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Tuesday, March 26.1963 University Daily Kansan
Week in Review
Page 3
Aid Funds In Doubt
If the cold war had seemingly shattered into disorganized fronts of bickering between Russia and Communist China and revolutions in the Middle East, President Kennedy last week restated the U.S. battle plan for Latin America.
WHILE LEADERS in the West were assuring everyone at home and abroad that communism has gained no new appeal. Premier Khrushchev found one part of democracy that tastes pretty good—literally. Recalling the savor of potato chips during his 1958 visit to the United States, Khrushchev suggested that they be produced in the Soviet Union.
At a meeting in Costa Rica with the leaders of six Central American nations, the President said that through the Alliance for Progress, new Cubas will be prevented and communism will wither in the Western Hemisphere.
BUT NO sooner had Kennedy chosen his cold war weapons—foreign aid—than a group headed by Gen. Lucius Clay said the weapon could stand a half-billion dollar trimming without cutting its effectiveness. This and other scattered evidence of Congressional aversion to foreign aid spending forbade trouble for the President's proposed $4.9 billion foreign aid bill.
If Congress and others were reluctant last week to fighting Castro's communism with dollars, a group of Cuban exiles made up for it with a hit-and-run raid on a Russian-manned port. The raid, in which several Russian "technicians" were reported killed, was denounced by the U.S. State Department. U.S. spokesmen said the raid does nothing to "weaken the grip of the Castro regime."
The State Department also did a little hasty fence-mending of the damage done last week when it said the Brazilian regime of President Goulart was substantially influenced by communists. Not so, the Department recanted—so right, affirmed Goulart.
The man in Western Europe who appears to have the most troubles both at home and with allies — Charles de Gaulle — showed that his shoulders are wide enough to carry the weight of 200,000 striking iron ore and coal miners, the disdain of NATO leaders, and a bit more.
Just when Algeria seemed ready to allow France to exert considerable influence in that country's economy through trading, De Gaulle triggered an underground nuclear blast in the Sahara. No seismograph was needed to measure the shock waves. Ben Bella screamed at Paris and before his echo subsided Moscow and Syria followed suit.
THE WOBBLY disarmament talks at Geneva also recolled from reports of the blast which Paris neither confirmed nor denied. Russian delegates ignored the split between De Gaulle and other NATO leaders, charging that De Gaulle was testing nuclear weapons for use against the Soviet bloc. Considering past progress of the disarmament conference, future tests might as well be conducted in the Swiss Alps.
Tension of another sort surrounded the return flight to Hawaii of a military transport plane after two of its four engines failed
1200 miles out on a flight to California. The plane, carrying 85 passengers, made it back; there was fuel left for 13 minutes more flying time.
ANOTHER NARROW margin decided the governor's race in Minnesota last week. Democrat Karl Rolvaang was declared winner by 91 votes after a three-judge panel recounted disputed ballots among the 1,265,000 cast last November.
Any juvenile delinquents who planned to slip into President Kennedy's proposed conservation corps designed to ease unemployment among youth received bad news last week. Democratic majority leaders on the Senate subcommittee which gave the program approval last week said all participants must be of "good character."
The traditional American morsel
car morners — the hot dog — proved popular in Florida last week, but furious cans who dispensed them in Madrid got their lumps. The five who tried to give away free hot dogs in Madrid started a riot because angry citizens interpreted the promotional scheme as inferring that Spaniards are too poor to buy their own food.
THE TWO U.S. women who were released from Cuban prisons, where they had been held since 1960, arrived in Florida hungry but in generally good health. The first request of the freed ladies was simple to fill; they wanted a hot dog.
Letters to the Editor
1. Is the UDK officially or unofficially supporting Vox Populi?
Questions:
Editor:
2. Was last Tuesday night's ASC meeting for the benefit of the student body or for the benefit of the Vox Populi campaign?
3. Have we learned some new campaign techniques by observing the Vox-UDK team in action in and out of council meetings?
4. Is Reuben McCornack's middle name Martyr?
5. Since the UDK is the only paper on campus, do they not have more of a responsibility to be objective and non-partisan in their NEWS reporting?
Answers:
1. Both
2. Vox (obviously)
3. Yes
4. Yes (benevolent is acceptable)
5. Yes
Pretty easy pop quiz, huh?
References:
1. UDK, Tuesday, March 19, 1963.
Article: "ASC Will Reconsider Amendment; Vox Populi Candidates Change View." By Miss Patti Bechen.
2. ASC meeting, Tuesday, March 19, 1963, 7:00 p.m., Meadowlark Room, Kansas Union. Demonstrations and tactics employed by: Reuben McCornack and Jerry Dickson with cooperation from the University Daily Kansan.
3. UDK, Wednesday, March 20,
1963. Article: "Student Council Ap-
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AMONG MY KINFOLK
Dear Mandolin (he thinks my name is Mandolin too).
My favorite cousin, Mandolin Globe, a sweet, unspoiled country boy, has just started college. Today I got a letter from him which I will reprint here because I know Mandolin's problems are so much like your own. Mandolin writes:
Dear Mardolno (he thinks my name is Mandolin too), I see by the college paper that you are writing a column for Marlboro Cigarettes. I think Marlboros are jim-dandy cigarettes with real nice tobacco and a ginger-peachy filter, and I want to tell you why I don't smoke them.
It all started the very first day I arrived at college. I was walking across the campus, swinging my paper valise and singing traditional airs like Blue Tail Fly and Death and Transfiguration, when all of a sudden I ran into this here collegiate-looking fellow with a monogram on his breast pocket. He asked me was I a freshman. I said yes. He asked me did I want to be a BMOC and the envy of all the in crowd. I said yes. He said the only way to make these keen things happen was to join a fraternity. Fortunately he happened to have a pledge card with him, so he pricked my thumb and I signed. He didn't tell me the name of the fraternity or where it is located, but I suppose I'll find out when I go active.
She carried me to a chic French restaurant
Meanwhile this fellow comes around every week to collect the dues, which are $100, plus a $10 fine for missing the weekly meeting, plus a $5 assessment to buy a headstone for Spot, the late, beloved beagle who was the fraternity mascot.
I have never regretted joining the fraternity, because it is my dearest wish to be a BMOC and the envy of all the in crowd, but you can see that it is not cheap. It wouldn't be so bad if I slept at the frat house, but you must agree that I can't sleep at the house if I don't know where the house is.
I have rented a room which is not only grotesquely expensive, but it is not at all the kind of room I was looking for. I wanted someplace reasonably priced, clean, comfortable, and within easy walking distance of classes, the shopping district, and San Francisco and New York. What I found was a bedroom in the home of a local costermonger which is dingy, expensive, and uncomfortable—and I don't even get to use the bed till 7 a.m. when my landlord goes out to mong his costers.
Well anyhow, I got settled and the next thing I did, naturally, was to look for a girl. And I found her. Harriet, her name is, a beautiful creature standing just under seven feet high and weighing 385 pounds. I first spied her leaning against the statue of the Founder, dozing lightly. I talked to her for several hours without effect. Only when I mentioned dinner did she stir. Her milky little eyes opened, she raised a brawny arm, seized my nape, and carried me to a chic French restaurant called Le Cliipoint where she consumed, according to my calculations, her own weight in chateaubriand.
After dinner she lapsed into a torpor from which I could not rouse her, no matter how I tried. I banged my glass with a fork, I pinched her great pendulous jowls, I rubbed the legs of my corduroy pants together. But nothing worked, and finally I slang her over my shoulder and carried her to the girls dorm, slipping several discs in the process.
Fortunately, medical care for students is provided free at the college infirmary. All I had to pay for were a few extras, like X-rays, anaesthesia, forceps, hemostats, scalpets, catgut, linen, towels, amortization, and nurses. They would not, however, let me keep the nurses.
So, dear cousin, it is lack of funds, not lack of enthusiasm, that is keeping me from Marlboro Cigarettes—dear, good Marlboros with their fine blend of choice tobacco and their pure white Selectrate filter and their soft pack and their flip top box.
Well, I must close now. My pencil is wore out and I can't afford another. Keep 'em flying.
Yr. cousin Mandolin Glebe
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© 1963 Max Shulman
The hearts of the makers of Mariboro go out to poor Mandolin—and to poor anyone else who is missing out on our fine cigarettes—available in all 50 of these United States.