Il ST IN FIRKSTONK
High-tech stuff misleads society
I watch a lot of television. The
programs and commercials I’ve
seen lately have made me worry
that our society is headed in the wrong
direction.
While there’s debate about wheth
er or not television actually influences
peoples’ actions, it doesn’t concern
me. What does concern me is what
people feel is important.
Specifically, I’m concerned that
people look to science for answers
now instead of looking to philosophy
or the classics. To demonstrate what I
mean, let me tell you about the new
Tylenol Gelcaps commercial.
If you’re like me and a fan of the
boob tube, you’ve seen the commer
cial I’m talking about. In “man on the
street” style, we see various people
being introduced to the new Tylenol
Gelcaps. Eventually, we see a lady
holding two gelcaps in her hands.
She looks at the gelcaps and says,
“It looks so high-tech!” For all we
know, she’s never used the product,
but she is impressed enough with its
high-tech appearance that she will use
the product soon.
Sure, people are naturally attracted
to shiny objects and the like, but would
you take a medicine merely because it
looked high-tech?
Here’s another way to look at this:
I, as a human being, am naturally
attracted to shiny objects and fire, and
would rather be in the 1 ight as opposed
to the dark.
But when I walk downtown at night
and see a lamppost with a light on it,
do I walk over to it and stare at it like
a moth? No, I don’t.
While I like the light, I realize I
shouldn’t be infatuated with it. For
this same reason, I don’t go around
town setting things on fire, nor am I
easily impressed with high-tech-look
ing .nwdipipe.
Sure, people are naturally
attracted to shiny objects and the
like, but would you take a
medicine merely because it
looked high-tech?
As a human, I’m also attracted to
charts and figures. I especially like
charts that are brightly colored, like
those found in USA TODAY.
The best facts and figures are those
with decimal points. That means
they’re scientific, and if they’re scien
tific, they’re true.
These charts and figures have in
fluenced the earth ’ s population to th ink
the entire planet will self-destruct by
the year 2000. Scientists have figures
(with decimal points) to show that the
earth has gotten warmer during the
last 100 years, but they can’t say for
sure what has caused it.
For all they know, it could be a
natural cycle of change in the elliptic
ity of our orbit around the sun. If this
is the case, I would like to be the first
to propose that everyone in China
jump up and down at the same time to
correct our maligned orbit.
I figure that if I can get some
brightly colored, high-tech charts and
some figures with decimal points in
them, I can prove it will work.
The medical scientists are the big
gest hoot. I remember reading an ar
ticle in a local newspaper about a new
drug that was going to aid in open
heart surgeries.
When tested on dogs, it worked
wonderfully. When humans tried it,
they died. The punch line here is the
sc ien t ists couldn ’ t understand w hy the
drug killed the humans.
Allow me to suggest dogs are just
slightly different biologically from
humans, and what’s good for a dog
isn’t necessarily good for a human.
Scientists are looked up to as great
problem solvers, yet scientists make
two problems for every one they solve.
Remember the DDT debacle? Sure,
we killed dem bugs, but we also killed
many birds and polluted the air.
It’s as if scientists create new tech
nologies simply because they can and
never think about whether they should.
This was the moral behind “Jurassic
Park,” although the book seemed to
stress this point a little more than the
movie. ,
What if a scientist wants to help
Wendy’s out by genetically engineer
ing a tomato to grow in cubes, so that
the slices more easily fit their square
hamburgers? They could call it “Dave ’ s
Deluxe Tomato” or just “Davato.”
That’s fine, you may say, but this
leads to the greatest threat of all. Soon,
we could genetically engineer people
so that everyone looks like Oprah.
I hope people make intelligent de
cisions about what they think is im
portant and aren’t easily convinced to
buy things simply because they look
high-tech.
Now if I could just quit staring at
those brightly lit lampposts ...
Fires to ae ii a sophomore economics ma
jor and a Dally Nebraskan columnist.
.1 \N ( \U SI
Yet another McEducation to go
1 won’t be in class today.
In fact. I’m not even in town.
I’m several hours away finding
out more about a job awaiting me after
I graduate — knock on wood. Of
course, one obstacle prevents my en
tering the real world. I must first put
the finishing touches on my McDegrec.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's that
1 ittle Me- prefix that has come to mean
bland and mass-produced.
That’s a little bit like how I feel
after fi ve years at this uni versi ty, bland
and mass-produced. I know a number
of people who dropped out because of
the impersonality of life at a large
university. I guess I’ve grown accus
tomed to it.
Take the class I’m missing today.
There’s no need to bother the profes
sor with a “What did I miss?” phone
call.
He wouldn ’ t even know 1 had flown
the coop except for the absence of my
name among dozens of others on the
attendance sheet — a veritable menu
of today’s McStudcnts.
My college experience didn’t have
to be this way. I received a plethora of
pamphlets from colleges during my
senior year of high school.
“ Most of the smaller schools had a
common selling point: They prom
ised a personalized education, com
plete with photos reminiscent of Lulu
and Sidney Poitier, “To Sir With
Love”-type friendships.
But I chose dear old Nebraska U.
Why? It was nice that the university
had a journalism college with a great
reputation and that tuition was rela
tively low, and of course it helped
considerably that the campus was in
credibly close to friends and family.
When I went to the Nebraska foot
ball games that fall, as I had been
going to as long as 1 could remember,
my decision was finally made for me.
Yes, academia nuts, the football
program runs the university. Accept
it.
Crowds funnel in, attend Mr. Frat’s
Wild Party, take a ride on the
Roommate Express and generally
enjoy the same manufactured
experience that everyone else is
having.
It’s fun to watch Nebraska play an
opponent that provides worthy com
petition. That one Saturday in Octo
ber when all the planets are in perfect
alignment and Mother Nature pro
vides an ideal weather situation, it’s
nice to have an excuse to just sit
outside for four hours.
But the best part of the football
games is being one of the red crowd of
76,000 united in a common goal of
watching the Huskers win.
If the game dissolves into another
whomping of some nonconference
opponent, one can always watch the
lucky few in the crowd who success
fully snuck their flasks past the yel
low-jacketed ticket takers.
The same experience also is avail
able Monday through Friday. It’s fun
to hear a professor discuss a topic that
provides worthwhile information.
During that one class a semester
when a controversial subject isbrought
up and a spirited debate erupts, it can
be nice to just sit and listen.
But the best part of going to this
college is being one of the 25,000
bookbaggers united in a common goal
of “getting an education.”
If the class dissolves into another
obscure lecture on an uninteresting
topic, one can always watch the brave
few in class who sneak a few Z’s right
in front of the corduroy-jacketed in
structors.
Classes are some of the things that
interrupt one’s college experience.
College is just like an amusement
park, another Disneyland.
Crowds funnel in, attend Mr. Frat’s
Wild Party, take a ride on the Room
mate Express and generally enjoy the
same manufactured experience that
everyone else is having. When it’s
time to leave, everyone has a smile
and a few souvenirs in hand.
The beauty of the experience comes
not from actually interfacing with the
attractions at Disneyland or the pro
fessors at the university. Its being able
to go home and tell everyone where
you were and what you saw.
All this was thrown off kilter this
week when a professor greeted me
with a “Hello Jay, how arc you?” It
wasn’t just me; all of the students in
my class received the same. For a split
second, I felt uncomfortable.
I learned my lesson in high school
when 1 went back to visit my favorite
teacher after two years, and she didn’t
remember my name.
Let’s keep it impersonal, profes
sor. No attachment, no difficult
goodbyes. Treat me like the visitor at
Disneyland, the fan at Memorial Sta
dium and the customer at McDonald’s.
Just give me a depersonalized experi
ence and send me on my way. I’ve
come to expect it.
I’ll suggest a class of ’94 going
away gift to the university. Let’s erect
an “OVER ??,000 GRADUATED"
sign right under the large red N on the
west side of Memorial Stadium. Let’s
leave no doubt that the emphasis is on
quantity and not always quality.
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