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daily nebraskan
thursday, September 28, 1978
opinioneditorial
Buffaloed bills not in best interest of UNL committees
ASUN President Ken Marienau
buffaloed a bill through the senate
Wednesday night that recalled stu
dent representatives on 12 UNL
advisory committees.
The senate voted to close the
meeting, allowing for no public dis
cussion or debate of the bill.
Marienau said a closed meeting
was necessary so committee mem
bers could not cite individual com
mittees as worthwhile. He also said
if senators had been informed of the
bill before Wednesday's meeting,
committee members probably would
have put pressure on senators to
defeat it.
Marienau must have been afraid
the bill would not pass if he went
through the proper channels. His
foregoing the usual procedure of
sending the bill to a committee for
research and discussion leaves us
wondering why Marienau is so afraid.
If the bill were a good solid idea,
it would have passed.
The reasoning behind the bill is
questionable. The senate said it will
stop what it called the dilution of
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student power in committees that
met infrequently.
But now that students do not have
a vote on the committees, will they
really have any impact in student
government? And how much weight
does ASUN really carry? Student
members had often cast the
votes on the committees.
ASUN now has crippled two
major committees: the Council on
Student Life and the Nebraska
Union Board. They now do not have
enough members to form a quorum.
The senate has not devised plans
to replace the student committee
members. The Senate took action
before a plan was drawn up, leaving
many committees in limbo.
ASUN may have illusions of
grandeur. They have taken an unpre
cedented step and it remains to be
seen if the senate will now have more
impact into university affairs or if
they have played into the hands of
the administration.
Street reality is never helping out or looking back
Cincinnati is cold in December.
That tasty bit of information wasn't
exactly a great revelation to me, every
where I went was cold. A bus trip in
December is a very quick way to get in
touch with the numbness centers of your
body.
michael zangari
Still, stepping off of the bus into the
wind in Cincinnati is rather a grim remind
er that even numb hurts.
A three hour lay-over there supposedly
would allow me time to clear the various
bus smells out of my head and rediscover
my legs.
Dante must have written the Inferno
about a bus terminal. The molded plastic
chairs that line the interior are not meant
to sit in, as far as I can tell, unless of course
you are missing your back bone. I had
mine. The other chairs have small TV sets
attached to them. For a quarter it will glare
two feet away from your face for a half an
hour. No thanks.
Deprived of the capacity to sit, you
tend to wander. Usually sucking a machine
bought chocolate bar that was vacu-formed
out of brown plastic sometime during the
McCarthy years.
Look at people
You can look at the people. Everyone,
including yourself, is in one stage of decay
or another a type of sadness art gallery for
the connoisseur.
Middle East peace trumpeted;
heaven's landlord just sighs
Scene: The Heavenly Real Estate Office.
The landlord is happily refurbishing an old
galaxy when his business agent, Mr.
Gabriel, enters, golden trumpet in hand.
The Landlord: Now, let me see, a touch
more cream in the Milky Way, a dash of
starshine and . . . Dear me, where did I put
arthur hoppe
that jar of rainbows?
Gabriel: Excuse me, sir. Good news
from that tiny little planet you love so
much.
The Landlord (surprised): Good News?
Are you sure you have the right planet,
Gabriel?
Gabriel: Yes, sir, Earth. It seems that
the leaders of Egypt, Israel and the United
States have met for 13 days on a moun
taintop in America and brought forth a
peace agreement for the Holy Land.
The Landlord: A peace agreement for
the Holy Land? And after only 4000 years!
I told you to be patient, Gabriel.
Gabriel: And although one was a
Moslem, one a Jew and one a Christian
three religious faiths that have been killing
and persecuting each ether in your name
for eons-all three gave full credit to the
peace agreement to you.
The Landlord: By me. Gabriel, that's
truly heartwarming. It's proof my tenants
have at last come to realize that, despite
their differences, all men are brothers. It's
no wonder they were finally able to nego
tiate an agreement for peace and brother
hood throughout the Holy Land.
Gabriel: Excuse me, sir, but they didn't
actually negotiate an agreement for peace.
They negotiated an agreement to negotiate
for peace.
The Landlord: Oh. Well, even the
possibility of a lasting peace throughout
the Holy Land . . .
Gabriel: Not exactly throughout the
Holy Land, sir. This is an agreement to
negotiate for peace only between Egypt
and Israel. The Iraquis and the Libyans
have vowed to fight to the last Syrian,
although whether they would prefer to
fight the Isrealis or the Egyptians at this
point is not quite clear.
The Landlord (frowning): I suppose
the Arabs are a bit touchy sometimes.
Gabriel: Yes, sir. That's why the mili
tant Palestinians reacted to the news by
vowing to step up their campaign to gain
world sympathy for their cause by blowing
up anyone who happens to be handy.
The Landlord: I do wish they'd hire a
good public relations consultant.
Gabriel: Of course the Palestinians are
very busy in Lebanon at the moment,
blowing up Syrians, Christians and each
other. They still try to knock off a few
Iraquis, too, when they get over that way,
but as far as their fight with the Jordanians
goes . . .
The Landlord: Pardon me, Gabriel,
what was that good news again?
Gabriel: The hope of peace in the Holy
Land, sir. between two of the 86 factions
involved.
The Landlord (sighing): Well, that's
something and those three leaders are to be
congratulated. But the next time they
negotiate a peace agreement ask them to
do me a favor.
Gabriel: What's that, sir?
The Landlord: Don't give me any credit.
(Copyright) 1978 Chronicle Publishing Co.
Those are the easy memories. The rest
of this story I've told before. Of meeting
an older man, with pants he had obviously
soiled, and a leg that very well could have
been broken. A man reduced to begging
and yet not comfortable doing it.
He was a run away from the county
home. He was terrified of being caught and
sent back, and terrified that they would
not take him back because he had run
away before.
A long story about three hours in
length.
The ending finds our hero getting on his
bus when it rolls in, and despite a cold that
is very penetrating, is numb beyond any
thing a cold bus can do to you.
That there was a great deal of remorse
at having walked away from him would be
an understatement. Walking away is not as
easy as it would seem.
I suppose it would be just as easy to
breast -beat for eternity. But of course it is
all nonsense.
People do what they have to do. William
Burroughs calls it the "algerbra of Need" in
his book Naked Lunch. It is the coldness
that comes with reality, or dealing with
reality on a daily basis. It never is pretty.
Street reality
Street reality means that you can never
help anyone who refuses to help them
selves. Nobody has the power to get your
stuff together but you. Other people can
help you along the way, but the ultimate
choice always is a personal one.
For those people who sincerely care
about other people, and put energy into
trying to help whenever possible, (and I am
always amazed at how many concerned
people there are) I can only say, be careful.
There is a point when a concerned
person becomes a martyr. Begging for
somebody to put the nails in their flesh.
Do what you can do, do what you need
to do, but know when to quit.
Walking away is never easy. Staying
often is stupid.
In order to help anyone, you've got to
be able to help yourself. The old cliche still
is strong, and it simply is this: A man
should never gamble, more than he can
stand to lose.
And losing yourself in the guise of help
ing someone else is still a loss, and I don't
know many people who can really afford
that.