OPINION
December 7,1984
Page 4
The University Daily KANSAN
The University Daily KANSAN
Published since 1889 by students of the University of Kansas
The University Daily Kaman (USS 60040) is published at the University of Kansas, 118 Stutter Fint Hall, Lawrence, Kan. 60045, daily during the regular school year and Wednesdays and Friday during the summer session, excluding Saturday. Sunday, holidays and final periods. Second class postpaid礼金 at Lawrence 60044 Subscriptions $2.92 a week in Douglas County and through the student activity for outside the county. Student postpaid礼金 at Lawrence 60043 Subscriptions through the student activity for POSTMASTER Send address changes to the University Daily Kaman 118 Stutter Fint Hall, Lawrence, Kan. 60045
DON KNOX
Editor
PAUL SEVART VINCE HESS Managing Editor Editorial Editor
DOUG CUNNINGHAM
Campus Editor
DAVE WANAMAKER
Business Manager
SUSANNE SHAW
General Manager and News Adviser
LYNNE STARK MARY BERNICA
Retail Sales National Sales
Manager Manager
JILL GOLDBLATT Campus Sales Manager
JOHN OBERZAN Sales and Marketing Adviser
Book exchange
As one semester approaches the end and another semester looms, a common complaint of students is book prices. The buy-back price for used books is too low, they say, and the cost of books for the new semester is too high.
A group of volunteers hopes to bring an end to those complaints, and the efforts of these students deserve commendation.
The student-run, nonprofit book exchange seeks to eliminate the 25 percent price markup by textbook publishers. The idea, promoted by a student, Tom Van Holt, has received the financial support of the Association of University Residence Halls and the cooperation of the Kansas Union Bookstore, which let the student group borrow the master list of books ordered by professors for the spring.
This most recent attempt at a collegiate book swap might last only a short time, as have previous attempts. It shows, however, that one person's initiative can become reality and that students can do something positive for themselves.
Soviet kidnapping
Afghan children shipped off to indoctrination camps in the Soviet Union are the latest victims of the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan.
Western diplomats say that more than 800 Afghan children, aged 7 to 9, were recently separated from their weeping parents and sent to the Soviet Union, where they will be schooled for 10 years. The regime in the Kremlin called the program a "magnificent friendly gesture by the Soviet Union toward the Afghan people."
We call it the kidnapping and indoctrination of helpless youngsters.
Some zealous parents were undoubtedly persuaded by the Communist Party that sending their children to the Soviet Union was the right thing to do for their futures.
Communism is based on an ideal of building a new society of equality, but it relies on tearing apart families and using children as guinea pigs. Of the inhumanities done in the name of communism, the abduction of children is one of the most cruel.
Logansport, Ind., Pharos-Tribune
Solons of the night
Soliciting for political donations was never like this!
Soliciting for political donations was the task. Two political action committees own "modeling studios" in the red light district of Washington, D.C. A visitor pays an initial fee to meet a woman at one of the studios — this money goes to the PACs. The two consenting adults then negotiate over other matters — this money is kept by the woman.
over other models.
Harry Truman once compared his experiences in politics with those of a piano player at a brothel. Truman was, indeed, a man ahead of his time.
The special vans marked "Caper Foundation" only made me feel my inexperience more sharply. I was in a place where my well-inrgained social rules wouldn't be enough to get me by. My stomach felt odd.
I wondered again about my motives for coming to this place. It was only a bowling alley, after all, but the people inside were the reason for me being there. I was to be a cheerleader at the Kansas Indoor Special Olympics-East, which took place over the weekend at several locations, including Royal Crest Lanes, Ninth and Iowa streets.
Event helps perspective
We all can be a little apprehensive about dealing in public with the handcapped or mentally retarded. Not because we are hostile, cruel and uncaring people, but because we're uncomfortable dealing with what we don't understand. We fear, most of all, looking ridiculous if we try to
It has been said that you can grow by doing what scares you. Well, then,
I must be growing.
My fear was intense here. We were told simply to help where we could. No direction, no word of warning.
- eyes alive with the joy of doing
LAURIE McGHEE
Staff Columnist
After adjusting to my surroundings I began to see excitement
what I take for granted. They were all so excited to be here.
When I decided to plunge in ano help, I took a jolt to my system. When they talked to me, they touched. They hugged. They kissed. There was no restraint, no concern with social norms.
One of the participants. Floyd, snaked a long, thin arm around my shoulder and squeezed.
"Hi there, cutie," he whispered shyly in my ear.
The half-sure, boyish grin was irresistible. I grinned back.
Although these goods can kill, they are not necessarily made for that purpose. Some are made to defend interests against enemies; obviously they fall if misused. A few victims, such as John F. Kennedy, Martin
in Presidio, I got a flyond appeared to be an adult, but his naivete was obvious... the adolescent boy just discovering for himself what a girl is for. Girls are for flirting.
he would return now and then just to put his arm around me and grab. He was ready.
As the time passed, and to my surprise, it passed quickly. I felt less inadequate to deal with my volunteer position. All the experience I needed was what they gave me — listening and hugging were the only prerequisites.
I was beginning to enjoy my role as cheerleader and I was mindless less the touching and hugging of strangers. What I had initially dreaded turned into what I had least expected — a rejuvenation of everything in my life. I know we can learn something from the "special" people. They have something in their outlook that we lost somewhere along the way when we became part of the world.
Whether a business is right or legal is, again, a decision of the powerful. Which business kills more people in the world is a matter of preference. So a country produces and exports whatever it has, from cigarettes, cocaine, F-16s and MIG-21s to Pershing II missiles.
The people who run the Special Olympics have a wonderful program. I know their example of patience is one I couldn't match every day.
Problems in this world, especially in nations under the influence of capitalism, are based on money. That we live in a world of survival of the fittest is a pathetic reality.
If you're out there, Floyd, keep that charm. You've got it all, darlin'
Drug cartel offers hope for power
Thus, in a world based on the economy, national interests are based on business. It doesn't matter what is produced: rice, tin, tobacco or machines. Some of these goods feed people other cultures, including the killing of people, though even ashes or cigarettes also can kill.
On Nov. 19, when I was listening to a report on the "CBS News" video about U.S. funding to fight Bolivian cocaine production, a giving suit next to me said, "Bolivia is going to go broke." I replied that he was right.
Even peace is subject to the competition of economic powers. If you don't have money, tough luck. You are weak, and should not forget that "weakness invites aggression." as President Reagan said.
Yes, this world has changed so much during the past 50 years that the power of decision is the right of those who have economic or military weapons. Either or both give a nation the strength not only to look after its own interests but also to influence other countries' policies.
The effects of weapons and drugs generally depend on how these items are used. Sure, they have good purposes, as long as you do not use them against yourself. They are luxurious businesses, and they give a magic feeling of strength; not only do they employ thousands of people.
Luther King Jr., Salvador Allende and Indira Gandhi, come to mind; they all were killed because of someone's interests.
Many others do not die but end up in the hospital. Reagan ended up in the hospital because of John H. Koehler, who died before he was said to be insane. Whether the
auumners of attacks like those at the Marine base in Lebanon, the harbor in Nicaragua, the Korean airliner or those terrorists who threaten U.S. embassies and citizens around the world also are nuts, we do not know. We are sure that they have their own interests.
CONSTANCIO
GARAY
Guest Columnist
The Bolivian Workers Conference recently passed this resolution: "If the imperialist powers propose the reduction of coca (the raw material for cocaine) cultivation, the workers of Bolivia demand the reduction of the imperialists' nuclear arsenals."
Bolivia is already broke and cannot pay its $2.6 billion debt — a good portion of that amount comes from U.S. arms sales to past military dictators, who used the arms against their neighbors and democracy. Such financing not only deprives some Bolivians of their only means of survival, but it also interferes with the country's sovereign interests.
The resolution, besides defending the interests of Bolivia and other cocaine-producing countries, raises an alternative: create a Third World power based on drug exports that can be used to counter contempt pressures from imperialist forces from imperialists of tin, such as the dumping of reserves of tin and other goods in the market to ensure cheap labor and raw materials. OPEC has, the new cartel, say, COKE, would have drugs.
and I told him to imagine an end to U.S. arms production; the country might not go broke, but thousands of people would lose their jobs.
This economic power could be applied to other international and humanitarian concerns, such as invasions of countries, exhaustion of world resources and the mining of earth and space with nuclear weep.
Constancio Garay is a La Paz. Bolivia, graduate student.
Slob resists cleaning house
This is what happened when I tried to clean house. It all started when my pet fungus knocked down the front door and shiated to freedom.
"See?" said my roommate, Bombastic Biff. "Even Sam can't take the mess around her anymore. When he leaves, I change the letters in his corner."
"If you'd tidy up halfway, your vomitory pet wouldn't be hunting greener pastures for a few pathetic bread crusts."
"Sigh You win. I'll get the steam shovel You dig. I'll bury Moan Exasperated grunt."
Bomb leaped on the scythe. "I hear the Legislature may exempt our apartment from the handgun ban." I said, a bit. "Bird!"
"A month ago, two, maybe three."
I said, "but three-bean salad grows on you."
"Bomb, tidying is un AMERICAN. I said "Slabb." So bamboo peels and dry glasses piled high above the frustured plant. An art."
"My family is MISSING and UNARMED in there!"
Bomb ignored me. He swung a scythe at a stack of dirty plates that fell on another stack of something that saw daylight and hit the floor. It sounded like metal and crush glass, glossier than owsier keys. It smelled like formaldehyde. Something across the room barked.
I am a reasonable man, compassionate, adventurous and cute, but I am not a man of the broom, nor the vacuum, nor the mop. I'm a slob, and I damned proud of it. I have never been one to tinker with history,
especially if it's lying on my living room floor.
Bomb charged from the foyer into the living room waving a 22. I put my hands in my pocketets in the room, more alone he felt I furred, the faster he might
BRUCE F.
HONOMICHL
Staff Columnist
give up or suffocate or get lost or eaten. I called my bookie and put $50 on "eaten."
"Bomb." I wailed, "you're destroying five years of history. You can't reform a slob. The wrath of a slob is not to be taken lightly!"
Bomb darted forward and tangled himself in a telephone cord, a big box of rocks and a pile of raincoats, and fell on his face. A stack of 1967 Kansans shifted, toppled and buried him.
middle school. "Woman," said a wary, muffled voice from under the books: "Name of Higgins. Library police. Undercover. This guy Honomichi owes $45.42. Your decor is interesting."
"Who goes there?" he said. "Animal, people, landlord, what?"
"Told you so," I said.
"Mimminphurh, Bolso Sa
Bomb untangled himself. A disor-
derly stack of library books in the
closet fell. The closet door popped
open. The books fell in an avalanche.
Bomb cocked the shotgun.
"See?" Other people have good taste, too," I said.
"You hush up." Bomb said, jamming the business end of the gun into my face. "I'll put it all in your bed," and THEN you'll be sorry
"Come on. Bomb — Biff, o' buddy! Be a sport. Admit capitulation. You touch the lasagne stuck to the ceiling, and you'll be sorrier than if you shot me. A smart man never fools with wounded lasagne. You attack it, and the majestic creature just grows and grows and reproduces and slinks and mingles with the masses yearning to breathe free from every mountain-side and sea to shining sea. Nature has to be respected."
Bomb fell to his knees and hawled.
"I just can't take it anymore. I tried
and tried and I just can't take it
anymore. I tried and tried and I can't
even FIND the waxy yellow
build-up!"
"Bomb, of buddy, you need a rest. You need to get your mind right so you can be normal just like the rest of us. Do you want to be normal?" I had Jim. He was a basket case.
"Yes, yes. yes! I want to be somebody!" I want macaroni and cheese stuck to plates under the bed and dirty boxer shorts on the windowsill! God, make me SOME BODY!"
He prayed to the lasagne on the ceiling and passed out in my arms.
I showed him off to the Tony Randall Home for Compulsive Cleaners. Sad to say, he's not getting any better. Every time they think he's improving, they catch him abusing Comet. Bomb may never share with me the joy of throwing down a gum wrapper. Some people just never change for the better. God bless all slots, everywhere.
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
To the editor:
Mopeds merit no sympathy
After reading the letter from the "innocent moped rider" (Nov. 19, "Moped parking"), I was forced to do something I thought I would never do: salute Parking Services, and for the first time using more than one finger.
Any moped rider is foolish to think that he will receive sympathy for getting a ticket. I'm sure that many of the students and faculty here have been run off a sidewalk by a wild-eyed moped rider, forced to run through a crosswalk, or approach a moped failed to stop, or down Iowa Street with a moped taking up a full lane, doing its incredible top speed of 25 mph uphill.
I know that mopeds give great mileage, but so do 10-speed bikes, and they also won't give females cellulite. Also, both of my motorcycles give great mileage, but I had to prove by taking both a written test and a driving test, and that I paid $80 for them, and I paid $80 for them. Moped drivers do not have to prove their competence — lucky for them.
The final joke is that a motorcycle parking sticker will cost a car $25, compared to $5 for mopeds. I appeal to Parking Services to put up "No Mopeds" signs every place possible, including the roads leading to Lawrence.
Doug Burris
Shawnee senior
Disgust at letter
To the editor:
After reading S. Kortlucke's letter
(Nov. 30, "Foolish review") I was so disgusted I threw my paper on the floor and screamed.
To the editor
What does President Reagan have to do with the worth of the movie "Amaduces?" Kurtucke's thin tie of logic is, "In this nation that has just elected a president for whom truth is whatever nonsense he happens to
Certainly I see Nortlucke's motives. It is in vogue to put down the president in the Kansan. Everybody does it.
believe at the moment, it appears that any nonsensical play or film is perfectly acceptable. . . .
At best, Kortlucke's mention of Reagan was out of place. Personally, I think it makes her sound like a moron. When it comes to "nonsense," Kortlucke has a corner on the market.
Catherine Stauffer
Lawrence freshman
Fervent security
For the past two semesters, I have found myself in the unfortunate position of being placed on the waning days of the pre-enrollment schedule. For next semester, I had planned to take 12 hours of class, nine of which are freshman-sophomore level classes required for graduation
To the editor
On the evening of Nov. 30, after having been locked out of my car, receiving no help from the police, and hurrying down a dimly lit street to the so-called safety of my dorm. I was confronted by two very regulation-minded security guards.
After having recited my ID number, room number, phone number and names of floormates, I still could not gain admittance to get an extra set of keys because I could not find them. If a friend had registered me as a guest in my own home, I would still have been written up!
Kimberly Fellers Lebo freshman
If this would not be acceptable, a similar logical alternative needs to be available so that security is not carried out to such an extreme that the safety of a resident is jeopardized
I know that I am not the only resident of Corbin Hall who has experienced such a discomfort because of strict adherence to the rules. Understandably, these regulations are for our own safety, but there are special cases that warrant recognition. One of the guards could have walked me to my room and escorted me back.
Schedule hassle
When I went to pre-enroll, on the last day of pre-enrollment, all 12 hours of my desired schedule were closed. Two of the classes had their entire set of sections closed; the other two offered sections covering entirely different subject matter. Is it poor planning or a lack of qualified instructors that produces such a shortage of sections in required classes? The College demands that I take these classes, but the University does not provide sufficient space in the classes for me to do it.
All I need is two minutes of computer time after I have time to speak with my potential instructors, but the administration has adopted such an uncompromising and one-sided position regarding the use of its machines that my enrollment will be delayed until Jan. 14 at 5:06 p.m.
My only recourse was to locate the four instructors of the classes I wanted and try to convince them to sign class opener cards for me. To do this I was allowed five hours. That is not a sufficient amount of time to locate four busy people
The process is so simple that I could type it in myself if only the administration would minister to the needs of an already poorly treated student instead of letting its machines sit idle in a classroom. This is the university to allow my enrollment because of my poor position on its schedule.
Greg Nelson
1
Greg Nelson Lawrence freshman