—
RECIPE:
/-- SLACKER SOUP
For when you’re too poor to eat or too hung over to care.
Many diners will give you hot water for free, if not, scrounge up a
little pocket change for tea. But don’t make tea.
Instead, get a table where thy won’t see you doing this and pour
ketchup, a little at a time, into the hot water. Stir constantly. When you think
no more ketchup will dissolve, stop.
Add salt and pepper to flavor. Ask for crackers (also free most
places.)
This is a real recipe and has been used by many people tempo
rarily between jobs or realities.
Helpful Hint: Keep the tea bag, you can chew on it to keep yourself
awake on those long
_ n n
• . t
Losing voting virginity
leaves writer empty
Nov. 4, 1992
I lost my virginity this week. I
thought very carefully about giving
it up, and now, a day or so later, I
feel empty, and perhaps a bit de
pressed. I’m 25, you see, and I
thought it was past time. Oh, I
could have waited. In fact, I have
had several chances in the last six
or seven years and turned them
down — mostly because I was
pretty sure that 1 would come
through the experience feeling
empty and a bit depressed.
Voting, you see, (what did you
think I was talking about?) is essen
tially not compatible with slacking.
It’s difficult to remember to register,
be in town on Flection Day, walk to
not just any polling place but your
polling place and stand in line with
a bunch of seriously misled and
eager voters without losing your
lunch.
Despite the fact that i*ny polling
place was exactly one block from
my flat, the powers that be failed lo
consider that I spend about one
night a week there, and that night
usually doesn’t lead to a Tuesday.
And there is damned little incen
tive to overcome the logistical ele
ments — voting is just about the
nexllhingtoa meaningless act. We
are generally expected lo choose
between twoslea/.y, lying, manipu
lative, power-thirsty, cynical old
men. This year, one of them was
slightly younger and slightly less
cynical.
I am quite interested in politics,
though. I keep searching, in vain it
would seem, for a good reason to
vole. This year I fqupd lots of good
reasons to stay at O’Koukes in
stead Despite, for example, the
tremendous efforts of Bill and Al
and George and Dan to convince
us that they were different from
each other, I saw few clear differ
ences.
A senior campaign official of
Bill’s is dating one of George’s. Al
and Dan are buddies — a little
known fact but a fact nonetheless.
I low do you choose between the
- (ft
Despite, for example, the
tremendous efforts of Bill
and Al and George and
Dan to convince us that
they were different from
each other, / saw few
clear differences.
-ff "
two tickets when they rip each
other apart during the day and play
cards and eat strawberry shortcake
at night?
These men have no convictions,
which in itself might not be so bad,
but they pretend that they do to get
morcvotcs. Thcnail iftlhecoffinof
any supposed differences between
these men is the projected budgets
and deficits under their two plans.
The plans of either man will lead to
four more years of large deficits of
virtually the same magnitude —
growing and shrinking in the same
vears.
Bill Clinton'ssccrei plan to mend
the economy is no more real than
Richard Nixon’s secret plan to end
the war. For balance, I should
mention the dirty little secret of the
last 12years: There is nosuch thing
as supply-side economics. Growth
fueled by deficit spending was not
an idea invented by Ronald Reagan
— it was only abused by him.
In the end, I cast a "PcrOlest"
vote for the only clear difference.
Somebody who stands up to say
that something is wrong when our
country leads the world in the best
educated burger flippers (though
from what 1 hear, Russia is catching
up fast, as people with Ph D’s arc
applying to be crew chief at
McDonald’s in Moscow), and sorpe
thing needs to'thange to fix it.
It was less like losing my virgin
ity and a bit more like political
masturbation. It was safe — he
couldn’t possibly win. But it left me
wanting somethi ng more meaning
ful, more real.
— Gary lamgsinc is a human being
with dignity and wlf rcspcct, and he re
sent* anyone implying otherwise.
Working for a dream
Money can’t buy me happiness?
It was a deal with my father:
After one year of col lege I could go
wherever 1 wanted_Well, “within
reason,” he said.
At a coffee shop “on the hill,”
Joel and 1 sal absorbing the sur
roundings, the people. For Joel, we
sat in a perfect w'orld.
I’ve never had a friend likejoel.
If I could describe him in one word
it would be “reserved.” All at once,
Joel can play the guitar, the har
monica and sing Neil Young, and
it’s good. Thai’s Joel.
Silence has alwaysspoken louder
than words with us. With one look
he knows what I’m approaching.
He leans back, roughs his hand
through his hair and stares qul the
window.
Without turning his head, he
smiles, touching his newly grown
beard and says “freedom.” With
that one word, my brother Joel
touched me in a way indescribable.
I envy Joel. I Ic possesses a con
tentment I’m not familiar with. I lis
father is a dentist and does well
serving the greater Jewish popula
tion of Detroit.
Unsure if he has the money
making ability that his father pos
sesses, Joel expresses concern about
his future. I le studies literature.
* And that morning in boulder,
Joel had no idea what he w as going
to do for the rest of his life. He
mentioned working for
Greenpeace.
After two cups of coffee and one
croissant, Joel and I were silent. We
both love to travel, and want to
experiencesomuch more. 1 want to
go kayaking, surfing, rock climb
ing, hang gliding.. .. When I think
of these adventures, certain sayings
are replayed in my cerebral VCR: “It
is the lack of money that is the root
of all evil” and “money cannot buy
happiness.”
The idea that money can’t buy
happiness seems distorted. I’ve al
ways pictured a lonely corporate
executive with slacks among slacks
of green on his desk. 1 see a man
who has spent his life creating
something he cannot enjoy.
> My argument is, money allows
me to do things I couldn’t experi
ence without it. It lends opportuni
ties that are not otherwise avail
able.
I often think about leaving col
lege as Joel did. Not as much now,
but in the past when I was sur
rounded by corn fields wishing it
was the ocean, the idea was very
ippealing. At one point I was con
vinced 1 was being tested by some
greater force — that 1 was a type of
experiment.
There is no such thing as coinci
dence; everything happens for a
reason. 1 was supposed to be in
Nebraska. I wasn’t sure why, but it
was easy to accept this theory and
make the best of it.
1 never wanted to be in Ne
braska, or the Midwest during my
college years. It’s OK now — in
fact, 1 like it here. Part of the reason
1 didn’t want to come here was
because I had very liule say in it. I
resented that.
1 resented that 1 didn’t have • *
enough money of my own to live
how I wantedlo live. But that’s why
I’m in school — to get a career. And
with a career, I’ll have ultimate
control, because I’ll have money.
Joel does odd jobs. He travels
and creates a world on paper so
vivid and fresh—so real. I’m happy
with my life, but Joel is content.
This is what I admire about him.
I get bored easily. That’s why I’m
a journalism major. Journalism
doesn’t encompass everything I
want to do. In fact, I can’t do
everythinganymore—I’mnolongcr
10 years old. So it comes down to
making the most of my time on
earth.
Journalism and photography arc
my passions; they invite intrigue
and absorb change. Computers in
terest me, but I don’t want to stare
at one for 40 years. Physical therapy
would be rewarding, but I don’t
want to be in a hospital for the rest
of my working life either. My op
tions are limited.
At 20 I’m one year away from
completing my degree. I should be
preparing for what I want to do
when I grow up.
Joel once told me that I should
learn to be content with what I have
done, rather that being "antsy” for
the things I hadn’t done. There is
See ‘SLACK' on 11
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