Opinion
No surprises
Bush’s address full of pre-election hype
It’s not hard to see that this is an election year.
With his poll ratings slipping, President Bush mounted
the State of the Union podium Tuesday night and told the
taxpayers what they wanted to hear.
In a rather lively atmosphere full of hollering f rom the cheap
seats, Bush spoke of cuts, breaks, budget slashing, reform here,
reform there.
“We’re going to lift this nation out of hard times,” he said,
and later vowed that the recession “will not stand.”
Bush did have a few specifics ready — $50 billion from the
bloated Pentagon budget, an extra $500-per-child tax break for
middle-class parents and a plan to withhold less money from
worker’s paychecks, although it would lead to smaller refunds,
were among the biggest applause-getters.
Vague, however, would be a good word to describe his ideas
on health care system reform, the welfare system, the federal
budget deficit, crime and the drug problem.
At least the speech didn’t lack patriotism. Bush lauded the
American taxpayers’ resolve in fighting the Cold War, elo
quently saying they deserved a “hunk” of the victory glory.
Bush warned, however, that America cannot let its guard
down, and the military cuts outlined in this speech would be
his last. Only the dead, Bush said, have seen an end to conflict.
America’s responsibility is to lead the world, he said,
because, among other red, while and blue reasons, “We are the
United States of America."
Bush claimed the American people recognize gimmicks
when they see them, although his State of the Union was
patently political. But then, such is to be expected, r
After all, in November, well under half of this country’s
voting-age population will go to the polls, where they are
expected to re-elect the same leaders, both in the executive and
legislative branches, who have valiantly led us into this mess.
Students careless crossers
It has been my misfortune to have
to enter the area of 14th and Vine
streets at about 9 each morning.
Many students are heading toclass
at this time and it clearly is car against
student Today my car almost won
one of these meetings.
On each of the four comers of this
intersection are “Walk” and “Don’t
Walk” signs. It amazes me that there
are those students who either don’t
know how to read or are intent on
thinking that they will win a battle
with a car that in most cases out
weighs them by many pounds.
Might I suggest that some of those
chancellors, whom I personally think
are overpaid, take over as crossing
guards during the busy hours in this
intersection. First, they would be able
to really get close to the students they
say they care about, and secondly,
they might be able to help those who
have reached the college level and
cannot read.
Closing this intersection is not the
answer. Teaching these youths how
to use a crosswalk is. Fix this prob
lem, UNL.
Bil Roby
Lincoln
ujn start racist, unprotessionai
Editors, reporters, writers and
Editorial Board of the Daily Nebras
kan, utilize the calendars on your
desks and walls to ascertain that this
is 1992 — not the 17th century \|(ith
its institution of slavery. We, a& a
people, will no longer accept, nor be
influenced by, self-serving, Eurocen
tric definitions of what is offensive or
important to us. As a group, we are
defining our needs, dislikes, prob
lems and solutions. Your role is to
listen and to take heed to what we arc
stating to you and to the world.
To begin, you have insulted our
collective intelligence by attempting
to drape yourself in the cloak of the
First Amendment in order to escape
responsibility for your racist, insensi
tive and irresponsible journalistic
practices. There is no issue of censor
ship here! Sadly, you, as well as a
majority of the public, are unable to
grasp this concept. The issue is your
refusal to acknowledge your current
transgression against the African
American community. You exhibited
a patent lack of sensitivity and an
irresponsible nature by not first con
sidering the consequences of your
actions. Any semblance of profes
sionalism you have possessed has been
irreparably compromised. You have
admitted publicly that you decided to
print the Scott Baldwin photo without
even attempting to ferret out any
substantive information regarding the
incident you were ostensibly “report
ing.” This behavior is unconscion
able. Your right to invoke any of the
privileges accorded to legitimate
journalists has been forfeited.
Further, you have demonstrated
an obscene arrogance by taking the
position that you do not owe an apol
ogy to the African-American and
university communities and that you
would follow the same course of ac
tion if you were faced with the same
decision. You take this position not
withstanding the fact that it is our
student fees that fund the operation of
the Daily Nebraskan and, even more
gravely, you take such a stand in the
face of the growing tension and obvi
ous concern that your handling of this
matter has generated.
Your lack of remorse and the alarm
ing indications that you have learned
nothing from your actions as they
relate to this incident mandates that
the African-American community
demand that you immediately with
draw from the decision-making proc
ess of the Daily Nebraskan, cease
from referring to yourselves as jour
nalists and to solicit from this com
munity its input in order that mean
ingful changes can be instituted in
your policies that impact our commu
nity.
Sherman Robertson
undeclared
<r w\
A MKVTC.R yj(W
rj\ ^?S
JiA n FOR 'NrtEN
J£| "WEIGHT
Isr^l
KIRK ROSENBAUM
Newness missing in New West
Boone Helm was an outlaw who
terrorized the Old West dur
ing the 1870s. Although a
footnote in frontier history. Helm was •
remarkably savage and colorful.
Reportedly he murdered his best friend
in a dispute over a woman and wasn’t
above eating the flesh of his compan
ions when the weather turned snowy
and grim.
Eventually a vigilance committee
caught up with Helm in Montana and
sentenced him to hang. (Remember,
this is before society got civilized and
began injecting its criminals with
poison instead.) A large crowd gath
ered to watch Helm “get his neck
stretched” and listen to his last words.
He gave them several, including “See
you in hell,” and “Let ‘er rip!”
Probably, Helm wasn’t one of
President Grant’s Thousand Points of
Light. His kind was fairly common in
the Old West, where thousands of
shiftless desperados gravitated after
the Civil War. They crawled across
the mountains and through mining
camps with an eye on profit and vio
lence.
In the New West of the 1990s, not
much has changed. It still teems with
greedy profiteers pulling land swindles
and cheap schemes. Gold camps have
become tourist attractions in a sad
attempt to recreate the past. If you’re
riding west these days, you no longer
need a fast horse and a good rifle. You
need a Gold Card and a minivan.
Nowhere is this more evident than
in the Black Hills of South Dakota,
which has become little more than a
billboard forest. You can take home
all the authentic frontier souvenirs
you need, providing you don’t mind
them being manufactured in the Pa
cific Rim by people who make 15
cents an hour. Or buy some T-shirts.
There are more crummy T-shirt shops
in the Black Hills than in every Spring
Break destination on the continent.
The jewel of the Black Hills is
Dead wood. According to the Cham
ber of Commerce, it is now being
restored to its frontier authenticity.
Maybe they’re right — all the streets
have been ripped up and everything
has been covered with a layer of grit.
Every building in town that isn’t a T
shirt shop has been converted into
some type of low-rent casino. There
Hyou're riding west
these days, you aa
longer need a fail
horse and a good
rifle. You need a
Go/d Card, and, a
minivan.
is no escape.
A few hours in the Black Hills
breeds a unique mentality. During a
break from playing blackjack in a
former International House of Pan
cakes, now called Diamond Jim’s, I
found myself staring out the window,
nursing a complimentary watered
down bourbon.
To my horror, I watched a small
child get struck down by the extra
wide side mirrors of a passing station
wagon, which was hauling a pop-up
camper. The driver braked momen
tarily, then spotted a parking space
and accelerated. The poor lad was
nearly trampled by an indifferentmob
of sun-maddened tourists.
They call this the New Gold Rush,
but it bears little resemblance to its
predecessor. The original gold rush
attracted the seedy clement of society
— gamblers, prostitutes, bored veter
ans and thrill-seeking bankrupt farm
ers. This new gold rush attracts mostly
dysfunctional families with two weeks
to kill. There are still gamblers and
prostitutes, but they’re being played
by Drama 101 students from the
community college.
I know I shouldn’t really expect
the real Old West — bloody gun
fights, drunken sheriffs, ugly mobs
with Bibles and ropes. But this hol
low commercialism is an embarrass
ment. Places with names like Black
Bart s Pizza by the Mice ana calam
ity Jane’s Yogurt Bam just don’t evoke
historic images.
The bars try a bit harder, like the
Red Garter Saloon. They display signs
on the door that read “No Guns or
Knives Allowed,” but it’s obvious
their biggest worry is running out of
sarsaparilla and pickle cards to sell
the tourists.
Obviously, the New West is pri
marily a commercial experiment, in
which swindlers abound. I met one
while having dinner in Jackson, Wyo.,
last summer. He was sitting at a nearby
table, trying to convince a large group
of senior citizens to bankroll his latest
venture. He looked exactly as Jim
Morrison would look if alive today —
fat and loud with an ill-fitting hair
piece.
“When I first came to Jackson Hole
it was nothing,” he yelled. “Now we
turn the tourists away, and our media _
budget is huge. I made this town what
it is now.”
A remarkable feat, considering
“what it is now” is a neon-covered
strip mall full of Benetton stores.
Then he outlined the deal he was
about to close with a group of Japa
nese mobsters over a half ton of ant
lers he had acquired. The Japanese,
he said, ground the antlers up and
used them as an aphrodisiac. They
were flying in that evening to work
out the details.
“The big thing is to close the deal ,”
he explained. “I know a lodge up in
the Tetons where I can take them to
hammer out the terms but to do that I
need some seed money.” He laughed.
“Hell, you’ll quadruple your invest
ment.”
After a few minutes, he managed
to gather about 70 bucks from various
people in the room, along with their
phone numbers. Then he stumbled
out the door, stealing a handful of
cigars off the counter. He got in an old
Camaro and sped off down the high
way, one headlight working.
He was no Boone Helm, but he
was the closest thing the New West
can offer. At least until the Japanese
buy it all up.
Rosenbaum la a fenlor hiftory major and
Daily Nebraskan columnist.
--EDITORIAL POLICY
Staff editorials represent the offi
cial policy of the Spring 1992 Daily
Nebraskan. Policy is set by the Daily
Nebraskan Editorial Board. Its mem
bers are: Jana Pedersen, editor; Alan
Phelps, opinion page editor; Kara
Wells, managing editor; Roger Price,
wire editor; Wendy Navratil, copy
desk chief; Brian Shellito, cartoon
ist; Jeremy Fitzpatrick, senior re
porter.
Editorials do not necessarily re
flect the views of the university, jts
employees, the students or the NU
Board of Regents.
The Daily Nebraskan’s publishers
are the regents, who established the
UNL Publications Board to super
vise the daily production of the pa
per.
