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Inflation fighter: tightened belt, more peanuts
What a dramatic scene in my
neighborhood! As church bells pealed, we
gathered in the street to enlist in the Presi
dent's War on Inflation.
The crowd joined arms to sing the war's
theme song, "Over Here", as pretty girls
wearing WIN buttons handed out the White
House-approved enlistment forms. "I enlist,
as an Inflation Fighter and Energy Saver for
the duration," they read.
"It sounds so exciting," old Mrs. Murdoch
said, eagerly penciling in her name. "I can't
wait to tighten my belt and eat more
peanuts."
"It's not so easy in the front lines," I
warned her. "You've got to eat more rice and
cotton, too."
The crowd had taken up the patriotic
chant: "Grow more! Wasteless! Grow More!
Waste Less!" A bearded young man squatted
in the street, folded his arms and began
shouting, "Hell, no! Won't grow!"
We gathered angrily around him. "The
least you could do is apply ' as a
conscientious objector for two years'
alternative service," I said, "maybe punching
extra holes in a belt factory."
"I won't cooperate in an immoral war,"
muttered the sallow youth.
"Immoral!" cried Mr. Crannich, lifting his
cane. "How can you say that when we're
going to eliminate oil-firod plants from the
nation's base-loaded electrical capacity,
ihpraii7P investment tax credits and provide
that all dividends on preferred stocks, issued
for cash, be fully deductible by the issuing
company?" '
But the kid didn't have the guts for:
combat, and he fled to Canada. Judging by
the mood of the crowd, there'll never be an
amnesty for the likes of him.
ofthur hopp'e
: innoconl;
A goateed colonel in a white suit and
string tie, passed among us, crying,
"Support the war effort waste less!" He
was selling Kentucky Fried Chicken Bones.
The crowd, now choking with emotion and
chicken bones, changed the chant to, "Drive
Less! Heat Less!"
An unwary passing motorist was stoned
and severely injured. Within minutes, every
street light on the block was shattered.
Ten-year-old Billy Breen was cut on the
cheek by a shard of flying glass. His mother
gathered him in her arms. "I didn't raise my
hrw to hfl a soldier." she sobbed.
Under the circumstances, we tolerantly
forgave her pacifist sentiment. "Don't you
know there's a war on, Mrs. Breen?" I said
quietly.
"War," she said, lifting her chin bravely,
"Is hell. But what isn't?"
Half the crowd was now chanting, "More
taxes! More taxes!", while the other half, in
. counterpoint, was responding with, "Hit us
again, hit us again, harder, harder!"
A young man, carried away, shouldered
his old kit bag, embraced his tearful mother
in fond farewell and marched off to join the
Future Farmers of America. . '
A brass band struck up the W'msockl Fight
Song, to which we sang, "Buckle tight,
America, buckle tight. You can win,
America, if you'll buckle right ..."
mat grizzled combat veteran, old Sarge
Sergeant, was called on to make a speech.
He tottered up on the bunting-draped stage,
his chest festooned with campaign ribbons
from The War on Poverty, The War on
Pollution, The War on Crime and the
ought-eight war on Tha Boll Weevil.
"I fit in 'em all, and I'll fit in this 'un," he
said.
The crowd went wild, screaming, "WIN,
WIN, WIN!" But I think old Sarge is getting
senile. For an odd look came in his eye.
' "But jest once," he said, "I'd sure like to
settle fer a tie."
SOBKO
Dear Editor,
Although somewhat embarrassed that the
pitiful salaries of ours and many (not all) of
our colleagues have been exposed, we would
iike to add our tnanKs to trie Daily Nebraskan
for publishing the list of faculty salaries.
Now that others besides our creditors
know how little money we are making,
perhaps we can stop feeling intimidated and
start dealing with the extent to which many
of us have been systematically mistreated.
We also would like to commend your paper
for advocating the need for a standard salary
policy.
Recently, the executive board of the UNL
chapter of . the American Federation of
Teachers (AFT) unanimously voted to
propose such a plan to the Faculty Senate.
(The Faculty Senate's ad hoc Committee on
Salary, Goals and Achievement was
dissuaded from doing this.)
Finally, as a sort of epilogue, the Daily
Nebraskan could provide an additional
important service by publishing a list of
administrative salaries In some cases,
comparisons are remarkably invidious.
Joe Julian, Sociology Dept.
President, UNL Chapter of AFT
Bob Mailer, English Dept.
y, Secretary , Wl C3I.nL6.tL
Biblical backing
Dear Editor:
I'd like to commend Amy Struthers ("Bread
Side," Dally Nebraskan, Oct. 4), on her
consideration of the source of discrimination
which the feminist movement faces.
Truly, many people in our society are still
living under Old Testament law. And women
are justified in their complaints against the
unequal treatment (occupational or other
wise) in a so-called equal and. democratic
Tho
. .
orrMOTw no 'nmsri s rr:L;VL;:..L:;.i.. ,u iiiu.
seems to be an honest search for Individual
rights and freedom freedom to be oneself..
However, careful reading of New
Testament scripture reveals a different code
of ethics exercised under the authority of a
loving God. An example is found in Galatians
3:28, "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there
is neither slave nor free man, there is neither
male nor female; for you are all one In Christ
JeDoSn't get hung uo on tho statement about
women being submissive to their husbands
(Ephesians 5:22). Men, don't gloat over the
supposed dominance you think you have
over women. If you read further, (5:25)
husbands must also love their wives as
Christ loved the Church.
What did He do? He died for it. Quite a
sobering, thought. But do you see that this
love and respect must work both waysby
the power of God changing our attitudes?
Things may seem bad now but don t.
blame God. He established equal rights
through His Son, and is eager to see them In
practice.
Deb A.
Continued...
The council, normally a rather
stuffy lot, burst Into an uproar. But
soon they dashed off into the woods to
find Rum-Dum's fabled land of free,
healthy acorns.
They left their meeting grove In
"disarray," and when some of the other
squirrels scampered over to find out
what had happened, all they found
was Rum-Dum sitting on a stump
with a saae smile on his face, saying.
"I don't have the acorns, and neither
doesZum-Zum." ,
Rum-Dum then returned from his
faraway reverie and explained what
had happened. The word spread fast.
They ran furiously in all directions,
fearful that the free acorns would be
gone before they arrived. But Rum
Dum sat back and smiled. He knew
this supply of acorns could never be
cornered.
Meanwhile, Zum-Zum sat dazed on
his stump. His clerks, his distribu
tors, his clientele.. .all gone.
He stared around his little domain,
unpopulated now except by thosa
diehard squirrels who still believed
that Zum-Zum had all the acorns, or a
least the ones that really mattered.
; M know better," he thought,
gazing blankly at a faint glittering
spot just on the other side of the briar
patch. Then he sat up suddenly It
was something sparkling, something
hard and white...
The moral: Pay attention, dammit,
when the nut hatches.
'pages
Wednesday, u,iuuer 16, 1974
daily nebraskan