Voice from heck...
Bob is not in a good mood
Bob Caton
Capital Times Staff
I was going to write on football for
this particular Pulitzer-ready edition, but
ever since Randall Cunningham of the
Eagles (my second fave team) finally ate
some turf and left the team with the
geriatric, whiskey-stiff legs of Jim
McMahon to lead them to a glorious 4-
12 record, AND, since Dave Krieg of the
Seahawks broke his finger (and
let’s face it, campers, the guy was no
Johnny Unitas to start with) so the
'hawks should be able to stay
competitive with teams of
approximately the caliber of the Eastern
Mississippi Junior Teachers Technical
School for Blind, Female Amputees.
So, needless to say, I'm not
enamored with the idea of the stinkin'
Giants, Bills, Dolphins, and 49ers in it
again, but, the lords of football
encouraged me to drop the soap in front
of them again by rooting for the Eagles
and the 'hawks, so I have no one to
blame.
I'm not in a good mood.
Is it just me, or have certain parties
been indirectly encouraged NOT to have
a single thing to do with the 25th
Just a thought...
HEY, what do you
mean, I'm white?
Jeff Hildebrand
Capital Times Staff
Is it just me...or do you take offense
to being labeled a certain color?
I, for one, resent being labeled
"white". For starters, I'm not even
white. A friend of mine described my
color as that of her coffee when she adds
"just a little bit of cream." Another said
I'm a "brownish-yellow".
I decided to take this question of color
on the road. One woman said my skin
was "white". I asked her what color my
shirt was and she replied "White." I
asked her if my shirt and skin were the
same color. She looked at me as though
I were colorblind, and replied with an
elongated "Nooooo."
Common responses as to the color of
my skin were peach, beige, tan, lightly
tanned, and skin-colored. Some of the
more imaginative responses included sort
of a light camel color, goldish, light
bronze, and fair, covered by dark fur.
What does all this mean? It means
that if you are of Portuguese, Gypsy,
German, English and French descent,
like me, people will have a difficult time
agreeing on the color of your skin.
Anniversary celebration, except of
course, to be lackeys to the balding
throngs of alumni? Oh, don't worry,
when we finally escape this dark, dark
subdivsion of hell, the same affliction
will come upon us.
In our minds will live the dream we
had of college when we read the Nazi
Propaganda, uh, I mean Penn State
Catalogue. Elysian fields full of cool
guys who would loan you money, bring
You'to "keggers" at-their houses, and
introduce you to their girlfriend's
roommate, Inge, who has been just
DYING to try out her new "complete
body massage technique" that she learned
over Christmas break in Denmark.
However, being the cruelly tortured
students we are...we know better. Four
years (if you're lucky) of poverty that
makes the missions in Bwangana look
like the main ballroom of the Trump
Princess, drinking beer that can blind a
rhino merely because it was only 3
bucks a case, and begging a girl that you
don't even like to go out just so you can
avoid listening to your roommates'
nightly "Fart Your Favorite Game Show
Theme" display.
Besides...who the hell would be
diseased in the skull enough to want to
attend wonderful events like the
"Academic Reunion: Areas will be
It also means if you're going to wear
me as an accessory, I'll complement
certain outfits better than others. That's
all it means.
I'm not "white". As for my heritage,
I'm what you would call Euro-American,
a la my friend Wayne, who is African-
American. (His skin, by the way, is not
black.) As for my skin color, I am
partial to "sort of a light camel".
Quick, someone get Geraldo Rivera. I
have discovered a major story.
While grazing through past issues of
Sports Illustrated located in the scenic
environs of our "state-of-the-art" library,
I noticed certain pages had been liberated
from the swimsuit issue I happened to
chance upon, (and it was mere chance, I
assure you.)
Further investigation revealed that
over a decade's worth of cultural fashion
statement had been freed from its stapled
existence.
Cheap shot warning...ls Pee Wee
Herman enrolled here, or what?
Imagine the headline, "Art heist at
PSH". Quick, someone tell the librarian
to lock up the National Geographies
before it's too late.
OP-ED
designated by divisions for alumni who
wish to reunite with the former staff and
faculty who guided their years at
PSH"...Uh, no thanks, I'd rather have
"Ring-Dings" glued to my body, then be
forced to watch ’’Hair Club for Men"
commercials while lying in a hot tub
filled with cockroaches.
One more Anniversary question...only
ex-varsity atheletes can play volleyball,
but anyone who wishes to jump on the
court...heart condition, bum knee, or
sheer klutziness aside, can play
Walleyball...a game that can get quite
brutal. I guess we don't have enough
money to feed all these polyester-clad,
gin-soaked alumni, so we'll kill a few
off before the big "Chinese-American"
buffet in the CUB, and cut some costs.
And how about that rip-snorting,
knee-slapping, vomit-spewing, good'
time that awaits all at "PSH night at the
Marriott!" Nothing like a cash bar,
videos of the days events (I think
something like "America's Funniest
Home Videos" is what they have in
mind, but the coronary rate will make it
look something more like "Rescue
911"), and, finally, an evening at
"Cahoots" (any bar with a name like
"Cahoots", "Scamps", "Confettis", or
"Rumors" has to be a Yuppie Scum
hellhole...where your $4 Corona will
CAPITAL TIMES
STAFF MEETING i
Attention all staff:
There will be a mandatory staff meeting on
Tuesday, September 24
AT 12:30 P.M.
IN THE CAP TIMES OFFICE
(ROOM W-341)
If you cannot attend PLEASE contact Karen or T.J.!
Anyone interested in joining the staff should come to the meeting,
No experience necessary, everyone is welcome!
September 20, 1991 CAPITAL TIMES
ALWAYS have a fresh lime, and mere
mention of a domestic beer will send
Muffy and Blaine into titters) that "will
provide just the right mingling
opportunities for bidding farewell."
Yep, male alumni can get shot down
by the same goddesses who told them
that they would rather be dragged over
carpet tacks, then dipped in rubbing
alcohol than go out with them in
college, and the alumnae can all snip and
hiss over who has more cellulite. No
thanks...l'll try a lye enema instead.
If you're curious about problems in
your University, I heartily recommend
that you show up at 9:30 A.M. on
October sth, when University
Commandant Joab Thomas will no
doubt hold forth with a controversial
"Aren't we swell?" speech. My
advice...get sloshed, load up the ghetto
blaster with Anthrax, and lets all go see
Joab and ask him why our tuition keeps
going higher and higher.
I've heard that students were not
supposed to be excluded, and, in all
probability, if you bitch and moan
enough (you're reading a visual aid here,
campers), you can go. If we weren't
meant to be ostracized, why was the
flyer written that way?
Until next time...
THANK YOU!