Newspapers / St. Andrews University Student … / Feb. 8, 1996, edition 1 / Page 2
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2 The Lance St. Andrews Presbyterian College EDITORIALS & AMUSEMENTS Rumor Mill Gets Extra Grist BY lAGO Way too many students are doing way too many drugs on campus, but way too many school officials are also getting way too uptight about it. Recently, an anonymous resi dent of Stan Dura-run Orange was offered a luxurious deal (rumored to involve limo service across the lake and a year’s supply of smoked oyster sandwiches), for wearing what is known in the CIA world as a “wire,” and purchas ing some illegal substances (mari juana or Black Flag suppositories, it is unclear) and thereby framing a pal and landing our SA officials in the D.A.R.E. school-of-the- year lottery. As Student Life officials are not “officially” permitting anyone to know precisely what has hap pened, (for example, who has the drugs so we can get some of our own), we can only deduce the real situation via the ever-chuming St. Andrews rumor-mill. And, as we of the esteemed Lance staff have no real reason to assume that anyone reads our pa per, we feel fiilly able to report un substantiated rumors (those flying at SAGA) at will. So far, members of Meek and Concord have been officially “busted” for drugs and drug para- phernalia. Another Concord sweetie has taken leave of our fine institution due to complications of another illegal substance. Suite Four Orange, has been subjected to a rumored, threatened, unoffi cial search, and all the wheelies are being randomly tested. Some where between 20 and 50 fellows in Winston-Salem have also been caught red-handed with either cocaine, crack, or confiscated sugar packets from SAGA (it is unclear), and the fire in Suite Foxir Orange last week (didn’t you hear?) was deliberately caused by a Satantic drug-frenzy, prompted by Dr. Skip Clark’s Witchcraft class. 100 charges of manslaughter have been brought up against the vagrant who brought THE VERY FIRST sheet of LSD ever to our sainted campus, and eight different lawsuits are being brought to President Board by prospectives horrified that such a well-advertised (thanks. Admis sions!) school would be so over run with such atrocities. (The nineteen lab rats who were mali ciously fondled, molested, sucked and subjected to meaningless tripper-babble are also suing Frank Watson for not keeping the lab doors effectively secured at night. Where is Theiron when you really need him??) Confused? Paranoid? Wary of your peers and leaders? YOU OUGHT BE!! Throw all your pot in the lake! Cut your hair! Stop listening to Phish and the Dead! And for God’s sakes do not attempt to communicate effec tively with your suite mates, your classmates, your school officials or your Lance staff, because someone might get hold of the truth. Someone might just get some honesty and openness, and then our fine center for extraordi nary learning really would go down the tubes. While The Cat's Away... BY BRANDI MISS ...The mice will play...and their games are not always fun and joy, at least not at St. Andrews. Perhaps you were not one of the lucky nine-too-many people to hear of the game, “either-talk-or- I ’ 11-have-to-take-you-to-j ail...” and if you’re not, consider your self un-harassed and very lucky. And if you were not chosen to have a go, then you probably missed out on the “$50 and a wire” scene as well. Too bad...not for you, though, too bad for those random people whose cards were drawn for them. It kind of makes one pause to wonder if the cards had previously been stacked. And by who? This has us all buzzing, and wondering, waiting to see who the next player will be. Alarmed for reason; careful to survive. Dodging buzz cuts and blue uniforms because justice is not always just. Consider for in stance the following scenario; two uniform clad campus police-whose primary purpose is to protect the students, faculty, and staff as well as its properties from danger, theft, vandalism, and intruders (Saltire, 144)- enter a student’s room without a warrant, after the R.A. refused their order to barge in because of lack of evidence or suspicion. They proceed to try to “bust” the innocent resident. The room wis searched and pretty much tnshed. Results? NOTHING WAS FOUND. Hats off to cam pus police for making another stu dent spend hours cleaning up the aftermath. And what’s all this we are hearing about “enforcement” en tering rooms with no legal war rants? No real evidence? No real cause for suspicion? They smell something—it could be a chicken pot pie or a burnt bag of popcom- -but, hey, it all smells suspicious, ri ^ht? And the smoke...if just two people sit in a lO’Xl 5’ room with approximately two square feet of window space and each smoke more than one cigarette, instanta neous pool hall. Throw in a cigar and smoke billows. Whatever happened to “our communal con cern is primarily for persons rather than for enforcement?” (Saltire, 102) Allow me to be blunt, find real cause for suspicion before knocking on my door, please. The most upsetting factor in this game is where the blaming finger is being pointed. Sure, they get a little crazy and act a bit weird sometimes, but the harassed suite is perhaps the most genuine gath ering of scholars on this campus. If you want to jam out, discuss class, have a glass of wine, cry on a shoulder, shoot the shit, bum a (continued on p. 8)
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