down in the Win
tergreen Cafe. That really pissed
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-Tricks to Play on Your Roomate and. Neighbors
me off. The more money I spend on
food, the less I have to spend on
beer. I was still fuming when I
walked in and ran into my friend
Jim.
"What are you all fired up
about?" he asked.
"My stupid roommate forgot to
wake me up," I said. "Now I mis
sed dinner."
"What are you talking about?"
he asked, looking up at the clock on
the wall. "It's only five o'clock."
I turned around and looked up.
Sure enough, the clock read five
o'clock. I walked out and went
back up to my room. -My
roommate, Steve, and Mike were
laughing so hard, their eyes were
watering. As we walked over to the
dining hall, I was already planning
my revenge.
Playing tricks on your
roommate. It's one of the most
popular college pastimes. A little
creativity and a good sense of
humor is all that's required to have
a good time.
"Trick playing was a daily
routine for us down at U.P.," my
friend John was recently telling me.
"Most of them were pretty simple,
like super gluing quarters to the
floor and then watching people try
to pick them up. The old 'dollar bill
on a piece of thread under the door''
opinion
trick was also fun. But the best
ones usually involved the phone.
One Sunday morning I woke before
my roommate. I took out my scotch
tape and taped down those buttons
on the phone. I went next door and
told our neighbor to wait five
minutes and then call our room.
Then I got back into bed. When the
phone rang, my roommate jumped
up, grabbed it and said 'hello'.
When it rang again, he threw it
down and grabbed his clock, radio,
and anything else he could get his
hands on, trying to shut them off. It
took him five minutes to figure our
what was going on. I never laughed
so hard in my life."_
"One night he was getting ready
to go out and had just spent twenty
minutes washing and blow drying
his hair. When he wasn't looking, I
took out my `Edge' shaving gel and
put a glop of it on the ear piece of
the phone. Then I went next door
and called the room. I could hear
him yell through the wall. I went
back in and saw him standing in
front of the mirror, trying to clean
the green goo out of his ear and
hair.
Another time the guy next door
pissed me off, so I got -up in the
middle of the night, filled up a
waste basket with water, and leaned
it against their door. Their carpet
got a good washing the next morn
ing when they opened it. The
`powder trick' also worked pretty
well."
"What's that?" I asked.
"You take a newspaper and
sprinkle white baby powder all
over on it. As much powder as you
can get on it. When your neighbors
are asleep, go over and slide the
paper about half-way under their
door. Then take a blow dryer and
blow all that powder under their
door. When they wake up the next
day, everything in the room will be
covered with a film of powder. In
cluding them."
"And then there was the time,
when I lived on a coed floor, when
we went into the ladies room in the
middle of the night and removed all
of the shower handles. That next
morning there were pissed off
chicks everywhere. It was pretty
funny.
"That is funny," I said. "But all
this sounds a little childish."
"Of course it's childish," he
said. "But hey, isn't that what col
lege is all about?"