THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAS
PAGE 4
Text your FFA submissions to 785-289-8351 or at kansan.com
Two rules when it comes to boat shoes. First, never wear socks with boat shoes. Second, never wear boat shoes in winter.
Why does my butt look so good in women's jeans? Is this a sign?
It's three weeks into break, and I'm still finding pieces of newspaper in my purse.
Dear freshmen, Please continue hating Missouri. Don't ask why, just drink the haterade.
With my high school friends. Can't wait to be back with my college friends
Hey, I'm going through my phone and don't have names for numbers. Editor's Note: Wrong number.
Oh editor, how I have missed you!
No, I don't smoke. I scream my heart out at KU basketball games.
Handicap stall? More like luxury suite.
Please cut your hair, Kevin Young
Dear Kevin Young. For every girls sake, CUT YOUR HAIR. Love, Jayhawk Nation. Editor's Note. You three were lucky there weren't many FFAs.
Another semester starting without the White Owl, Kansas just isn't the same
One does not simply return to class after a fivc-week break.
Woke up and was so hungover, I tried to cry, but too dehydrated to produce tears.
TUESDAY, JANUARY 22. 2013
It needs to be said: Thank God we're all back!
It needs to be said: Thank God we are all back!
At least we know A.J. McCarron's girlfriend is real. And "real," I mean really sexy.
So is it weird that I blushed hugely when the FFA editor texted me back?
It's GREAT to be back Home in Lawrence! Lets make this the best semester yet!
I was talking to my roommate about the weather in Kansas and she stated, "Yeah, we do not have oceans, but we have tornados, and that makes up for it."
SAFETY
Guns bring fear to everyday living
You know this girl is gorgeous when she is still beautiful in sweats.
The previous three weeks left ten murdered and three wounded, but no gunshots were fired on Oct. 23, 2002. It was just my ninth birthday. I lived in Centreville, Va., where a 20-mile ride down the Beltway led to the nation's capital. And there, in the suburbs of freedom, I learned fear. But no one died on my ninth birthday - there was only a message released by the Chief of Police on behalf of the Beltway sniper.
It felt like I had aged far beyond the candles on my cake let on. I couldn't play freeze tag outside with my friends or roller-blade down the block. Field trips were cancelled, my soccer season was cancelled, Halloween was cancelled. My whole world was being held at gunpoint, and we were giving in to every demand.
I'm the kinda guy that asks for a to-go box at a buffet.
There were new procedures,new restrictions,new ways of life.We had to be prepared because we weren't safe anywhere.
The news anchors called him the Beltway sniper, but we didn't know if it was one man or 20. One day, someone was shot at a Shell gas station in Maryland. Another day, it was a woman in the parking lot of my local Home Depot. Anyone could have bought that gun. Anyone could have been the killer. Anyone could have been the woman lying dead on a gravel parking lot. Anyone could have been the husband weeping over bloodstained grocery bags and his best friend's lifeless corpse. But the sniper had a right to own his gun; no one could deny that.
Within a few weeks, I went from believing in Santa to barely
If you stand on the bleachers in the student section, people will hate you.
believing in God. I learned that my dad wasn't really a superhero
could always be there to check for the monsters under my bed, and to protect me from the ones in the movie theatres and the elementary schools and the shopping malls and the beltways.
believing in God. I learned that my dad wasn't really a superhero – he waited in his car until the D.C. transit bus arrived every day instead of standing at the stop like a sitting duck. I stopped thinking I had a safe learning environment after a 13-year-old boy was shot and killed entering his middle school. I grew up too fast. And at the same time, I know there will always be a part of me that won't ever grow up; a part that will wish my parents
But as a country, we learned to be safer so that we could accommodate their rights. We put metal detectors in our schools and made "Code Red" drills and lockdowns as routine as saying the Pledge of Allegiance. And I learned to deal with it, too. I stopped sleeping, so I could always be alert. I stopped trusting people. I tried my hardest to block out a few years of my childhood. And now I see a therapist to work through my problems. Insomnia. Anxiety. Depression.
It's been over ten years since my town came under attack.
but the story repeats itself every day. And every day, there are new victims, and not just the ones in the caskets. There are kids in Newtown who saw their playmates die and still have to go back to school, and parents who have to let them. There are teenagers in Overland Park who will be afraid to go outside when concealed carry laws pass. There are amendments for gun ownership, but none for mental health, happiness and comfort. And so I'll make each day a little safer, as a slave to my fear and a slave to my freedom.
Webber is a freshman majoring in journalism and political science from Prairie Village. Follow him on Twitter @webbgemz.
MUSIC
Saving Justin Bieber's career
If you're relatively "up to date" on things that don't matter, you know about the photos of Justin Bieber allegedly smoking marijuana and the nonsensical blattering that quickly followed in the media. When the ethical journalism pioneers at TMZ broke the "story" a few weeks ago, a gaggle of internet trolls started the horrendous "#cutforbieber" trend on Twitter, posing as dedicated "belieber" vowing to employ self-harm in protest of the pop star's supposed affinity for smoking weed. This turned an otherwise unsurprising photo leak — a child star doing drugs, whodat it? into a world-wide debacle that had world leaders and CEOs lying sleepless in bed each night for weeks.
Now, to be fair, there really hasn't been any solid confirmation that Bieber was actually getting high — or, in other words, coughing uncontrollably because it's his first time — on the evening the photos were taken. But the slow-burning object stowed between his fingers looks like a blunt, which just so happens to be rolled appropriately thin enough for a pop star sporting a pompadour haircut.
That's sufficient evidence for most people who feel as if they're obligated to offer up nuggets of sage-like advice, such as "Stop hanging out with those guys in the flat-billed hats," and "Go to rehab." Most of them offer it with the best of intentions: They want "Biebs" to continue being a "good role model," which one apparently can accomplish by writing songs for seventh graders to awkward
ly grind dance to in dimly-lit basements. They want Bieber to stay focused on his hits — the ones involving pop charts, not a bong.
That's good advice, really. However, if Bieber liked listening to good advice, he probably wouldn't have sparked up a J while some random groupie with a phone started snapping pictures right in front of his face. Nonetheless, he still probably needs some advice on how to move on, but don't bank on him otting for the good advice
So, in case he needs it, here's some bad advice: Why not use this situation as a stepping stone into the lazy, yet lucrative genre of modern "stoner music?"
It shouldn't be a hard transition, which is ideal if you're going to be getting baked all day, anyway. They don't make the stoner-favorites like they used to; you used to have to be musically talented and innovative like Grateful Dead, Sublime, Cypress Hill and other stonemusic pioneers. Nowadays, all you really have to do is latch onto the coattails of the successful artists who came before you and essentially do whatever they did, but with different lyrics. You want to try your hand at today's stoner rap, Biebs? As long as you mention that, you are stoner baloney once every two
The persona of a stoner music sensation is a lot less complex these days, too. Take a bunch of black-and-white photos with a stare that says "I'm rich, bro," while a robust, mushroom-shaped plume of smoke billows slowly from your lips like you're Notorious B.L.G. Then, start performing at Bonnaroo each year and make sure you get charged with marijuana possession at least once a year — apparently, if you're not on probation these days, you're not a legit stoner rapper.
sentences, you can get away with rapping about the debt ceiling and high schoolers will still hotbox their '96 Camrys to it every day. Your stellar record sales won't miss a beat.
The only real way that can go wrong is if you violate your probation and have to do a few months in prison. You're a celebrity, though, and they can't really throw you in with the rest of the ruffians, so it should be a cakewalk. When a reporter comes to interview you, just say you're working on a new record and it'll automatically become the "most anticipated record of the year." Worked for Lil Wayne; his first post-prison album in 2010 was garbage, yet he still cashed in.
Your new fans won't forget about you, either. "#FreeBieber" will probably trend on Twitter every day until your release, and believe me, that's a far better hashtag than "#cutforbieber."
ROLE MODELS
Finding the hero within ourselves
Heroes are crashing before us. In less than a week, we found the celebration surrounding Notre Dame linebacker a hoax and the acclaim surrounding 7-time Tour de France winner Lance Armstrong a fraud.
Teo should be fine — intelligence is not a prerequisite for playing linebacker in the NFL. In fact, with the controversy surrounding head trauma in football, maybe less brainpower is better.
Armstrong faces a steep climb, steeper than the French Alps he ascended while racing. I admired Armstrong when he raced. And I admire him for his public confession.
I cannot imagine a more boring sport to watch on television than cycling, but during his string of victories I tuned-in to watch the Tour de France, if only for a few minutes.
In 2001, I watched some of the race and witnessed a moment in sports I will never forget. Armstrong led the race with Jan Ullrich closely behind. As they climbed the mountainous terrain, Ullrich took a nasty spill off the side. Instead of increasing his lead, Armstrong dismounted his bike and waited for Ullrich to recover and rejoin the race. The spectacle gave me chills; I had never seen sportsmanship so precisely displayed.
I don't question Armstrong the athlete. Doping is not a secret in cycling. It's not part of the culture; it is the culture. I wonder about Armstrong the human. Armstrong's transgression was not doping. Armstrong's greatest crime is the lies he told to cover his darkest secret. Now he must make amends for the lives he destroyed in the wake of his deception.
Now that Armstrong confessed, however, we can no longer vilify him. That's how it works. When one seeks forgiveness, the proper protocol is to forgive. Granted, Armstrong must heed important stipulations: when one seeks forgiveness, one must commit himself
to righting his wrong. An apology, or confession, is not simply saying. "I'm sorry." It's about changing one's behavior and lessening the damage done.
I am confident Armstrong will do this. The magnitude of his confession leaves no other option.
Vilifying Armstrong is symptomatic of something more. Many feel let down, even betrayed, when athletes, celebrities, or politicians transgress a storyline we ourselves weave (often with the help of the media). Some people protest that these groups should not be seen as heroes in the first place. Instead, some argue, we should look to history, religion and education to find true heroes, like Martin Luther King Jr., Neil deGrasse Tyson and Jesus.
I say we choose "none of the above" as heroes. Instead, we look to ourselves and be our own heroes.
Finding inspiration in others is part of life. Revering and placing them on pedestal is not. Humans are perfectly imperfect. And no one will ever have the power to save you. Only you can do that. In the great dream of life, we must write our own story and play the lead character.
Don't look to others to pave your way. Pave your own way. Others will join you on your path. If someone wants to divert you, they were not meant for your journey.
CAMPUS CHIRPS BACK
Scott is a graduate student majoring in American studies from Overland Park. Follow him on Twitter @scott12.
What is your new semester resolution?
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seriously
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