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Mark confides in the masses
by Mark Owens
I have two confessions to
make.
They hive nothing to do
with carving "Led Zepplin"
on the men's room stall in
the Reed Building (umm...
real original, guys) and, on
advice from my lawyer, I'm
not supposed to say anything
about the disappearance of
cows from a neighboring
farm. Instead, my
confessions are of a more
serious nature.
First, I am male
Now I know that's hard to
tell from the picture over
there on the right, but I am.
Being male means I do
stupid male things, such as
drinking out of orange juide
containers, belching loudly
in fancy restaurants and
spending hours loudly
discussing the merits of Ford
or Chevy cars with other
males.
In fact, because I am
male, and not female, I
automatically do very, very
dumb things to a sizeable
portion of the earth's
population, such as leaving
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toilet seats up.
But enough about being
male. My other confession is
equally serious: I am white.
Again, that may be tough
to tell from the picture, but I
am. And while there is
nothing wrong with being
white, there's nothing great
about it either. Which leads
me to why I'm confessing
being male and white: I'm
not happy being either.
You seri, being a white
male is a pretty unpopular
thing these days; whe
someone Jrings up racism,
sexism, discrimination or
some other social problem,
sooner or later someone will
point a finger at white
males. If you think I'm
kidding, watch Phil
Donahue. Well, maybe not.
The Jetsons are more
interesting.
My point is I'm getting a
little weary of politically
correct stereotyping in order
to get around calling people
what they are. Me. I'd rather
not be labeled a "young,
middle-class white male."
Rather, call me what I am:
Mark Owens.
The Collegian
See, Mark Owens is a
person (strange, mind you)
who happens to be a white
male. As a person, there are
a lot of things that make me
unique. For example:
I'm a picky eater. I can
Mark Owens
eat tomato soup and ketchup,
but I hate tomatoes
themselves. I love grape
Boston College
Salim-day, Septtembex 22, 1991 1:009m
Tickets go on sale on Tuesday September 3, 1991
In the Student Government Association office:
Monday-Friday 9:ooam - 2:oopm (other hours as posted)
Cost:
Students with ID: $7.00
PSU ID required for purchase
Faculty/Staff/Non-Students: $20.00
Supplies are limited. Get your ticket today.
The
Missing
Pieces
jelly, but I can't eat grapes. I
drink strawberry-flavored
milk by the gallon, but I
despise strawberries. I rarely
eat vegetables and healthy
food, but gobble nasty
things like Jolt Cola,
Twinkies and Pop Tarts.
Then there's music.
In the same hour I can
listen to Living Colour,
Digital Underground, Billy
Joel, The Pretenders and the
Boston Philharmonic. I
politely listen to, but don't
like, The Doors, Led
Zepplin, The Beach Boys or
The Eagles. I shoot people
who listen to Barry
Manillow.
If given the choice
between reading Ma d
Magazine and Newsweek,
Mad wins. The New York
Times will lose out to
Rolling Stone, but only
because P.J. O'Rourke writes
for them. Dave Barry is a
god. David Letterman is a
twit.
My point with all of this
is to show that there's a lot
more to people than their
skin color, ethnic
All U-Day 1991
PSU
Ticket pick-up day to be announced
Thursday, September 5, 1991
background or gender. Each
one of us has things about
us -- hobbies, skills, beliefs,
likes, dislikes -- that make
us unique, special and easy
to gossip to others about.
However, I'm not
advocating completely
abandoning ethnic, racial or
gender differences, or pride in
them for that matter. They
too are the things that make
us special. I just think in the
past couple of years we've
been so busy "celebrating"
our diversity that we've
grown farther apart than
closer together.
Of course, "celebrating"
ethnic diversity is a a little
more difficult for us
unpopular white males. I, for
example, have a tough time
expressing my Norse
heritage. What am I
supposed to do, build a boat
and plunder a nearby
lakeshore village -- like, say,
Lawrence Park? I can hear
the crowd now: "Oh no, here
comes that Owens hoard.
Run for your lives, umm...
yikes."