Pe2 14
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Monday, February 6, 1C34
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DAN FOGELELRG
Windows & Walls
THE f.'.OTELS
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including:
Freewheel BurningLove Bite
Rock Hard Ride FreeHeavy Duty
Ofcnriar 01 Trie F'!h
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CAPITOL
COLUMBIA
SHEENAEASTON
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EMI AMERICA
EMI AMERICA
DUHAN DUrlAN
Seven And The Rajsd Tiger
CAPITOL l3Y
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CULTURE CLUB
COLOUR BY NUMBERS
including:
Karma ChameleonMiM Me Blind
Church Of The Poison MindMister Man
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EPIC VIRGIN VT
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Original Soundtrack
FOOTLOOSE
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Illegal Alien
ATLANTIC
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COLUMBIA
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4600 Vine Street
Open 10 to 10 daily
SALE ENDS FEBRUARY 1 1, 1984
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Damlen LefiierDsily Nebrsskan
PapaSmurfandMr. Tmold
minds ofkmiorrow 's leaders
By Tcsr Swansea
One recent Saturday morning, I man
aged to awaken before noon. For some
strange reason I switched on the tele
vision. The Smurf Hour, Plastic Han,
and (ugh) The Mr. TShow greeted me.
What a change from the days of my
cartoon addiction, also called "the for-
mative years" by psychologists. (Maybe
that's why I remember the Hair Bear
Bunch more than high school algebra.)
What "childish" things we used to do.
Saturday mornings were a paradise,
nothing but good television, no boring
llasicrpicce Theatre or stupid National
Geographic specials. It was all Johnny
Quest and The Banana Splits with lots
of G.I. Joe commercials in between.
Those were the days of Vietnam, but
it's strange lately that G.I. Joe is a
pretty big deal again. I wonder ...
You knew it would be a good day if
the last Fruit Loop in your bowl was a
red one. Don't ask me why, it just was.
Sometimes it took four or five bowls to
end up with the magic red cereal,
which surely aided our healthy hyper
activity and our mothers' collapsing
mental state.
Kites were a lot of fun too. Within a
couple of weeks you could gather
enough dirty string around the spokes
of your bicycle to plug up the toilet.
One day I found out that string had a
purpose other than giving your par
ents something to follow when they
wanted to take you home. On this day I
was flying my favorite Gala "Baby Bat"
kite, that is until my "friend" bit the
string in half and suddenly revealed to
me that string had something to do
with keeping the kite in the air. Slowly
it toppled end-over-end like a drunken
sea gull until it landed in the backyard
of those "big" kids down the street.
"Big" kids were three years older, 50
pounds heavier, never brushed their
teeth and could row beards in the sixth
grade. I hated those kids. They always
got to wear real jeans and tennis shoes.
I was the pariah in my black ortho
pedic saddle shoes and Toughsldns.
They threw water balloons at grand
parents on bicycles and chased cats
with their mini-bikes. I longed for such
sadistic fun.
Older siblings were so "dorky." They
talked about Dylan and Tiny Tim, wore
smelly ponchos and puka shell neckla
ces. The only thing I liked was their
music, it expressed the same spastic
abandon that I had at seven years and
besides, it drove our parents crazy.
If you said "poop" or "butt" you were
subjected to the confusing ritual of
washing your mouth out with soap. It
was only recently that I grasped the
symbolic meaning of this. I used to
think that it was only to make you cry
and spit for hours.
Getting along with girls was much
easier. If you didnt like a girl, you
simply ignored her. Of course it was
impossible to avoid going to her birth
day party under serious parental dur
ess. If you liked a girl it was even easier,
you simply threw rocks at her or squir
ted glue in her hair. Today you've got to
write cute mush in the Personals or
send roses. I think 111 carry a tube of
glue along on my next date.
School was a boring blur of flash
cards, fire drills, and dental hygiene
weeks. Life really began at 3 p.m. when
my friend and I would chase each
other through his garage. We wore our
underwear with blankets tucked in
back while pretending to be Superman
or Batman. His dog was always the
"Smog Monster" (actually a golden re
triever prone to gas attacks) which we
chased without mercy.
Possibly the dumbest thing I can
remember doing is chasing the mos
quito sprayer. The city had a pickup
with a large sprayer tank which poured
out a thick green cloud visible for
blocks. All of the kids on the block
would chase the truck down the alley
screaming and coughing until our lungs
ached. We thought it was fun. Were we
stupid or what?
Childhood is the time when we learn
values from those around us and begin
to become neurotic adults and the
leaders of our society. Thankyou Papa
Smurf, thank you Captain Caveman,
thank you Mr. T. I know that you and
your sponsors will help raise an assem
blage of leaders equal to the challenges
of the year 2000 and beyond.