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I keep asking myself, "What's the
point?"
On Sunday, I went to a large all
campus fraternity party (you know
which one I mean) and left about 10
minutes later seriously contemplating
just how far Western civilization has
plummeted.
Here is the "party" in a nutshell:
thousands of drunken, sweaty, cooler
carrying idiots packed like cattle into
a muddy yard and held in by police
barricades. And, oh yeah, urinating
wherever seems convenient.
Woodstock was the lap of luxury
compared to this fiasco. The fact that
this party is one of the most eagerly
anticipated events of the year must
rank somewhere between Ed
McMahon's celebrity status and Dan
Quayle's political career as the great
absurdities of the 20th century.
While I was there I saw bras
thrown off the balcony, heard a
couple of "Whoooo"s from the crowd
and saw several short people get
sucked up by the partying throngs.
And I overheard such brilliant
observations as "This is sooooo
great" and "I knew it was gonna be
like this." Boy, this guy figured out
on his own that the party's going to
be crowded. Must have been a
Morehead.
But anyway, I had to ask why
people submit themselves to this.
Because it's fun, they say.
Well, the last time I had fun, there
was.no one spilling beer on my shoes.
But, what the heck, I thought it was
fun once, too. When I was a freshman
and didn't know any better. It seemed
cool then, but by the time I was a
sophomore it just kind of seemed
pointless.
Which brings me to a great
discovery. Pointless, you see, is the
great reality of life at UNC. More
pointless stuff goes on here than can
be believed. These pointless things
include but are certainly not limited
to:
Freshman convocation: You've
been in Chapel Hill for a little more
than 24 hours and you're told to look
at the people on either side of you.
"One of these three people won't be
here when you graduate," they say.
Well, so much for starting out the
year on a positive note.
ialkJinig St easy with the
I got my senior newsletter in the
mail the other day.
Which left me feeling kind of
discombobulated.
I started thinking, "There comes a
time in every man's life when he must
throw off the bright cloak of youth
and accept the hair shirt of
adulthood." Then I realized how
stupid it is to think to yourself in
quotation marks like that so I stopped.
But this is it: my senior year. It.
Finito. The End.
Sort of.
Nevada: A
"Historically, Nevada has been
the place where people go to do the
things they aren't allowed to do at
home - namely, drinkin', whorin' ,
and gamblin'."
- Travus T. Hipp, Reno radio talk
show host
There is something mythical and
romantic about the western United
States, but you Southerners have
taken it a little too far.
You simply refuse to believe that
anything west of the shores of the
Mississippi River actually exists.
I know it's hard. The West is a
region of rare beauty and stark
character. Nevada, in its way,
perhaps epitomizes the rough-and-tumble
independent thinking of the
hardy souls who blazed the trails of
the Old West.
In case you didn't know, Nevada
is the only state in the union where
prostitution is legal. A. word of
JCMD
(D)f
Justin McGuire
University Editor
Can you really remember anything
about convocation? I know I can't.
Well actually, I never went, but I have
it on good authority that it's not
exactly an experience which will
markedly enhance your collegiate
years. In other words, it's pointless.
Dressing up at football games:
Who are we trying to kid? You dress
up to go to the opera, not to see a
sporting event (if you can call
Carolina football a sport). It must be
really tough to lean to the left and
lean to the right, peel your banana
and uhh! take a bite in a sports jacket.
Wearing coats and ties and dresses
is not only the height in pretension
but highly impractical as well. It
seems to me that swilling gin and
watching football is not exactly an
activity conducive to keeping one's
wardrobe in good condition.
But far be it from me to begrudge
someone the right to drink or dress up
or both. It just seems that it might be
better to do it at home while you
leave the stadium for people who
might actually be there to watch a
football game.
Ice cream (or tie dye or whatever)
dropadd: As any veteran will tell
you, you have to be in a war to truly
understand what war is about. And by
the same token, you have to drop or
add something before you understand
that process. Trading chocolate syrup
for nuts just won't do the trick. First
of all there's no camping out involved
(which actually brings up a whole
new area of pointlessness, but I'll
save that).
I believe you should just throw a
freshman into dropadd and let him
figure it out on his own. That's how I
did it (I forgot to pre-register). You
learn through your mistakes. Sure,
you may end up with Bavarian folk
dancing, but you'll be a little bit
wiser the next semester.
The foreign language lab:
Everyone has his favorite language
See LIFE, page 2B
John Bland
Staff Writer
See, even though I am a senior, I
won't be getting a sheepskin come
May, unless I scalp a sheep. I will
become what I beheld: a fifth-year
senior.
I keep having this recurring
nightmare about that, too. I'm sitting
in a climate-controlled office in front
Southerner's guide
Erik Flippo
Business Editor
explanation: the state heavily taxes,
licenses and regulates the "industry."
It is legal in 10 of 17 counties, and
there it is only permitted in licensed
brothels. AIDS and STD tests are
mandatory every six months for all
of the working ladies. Street walkers
are patently illegal.
Also, casino gambling (we call it
"gaming" because there is less
stigma attached) is legal throughout
the state, and nobody out there has
ever even heard of an ABC store
(hard liquor is sold at the
supermarket and 7-11 - the drinking
age, however, has been 21 as long as
I can remember).
Nevadans take no guff from self-
The Daily Tar HeelThtxsday, August 94-, 1989
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Thousands of Chapbl
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"How was your "Z loved rt.Xt
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now? Great?
of a man in a black suit. I'm trying to
get a job with his company. It goes
something like this:
MAN: (intensely polite) So, you
want to work for our company, eh?
ME: (eager as a beaver) Oh, yes
sir, very much so, sir!
MAN: (maliciously grinning) Well,
let's just look through your record,
shall we?
(MAN pulls out a large manila
envelope, sifts through it)
ME: (sweating profusely)
righteous purists who would have us
change our evil ways. We are at
home with our casinos and our
brothels, just as you are at home
with your tobacco fields and Jesse
Helms.
A recent story perhaps illustrates
this attitude best.
Leslie Sferrazza, the ex-wife of
Reno's mayor, appeared nude in a
Playboy magazine spread this
summer ("Reno Confidential," Sept.
1989, near the back), sparking a
rancorous debate on the fate of
Reno's image, given this new
"exposure." The discussion occurred
both locally and (inexplicably) on
the front page of the Baltimore Sun.
Leslie claimed her pictorial would
have a "positive effect" on Reno's
image, prompting many local gurus
to question what we really wanted
Reno's image to be. They asked this
See NEVADA, page 6B
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MAN: (shaking his head) Oh, no.
Oh, no no no. This won't do at all.
Not at all. Do you realize what this
says! Do you?!
ME: (confused with terror)
Haphawannamoo!
MAN: Haphawannamoo?
(regaining his composure, glaring,
baring his teeth) You didn't graduate
on time! You idiot! You lazy, lazy
bum! Who do you think you are!
Then he turns into a giant fig
newton and I wake up.
ie Village People, ElO,
oodie
I didn't go to the DKE party
Sunday night. It was too crowded and
too noisy. I must be getting old.
This realization came to me this
past weekend. First of all, the
freshmen moved in Saturday. Now
this is not a slam against freshmen,
but they are young! I watched them
roll into Connor dorm with their
parents in tow, carrying the de rigeur
Tar Heel trash cans, Michael Jordan
posters and plastic soap holders. They
all have the glow of youth, the glow
that fades after a semester of all-night
study marathons and football
Saturday brain cell slaughters.
I heard the families praising the
"lovely" dorm accommodations. If
they only knew what a dorm
bathroom looked like after a weekend
of cleaning neglect. I saw freshmen
IP"
Hill sccns-makers makb
'Stay on that
,5de of the
barricade, son.
ove-year puami
I don't know if that makes me
psychotic or not (I'm not sure what
Freudians would say about the fig
newton), but it's starting to get on my
nerves. Is that what's really going to
happen? Am I going to walk into
some office, look the personnel
manager right in the eye and say, "Hi,
I'm John, I'm a lazy bum because I
didn't graduate on time"?
But it's not that bad, really. I can
still wake up around noon and play
along with "The Price Is Right." I can
still go out at night and commit
and bell
William Taggart
Managing Editor
getting their meal cards. They really
think that you have to pick one of the
categories on the back of the contract
card. No, it's not necessary to get
$912 on your meal card for the 21
meals a week. Within a week
Dominos' phone number will be
memorized, and the bulk of the meal
card money will go in that direction,
not toward the salad bar at Lenoir
(spoken with the French
pronunciation, to rhyme with Renoir).
Okay, this did turn into a slam on
freshmen. But they are young. How
many of them know who Dr. Hook
various class C misdemeanors. I can
still take crip courses like "Shoelace
Tying 56" and not feel bad that I'm
wasting my talent, life and career!
For all of you out there in my
predicament, don't despair. If you
can't get done in four, do it in five.
After all, did the pope rush
Michelangelo? Did Lewis rush Clark?
Did Mount rush More?
I think not.
John Bland is a senior English
major from Charlotte.
bottoms
is? He is not the villain in Peter Pan,
but one of the outstanding musical
products of the 1970s. We're talking
supergroups like The Captain and
Tenille, The Village People, The Bay
City Rollers, K.C. and the Sunshine
Band, Supertramp, ELO, Blondie,
Hot Butter, Abba, Lipps, Inc., and
Earth, Wind & Fire. All these groups
produced memorable tunes, tunes
which are now found only in the
stack of 45s at the back of the closet.
For you youngsters, a 45 was a record
with a song on each side. It was
shaped like a CD, but with a big hole
in the middle. One side was a great
song; the "B" side was usually a
really bad song the group didn't even
put on their album. My most prized
See TAGGART, page 8B ,