The Salemite
The Lighter Side—
Ihe Final Chapter of the Nick Ronco Stoiy
November 1984, Page 5
That You May See the Meaning of Within
By: Liz McGehee
Time and space are relative in
this dimension, so please assume
that Nick earned enough money to
finance his schemes. Implementing
them was the rub. Time to call
Betty.
The phone would not stop
ringing and it might be someone
important on the other line, like
her agent, so Betty Ronco felt
obligated to make a mad dash
from the shower to the den where
the phone beckoned her. Her
apartment was furnished in early-
late-modern wicker and bamboo
furniture an admirer who had seen
her on The Today Show had sent
her from Waccamaw Pottery and
Furniture Outlet.
A little path of water drips
followed her into the den and onto
a vinyl-coated wicker couch. She
picked up the leaf from the branch
of her palm tree phone. The
breathing on the other end could
only belong to one person. Betty
had gone straight but she knew
she'd give all that up to Nick at the
drop of a hat unless her ability to
say no had improved—and she
knew it hadn't.
"Get a bus ticket to Ann Jorden
Farm, tell the neighbors to water
your plants and check the mail.
and meet me tomorrow for lunch
at the farmhouse," the breathing
ordered. Then click and it was
gone. Something smells pretty
fishy, Betty thought.
And just how does one go about
taking over the world? It starts
with a basic desire to understand
what it is to be human. There aren't
any qualifications for the task of
trying to understand existence.
Nick Ronco's do nicely. It's not
like joining the Columbia Record
and Tape Club where you get
thirteen albums for a penny then
you send this card in each month if
you don't want that month's
selection and forget to send it in
and then get this album that you
don't want and can't pay for.
Nothing's cheap but you aren't
stuck with an idea.
Nick took one of his few
outdoors thinking walks the night
after he talked to Betty. There were
always too many distractions.
Gnats and mosquitoes and the
humidity kept him from his mental
exercises.
And tonight there were all these
people coming back from a fishing
expedition. One kid, with bright
red hair cut like Opie Taylor's, was
screaming and giggling about the
rattle from a dead snake his dad
had found on the road a while
back. He had put it in his pocket
(with the blueberries he had picked
along the way back to the
farmhouse) and it had now turned
a lovely shade of pale blue.
Nick sat down on the pebbly
edge of the water just before
sunset. The water was solid brown
with holes of yellow blinking on
and off and on like some natural
neon lights. The sky was just
enough blue and the clouds were
just so white that he felt like he was
riding in an airplane. Everything
seemed so close. Nick had always
wondered if certain beings, deities,
cosmic watch-makers really exist
ed and he had never come up with
any answers. Part of him said that
if this supreme thing did exist then
why would it let so many people
suffer? Part of him said that it
might exist because only some
thing so mystical could have
created and inspired all of the
beautiful art and music that he
pretended to understand. He felt
that man deserved a lot of the
credit for getting himself into the
awful predicament he's in now, but
that he also deserved a by-line for
the good things he's done. Nick
tried to avoid getting deep because
it got him nowhere. When his plans
were fulfilled, Nick was going to
hire people to deep-think for him.
He walked back to the house the
same way he had come. Continuity
was the key to his plan. It had to
have something in it that would
slip through history without
detection like jello or rayon or red
dye number two or saccharin or
the Bee Gee's or Three's Company
■or the National Enquirer.
Jello-that's it, Nick thought. So
it was.
The next morning, Nick used his
savings to corner the jello market.
A few weeks later, the heart of his
plans gelled. Nick had hired retired
crop dusters to seed clouds all over
the, world with lime green jello mix.
Empty oil tankers now filled with
lime jello powder were to have
several accidental spills in strategic
waterways such as the Panama and
Suez Canals. All of the nation's
rivers and lakes and swimming
pools and water reservoirs were to
be in undated with green jello.
Entire islands were to be sur
rounded with Christo bands of
green. People could, of course, buy
Ronco dejellifiers for a mere
$19.95, renounce their respective
citizenships, and pledge their
loyalty for one Ronco world,
under Nick Ronco, indivisible,
with liberty and justice for no one.
Simple yet effective. Even better,
the jello was really raspberry
flavored,
Betty would play a housewife on
Ronco jello commercials. Next,
she would become President of the
Junior League of the Nick Ronco
Society, a group of Ronco loyalists
in charge of distributing propa
ganda. Finally, Betty would
become queen, first lady, head
woman of the Ronco Empire.
When it rains, it gells. At least
now it did. Jello was oozing all
over everything, down skyscrapers
and chimneys, across astroturf
baseball diamonds, over hills, and
through woods up to the doorstep
of Granny Ronco's humble abode.
The world knuckled under. Nick
decided that it was time for the
Ronco's to try domestic life again,
so he bought Graceland, Elvis'
mansion in Memphis, and had it
shipped to Washington some
where on Pennsylvania Avenue.
Life as we know it ceased to exist.
But even in its darkest, deepest,
blackest, most awful hours,
mankind can realize the unexpect
ed. Simply being becomes impor
tant enough that it not only
triumphs but prevails, sometimes—
like this time—in limbo, in a
cocoon, waiting to wake up with
all the colors and trappings that
being entails.
The circle sun sank over the new
Ronco mansion in a blaze of pink
and yellow and orange and red
lines with a little strip of green
below it and streaks of blue dotted
with check mark birds all around
like a kid's picture meticulously
crafted during art period in first
grade.
The Perfect College—Try Gs, You'll Like Gs
Bv: Malinda McCall
By; Malinda McCall
Remember your junior and
senior years at high school? You
got lots of neat mail from many
obscure places, and all of them
were supposedly simply dying for
you to go to them and learn at their
institutions. Often the one univer
sity that appealed to you did not
appeal to anyone else in your
family. You needed a college
geared to all tastes. Unfortunately,
that is most unlikely to ever exist:
"the perfect school" is a figment of
some philosopher's overheated
imagination. Sort of like the
concept of Treeness or the Shadow
Metaphor. . .so.
The following is an example of a
college most people would pre
sumably love to attend. Happily, it
is most fictitious (and you'll see
why) Imagine receiving a letter
saying something like this:
'This student has just taken a
course at our prestigious college
entitled 'How To Worry Your
Parents To Death and Inherit Big
and Live Comfortably In Idleness
For The Rest Of Your Natural
Life.' You too can learn to
eliminate some of your mother's
more annoying habits (like calling
on the telephone every six months
or so) by using some simple
methods we can teach you for a
nominal fee. Just contact our Dean
of Parent Relations, Dean Cor-
leone. Here's what that young lady
who took our course had to say
about it to her mother:
"Hello? What? Oh. . .(sigh
heavily) hi, mom. Nope. I'm NOT
behaving myself admirably at all.
Nor am 1 eating my veggies, or
getting eight hours of sleep each
night, or being the slightest bit
angelic. I'm doing just fine! I'm
mixing with massive amounts of
charmingly unsavory persons, I
study every other week or so. I go
to a wild party every other night, 1
miss most of my classes due to
acute spasms, and 1 listen to lots of
loud, obnoxious music (I'd classify
it as being new wave, heavy metal,
acid rock, new romantic, punk
rock and a smidgen of top-40 hits
mostly). I'm taking a course
(sculpture) in Art with nude male
models and I plan to spend the rest
of my college career learning how
to play the synthesizer, bass guitar
and mandocello from this dude
named Animal. He sometimes
answers to Al. Oh—I've painted
my fingernails and toenails bright
lavender...to match my new
hairdo...and guess what? I've
actually decided what I'm going to
minor in already! Yeah, mom, I've
decided to get a degree in "How to
Harrass the Police and Break the
Law in an Obnoxious but Creative
Manner Frequently but Anony
mously." No. that's not a cold I
have. Those "prescription" pills
you found? Oh dear. (Ahem) No,
nothing is wrong. Just throw them
down the toilet. My voice? Yes, a
bit scratchy. 1 promise it's not a
cold, momma. It must of been that
bottle of Jack Daniels., .what? I'm
not as think as you drunk 1 am.
Mother! By the way„how does one
remove rodents from within one's
domicile? My roommate let his
science experiment escape and. .
.huh? No, we don't really have a
roach problem anymore. 1 think
the rats ate them all. We used to
find those two-inchers lying in wait
in the shower stalls but not
anymore. The rats ate my
marshmallow and liverwurst
sandwich too. 1 just had an
insatiable craving for it, I suppose,
I could really go for a pickle right
now, too. What about my roomie?
Oh, he's great, a real dollface,
when he's not out with those
naughty terrorist buddies of his or
practicing transcendental medita
tion on top of the roof.. .Bye mom.
Oh, before you go! I learned a new
w'ord today. Wanna hear it? Oh.
Well, goodbye mom. Call back
when you haven't the time. 1 love
me too. See you later. . ."
See how simple that technique
is? A few more months of such
creative troublemaking, and your
authority problems are half over.
The more hostile you learn to be,
the faster the legacy. That's our
policy. Try us, you'll like us."
I'm pleased that 1 go to Salem,
and now I'm more firmly convinc
ed. Whew!
Epicure Open To Suggestions
By; Matyanne Downs and Wayne DeBlois
This is the first in a series of articles
which will be written by Epicure
Food Service personnel concern
ing the services of Epicure within
the refectory.
We feel that this effort is
necessary - in addition to the food
committee's - in order to keep open
lines of communication between
you and your food service.
Since we are often asked
questions in reference to what the
food service is about, we will
answer the following questions
and any others you may have in a
question-answer format.
Q. What is Epicure?
A. Epicure Management Services
Incorporated is Salem College's
agent employed to provide meals
and special catered events for the
students, faculty and staff.
Epicure's home office is located in
Rock Hill, S.C. In addition to
Salem College and Academy,
Epicure provides services for
schools such as Agnes Scott,
Guilford and Winthrop. Epicure,
as Salem's food service agent, hires
and compensates all employees,
and purchases all necessary food
and supplies.
Q. Why do we have family style
dinners?
A. Family style dinners are
traditional to Salem College and
Academy. It has been this way for
years by the decision of Salem
College administrators. Salem
College also decides times and
types of meals and in addition the
special events provided for the
students.
Q. For suggestions, changes or
general comments what should
you do?
A. First contact your dorm
representative from the food
committee or talk to your food
service managers in the refectory.
They welcome any input - positive
or negative - so feel free to voice
your opinions.
Trivia Question: It is recommend
ed that Epicure has nine special
events a year. How many special
events can you list that Epicure
provides in a year?(i.e. Thanksgiv
ing, Sophomore Senior, Fall Fest,
etc...)
Please give your written answers
to Wayne DeBlois your food
service director!) Also bring your
written questions which you would
like to see answered in future
editions of The Salemite.