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University Daily Kansan Thursday. Nov. 7. 1957
The '58's Are Here!
It is fall and the voice of the huckester is heard in the land. The assault upon men's minds has begun.
The new cars are here.
No man can find respite from the ceaseless pounding of the car salesmen, whether they be the local "Mad Man Mat," who is giving away free Gila monsters with each sale, or under-fed TV ex-models who cares and coddle the new "Rococo-8" like it was a T-bone steak.
Each year at this time these chrome-laden monstrosities appear from Detroit's cocoon. Instantly the previous year's model becomes obsolete and Mr. Smith is faced with keeping up with Mr. Jones. The social save-face ritual re-cycles.
American automobiles all tend to look alike. Outwardly, they are distinguished by chrome, name, color, horn, rattles, windshield washers, and other important mechanical features. Basically, they are the same, i.e., they eat gas, absorb oil, become dyspeptic, rust and reach senility within the year.
The hard, bitter, and expensive fact that automobiles are shortlived creatures is offset by the brain twisting antics of the grey flannel set.
In the fall their tortured minds overflow with spurious schemes to convince us dolts that a new auto will cure lumbago, gout, bad temper, lapses of memory, sundry neuroses, tippling, dandruff, insomnia, animal cravings, tired blood, nagging wives, destructive children, drought, monsoon, heartburn, and other common day-to-day experiences of man. Nothing is sacred to these invaders of the senses; all of man's ills are fair game.
Television is probably the most unfair medium with which to assault the potential buyer. The
callousness of these men is appalling. While you sit in your living room recounting the day's tragedies, momentarily letting your paranoidal defenses down, these insidious rogues take ungentlemanly delight in presenting their wares and trampling on the sanctity of your home.
Their method has a touch of sameness but a record of success. As you sit there, bleary eyes on the tube's fuzzy shadows, there is a momentary silence in the otherwise raucous audio background. You start, thinking the $50 picture tube is fading . . . no such luck. Seemingly from afar a clarion is heard, objects move across the screen, imaginative free forms appear and disappear, a ballet dancer pirouettes in the wind. More clarions, more noise, curtains blow, the orchestra joins the maelstrom, cannons are heard in the distance, the curtains part and in a crescendo of brass and a flash of light the new, The All New "Crush-Proof-8" appears on a rotating stage. It looks good like an over-priced object should.
Following this traumatic episode the viewer has no choice. He capitulates, borrows on his life insurance, pawns his Norman Vincent Peale clippings, hastens to the all-night auto emporium, and takes to the open road.
Advertising has won. As an unknown bard once said:
The codfish lays ten thousand eggs.
The nomely hen lays one.
The codfish never cackles.
To tell you what she has done.
And so we scorn the codfish.
While the humble hen we prize,
Which only goes to show you
That it pays to advertise.
—John Eaton
Don't Discount Russia
Each rattle in the Russian machine is presented to us by our diplomatic soothsayers as the death rattle of the Communistic system. While Sputnik II rubs salt in the wound inflicted by Sputnik I, it would be wise to take stock of our present position.
Since Stalin's death there have been numerous changes within the Russian hierarchy. Each time this has happened we have huffed and puffed, but we haven't blown their house down. Each time a change is made, each time a purge is accomplished and another bureaucrat leaves for Siberia, we hear from the experts that Russia is on the ropes and can't possibly last another round.
We heard this in 1953 when Stalin died, again when Malenkov lost the premiership, and when Beria was executed; when Molotov, Kaganovich, and Shepilov retired to obscurity; now we are told the same thing as Marshal Zhukov is stripped of influence.
The experts are speculating on when Russia will crack at the seams. We are told, as one press association dispatch has it, "Officials said . . . removal of one of Russia's top war heroes and greatest military leaders from the ruling group in which he had seemed to be a powerful figure was convincing proof that the whole Soviet system is subject to great political instability."
This sounds good. But is this true? There are other, less desirable possibilities in the situation. Maybe Russia is getting stronger.
This is a conclusion most politicians and backward military men are loath to draw. Meanwhile, the Russians outstrip us scientifically and confuse us diplomatically. Each time a political change occurs we sigh and believe they are weakening. But how weak are they? Maybe we are using the wrong standards of governmental strength to test their system.
As long as we are speculating on Russia's condition, isn't it easy to conclude that since Stalin's death a weeding-out process has been in progress and that Khrushchev has emerged the winner? Since there are no other serious contenders known, isn't it possible that Khrushchev could reign for a period equal to Stalin's?
Yes, it is possible—just as possible as a complete immediate breakdown of the Soviet system.
This is the hard view, hard to swallow, difficult to digest. Many of our leaders choose the other, brighter view. This is the view that got us where we are now—two Sputniks down, no one knows how many to go, and an abysmal loss of prestige.
This is the view we still follow, feeling destiny is on our side, that Russia is bad and the "bad guys" never win.
A glance at history will show that wars weren't always won by the "good guys." Whether we like it or not we are in a "hot" scientific war, faced by an opponent who every day flexes new muscles.
Whether Russia is really cracking will be history's tale. The safe, smart thing now is to admit we are facing an awesome, brutal, intelligent—and maybe not so weak Russia.
—John Eaton
... Short Ones ...
The observant student on the day before the big game is able to observe the department of building and grounds dying the football field green.
After the rains last week one got the impression, down at the Music and Dramatic Arts Building, that all doors lead to mud puddles which lead to more mud puddles.
We see that Kansas State College favors changing their name to Kansas State University. The next thing we know they will load their campus on barges, float down the river, and rent land on the southern slope of Mt. Oread.
One student was heard to exclaim, "Thank goodness only four more football games and then we can begin the basketball season."
Someone has asked an interesting question. If we invite professional performers to play the major roles in our theatre productions, why shouldn't we invite professional football players to help out in the rough spots?
It is amazing how many exams can be scheduled between free drop period and mid-semester grade drop.
Those who drink beer Seldom feel fear
Daily Hansan
University of Kansas student newspaper
1904, trifieldly 1908, daily Jan. 16, 1912.
**
Extension 251, news room Extension 376, business office
kly 1908, darry Jan. 16, 191
Telephone VIking 3-2700
Member Inland Daily Press Association.
Associated Collegiate Press. Represented by National Advertising Service, 420 Madison Ave., New York, N. Y. News service; United Press. Mail subscription rates; $3 a semester or $4.50 a year. Published in Lawrence, Kan., every afternoon during the University year except holidays and examinations. Four days, and examination periods. Entered as second-class matter Sept. 17, 1910, at Lawrence, Kan., post office under act of March 3, 1879.
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