C.C. reader. ([Middletown, Pa.]) 1973-1982, January 20, 1977, Image 2

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    Page 2
EDITORIAL
Answer The Question
Picture, if you can, a world where there are no
answers, and everyone is walking around asking
questions. Then, without warning, someone comes
along who has answers. Possibly the answers have
nothing to do with the particular question posed,
but, nonetheless, that person has the quality of
making a decision.
Would not that person be admired for his ability
to act? With answers comes action. Time proves the
validity of the decision and its effectiveness. The
immediate result, though, is, at least, a beginning, a
spark, or charge, as a battery is needed for a source
of power to initiate the chain of events necessary to
operate an automobile. The battery cares not in what
direction the automobile travels, so long as that
direction does not cause destruction of our
hypothetically animated battery.
When witnessing academicians one might be
able to compare them to sub-zero temperatures.
A battery has a difficult time operating in such a
climate. And, without the first mover, as Aquinas
would say, there can be nothing moved. No
questions are answered, only question, questions,
and more questions.
Eloquence has its place, but it shouldn’t get in
the way of the solution. Is it really that deflating to
be wrong? No, watch!
I+l=3.
There now that didn’t hurt, did it?
In fact it is argue successfully as to
the solution 3, in answer to I+l.
You object? I speak all the louder. You still
object? I cram it down your throat, until finally you
agree, “That is the way it is.”
Good things comes to those who take them, not
ot those who ask politely, “May I please?”
People want something they can grasp,
something concrete, no wish wash, but answers.
Tell us how. We want to Know.
We have come to your school in hopes of finding
out and, instead, leave more uncertain than when we
came.
This “is not my job,” “is not my field,” syndrome
is not healthy. The world is becoming
over-specialized to death. Soon there will be
professional nose blowers out to hire.
Notable
It is certain, and evident to
our senses, that in the world
some things are in motion. Now
whatever is in motion is put in
motion by another, for nothing
can be in motion except it is in
potentiality to that towards it is
in motion; whereas a thing
moves inasmuch as it is in act.
For motion is nothing else than
Capitol Campus Reader
of the Pennsylvania State University
The Capitol Campus
RTE. 230, Middletown, Pa., 17057
Office W-129-131
Phone (717) 944-4970
Editor-in-Chief
Assistant Editor
Copy Editor
Advertising Manager.
Business Manager....
.Ann Clark, Greg Hall, Young Inyang, Ray Martin,
Brian McDonough, John O'Neill, Ed Perrone, Karen Pickens.
Perspectives Logo.
Hot Lion Sketch....
The Capitol Campus Reader is the school newspaper of
.-"State’s Capitol Campus. It is published by the
Tf* aWend tWs sch ° ol - We of the Reader Staff try
them informed M r Uwr l mnt V eventeand St . Ude " t ®’ and k ?S P
are published on a weekly baai, a " d " >levant ,ssues ‘ We
Quotes
the reduction from potentiality
to actuality. But nothing can be
reduced from potentiality to
actuality, except by something
in a state of actuality. Thus that
which is actually hot, as fire,
makes wood, which is poten
tially hot, to be actually hot,
and thereby moves and changes
it. Aquinas
.William M. Kane
Tim Adams
.Robert L. Fisher Jr.
.Wayne Stottmelster
Carol Andress
.Jenlne M. Rannels
Beth Kopas
ecfives Page
Republicans In Some Trouble
By Michael Burke
At first it must seem
strange that I should be
concerned with the future of
the Republican Party, but like
many serious students of
political science, I identify with
the liberal activities of the
Democratic Party.
However, my interest in the
future of the G.O.P. becomes
understandable when one rea
lizes that Ronald Reagan, John
Connally and Gerald Ford will
influence the direction the
party takes in years to come.
The success or failure of
the G.O.P.’s effort to win
elections is in the hands of
James Earl Carter and the
record his Administration will
develop for the Republicans to
run against
The poor track record of the
Republican party in the
post-Watergate era has raised a
great deal of debate over the
future of the Grand Old Party.
Most of the debate centers
on the squabbles among the
various ideological factions
within the party for control of
the polls. The battle lines are
drawn between Ronald Reagan,
Goldwater, and conservatives
on the right; such moderates as
Michigan Gov. William Milliken,
Senators Howard Baker, Bill
Brock and John Connally in the
By Ray Martin
I was standing next to a
half-frozen civil servant, eating
peanuts and remarking to no
one in particular that maybe
this, at last, was the end of our
long national nightmare. I kept
telling myself not to think
about Bell and Sorenson as I
fervently hoped for better led
tomorrows. Little did I know
that our national nightmare
was just beginning.
The first tip-off came when
the Inaugural Parade began.
The Alabama drill team was
carrying real live Ml6’s instead
of the dummy parade rifles the
Alaska guys had. Being allergic
to the cold, by the time the
Arkansas team had marched
by, I was too miserable to check
what they were armed with. I
quietly snuck into a nearby
drugstore, hoping my grand
children would forgive me. I
was defrosting next to a phone
booth when I heard some
violent swearing from inside it.
I looked in to see a D.C. cop
who had ripped off his
American flag shoulder patch
and was now sewing on, with
some difficulty, a Confederate
flag. I listened to my
surroundings for a second. I
noticed that the flat, indiscrim
inate accent which predomi
nates in Washington, despite
its being a southern city, had
been totally replaced with
drawlin’ and y’all-in’. This was
getting a bit too heavy for me,
so when I heard someone
middle; and Richard Schweiker,
Clifford Case and Nelson
Rockefeller on the left.
Above this house divided,
sits Gerald Ford, the nominal
leader of the party, whose
influence over party direction
has dwindled since his election
defeat. Speculation as to the
outcome of this struggle ranges
from a conservative take-over
of the party and the defections
of party moderates to the
Democratic fold, the formation
of a conservative third party
(giving the American people a
clear three-way choice between
conservative, moderate and
liberal party affiliation), and a
compromise party developed
along non-ideological lines
which would act as a P.R. firm
and concentrate on finding
attractive candidates and on
winning elections, rather than
on ideological hair-splitting.
However, while the internal
warfare weakens the G.0.P., it
is a myth to believe that the
ability of one faction to gain
effective control will strength
en the party and reverse the
trend towards minority status
or extinction.
No one faction of either
party can gain enough support
to win election on a state-wide
or federal level in America due
to the nature of the electorate.
Americans are divided on the
Day In Jan
One
standing underneath a walkie
talkie antenna say, “Rexall to
Charger...Rexall to Charger,
ever little thing's ready to go
good buddy, ’cept we got some
Yankee bastard nosin’ around
Calvin’s phone booth.” I didn’t
wait for permission to leave.
In order to avoid crowds, (a
good thing to do if you don’t
want to attract attention while
running and screaming like
hell) I kept to the side streets.
Just as I turned a blind corner I
ran full force into an MOO tank.
Let me tell you, there is no
more unforgiving a substance
to ram warm flesh against than
tank armor. After I had
regained my breath and ended
a world’s record swearing
marathon, I looked up at the
tank commander, who returned
my gaze looking as though he
had just found lunch. “Oughta
look where ya goin’, boy.” He
kept smiling expectantly, as I
still think he was waiting for
me to apoligize for hurting his
tank. Finally shifting my gaze
from the tank slits he had for
eyes to the two white bars on
the front of his tanker’s helmet,
I mustered the courage to ask,
“What outfit are you with,
captain?” He answered with
obvious ‘do somethin’ about it
boy’ pride, “19th Georgia
National Guard Armored Bat
talion.”
Adrenalin is one of the true
wonders of the wonderous
human body. By the time I
realized I was running south, I
issues on the horizontal level
due to regional differences, and
on the vertical level based on
racial, religious and economic
differences within the region.
One only has to look at the
1972 Presidential race when the
ultra-liberal wing of the
Democratic party gained con
trol of the nomination process
and named George McGovern
the party candidate.
The lack of support he
received from within his own
party and his resounding defeat
at the polls were not the result
of a lack of effective leadership
within the Democratic party. In
fact, the opposite is true.
One group had enough clout
to force the nomination of a
candidate who appealed to such
a small minority that it was
impossible to establish on
which base to run on.
Therefore, if the G.O.P. is
not to fall along the wayside of
history, as the Whigs before
them, they must run on
positions that appeal to a broad
segment of the American
people.
So come January 20, the
actions of Jimmy Carter, Tip
O’Neal and Robert Byrd will
determine if the Republican
Party will fade into history or if
as one rock-headed Republican
observed after Ford’s loss,
“Now we can blame the
Democrats for everything.”
uary
was halfway across the
Rochembeau Bridge. Finally,
no more out of breath than
when I had made the first
horrible realization, I was at
the front doors of the Pentagon.
Just inside the door, a small
group of Air Force and Navy
officers were in animated
conversation. I interrupted
them and explained the
situation. An Air Force major
turned to me and said heatedly,
“Why do you damn Yankees
worry about every little thing.”
The next thing I knew I was
standing on the south bank of
the Potomac. Without thinking,
I jumped in and swam north,
Lucky I did too, because just
then three A7’s bearing the
distinctive grey coloring of the
Confederate Air Force started
strafing the Rochembeau
Bridge.
Finally, wet, scared and
exhausted, I collapsed at the
foot of the Lincoln Memorial. I
gazed at the ring I had
inherited from my family’s Civil
War veteran with new under
standing for a few seconds.
Then I stood and heavily
walked to the massive Mr.
Lincoln. I patted his huge shoe
and silently looked up at him
My communion with Mr.
Lincoln was disturbed by the
unholy roar of a formation of
Cl3o’s crossing the city at 2,000
feet. I saw paratroopers
jumping from them. I checked
their shoulder patches with my
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