Question authority; the answers are wonderfu
Michael Starkey
Capital Times Columnist
Everywhere you turn there seems to
lurk a mystery. For the majority of my
life, I've been intrigued by the unknown.
The questions no one else asks always
intrude on the screen of my mind. I'm
sure some of you reflect on the meaning
of life and the puzzle of our relationship
to the cosmos as I have on those long
nights when you can't sleep and there's
no one to turn to. I always sought out
the physicists because their theoretical
sojourns into the abyss were tempered
by the elegance of their discoveries.
Really neat stuff like the curved
universe and the discovery of quarks
were a fine counterpoint to the visceral
amblings of the philosophers that often
twisted my head so tight I wanted to
scream. That was then and this is
now...the philosophers sound like
scientists and the scientists' discourse is
riddled with philosophical content
(pun/fun!). I hope we all live to see the
solution to the unified field theory as the
Open your mind and release your fears
E. Mikael Hein
Capital Times Columnist
My college experience away from
home started last spring with a great
case of the stomach flu. I moved in
with the help of a friend who,
thankfully, unpacked my things for me.
Fortunately my illness only lasted for 24
hours, which is more than I can say for
my roommate.
I'm no stranger to fear. I had heard the
rumors and teasing thrown my way all
through high school. I can only assume
that my roommate was afraid too.
Afraid of the fact that I am gay.
Fortunately, the matter was cleared up
with some discretion. As far as I know,
he never mentioned my sexuality to
Tofu and zodiac make breakfast exciting
Jeff Feehrer
Capital Times Columnist
Salutations to asprising juniors,
returning seniors and remaining
professors with tenure or less than six
years of instructing. Create or update
your resumes, but welcome to the land
of the fee anyway.
What a week. Your chronicler of
cackle is nearly winded. First, my
womanfriend--PSU class of 'BB and a
New Age vegetarian who communes
with dolphins, deals tarot cards and
embraces all minority factions--returned
from a week in the Adirondacks where
she visited a stressful mind reduction
retreat.
My lady of the zodiac dined
contemplatively if not palatably. Arising
at six in the morning to commence an
hour of meditation and yoga, she then
breakfasted on the tasty options of a
bowl of birch bark flakes, harmonic
convergence porridge or tai chi tofu.
Lunch was yin-yang boullion with
sassafras-and-hematite salad, and dinner
was devouring three chapters, pepper
permitted, of a Robert Bly or L. Ron
Hubbard novel.
The stomach boggles.
Her purse returned thinner, too, after
sampling the die-in-diet and the queasy
in-cuisine. Scouring up money for this
stressless seminar drove her crazy. As a
master's graduate student working in
counseling, my orchid of astral
projection is poor. And securing $755
for a week of psyche-chasing and
raccoon fodder would even stymie Slick
Willie.
But where there's a chakra there's a
way.
She staggered, with the glassy eyes,
growling tummy and benign smile of
the enlightened and malnourished, into
my enveloping elbows to narrate later,
over a dinner at the Olive Garden, on
the redemptions and absolution of a
balsa and mandrake and Paramahansa
Yogananda menu. Well, isn't that what
homeopathy is all about? Worked for
my favorite woman who rummages with
wolves.
Yes, I did reach for a star, address a
heavenly body, swarm at the Feet and
felt tip (Tom Berringer autographed the
brim of my Indians' cap) of Hollywood
in Harrisburg. Admittedly, my progeny
and I were stagedoor Willies - more like
foul line fellows - sequestering bit parts
in the sequel "Major League II." Barring
a ravenous film editor and myopic
cameras, we should appear, not for
fifteen minutes of fame (Warhol), but
for fast seconds of Cinemax history as
Pirates, Mets and Cleveland fans.
Crushed to speak, your sagacious
stylus told Tom that he was fantastic in
implications for all of mankind are
staggering. Just think, a real
understanding of the way ie universe
STARKEY'S SANCTUARY
I -
works would allow us to travel through
time, mend the planet, plan for a better
future for all of us, and besides the mere
knowing would be a comfort to those of
us who always crave answers.
My father and I didn't agree on a
whole lot in life. He was more self
centered and less inclined to
quizzicalness than I am. MY dad did
manage to, "pound a few things through
my thick skull" - among them was the
concept that the guy who knows how
will always have a job, the guy who
knows why will always be his
boss...even though I've no real desire to
be anyone's boss, I really do need to
know why. Maybe this is the result of a
self-replicating DNA slave gone awry,
maybe it is the result of a mother that
always induced her children to,
anyone else on campus. Unfortunately,
he didn't have to.
As the weeks passed, I became aware
06'1'11-'N"'""'hiiTL:H''''":"E''''''"lllo'iiN''''
of guys looking the other way when I
walked down the hall. I noticed the
bathroom tended to clear out when I
entered, and people that once talked
freely to me now seemed reserved.
Apparently my private life was now
public.
It was about this time that I decided to
start coming out to selected friends
before they were caught up in the
rumors. I was both surprised and
enlightened to find plenty of people
who accepted me for who I was. Before
"Platoon." His polite but succinct,
unsmiling and cool "thank you"
mirrored most of his celluloid
personnae. Of course, he and I are
nonchalant to notoriety. Once I sent a
letter to Men , Griffm who used to open
his talk show, wisely defunct, with a
song. This man couldn't carry a tune on
a Kenworth and I professionally advised
him so, claiming that his crooning
degenerated music to thumps on a
hollow log. Apparently Men , read - and
sacrificed his nominal vocals and torpid
TV hosting to become a
multimillionaire impresario. Years
afterward, he has yet to acknowledge
my part in his career change to auric
avenues.
Prior to that... Cue my immemorial
former rock band, the Mistie Foggs
(because groups then had cerebral,
conflicting names: Electric Prunes,
Moby Grape, Iron Butterfly, Strawberry
Alarm Clock, Led Zeppelin). We
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"question everything and don't accept
glib answers that don't stand the test of
time". Hell, with a set of bright folks
like I had for parents, it's a miracle I
managed to sneak into the philosophy
department at all. I mean after all, what
use is a philosopher to a pragmatic
society like ours anyway? We all know
just what needs to be done and just
h0w...a1l we really need is the impetus
to strike out in that direction and solve
all the nasty problems we face. You
know the BIG ISSUES of the day, go on
pick a day, any day, and what issue
faces you? Planetary demise? Rain
forest depletion? World hunger? Global
warming? The demise of hundreds of
species a year? The pollution of our
water? The threat of nuclear
annihilation? Street crime? Drugs?
NOT!
Read your history, study it , learn it,
and learn from it! Think carefully
before you side with anyone who
promises a cure or a solution. Ask
yourself every time someone wants you
to make a commitment to a cause just
I knew it, the hang-ups of other people
didn't matter. Or did they?
Sometime in April the Tarnhelm was
published. To my surprise, two of my
poems were chosen for publication, one
of which contained "gay imagery." A
few days after the magazine's release, I
was approached by a resident assistant
from Wrisburg Hall. He wanted to warn
me that he had heard some students
conspiring to harass me because of my
work. At first I thanked him for the
warning, but then I began to get angry.
Did it ever occur to the RA to say
something to the students who were
planning on doing something against
university policy as well as against the
law? I'm sure in his own way he thought
he was doing the right thing by telling
me. But why should I have to live on
campus in fear of what might happen?
coagulated in Sink(ovitz)'s attic one
dreary March evening during the Gold
Rush of Rock uncovered by the Beatles,
when the adolescents of Earth were
hungry for every new name and song
and styling. We hoped in their halcyon,
hormonal feeding frenzy that they
would sanction us earlessly, without
listening.
Mistie Foggs were Scrig(noli), our
cherubic lead guitarist, Gary L. on bitter
bass guitar (he wanted lead but was two
strings short), my second B-flat clarinet
and three-string acoustical guitar, and
Sink tripling on vocals, drum and
harmonica which he wore poised near
his mouth, like Bob Dylan, on a
strategically mangled coat hanger. More
innovative - every group had a gimmick
- was our percussion, a solitary snare
drum replete with gray duct tape
mending a hole and enhancing
tympanics.
During both rehearsals Sink sweated
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A deal with a company dealing in household
:items may yield some "supplies"...
what it is they really want. Search► out
the underlying basis for the proposed
action. What is the agenda and who
benefits most? As Deep Throat (not the
movie, the subterranean source from
Watergate) was fond of remarking,
"follow the money."
We, here in the United States, are
constantly on the move, stalking one
crisis or another, shifting our attention
hither and yon as the winds of change
blow upon us...this begs a pop
aside... Bobby Zimmerman AKA Bob
Dylan wrote, "ya don't need a
weatherman to tell ya which way the
wind blows," ain't it da truth!...So the
real question as I see it, the crux of the
biscuit as it were, is why do I want to
believe in anything I see or hear that
doesn't make sense to me?
We are all involved in an institution
of higher learning (at least as long as
our profs can hold out against the rising
tide of bean counting business oriented
administrators). So we must devote
ourselves to the process of learning
critical thought, and we must develop
Were they not the ones who were doing
something wrong?
The semester ended without any action
taken by my "fan club." While this was
a relief, I am well aware that it is not
over. I know that there are other people
out there who still are afraid of who I
People who have never met me or
talked to me. There are still people who
whisper altxiut me when I walk down the
hall in Olmsted.
And there's a curious breed of people
who will out of the blue try to start a
conversation with me, saying something
like, "I have a friend who has a cousin
who is gay." This usually evokes a
smile on my face and a response like
"really, I have a friend who is straight."
Simply put, I am gay. This does not
make me a circus wonder. I don't sway
down the hall in dresses muttering
worse than James Brown, frenetically
loosening and tightening the lugs to
synthesize the timbre to the song,
singing, gasping through the harmonica.
On our other, softer number, he
switched to the prosthetic acoustical,
again furiously twisting tuning keys like
a mad surgeon to camouflage the
missing fourth string while I beat the
snare/kettle/bass.
But behind Sink's wire-rims and in all
our eyes was the diamond gleam of a
dream. Five days later, we were still
working on "Louie Louie" and a rock
number that could incorporate my
clarinet when Sink announced our fate.
"I got us a gig, man," he sail, in a
whisper as he perspired heavier.
The Mistie Foggs opened a gas
station in Rutherford Heights on a
Saturday afternoon. But the clown
handing out free hot dogs drew a larger
audience. No one would drive us to our
destination in rock history, fearing
the ability to make judgments and
decisions based on careful analysis of
all available facts. This also means we
must he ready to admit mistakes and
adjust as needed. We must resist the
temptation to respond with emotionally
driven choices rather than deciding
action based on unbiased and sober
reflection. This whole process isn't easy
and requires our intellectual
involvement and the judicious
application of a healthy dose of
skepticism.
So go on and jump in, the water's
fine. Question authority, don't respond
to any Pavlovian bells, get out of your
Skinner box on your own by looking UP
as well as around; make people in
power nervous by asking questions and
demanding sensible
answers.... Meanwhile I'm gonna find
out why it is that every line I join at the
grocery store automatically becomes the
slow line, and why it is I always have
pennies 'till I need 'em...Answers, ya
gotta love 'em!
"fabulous" under my breath. I am a man
who works on his car as well as his hair.
I am not going to jump in your face
waving rainbow flags and pink triangles
demanding your respect. I expect to
earn it, just as you would from me.
It is important to note that an
estimated ten percent of the population
is like myself. That obviously means
that I am not alone on this campus.
Currently, there is no gay and lesbian
support services offered on campus.
Fortunately, however, Harrisburg has a
very active organization called BI
GUY AH. For any information
regarding the organization or any gay
and lesbian issues, call the switchboard
at 234-0328.
Hopefully somehow we can reduce
the fear projected towards gays and
lesbians and be free to love our
boyfriends and girlfriends without fear.
transportation would perpetuate our
career. We had to portage our
equipment on bicycles--no-speed, blimp
tires, American bikes.
We had no mikes, no sound system
but loud and irrhythmic, and the
neophyte Texaco owner wouldn't donate
one extension cord. Gary L. and Sgrig,
with dueling guitars, both played lead,
picking discordant chords faster and
wilder for the adoration of our fan. Sink
finally surrendered and collapsed over
the drum in an apoplectic stupor. After
our desperate, twenty-minute extended
version of "Louie Louie," the dented but
dauntless Foggs attempted a measure or
two of the Stones' "It's All Over Now."
Cruel hands applauded, and the Texaco
owner smiled.
"Never heard Montevani on an
electric guitar before," he said. We
assumed it was a compliment.
Coda, listeners
A deal with the Gap may finally move ou
uniforms into the 20th century...
And finally, to target the students ofl
the future, The Barney and Joepa
Football Funhouse...
Wios l #1 611BALL I VI'S
. 0 U_p ;_ ' PAUL.
by Trev Stair
football
Ow!
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