Newspapers / Daily Tar Heel (Chapel … / Jan. 31, 1989, edition 1 / Page 8
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8The Daily Tar Heel Tuesday, January 31, 1989 Ufa? Satlg (Far iteel 5fj K'flr o f editorial freedom Karen Bell, News Editor MATT BIVENS, Associate Editor KlMBERLY EDENS, University Editor JON K RUST, Managing Editor Will Lingo, cuy Editor Kelly Rhodes. Arts Editor CATHY McHUGH, Omnibus Editor SHELLEY ERBLAND, Design Editor Jean Lutes, Editor KAARIN TlSUE, News Editor LAURA PEARLMAN, Associate Editor KRISTEN GARDNER, University Editor WILLIAM TAGGART, State and National Editor Dave Glenn, sports Editor LEIGH ANN McDONALD, Features Editor BRIAN FOLEY, Photography Editor Kelly Thompson, Design Editor A realistic life on the farm Several miles outside of Chapel Hill, the University quietly maintains a building full of cats, dogs, monkeys and goats. The animals are tools used in research conducted by the School of Medicine. University officials say the animals are treated humanely. Members of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PET A) disagree. In a sur prise visit Dec. 2, five PETA members and their attorney entered the building called the Farm and say they observed a monkey isolated in a small cage, cats with ear mites and dogs with diarrhea. Before they could explore further, an Orange County deputy sheriff asked them to leave. PETA has asked the University to open the Farm to public inspection. As Ingrid Newkirk, national director of PETA, observed: "An open facility means a clean facility. If it is closed, obviously there is something they don't want you to see." The University has denied PETA's request, arguing that opening the Farm to the public, would expose the animals to human-carried diseases and would cost money that could be spent on research. But no one's asking the University to turn its research facility into a petting zoo. University officials seem to envision hundreds of plague-ridden people trooping through the Farm on a daily basis a ridiculous scenario. An open house would attract repre sentatives of PETA and other animal welfare groups, not family outings. An open house could be in the University's best interests assuming, of course, no one is abusing the animals. The air of secrecy surround ing the Farm conjures up scenes from "Bloom County" and other horrors. Even the name of the facility the Farm sounds slightly sinister. Opening it could help dispel this negative image. However the University's reluc tance is understandable. Animal rights activists are known for playing upon emotional reactions. And no matter how much the University spiffs up the place, the animals will still be in cages, and they will still make a tear-jerker of a photo opportunity. Before the University willingly opens the Farm, PETA members will have to prove they can be trusted not to create a media circus. Obviously, animals used in research should be treated humanely and responsibly. But it's naive to pretend that we can subject animals to exper imentation while keeping them all happy and comfortable. At times, efforts to improve conditions seem designed only to appease consciences. Researchers should continue to pressured into good-faith efforts to care for their animal subjects. But they should also be realistic; many animals used in valuable medical research aren't going to be happy with their lot. Matt Bivens On the many pitfalls of plastic The first one is always the best. Of all the experiences collegiate life has to offer, perhaps none can quicken the blood like a first credit card. Possess one, and the possibilities are endless. Credit cards are international. Plastic doesn't leave home without you. They're even everywhere you want to be. Credit cards allow students who have no money to pretend that they do, often with repercussions no worse than selling a few pints of their racing blood. The right answer to the question, "Cash or credit?" can open the door to vast financial freedoms. Credit cards also open the doors to bank accounts, meaning that the plastic can bankrupt a holder in minutes. Responsible users exercise extreme caution around their cards, shredding the carbons to their vouchers and guarding the secret of their account number with a spiritual vigilance. Others are not so careful, and within these ranks fall many students. Students, often first-time users and somewhat naive, may be unaware of the power that a credit card number holds and the ease with which it can fall into the wrong hands. They may also labor under misconceptions about credit card fraud, a phrase which can conjure images of elaborate schemes and sinister organizations, designed to take advantage of the credit market. The idea that someone could steal a card number over the phone seems ludicrous it's too simple. Apparently, a current scam relies upon exactly that attitude. Recently, the con almost worked on a UNC graduate student, who was told she was to receive a special savings card. She was in the process of reading her card number over the phone when she realized what she was doing and stopped in time. This is not an isolated incident; according to one NCNB official, "This kind of thing happens all the time." Conducting banking business any where except a bank is asking for trouble, and where a credit card is concerned, the danger is only increased. College students need to be aware that, for many reasons, they present a prime target for scam artists. That much is evident if a simple trick like a phone call can solicit such vital information. The only defense against such schemers is common sense: don't ever give your credit card number to someone over the phone. David Starnes The Daily Tar Heel Editorial Writers: Louis Bissette, Sandy Dimsdale, Mary Jo Dunnington and David Slames. Assistant Editors: Jenny Qoninger and Justin McGuire, university; Felisa Neu ringer, managing; Myma MiUer,ratur; Cars Bonnctt, arts; Andrew Podolsk y, Chris Spencer and Jay Reed, sports; David Minton, photography. News: Lynn Ainswoflh, Crandall Anderson. Kari Barlow, Jeanna Baxter, John Bakht, Crystal Bernstein, James Benton, Tammy Blackard, Charles Britain, James Burroughs, Sarah Cagle, B rend a Campbell, James Coblin, Daniel Con over, Siaci Cox, L.D. Curie, Karen Dunn. Erik Flippo, Laura Francis, Lynn Go wick, Susan Holdsclaw, Jessica Lanning, Tracy Lawson, Dana Clinton Lumsoen, I leUe Nielson, Glenn O'Neal, Dana Prirnm, Thorn Solomon, Will Spears, Larry Stone, Laura Taylor, Kathryne Tovo, Amy Wajda. Sandy Wall, Amy Weisner, Leslie Wilson, Jennifer Wing and Nancy Wykle. Sports: MJce Berardino, senior writer. Neil Amato, Mark Andereon, John Bland, Robert D'Arruda, Scott Gold, Doug Hoopervom, Bethany Litton, Brendan Matthews, Jamie Rosenberg, Natalie Sckicky, Dave Surowiecki, Lisa S wicegood and Eric Wagnon. Fralorn: David Abemathy, Cheryl AS en, Craig Allen, Jackie Douglas, Jackie Green berg. Hart Miles, Cheryl Pond, Leigh Iraley and Ellen Thornton. Arts: Randy Bing cr, Cark Benbow, Besh Buffington, Ashley Campbell, Andrew Lawler. Julie Olson and Jessica Yates. Fhotograpfcy. Steven Exum, David Foster, Becky Rutland and Dave Surowiecki. Copj TAHhtk James Benton, Michelle Casale, Yveae Cook, Julia Coon. Whitney Ccsk, Erik Flippo, Joy Golden, Bert Hackney , Susan Holdadaw, Anne Isenhowez. Gary Johnson. Ar.gtlia Pcaeat and Sieve Wilson. Tlwrlal fcssfacants: Mark Oum, 12 Dow, ami Ann Isenhowtz. Arr.y Dickinson, kse typist. Canastas: Jcf Christian. Adam Cohen, Fwe &corl.SaaDrTrey ExwaDav tWtrw cm! sr-J.lnjr. Svhs Sc.kx. dtmcwr. raznoa CCance, JLrmaer; Joaa Worth. classified moattr; v.rw- Mentut iumt awwajsv, $nna Gon&on. homo uwfc. Da wa Duscurg. Beth Har&rg. SantS Hoskss. V.vu?v. VUiwt Dteaae NrcCj.Tir Fe-y. fw Srvi. Aaoia TCcy aad Jove Wiiey. &sf$oy ce Srvuin. cvao. SrmM-. Can IukI Jjrtar-Saerfc-s fV" AWu frit finA-afe, Cmje SPhwTatmrTj Sheioae ami A.7$a y ditagtfieid &rtbsv noMMwi; Jeff jrx Vj-v MMfv. A New Year's Eve party back in high school Armed only with a six-pack of Budweiser, I jogged up the steps to Alex's front door. Somewhat reluctantly, I had accepted an invitation to his New Year's Eve party. I dont like going to big parties in Los Angeles. If I turn up wearing jeans and a UNC sweatshirt, everyone else is wearing black and talking about artistic immersion and creative angst. If I play the anguished writer role and don baggy gaucho pants and a black jacket, then everyone else is wearing tennis shorts and playing air hockey. So, I usually stay home and watch late night re-runs of Gilligan s Island. But not this time. Inside, the living room was full of people, some laughing and waving beer cans and cigarettes, some leaning against the walls and staring absently at their hands. On the stereo, Jimi Hendnx wailed about his rising testoste rone level and flailed his guitar in frus tration. Long strands of cigarette smoke drifted up to the ceiling and hung there like cobwebs. The shadowy faces were familiar, too familiar. There was Mike, in whom I had confided my secret crush on our ninth grade Spanish teacher and who had promptly told the whole class about it. There was Kevin, with whom I had gotten very drunk in eleventh grade and who had told me in a terrified whisper that he had never kissed a girl. And there was .... With growing horror, I realized that most of my graduating class was in the room. I had come to Alex's expecting to drink a few beers and shoot some pool until dawn. Instead, I had wandered into the little-known eleventh circle of Dante's Inferno The High School Reunion. The ghosts of my not-entirely-pleasant adoles cence loomed around me, chains rattling Andy, an old cross-country teammate, was the first to greet me. "Brian, what's up? How's Duke?" "Chapel Hill, actually. It's good." "Oh, yeah. Good basketball. What are you doing next year?" "Grad school." "Me too! I'm getting my M.B.A. and then my uncle's lined up this awesome job Brian McCuskey In the Funhouse for me in a Manhattan investment firm afterwards. Forty-five grand, first year. I'm interning with them this summer, to make connections, know what I mean?" he asked, nodding his head furiously. "What about you?" "I'm going to study English." "Oh." The nodding slowed. "Why? I mean, what for?" "I'm thinking about teaching." "Oh." The nodding stopped. "Well, hey, good seeing you, man." The future of corporate America ducked back into the crowd. I wandered toward the keg and was stopped by Chris, a nervous twitchy guy who used to steal potato chips from the cafeteria. "Brian, hey." "Hey, Chris, how's it going?" "All right, man. How's Duke?" "Chapel Hill." "That's right. Good basketball, right?" "Apparently." We watched a very drunk girl spill most of a Stroh's down the front of her shirt and convulse with giggles. "She's so wasted," Chris said. "Yeah." He clapped me on the shoulder and said, "Good talking to you, Bri. Take it easy." Our high school was all-boys, an archaic institution which still believed that the best way to prepare young men for Life is to isolate them from the distractions of the opposite sex for, oh, say, the duration of their adolescence. However, the institution failed to realize that Life is largely about the- opposite sex, and that our social education was warped, at best. Which is a long and roundabout way of saying that I didnt know many girls at this party. But I did see one I knew, and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, Susan!" She gave me a puzzled look. "Hi." The look dragged on. "Do I know you?" "Brian. You dated my friend Tom." She nodded and smiled. "Oh, yeah. Tom's friend, of course." Clearly she still had no idea who I was. I tried a different tack. "We sat next to each other at that football game once." "Yeah ... yeah! We won that day, right?" "No, we lost." "That's right," she said. "Hi." "Hi." I stared meaningfully into her eyes, which were scanning the room behind my head. "Want a beer?" I asked, holding up my six-pack. "Mine's around here someplace," she said, gesturing around the room. "Maybe I should find it. Nice seeing you again, Brendan." And she was swallowed by the crowd. By this time, I was beginning to regret my hermetic ways if only I had come back home more often I wouldn't have felt so out of place among all these ghosts. I decided on one last effort. If I was successful, I would stay; if I failed, I would go home to Gilligan and the Skipper too. I grabbed a familiar shoulder. "Steve!" Steve and I had founded the Ultimate Frisbee Society at school and had spent many long afternoons perfecting the sidearm throw. "Brian, man, great to see you! You still flipping the disc?" "Definitely. I'm a little rusty, but I'd still kick your butt." "Yeah, sure. I'm playing a lot up at Stanford they take it pretty seriously up there. You don't scare me." "Be afraid, Steve, be very afraid." This was great! Kidding around like old times, giving each other hassle, trading insults. I knew I could count on Steve. "I didn't know they played frisbee at Duke," Steve said. "Chapel Hill." "Yeah, right. Good basketball, though." It was actually one of my favorite episodes, the one where Gilligan attacks the downed weather balloon .... Brian McCuskey is a senior English major from Los Angeles. Readers9 Forum The chemistry of fine art To the editor: "Ashes to ashes; dust to dust . . . " God "4 Fe 3 02 yields 2 Fe2 03" Idem I would like to commend the University for being on the forefront of nouveau artiste. Just as the artist intended (obviously) his work to rust; just as he surely intended it to be removed in time. Its removal from in front of Davis com pleted the work of art's tran sition from metal into that ethereal plane which is the realm of all transcendental junk. I suggest that the resulting broken cement be viewed as an example of art with as much validity as the prior piece in the same location. Think of the advantages this new piece exhibits, such as resistance to vandalism. The new shape mocks the flatness of the bricks. Additionally I would like to thank the grounds crew the barricades are a nice touch that frames the work and serves as a contrast to the subtlety of the cement chips. Please respond via the back page of the DTH. Frozen whales are out of season. ANDY TAUBMAN Senior Chemistry economics Contestants get no respect To the editor: Thursday, Jan. 26, my friends and I went to see the ever-so- popular Miss Omega Psi Phi Pageant. After the publicity and hype the event DOH'T BOTHER m, Corson. CTm in Africa now VIA SATELLITE HEY KID5Xrs that TIME" WE'VE GOT TO PUT THE 5CC SOME WHERE. GOT ANY WIGHT IDEAS... Oops! Som, I F0R60T. Dale McKinley DtFUND IT DefUND everything People shouldn't receive MONEY At allIIn fact! PEOPLE SHOULD STOP ASSOCIATING. WE COULOALL LIVE IN CJVra or soMzmm he "Thinker" CENTER? HOW ABOUT A wHITjE CULTURAL centerYmenh, HENH, HEM.,. NO, REALLY, SOME OF MY dSF FRIENP5 WE BLACK... IF THEY TRT TO STICK US IN LIRgBOgflL X'M 60IN6 TO HAVE To dustt pi I urr nwo THREE" r A1 Aitl Your Roommate received all over campus, we assumed it would be the event of the year, second only to the Q-Cabaret. Little did we know the three-hour-long evening ahead of us would be a display of immature decorum and disorganization. In summary: No class. As black students at this University, we are continuously striving for the equality and respect that our white counter parts receive, yet we attend an event such as the Omega Psi Phi Pageant and behave in-a manner that clearly shows we have no respect for each other or ourselves. When a group of girls takes time out of what is already a rigorous schedule to entertain their peers, they deserve the utmost respect and undivided IS THIS ONE OF THOSE THINGS WMEREj I'M SUPPOSED TO HAVE AN OPINIONS Jim 11 i 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ill I ill I I fir i i i i i hi nheth Perky Stacy Everett Lewis attention. Thursday evening, they received everything but that respect and attention. People jeered, laughed and expressed feelings of exasper ation while the contestants performed. We are assuming, because of the audience's behavior, that each member of the audience could have gotten on stage and done 10 times better. Our point is that there is a time and place for everything. We complain about being treated unfairly by others, but we must look at ourselves first. At events where blacks can support each other, they do everything possible to destroy the self-esteem of others. Here's something to think about: One may receive the respect from others heshe desires if heshe conducts him herself with the utmost respect. SHARON TAYLOR Sophomore Medical technology EHRIKA CARTER Sophomore Journalism French Letters policy D The DTH reserves the right to edit letters for space, clarity and vulgarity. Remember, brevity is the soul of wit. a Place letters in the box marked "Letters to the Editor" outside the DTH office in the Student Union. Public is welcome at the Omega pageant TTn spite of Mr. J.L. Wesley's shallow, narrow-minded and fastidious critique Ji("Pageant Closed to Campus,' DTH, Jan. 30) of the article concerning the Miss Omega Psi Phi Pageant that appeared in the Jan. 25 DTH, 77je pageant was not closed to the campus. First of all, we can understand Mr. Wesley's displeasure with our references to the contestants as "girls." Perhaps, "young ladies" or "women" would have been more appropriate, but we recognize this as a problem of society and feel that such a persnickety assessment is simply criticism for the sake of criticism. Secondly, we regret that Mr. Wesley feels the pageant was closed to the campus and "badly" publicized. However, we cannot force the student body to read the DTH Campus Calendar which commun icated the open interest meeting and auditions. Nor can we force individuals to notice the many fliers posted all over campus or the Student Union Activities Board in the Pit, both of which advertised the event to the campus community. Lastly, we cannot compel young ladies not to discard the pamphlets that the brothers Omega Psi Phi Guest Column personally (and randomly) distributed to women on campus on Nov. 8, 1988, to notify them of the upcoming open interest meeting. Inasmuch as Mr. Wesley did not attend the pageant, and inasmuch as he did not contribute the enormous sum of one dollar to benefit the United Negro College Fund, we shall take this opportunity to explain to him the true purpose and benefits of the event which he chose to completely ignore. In the real world, Mr. Wesley, there are those who lack the resources to attend prestigious institutions of higher learning, or any institutions for that matter, without the aid of the UNCF, w hich depends solely upon donations from the private sector. In other words, Mr. Wesley, it relies upon individual contributions from generous individuals, such as yourself. Therefore, it was our intended purpose to assist those aspiring scholars less fortunate than ourselves, while simultaneously showcas ing UNC's unheralded black talent (e.g. The Opeyo Dancers and The Ebony Readers). Since you continually refer to yourself as "a black man," Mr. Wesley, we as black males are disappointed with your rash remarks and preconclusive letter to the editor which have demolished what credibility you might have had. We are also embarrassed that you, "a black man," chose to criticize instead of contributing. The motto of our chapter is "Lifting As Wc Climb," and we find it disheartening to be reminded of those, such as Mr. Wesley, who seek to impede our escalation with petty denouncements. On the eve of Black History Month (initiated by our late brother, Dr. Carter G. Woodson), we hope that such hypercritical and apathetic attitudes, demonstrated by Mr. Wesley, will be replaced by involvement in and support of the activities sponsored by Black organizations on campus. This column was contributed by the brothers of Omega Psi Phi Fraternity, Inc.
Daily Tar Heel (Chapel Hill, N.C.)
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Jan. 31, 1989, edition 1
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