Opinion
4A
Kansan
Published daily since 1912
Lindsey Henry, Editor
Dave Morantz, Managing editor
Kristie Blasi, Managing editor
Tom Ehlen, General manager, news advisor
Marlee Harrell, Business manager
Colleen Eager, Retail sales manager
Dan Simon, Sales and marketing adviser
Justin Knupd, Technology coordinator
Tuesday, March 31, 1998
W. David Keith/ KANSAN
Editorials
Ku Klux Klan payoff in Illinois bad example for progressive cities
The devil knows how to get what he wants. And so do his disciples.
Early this month, the Ku Klux Klan extorted the town of Cicero, Ill., for $10,000. In exchange for the pay off, the Klan agreed to call off a rally it had planned to hold in the town.
Could the same thing happen in Lawrence? Let's hope not. But our City Commission should know that the citizens of Lawrence will not tolerate such an appeasement of intolerance.
Cicero is a blue-collar suburb of Chicago with a history of racial tension. Although it differs from Lawrence, in both of these cases it is reasonable to assume that leaders in both hope to prevent activities that could shatter whatever racial harmony exists in their towns.
With this action, Cicero's city leaders shattered the integrity of the town and armed the Klan with a powerful weapon
Paying off the KKK,rather than allowing a march,never should happen in Lawrence
for conducting its war on civility. Using the threat of a rally to squeeze money out of complacent communities.
The Klan had planned to rally in Cicero on March 7 until an anonymous donor agreed to pay $10,000 for the distribution of Klan literature. Claiming to divert a potential riot, town officials cut the deal to avoid security costs. The town president even shared a podium with the imperial wizard to announce the deal.
But Cicero's decision announced to the world that giving blood money is preferable to confronting the evils of racism.
Although Ciervo is more than 400 miles away from Lauremont, the Klan could
slither across the Midwest, extorting towns without the moral character to object.
We hope the day will never come when the citizens of Lawrence face a battle with the Klan. If it does, we must not yield to the temptation of taking the easy way out as Cicero did. Even if it means allowing the Klan to hold a rally. Even if it threatens the racial serenity of Lawrence. Even if it forces us to hold back the clinched fists of righteous citizens determined to attack the harbingers of hatred. We must never appease the Klan.
To do so is to turn our backs on a current of evil that prevents our city and our nation from truly becoming a land of equals.
Tell your city commissioners that the citizens of Lawrence will not shy from the threat of evil. Tell them we will not cut a deal with the devil.
Dave Morantz, special to the editorial board
Winter is finished. The snow has long since melted away. But small, white objects still flutter to the ground, collecting in piles along Javawk Boulevard.
They are not the clean, cold, pure snowflakes that children catch on their tongues, but the putrid, nasty cigarette butts that already have been in others' mouths.
Smokers should stop littering the campus with the waste of their habit. They should stop throwing cigarette butts on the ground.
These butts litter the environment and often are washed by the rain down into gutters, eventually ending up in rivers and streams.
They also make the campus look dirty and unattractive. When visitors come to the University of Kansas, the trash along the sidewalks reflects badly on the University and its students. Although the cigarette butt that one student tosses to the ground may seem small and virtually harmless, when added to the thousands of others, it amounts to one thing — a real mess.
There are many easy solutions to this problem. There are ash trays at various locations on campus. If one of these is not nearby, a smoker simply can put out a cigarette on the ground, then throw it in a trash can. If trash cans are not available, then smokers can put out their cigarettes and put the butts in their pockets until they find a trash can.
Visitors are not the only ones that may be turned off by this despicable problem. Non-smoking students, faculty and staff should be able to walk through one of the most beautiful college campuses in the country without seeing a trail of cigarette butts lining the sidewalks
KU students can smoke all the cigarettes they want — that is their right. But smokers should not compromise the environment and the beauty of the University simply because they are too lazy to responsibly deal with their own trash.
Paul Eakins for the editorial board
Kansan staff
Paul Eakins . *Editorial*
Andy Obermuller . *Editorial*
Andrea Albright . *News*
Jodie Chester . *News*
Julie King . *News*
Charity Jeffries . *Online*
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Mike Perryman . *Campus*
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Steve Purpe . *Photo*
Angie Kuhn . *Design, graphics*
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Corrie Moore . *Wire*
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Brett Clifton. Regional
Nicole Lauderdale. National
Matt Fisher. Marketing
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How to submit letters and guest columns
Guest columns: Should be double-
spaced typed with fewer than 700 words. The writer must be willing to be photographed for the column to run.
Letters: Should be double-spaced typed and fewer than 200 words. Letters must include the author's signature, name, address and telephone number plus class and home-town if a University student. Faculty or staff must identify their positions.
All letters and guest columns should be submitted to the Kansan newsroom, 111 Stuaffer-Flint Hall. The Kansan reserves the right to edit, cut to length or reject all submissions. For any questions, call Paul Eakins (eakins@kansan.com) or Andy Obermuehl (andyo@kansan.com) at 864-4810. If you have general questions or comments, e-mail the page staff [opinion@kansan.com] or call 864-4810.
During spring break I did some reading to help improve my column, much akin to how the Titanic crew busily read Emergency Ship Repair and
Column like Titanic but less death,acclaim
what I've read has suggested that I should start each column with a question. That way I can engage the readers and make a mental bond with them.
Perspective
However, before I get to my question, I'd like to mention that I personally hope that the burning many of you are feeling due to sunburns acquired at South Padre Island during spring break is somewhat like the burning you will feel during your eternity in hell.
Nick Bartkoski
opinion @ kansan.com
Now to my question: Which beloved University Daily Kansan columnist do you think spent the entire break at the lovely Bartkoski Compound in Basehor. Kan.?
Not that I'm especially bitter that while everyone else in the free world was off romping in paradise, I was doing my sister Amelia's homework for her. To be fair, I'd definitely prefer to do second grade homework than write a five-page essay on whether William Faulkner was a boxers or briefs kind of guy (citing relevant passages).
For those of you that didn't think anyone would go home for break, I was kind enough to take meticulous notes about what I did. As a moving tribute to James Joyce, I call it Portrait of a Loser as a Young Man.
Monday — Going into spring break, I had one major project, read George Eliot's Middlemarch. It's an evil, 20,000-page book written by a Victorian woman. I know all of you that went to Cancun wish you could trade places with me, but those are the breaks.
I started Monday right. I woke up at about 7:30 p.m., with just enough time to have a snack before the Academy Awards started.
However, the Oscars were important in that I finally found a career that I would be qualified for with a degree in journalism and English: televised award show seat warmer.
Who doesn't love the spectacle that is the Oscars — and here I'm writing about more than just Ashley Judd's dress. There are the touching moments when you realize that the winner of an acting award can't speak unless reading from a script. There's the look on the winners' and losers' faces when they award the Best Picture. And perhaps most importantly, there are the three hours in between when they award absolutely nothing important.
copy of the book was the perfect size to be a remote control coaster. I fell asleep before Jim Cameron's moment of silence for those that went down on the *Titanic* ended.
In Middlemarch news, I learned that my
Tuesday — I awoke in a moving car. During the Oscars, my sister and I talked about seeing Titanic. I was asleep when my sister decided we were going to see the 7 p.m. show, so she just loaded me into the car and assumed I'd wake up before we got to the theater.
I really liked *Titanic*. Maybe it's just the feminine side of me, but I got into the story. I should bring up that this is NOT a desperate attempt to make myself look good to women, but if they think better of me because of this...
Titanic was also interesting in that people say my brother looks like Leonardo DiCaprio. I don't think it's that surprising. My theory is that there's a certain amount of general hunkiness that each human being is allotted at birth. Since mine obviously didn't get used, maybe it just kind of built up as a sediment in my mother's womb. So when my younger brother was born, he parlayed both his own and mine to come out looking like Hollywood's beloved Leonardo.
The scary part about that story is that the resemblance was especially striking when Leonardo was sinking to the bottom of the Atlantic. I don't want to even ponder what that says subconsciously.
I fell asleep in the car on the way home.
Wednesday — I spent four hours playing with my cats.
What I didn't know is that they had been practicing Super Mario Kart 64 since winter break. They kicked my butt pretty well.
In Middlemarch news, I found out that tossing the book towards a set of gloating cats will get them to stop.
Thursday — I analyzed my staggering speed in reading Middlemarch. At the rate I was going, I could have finished about a week before my retirement. It depressed me so much that I needed an extra three hours of sleep.
Friday — I had to go to a Kansas City TV station to get information for a project. Because I wanted to look my best, I woke up extra early for my 10:30 a.m. appointment — 8:30 a.m. I got myself all gussied up, and went. I got there about 10:15 a.m. and everything went about according to plan, but I didn't get out of there until about 11:45 a.m. I couldn't drive home. It was an hour drive and I had 45 minutes max before I passed out. I quickly called my mom, explained that I needed a ride, and quietly curled up and slept in the KCTV lobby.
Bartkoski is a Basehor junior in journalism and English. For the record, William Faulkner wore boxers.
Cynicism gives way to the touchy-feely decade
The nineties is the decade of the psychologist. Everyone is psycho-analyzing everyone else. We think we have the answers about how to deal with the stresses of
This is almost a reminiscence of a bad Mister Rogers Neighborhood episode. And what makes it worse, this touchy-feely attitude is becoming fashionable and is being heavily marketed.
our daily lives. We walk around saying to each other "What's wrong? Talk to me. Share your pain with me. Talking about our problems makes them all better."
Everywhere you go to satite your materialistic needs you will undoubtedly
Nick
Zaller
email@kansan.com
encounter a store filled with warm fuzzies and lots of "therapeutic" agents and devices. These stores lure you in with the enticing aroma of incense, which begins doing its work on you several miles away. Once you are close enough, the incense grabs you and chokes all rational thought out of your brain and so you enter the store. After you have passed through the smoke-screen at the doorway, your inner spirit is awakened with nature sounds or the exotic sounds of the Far or Near East, which probably are produced in downtown Los Angeles. The sounds lure you further in and calm your raging consciences.
Inside is a world filled with all types of panaceas. Every type of message instrument that you can think of and a myriad of ones you had no idea existed are strategically placed throughout the store. So you browse through and test each one out to see if it cures all of your ailments. Naturally, they don't but they sure look good and that music sure does sound exotic. In addition, while your ears are enjoying happy sounds, your eyes can feast on all of the new practical applications of Zen — like the Zen of walking your dog or the Zen of brushing your teeth.
Here is a more concrete example of what I am talking about.
The other day I went to get my glasses fixed, so I went to a glasses store. I thought this was simple enough and I chose the first one that I came
Some suggest there is a conspiracy behind this. There is something intoxicating in the incense. I don't believe in conspiracies. Shakespeare was fond of writing about how the gods love to play us for their sport. This is true. We are all subject to fate. So if some of us are miserable then it is because we were destined to be such. Don't tinker with fate by pushing this universal good vibes thing filled with smiles and giggles and laced with a complacent and content conscience.
So psychology is very marketable. Touchy-feely stuff is in and introverted cynicism is out. Let's talk about our problems and then perhaps we all finally can get along. Horace Walpole once said, "Life is a comedy to those who think and a tracedy to those who feel."
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to. But to my surprise this was no ordinary glasses store. As I walked into the store I noticed that I was stepping on hundreds of glittery doves, or some other symbolic bird, that were scattered all over the floor. Candles were burning and the wax was overflowing onto the plants below. Incense was burning and some sort of nature music was playing in the background. The lady at the counter asked if she could help me, but I got the feeling that she wanted to help me release my stress and talk about my depressions and not just tighten a few screws on my glasses. I was overcome with a touchy-feely feeling and this unexplainable force trying to calm my inner rage. I left the store coughing.
What is it about these stores that attract so many people? Why are so many stores becoming like this? Why can't you go to a store where you get what you expect and are not bombarded with warm fuzzies and medicinal remedies explicitly made for people who walk around laughing at the absurdities of common stresses and anxieties. These remedies attempt to make your chaotic laugh a more tranquil and sedative smile.
So keep a look out for those who prefer to laugh rather than smile. They might be cold-hearted introverts who need you to feel their pain. And above all they need a warm and fuzzy hug.
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Zaller is a Tulsa, Okla., senior in microbiology and Chinese.
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