Editorial
(Daily
Nebraskan
Editorial Board
Univeraity of Nebraaka-Uncoln
Amy Edwards, Editor, 472-1766
Bob Nelson, Editorial Page Editor
Ryan Steeves, Managing Editor
Eric Pfanner, Associate News Editor
Lisa Donovan, Associate News Editor
Brandon Loomis, Wire Editor
Jana Pedersen, Night News Editor
Wake up, senator
Langford, not students, out of touch
Lorraine Langford reiterated Thursday how out-of
touch she is with today’s college student.
The state senator from Kearney made a futile
\ attempt to apologize for “hurting the feelings” of stu
| dents age 18-20. She did not, however, retract her remarks
that students make some of the worst decisions in the
world.
Instead, she dug herself in deeper, saying that students’
| immaturity is a “fact of life,’ ’ and that her knowledge of
4 that fact comes from “working with young sorority girls
1 for years.”
Langford had made her origihal remarks during floor
debate over the proposed restructuring of higher education
in Nebraska. She said students should not be allowed a
voting member on either the regent’s board or the govern
ing board of trustees.
Her reasoning was that students make poor decisions
2 and aren’t concerned about important issues — like the
1 cost or content of their college education.
She said Thursday that students who are working, sup
1 porting a family and going to college are people who have
1 made a poor decision somewhere along the line.
“They should not be in school trying to support a
1 family and working two jobs. If they want to do that
I that’s fine, but they have made an error in judgment...”
The only enror in judgment was made by those who
voted Langford into office.
Langford has envisioned a world where the majority of
students have their education paid for by their parents, do
not have to work and do nothing but go to classes and the
I library.
She has ignored the fact that most students are not be
tween the ages of 18 and 20. Young sorority women (not
girls) are not status quo at any university, so Langford’s
experience with them is not applicable to the lifestyles of
the majority of students.
Her “apoiogy” does not wash. Langford should re
search the realities of college life before she makes any
decisions that could affect higher education in Nebraska.
•• Amy Edwards
for the Daily Nebraskan
Student appalled by comments
I am writing this because I am
appalled - appalled beyond belief --
at the Neanderthal altitude exhibited
by State Sen. Lorraine Langford of
Kearney in the March 16 Daily Ne
braskan (“Langford: Student imma
turity is ‘fact of life”’). If the picture
of that smug disapproving face was
not enough to make anyone’s stom
ach turn, comments such as, “I tell
you they have made a bad decision,
probably sometime between the age
of 1K and 20. They should not be in
school trying to support a family and
working two jobs,’’ must have made
even the strongest of stomachs long
to vomit.
I’m surprised that someone who
purports to be a supporter of higher
education (“In fact, I do more for
higher education than anybody in the
Legislature, or at least as much’’)
would advocate that anyone who has
a family and is not independently
wealthy should not be in school. 1
take this to mean that if someone who
got married at the age of 20 and had
children wanted to continue on in or
go back to college, they should be
punished by the almighty hand of
Lorraine Langford for having been in
love and never be able to reap the
benefits of higher education. Or maybe
he/she should just divorce the spouse
and put the children into foster homes
so hc/she will not have to work two
jobs.
As for Langford’s insinuation that
those who do not pay property taxes
should not have any say in the vote,
that is ludicrous. In fact, I believe that
altitude died in 19th century. Another
ludicrous statement was the one about
student voting patterns: “You can’t
get them to even vole for their own
student senates. You can’t get them to
vote for their own officers.” Excuse
me, but what were those few thou
sand people doing Wednesday? They
were voting for their officers. Also,
an enterprising student, Trevor
McArthur, has decided to run for the
NU Board of Regents. This is one of
Sen. Langford’s apathetic students?
I wonder if Sen. Langford realizes
how fortunate she is to be so perfect,
and thus be able to play God and pass
judgment. I’d like to see her scientific
study on the life-ruination potential
of various age groups - I doubt very
much that opinions derived from
observations of sorority girls at Kear
ney are of much value: Speaking from
my own experience with sorority girls,
they arc hardly representative of all
18- to 20-year-olds. Besides, Sen.
Langford seems to have forgotten that
not all college students fall into that
category.
I would strongly advise Sen.
Langford to check her calendar -- the
date is March 16, 1990, not 1890.
Why do I feel as though we’re argu
ing the same things that were argued
before 18-year-olds were allowed to
vote in national elections? The sena
tor seems to have forgotten that the
nationwide established minimum
voting age is 18 — the U.S. govern
ment seems to feel that 18- to 20
year-oldscan be trusted. In fact, some
18- to 20-year-olds may have elected
Sen. Langford to her scat, but I guess
that would rather prove that their
judgment can be in error.
Signed, one of those 25-year-olds
in favor of voting rights for students.
Karla Carter
president
Phi Alpha Theta
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Condom buying flusters feminist
April Fools’ prank involving ribbed, lubricated variety backfires
Icall myself a feminist, despite
all the negative connotations
some people give the title.
I’m a feminist because I truly be
lieve women should hold 51 percent
of all public offices and private ex
ecutive positions, and because I hope
the women who cam those positions
no longer will need to emulate men to
obtain them.
I’m a feminist because I don’t want
my daughters growing up in a society
where most women with a four-year
college degree still cam less than men
with a high school diploma -- $22,412
for college-educated women, $24,701
for high school-educated men.
And nothing makes my stomach
acid bubble worse than when report
ing, I interview men in public posi
tions who insist on prefacing an an
swer with, “Listen, honey ...” This
alone could turn anyone into a femi
nist. And it happens more than any
one likes to admit.
There was one occasion, however,
when my feminist inclinations fal
tered. A feminist like me should have
no trouble buying condoms, but my
experience has proved otherwise. And
this time of year always brings one
condom-buying memory to the front
ot my mina.
It was April Fools’ Day a few
years ago, and in my relatively small
homciown, it was the Spring Break
we waited for -- a chance for one day
of livin’ on the edge, a chance to
remit old debts.
And I was more than ready to pay
back a good friend.
So, 1 sought the advice of older,
more experienced pranksters. They
knew me, and they knew my friend.
They said they also knew of a surc-to
get- ’cm-cvcry -time prank that I could
pull on her. The Prank of All Pranks,
they said. Only one problem: Con
doms were required.
Simple enough, I thought. Just hop
on down to 7-Eleven and purchase a
pack. No problem.
Problem: 7-Eleven was filled with
every woman, man and child I’d ever
met in my life. Honest.
So, I set out for the nearest quiet,
lightly trafficked drugstore.
The automatic doors slid apart with
a whoosh and closed behind me in
Star Trek fashion as I entered the
rectangular store. I tried to assess the
situation without appearing to do so,
wandering nonchalantly toward the
candy counter.
The candy counter provided the
perfect setting for surveillance. It was
short enough for me to view the entire
store behind it, yet tall enough to give
me adequate cover.
I picked up a package of M&M’s
and slyly scanned the four, long,
oppressive aisles that stretched the
length of the store.
After only a few minutes of nerv
ous hunting, I saw the small, brightly
colored condom boxes hanging on
the far wall at the end of oppressive
aisle number three.
M&M’s laid to rest, I began the
journey to the opposite end of the
store. 1 tried to act, look and feel
casual, pausing to sniff the peach
potpourri along the way. In my mind,
1 made a checklist of the type of
condoms I was hunting - preferably
Pedersen
ribbed,definitely lubricated, must be
in a package of six or more.
Checklist in mind, I jammed my
hands into my coat pockets and stopped
to face the wall, looking for the per
fect box. I picked up the first one that
caught my eye -- a nice, bright orange
color.
It was at that moment that I no
ticed the Friendly Pharmacist poking
his head out of the hole labeled
“Prescription Window.”
“May I help you?**
I looked upat him dumbly. Yes, he
probably could help me. I had no idea
whether the condoms I wanted were
behind the red, blue, gold or orange
packaging. Unfortunately, something
had removed the working mechanism
from my voice box. I blubbered a
phrase that sounded almost like a
“No. thanks,” and felt my face begin
to match the color of the box in my
hand.
But Mr. Friendly persisted. “Arc
you looking for a prophylactic?”
4‘Obviously,* ’ I wanted to say, but
the muck in my throat was multiply
ing.
Mr. Friendly’s face disappeared
from the hole in the wall and reap
peared in a door at my left. “Let me
guide you,” he said.
I knew I had every right to buy
condoms. Women buy condoms all
the time, I told myself. Feminists
don’t even think twice about it. I
knew I shouldn’t feel prudish. But I
did.
“What exactly are you looking
for?”
“Lubricated,” I growled, trying
to clear my throat, “ribbed.”
“Well, you’ll want this model, in
the gold box.” He said, jabbing the
package under my nose. “There arc
three of them in here. Will that be
enough for you?”
“Six,” I mumbled to the patroniz
ing face. “I need six.” I made certain
the number came out accurately,
hoping to avoid the possible misun
derstanding that could arise from
mispronouncing the vowel.
Mr. Friendly picked up a jumbo
box of gold and held it up to the light.
“Now, this one has 24. Will that be
plenty?”
“Only six,” I said, grabbing two
of the smaller gold packages and diving
for the checkout.
The woman who rang up my pur
chases was a little less patronizing,
and 1 began to feel better.
Until I felt a tap on my shoulder. It
was Mr. Friendly again.
“Here,” he said. “I found you a
package of six in the ribbed and lubri
cated product. It’s much less expen
sive than buying those two pack
ages.”
He smiled broadly, evilly, as I
dropped the two small packages in
the palm of his hand and shuffled
through the Star Trek door.
Revenge, I thought. Revenge. This
feeling of humiliation could only be
paid back by going through with The
Krank oi am rranks. 111 must suncr,
so, loo, must my friend.
As I walked toward my car, I
imagined how humiliated my friend
would be as she and her boyfriend
slid into her car after the movie that
night. Her hand resting lightly on the
condom-covered stick shill, she would
turn the ignition, and two condom
covered wipers would pop up in her
face. She would try to turn them off
quickly, but the condom-covcrcd wiper
lever would slow her down. She would
try to drive away, but the condom
covered brake release would be there
to stop her.
A malicious grin began to form
across my lips as I hopped into my
car. I even began tochucklelomyself
as 1 put the key in the ignition.
But my smile quickly died as I
turned the ignition and two condom
covered wipers popped up to greet
my unsuspecting gaze..I struggled
with a condom-covered lever to shut
the wipers off, but the lubricated
condom there caused my hand to
slide ineffectively away.
I finally managed to shut them off
by the lime my friend - the one I’d
planned to make a fool of - appeared
from her nearby hiding place, along
with my other so-called friends who
had told me about The Prank of All
Pranks.
The joke had been theirs all along.
Pedersen is a sophomore advertising
major and Daily Nebraskan night news edi
tor and columnist.
