Letters
To The Editor
CAPITOLIST,
Pigs?
Dear Sir
I have just finished reading
your current issue of THE
CAPITOLIST. Usually I find the
paper to be informative, if not
always pleasant. However, the
cartoon on page eight was
disgusting, insulting and
derogatory to Black people.
There was no reason for the
animal portrayed to be yelling a
Black expression (yes, jack! a
Black expression that you
whites, as usual, stole and now
use as your own). Why couldn’t
he be yelling an expression
typical of whites like: fuck-o or
jack-off?
Second, if a squirrel had to be
drawn, and so grotesquely, why
must it be black. There are just
as many white ones that would
have served that Alice-in
wonderland article. Your paper
seems to showing a racist
concept.
Armand J. Mundy
S.G.A. Senator
B.S.U. Members:
Lois Brockington
Eva M. Warren
Donald Hilliard
Valerie Sims
Caroleetha A. Cullins
Stephen Reaves
Deborah Johnson
Leroy C. Howell
Ed. Note: We hope to hear more
about this. For now, we can
only say that the intent of THE
CAPITOLIST was not to offend
anyone. If that was the intent of
the cartoonist-I do not know
him personally-then it slipped
by us. But THE CAPITOLIST
printed the cartoon and will
accept the responsibility for
doing so.
The difference between intent
and effect is important here. To
all those who feel as Armand
and his.co-signers do, we offer a
sincere apology. It simply did
not occur to us that the cartoon
might be insulting. Perhaps we
should apologize for that, also.
We must take issue with two
things, however. First, I would
hope that in adopting (stealing,
if you will) the phrase ‘Right
On’, many white people use it
on behalf of the Black struggle.
Second, I cannot accept the
implication in the last sentence.
We do our best. But if incidents
of racial misunderstandings are
to be avoided, more* dialogue is
needed. Perhaps the damage
Staff of the
Capltolist:
COPY EDITOR:
Tom Hagan
MANAGING EDITOR
Lee Nell
PHOTOGRAPHERS:
Cliff Balson
Steve Calhoun
Words From The Other Side or
THE SECOND COMING
- one more than
SI EG HEIL! SEIG HEIL!
Sound familiar Paul baby or
don’t you want to remember
because the anguish of living in
another (man’s?) image is far to
much for the poor pirate
imitation that you are. Sure we
know you try harder, such a
shame that all your energies have
found quite comfortable
lodgings in your head. I wonder
what other wonderland-like feats
can be woven upon, shall we say,
a set of rusted monkey bars
where a flock of dingy bats
cling; to form that air of
pseudo-importance, the bending
statursque awe of a dreary
limped court jester (Quasimoto
for instance), all the royal
magnificence of a miscarriage in
the back seat of a garbage truck.
The marvel of tapestry, (well for
our purposes let’s stay on the
safe side an say a rubber sheet).
Ah! the marvel of a rubber
sheet—let us pause and pay
homage (those not into the head
trip may puke instead). To have
in our midst, ‘The Second
Coming’; ‘The Fifth Horsemen’;
and Dick Tracy’s libido is too
much for one campus to handle,
so excuse us if we misunderstand
you every time you divide a cell.
Let us take a never-neverland
like look behind the seemingly
slimy crustaceous thick outer
shell housing, through which
peers in a squinting manner-our
answer to Marshall Dillon—the
dangerous dick dull of the
Capitol Campus Bureau of Large
Intestines-Sheriff Paul.
Yeah, them were the days,
‘Boot Camp’ wow-young
recruits, all just doing their duty;
being away from home, sure
they’re scared, but that’s the
way I like it; being a nine neon
General around here—they’d
better respect me. Yes Sir! boy
these young kids shit when they
see me: come on kid, beg a little,
let me see you crawl, say your
sorry; you can get your tongue
out a little farther than that,
how do you ever expect it to
come off if you don’t lick faster
than that. Yes Sir! i guess i
showed him i’m a man, stupid
recruit.
cannot be undone, but,
hopefully, there will be no
additional damage.
So Whites, Blacks, students,
faculty-anyone. With a
readership of 1500, we’ve got a
great forum for communication
here. But we can’t write your
thoughts. Give something to
Trish. W-105.
CONTRIBUTORS:
Samantha Bower
Gregg Crescenzo
Russ Matthews
Jane McDonald
Steve Wesley
Kati Lamonica
Cheryl Boyes
Don Lewis
Ray Nearhood
Jim Kuzio
Steve Rosenzweig
Bob Bonaker
Mike Welliver
Doug DeLeon
Tom Black
Michael Blank
Becky Emery
is usually needed.
by Gregg Crescenzo
‘Security’—now that livin;
imagine bein’ a paid voyeur, i
could write a book only it’d take
forever block printing. What yah
say your old man does for a
job—wop! hey nigguh don’t tell
me your not on welfare,—
kikey-thats right you Jew
bastard, for this we ended the
war; (Micks, Polacks, Ukes, etc .
.. you get the idea)
Queers, can smell them a
urinal away, commie bastards no
good security risk; look pal you
ain’t got a job any more; imagine
that guy handling all them top
secret u.s. government secrets
with them filthy paws!
Yes Sir! i’m awlright, i mean,
they threw the mold away,
damn, see how neat i walk, just
like a tin-soldier; hear my voice
how sweet, smooth as bile—an
boy oh boy when you put them
together—kid, hey (watch this)
allright kid, your under arrest,
you have the right to beg and
crawl and ask my forgiveness,
you have the right to build my
shaky ego, you have the right to
fear me and give me respect—or
else. You have the right to do all
of this so i can go on thinking
that i’m a MAN, a MAn, a Man,
a man, a ma, a mi, (see what
happens to a ballon when you
let the air out?).
TOURISM
In a land called
Nakkonomera, reason, order,
and rational logical thought
reigned. It was a prosperous
state of affairs for those involved
in their mediocral devotions; to
wit: their devotion to a
compartment, that modular
state-built constructions of
seperate cycles brought together
to form their unorganic
wholeness encased in dust, as
fingerprints laid about in sterile
harmony with their
environment. Within the
confines of this land of holy
forethought, strobing energy
forces beckoned from many
subcultures of higher
conciousness other alien beings.
In a far field away from much
death, a light glow was forming
in the atmosphere. In calling
with oneness, a source of energy
so intense, picked up other
radial energycycles and beamed
in on this one chosen
destination. In the quiet fields,
the sun smiled a gesture to the
alien beings. All the forces of
oneness urged forth a mighty
rush-and in totality everything
that surrounded us was bursting
forth with life--so we rolled
another one
Scholarships
Application materials for
University Scholarships may be
picked up in Room E-106.
These scholarships are for the
1972-73 Academic Year, and are
awarded to students who:
1. Give evidence of superior
academic attainment (usually
with a cumulative average of
3.00 or better);
2. Have a financial need, as
verified by the Parents’
Confidential Statement.
Those students who are
interested should see Miss Toni
Jennings before the deadline
date of February 11,1972.
Sooner
One Of Us
Even at midnight, when later
the dawn catches a glimpse of its
darkness and tracks it down
from later years, only sometimes
when you catch the sun
crying-Yes, even at midnight.
Now i know you wont believe
this, but some might say, so it
be. Not necessarily an old
folkway or anything traditional,
but over the last few years, some
traditions have had there very
foundations rocked by today’s
abrubt changes. Some here tell
it’s this revolution, just after
evolutin’ from the apes. Hell, i
can recall a time when that
didn’t matter; Well, i guess i
could just say it was the city
folks way of talkin’, but you just
can’t excuse it—it’s the sign of
the times. Hell, also of us old
timers, we remember the way it
used to be, but somewhere along
the way your soul gets lost in
the transition. Well just to say,
we’re the lifer’s, and our souls
are tempered with the ages.
Great glory it’s raining, i’d better
git home, but i’ll follow the sun
anyday. . . Mom will be hallerin’
and the kids cryin’, the ole
woman’s gonna’ take to my
hide, shit we’ll see you later ...
Hey Charlie, up and over to
the left a little bit, there that’s
it. Did you make it, i see you’ve
slipped thru-hey, that’s pretty
good. Our missions mean very
much to us, and though some
odd coincidence of life, we
manage some semblance of
reality . . . You’re not talkin’ to
the old man in the shoe, no sir
ree bob. Why i tell ya’, just the
other week, we had to go up the
street here and see what the
disturbance was. Christ, it was
foggy as hell, pollution and all
that shit. Man, it was zero
visibility, can ya’ dig it? Charlie
iy* '*■.. I
SI *
? \
1— MiSSnlfi DfI&UWS 1
| i
SVSMM&MKSMJto£SttSKMUMttM2MtMMNIMS
Or Later,
Must Know
was just here where he went to,
so hell, we wuz just spaced out.
We thought he went over the
hill. Regardless, it was a bitchin’
site to see. We crawled up this
line of the pavement. Now this is
the lowdown, some heavy shit,
can ya’ dig it. We went until we
found this light. It appeared that
we were in a well, whether it was
upside down or not, is your trip,
or whatever. There were all these
people takin’• drinks from the
well, and coppin’ there supplies
in buckets and such . . . Wierd
men in black cloaks, their heads
dissolving into skulls when they
dropped their cups from their
Ups . . . There were fire places
burning where there had once
been eyes, assorted lizards and
other crustaceans had gathered
to warm by the sun .. . And shit,
just at that, the sun sank with
my words in its mouth, then the
cloaked figures would turn and
walk away as the ripples of
water blurred their images. . .
the tears in their eyes, wretched
away by a kuckles or a thumb ..
. CharUe was layin’ on the floor
laughing, babbUng, and drooUn’,
there were giant misquitoes
hovering around his ears Uke
hummingbirds. . . HeU, i had
crawled back into the kitchen to
rap to Freddie, a pet mouse, but
he was preoccupied with snakes,
scorpions, praying mantises, and
such...
—Michael Patti
HOT LINE -944-1033