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Opinion
Page 4 University Daily Kansan, March 25, 1982
Budgetary confusion
This week, some members of the University Senate executive committee were disgruntled. And probably for a good reason.
The Parking Services budget they approved for fiscal year 1983 had been changed. And for a time, SenEx wasn't sure how, when or by whom the changes had been made.
The solution to the mystery of the transformed budget was elementary—the administration (no, not the butler) did it independently, and without informing the students and faculty members who make up SenEx.
The changes in the budget were substantial. For example, in the first version of the budget, Parking Services would have received about $100,000 more than it spent in fiscal year 1983. And in the current version, Parking Services plans to spend almost $100,000 more than it receives.
The first budget called for a $$ reduction in the price of parking permits. The current budget does not.
The budget for Parking Services is prepared by the Parking and Traffic Board, a committee made up of students, faculty members and classified employees. At the University, the budget is then considered by SenEx, the University Council and finally, the administration.
The reason administrators gave for not consulting SenEx after they changed the budget was simple—they forgot. At the time, the University was in the middle of making a distracting series of administrative changes, one official explained.
In some ways, this is an understandable excuse. We all forget things. And it would be easy to have a breakdown in communications among members of the cast of thousands which complies and approves the Parking Services budget.
However, as many SenEx members pointed out, the administration's oversight has an unpleasant side-effect: It brings the credibility of governance committees into question.
Last spring, a similar question was raised when the administration sidestepped the Student Senate and instituted a temporary/permanent athletic fee of $3 a student.
Ordinarily.
In both situations it looks disconcertingly as if KU governance bodies, such as SenEx, are given token powers that the administration can remember or forget at its convenience.
If these committees are viable, decision-making bodies, how can the administration simply forget to consult them?
The question probably will remain long after the case of the transformed budget has been closed.
Salvadorans drown in alphabet soup
wrapped us with new acronyms:
* FMLN (Farabundo Martí Republican Front)
* FDR (Democratic Revolutionary Front)
* FPL (Popular Liberal Forces)
* ERP (Revolutionary Army of the People)
* ARM (Armed Forces of National Resistance)
* AD (Democratic Action)
* ARENA (National Martí Alliance)
* PCN (National Party of Conciliation)
* POP (Party of Popular Orientation)
* SALVADORan Popular Party)
* PRTO (San Salvadoran Popular Party)
* 'RED' (EL Salvadorian Communist Party)
**WOW** (that's not one, just a reaction) . . . is this what politics is going to look like in the '80s? It's already alphabet soup. Splinter groups are becoming a fad as disgruntled near-greats vie for a chance at the terrorism big time.
Someone could make a quick buck putting out a guide to international terrorism, a dick sense of humor.
I've done myself a favor and devised a way to have fun and understand the whole ball of game.
I have a hard time remembering them all.
My kitecase of boldface nonsense will admit no more.
The public will be in the same shape come Monday when the press tries to explain what happened.
The press is encamped at Carino Real needing their copy with Vietnam spiel.
While four Dutch journalists, of the true and the brave, got caught in a crossfire and were sent to their graves.
The rightists, the leftists,
the parties do abound,
'Tis the night 'fore election and through the republic the breathing is measured the wisdom prophetic.
The pundits have gathered to monitor the fates of parties they eschew with their domatic gates.
as if El Salvador had been lost, and now found.
The U.S., Soviets and Ed Aden can't see people of El Salvador they're too busy with "me."
The F-M-L F N Front,
umbrella for the left,
is coating the people with
the terrifier def.
The right's ARENA and Robert'd Aubusson counting on victory they've put ill pressure on.
Defense Min' Garcia
says he'll side with the vote,
but the ranks of that line
are filled only with dolls.
W. J. ANDREWS
"I'll vote," the brave one says, and they mark him with ink; it won't show or rub off he says. "Okay, I think."
Guerrillas also have those purple lights that show the brave one has voted "He's disappeared, you know."
Another will not vote
then the Guardia came by
the purple light sealed his fate
he had to vote or die
Duarte's FDR, the leaders in exile, and the FMLN are for the people's style.
And the VOTE, the world says
OUR cameras and press,
officials, dignitaries
Cyntha Smith, no less.
wealthy and corporate they get fat off the top.
And way far to the right there is the PPS. Coalition partners? They're the worst kind of pest.
Their Army will tell you vote for the PCN. They take care of their own but it might cost you ten.
The FARNS splintered from ERP. ERP is from FPL, whofavor all-out war if, "Oh, what the hell!"
General Medrano, the leader of the POP.
The FDN's Ungo,
former junta member,
can sothe these guerrillas
he says by September.
Ungo and Duart want to get out the vote; d'Aubission and Garcia want the power to float.
Win, lose, nothing will change
there's too many experts.
Guns and artillery
will not gain you converts.
Not the Soviet style with the red disarray, but a peaceable force sent from every way way.
Or just leave them alone,
a den of derision,
a political hotbed,
a huge indecision.
But Monday will be here with ballots all tallied, that tiny republic it will have sailed.
The excitement will dull and the press become sane, and we'll rest 'til next time when it happens again.
Senate selective about human rights
Letters to the Editor
Why is it that KU student senators are so quick to offer support for a repressed Polish people and so deaf to the cries for justice by Salvadoran people, repressed by a U.S.-backed regime?
To the Editor:
Could it be that these same student leaders will grow up to become the kind of uncaring, elitist government leaders who are currently guiding this country? Concerned only with fashion and 'revolutions, political expediency and an ecological vision', they need the needs of suffering individual human beings?
Let the Karl Shepards of the world speak!
Sleepers awake
Lawrence junior
To the Editor:
Recently I walked into a class a bit early, only to find a person contorted in his chair, glasses askew, breathing evenly and drooling on himself.
At first I was quite alarmed, hoping that he is all right. Upon taking a closer look, I found that he was very nervous.
This fortunate slobbering creature continued to doze as the classroom filled up, every one staring, snickerning and whispering about his dream-filled, amusing condition. Finally, some cruel (kind?) person tapped him on the shoulder. He watched and oriented himself while turning red beet. He looked wildly before he rushed stuff-legged out of the room amid chuckles and snide remarks.
commotion and noise of a new class coming into the room
This sleeper was more fortunate than most Many are left slumped in their chairs for hours, snoring rhythmically, to be ridiculed by the next class. Such is the fate of the rude clods who sleep in class. For all ye who are prone to such disgusting behavior, remember well: How do you look with your mouth gaping open, breathing audibly, rumpled and slumped in some unnatural position? Christina Jordan, Lawrence Juenger.
Tears for Tigers
To the Editor:
Overall, the Big Eight basketball teams performed admirably while we were on spring
break. Nonetheless, we sad to see K-State lose in the first game last Friday in st. Louis.
More dishearring, though, was the loss by the highly tugged Tigers in the second game that ended with a 4-1 victory.
Edward K. Morris,
Associate professor of
Human development and family life
Letters Policy
The University Daily Kansan welcomes letters to the editor. Letters should be typewritten, double-lettered and contain the words. They should include the writer's name, address and phone number. If the writer is affiliated with the University, the letter should include his class and home town or staff position. The Kansan reserves the right to edit or reiterate letters.
Story may sound familiar, but they were uncivilized
Reflections of firelight leap from the faces of the savages to the cave walls and back again, flickering in the hollows of cheekbones and jagged rock. The light gleamed in scores of white eyeballs which narrowed harshly. Ninety-nine tribal chieftains huddled in the high chamber of the kingdom's Upper Cave, all of them glaring at one who crouched across the fire from their semicircle. Savages-of-arms were posted at the cave entrance.
The solitary savage before the fire lurched to and fro, his bulging forehead bowed but his bushy eyebrows raised, as he faced his fellow chiefsets and made primitive plants. His hearers, bored and unmoved by his oratory, cross-legged and drew designs in the dirt. Whenever the Council conducted its affairs, it seemed, it always had its hands in the dirt.
The Council was trying one of its elder lieftains, Harrystone, who surrendered, burgled, and killed the titan, save being kept.
BEN JONES
to his home clan to a Mongol trader in return for 100 deerkins. He saved Harry Stavrine Wildarms had been duped: the "Mongol trader" was really an FBI (Foul, Brutal Invader) Agent who had disguised himself by wearing a wicked, drooping mustache and a fur cap with horns.
When the Mongol had put the deal to Wildarms, Wildarms had jumped up and down in a frenzy and had beaten his hairy chest to signify his approval. Then the Mongol beat his chest and jumped up and down with Wildarms, and the deal was struck. Wildarms grabbed all of the deerskins he could carry and ran out of the cave chortling.
But unknown to Wildarms, other FBI Apents had been hiding in the shadows and had painted the scene on the cave's walls. They had pictures of Wildarms and the Mongol hopping up and down together, obviously in collusion, and of Wildarms grabbing up the pile of deerskins. The evidence was as solid as granite. Wildarms had been caught in a clever trap called UGH-SCUM
Now, faced with expulsion from the Council, he hunched before his long-time fire-sharers of the Upper Cavern and grunted at length. He tried to keep the crowd still, that, like them, he was a noble savage after all.
That, as it reached the chieftains' warty ears, meant, "Wildarms not take deerskins. Wildarms do nothing wrong. Wildarms maybe stupid chieftain this once, but that not Wildarms' fault. Great Savage Spirit in Sky make Wildarms foolish. His doing; me no blame. Me victim cursed. Mongol. Forgive Wildarms; kill Monol."
"Uggh, "Wildarms urged. "Grash exploit u! Ugwowump! w! Shigorkhg urgeH-HGU-SCUm-Ugwowump! Shigorkhg urgeH-HGU-SCUm-Ugwowump!
Now, the cheffees certainly did not like Apsent's dressed in Mongols clothing, because he was a warlord.
both the Upper and Lower Caves and tried to infiltrate the secret brotherhood of the Council
But that did not help Wildarms: he had broken the Cavernal code of honor, which had not been trespassed on for twelve hundred moons (the Council met monthly). Or at least, no trespasses had been painted all over cave walls, until now.
When Wildarmys had jumped up and down with the Mongol, he had trod all over the code of honor. The Trubunal had tried him and decapitated him, killing him, and he still would not confess a guilt's worth.
Wildmars continued to snort exhortations late into the night, the chamber fire died low and the chaituins' blood seethed. Shadows crept into her ears as danced ever farther back in their beady pupils.
They now had plainly turned against Wildarms, and the more he grunted his innocence, the more they wanted to club him to death. They told him he was "repugnant." Finally, Wildarm's chief accuser, Makum Wallop, who laid chair-savage of the Council Ethics Committee, came forward, shook his great, hoarse locks and spat in the fire.
"Grpspxlt!" he said. "Oust him!"
The ancient chieftains rose as one and shouldered closer, but Wildarms leapt over the ashes of the almost-dead fire and ran through their gauntlet. Conscious that there were cave painters everywhere ready to paint the scene in every cave of the kingdom, Wildarms shook a gnared finger at the Council as he ran, repeated the name of the Green, and once more appealed to the name of the Greens, who kept the hidden deeds of all, whether performed by light of fire or couched in darkness.
As Wildarms fled into the night, several chieftains slapped him between his hunched shoulder blades and told him that now that they were rid of his odious and odorous presence, they hoped he would survive his exile and thrive on the berries of private life.
The chieftains need not have worried, for the ancient customs of the Council provided that Wildarms would get 45,000 berries a year, whether he had jumped up and down with a monogon or not. Wildarms dragged her woman off by the sword of the cave and waited for the berries to roll in.
He spent the rest of his life growing very fat on berries and very soft on deerskins, and whenever a savage would ask him about the time he had gotten caught jumping up and down with the Monoland and beating his chest, Wildarms would brusle in his expensive animal-skin lonchlone jacket and would invoke the name of the Great Savage in the sky to bear witness to his innocence.
After a length of years had passed, Wildarms died and the other multi-berried outcasts with whom he had lived in exile placed his body on a funeral pyre. They offered his spirit up to the Great Savage, The One who Wildarms so often had said would vindicate him.
Annals do not record whose name Wildars invoked when he finally met the Great Savage and had to explain about jumping up and down with the Mongol and grabbing the deerskins. Maybe it was that of all-powerful Grunter of the Lower Cave, Lip O'Steel.
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