Commentary
Violence ‘hits’ dose to home
When I was younger, on the r,
Fourth of July, we launched rockets
from Coke bottles and set off
firecrackers in empty soup cans.
It was the closest I ever came to a
bomb.
Oklahoma City is almost a day’s
drive from Lincoln. But Wednesday
morning, as the first news reports hit
the wires and scenes of utter
devastation flashed across the
television screen, Oklahoma City
seemed quite suddenly much too
close to home.
And at that instant, all I wanted
to do is leave work and head home.,
Suddenly I wanted every erne to get
up from their desks and go home.
Home, where we will all be safe.
But we are home. This is home
—Lincoln, Los Angeles, Oklahoma
City—and there is no place to hide.
Suddenly, the metal detectors,
security guards and alarm systems
that have become a part of everyday
life in the late 20th century seem so
woefully inadequate.
Suddenly, a walk downtown, a
trip to the City-County Building
seem fraught with danger.
Suddenly, whatever thin veneer
of safety we thought we had in the
land of the free and the home of the
brave is stripped away.
It’s much too soon to assign
blame, to root out the perpetrators
of this ungodly act and bring them
to justice.
For now, our president asks us to
pray. To pray for the victims and the
survivors, few the parents of dead
children and for the citizens of
Oklahoma City.
Maybe we should do more.
Maybe we should pray for
ourselves as a people.
Cindy Lange-KuMck
Maybe we should do more than
wring our hands and talk about
tragedy and terrorists and insanity.
Perhaps we should do the
unspeakable and look to the roots of
this violence — unjustifiable roots
—but deep spreading fingers that
somehow touch us all.
The U.S. Embassy in Beirut:
1983. The war in Iraq. The LA.
riots: 1992. The World Trade
Center: 1993. Burned out buildings
and buses in Israel and Palestine.
War-tom Sarajevo.
When my children fight, as they
invariably do, they follow a certain
set of rules. The most important
guidelines for their arguments seems
to be retribution. Tit for tat. An eye
for an eye. Revenge.
If one child hits another, the
unwritten rule states that the
violence must not go unanswered.
Childhood squabbles ended —
never really solved, only exacer
bated—through physical force.
Kicking the dog. Swatting the
kids. Pushing the spouse around just
a little bit and for “her own good.”
Shootings at the mall and at
traffic lights. Killing strangers on
the street fo^a pair of tennis shoes.
Opening firSon&x-wives and
alienated co-workers.
Bombing a building.
My children use their fists to get
back at one another. Gangs use
guns. Terrorists build bombs.
Sometimes all we do is stand at
the sidelines and watch. Maybe we
hope that the little brother will learn
his lesson if his older, stronger
sibling rings his bell. Or that next
time our spouse will get supper on
the table on time and hot if we
blacken her eye and break her nose.
Today’s news was shocking, but
not surprising.
More than 20 dead — at least 17
of them children, hundreds missing
and injured. It was news to make a
mother—any mother, anywhere—
break into tears.
Somehow we knew it was
coming. Maybe not in Oklahoma
City, and dear God not in Lincoln.
But the seeds had been planted long
ago, the roots set down firm in our
psyches.
We answer violence with
violence, on the playground, on the
streets, in our homes and offices.
Somewhere, someone thinks they
have been wronged. Instead of
starting a fistfigjit, they threw a
punch in the form of a thousand
pound explosive.
Somehow, someone put together
enough firepower to destroy the
nine-story Alfred Murrah Federal
Building.
Several years ago they outlawed
bottle rockets in Nebraska —
firecrackers, too.
But somehow, the burned-out
buildings of the Middle East have
come home.
And none of us can pretend to be
safe anymore.
Lange-Knblckls a seaior news-editorial
and sociology major and a Dally Nebraskan
colnmnist
Semi-famous cop bad attitude
As a reporter for the Arts and
Entertainment section of the Daily
Nebraskan over the last few years, I
have had the opportunity to inter
view artists and performers across
the whole range of fame to infamy.
From Offspring to David Spade,
I’ve talked to a number of people in
the limelight and those in only the
lemon-lime light (it’s kind of like
Sprite, but not as sweet).
I have found few problems with
those who are superfamous—
except for the obvious one. They
think they’re too damn big to talk to
a low-life like me.
I know that Trent Reznor doesn’t
normally speak to press people, but
it’s me, damn it! I listen to his
music, I go to his concerts; can’t he
spare an hour or two to kick back
and enjoy a beer with my charming
persona?
I guess not.
I also haven’t had any trouble
with people who are eager to make
it big.
These people are so desperate for
fame, they’ll let you interview them
even if you’re only from some lame
little college newspaper.
Hey, wait!
But it’s true. If you’re in a band
called The Beefeatin’ Chickens,
you’ll talk to Rush Limbaugh if it’ll
increase your popularity (although
that seems like an oxymoron).
It’s the ones who are semi-famous
that I have the most problems with.
The people who think that they ’re chi
the way up, instead of realizing that
they’re about 12 minutes through their
15 minutes of fame.
I can tolerate being turned down
by Maya Angelou, but when Wesley
Crusher gives me the snub, I’m
Joel Straucti
going to take offense.
I mean, the guy’s a dweeb.
He might have saved the Enter
prise a few times, but the only
reason that he was even on the ship
was because Picard wanted to show
Dr. Crusher the captain’s log.
I called him about a week in
advance and he was too busy for the
interview. Well, actually I called his
mom/agent (she didn’t sound too
much like Beverly—it was weird),
and I think she said that he couldn’t
talk to me until he ate his veg
etables.
I overheard him asking if he
could just go play for a little while,
and she screamed at him.
“If you don’t eat them greens,
I’m gonna beam ‘em into your
gullet!”
I got scared and hung up.
But I understand. He is a busy
guy. Isn’t he starring on... No, he’s
writing that book about... But he is
on that TV show..!
Can we say “flash in the pan?”
But he’s not the only tiny legend
who thought his britches were too
big for me.
Carrot Top, the wacky comedian
with the even wackier hair (how did
he get that name, anyway?) was a
little too busy for the likes of me.
His agent said that he was going
to call me during his 10-minute
layover in Denver, but he was in too
much of a hurry.
What a pansy.
I mean the guy only does like
380 shows a year, flies red-eye
flights coast-to-coast and he can’t
spare a few minutes for a phone
call?
Come cm.
But the semi-popular hero who
irked me the most was Jeff Dunham.
You know—he’s the comedian
with the puppets.
He used to be a nice guy (I
interviewed him last year), but ever
since he added that new puppet,
Chuckie, he’s been acting pretty
weird.
His agent (who personally
scoffed at our paper, for which she
will be eliminated) said he was
going on vacation, and if I didn’t
talk to him “RIGHT NOW!” then
we could just forget the whole thing.
So far I haven’t lost too much
sleep over it, but I have been going
through puppet withdrawal (you
don’t want to know what the
symptoms are).
I’m just curious where he had to
go cm vacation in such an all-fired
hurry. I guess the dummies were
hankerin’ few* some beach sunshine
and wouldn’t wait for some two-bit
reporter to talk to their master.
I know I’ll never be some big
shot at Rolling Stone, talking to the
immortals like Harrison Ford,
Wesley Snipes and Jim Carrey, but I
want some respect, damn it!
If I can survive an interview with
the Jerky Boys, I deserve a little bit.
Straach Is a scalar secondary education
major aad aa Dally Nebraskaa Arts aad
Entertainment senior reporter.
Take chill pill when
poring over Juice
l was talking to my bookie,
Slats Grobnik said, “and the odds
are getting real big that O.J. will
beat the rap.”
That’s what most legal experts
say—that there will be a mistrial
or a not-guilty verdict. Either
way, Simpson will wind up a free
man.
“Well, if that happens, this
country is gonna have to deal
with one big question.”
Yes, whether the legal system
really works.
“Nah, that ain’t the big
question.”
Of course it is. Even now,
serious doubts are being raised
about the jury system and the way
selection can be manipulated by
sharp lawyers and consultants.
And the concept of equal justice
for all, when the accused is rich,
is also under fire.
“Sure, but if O.J. walks, that’s
not the big question.”
It isn’t? Then what is?
“So what?”
What do you mean, “So
what?”
“I mean, that’s the big ques
tion.”
The big question will be, “So
what?”
“You got it.”
That’s ridiculous. If there is
convincing evidence that Simpson
is guilty but he goes free, you
can’t just shrug and say: “So
what?”
“Why not? Would he be the
first guilty guy to get away with
murder?”
No, I suppose not.
“You bet. Look at that lawyer
in the Chicago suburbs and his
lover boy. All the evidence says
that one of them killed the
lawyer’s wife. But the lover boy
beat the rap, and the husband
ain’t even been charged with
jaywalking.”
Such things happen.
“So, why is the O.J. case any
different? What do you think will
happen if he walks — maybe
thousands of blond white women
in L.A. will go out on the streets
and riot?”
No, that’s unlikely. But there
could be sufficient public outrage
to bring about a reform of the jury
system.
“Oh, sure. Like the politicians
who’d have to change the laws
ain’t mostly lawyers, they’re all
banged-up blond wives and bad
luck waiters.”
But the spotlight of public
opinion would be turned on flaws
in the criminal justice system with
an intensity never seen before.
“Right. So that means Ted
Koppel will stay on the air for an
hour instead of 30 minutes, and
he’ll have on some real mean
Mike Royko
talking women from New York
and some lawyers and some black
guys, and they’ll all yell at each
other. And I’ll say! ‘So what?”’
But you can’t simply say, “So
what?” Have you no social
conscience?
“I used to have one, but then I
found out that I slept better and
didn’t get heartburn if I just said,
‘So what?’ You ought to try it.”
No, I can’t. If the jury rejects
compelling evidence, it will be an
outrage and every self-respecting
pundit and editorialist will be
obliged to seek meaning and
significance in the case.
“Oh, sure, there will be more
than enough meaning and
significance to go around. Like
how is O.J. going to lead the good
life in California after he goes
broke paying off the lawyers?”
How he will again live the
good life? You consider that
significant?
“Sure. Just watch, that’ll be the
big story.”
Nonsense. Who would pay
him to do anything?
“That shows how much you
know. If he can come out with a
best-selling book while sitting in
the jug, imagine how many new
bodes he could peddle if he goes
on ‘Larry King’ and the ‘Today
Show’ and talks about how he’s
still in love with Nicole and is
looking forward to seeing her in
heaven. Hey, and what about
movies?”
“Why does he need a few
decent movie studios when all the
rest will be trying to buy his
story? Remember, to a lot of
people he’ll be a bum. But there’s
a lot of people in this country
who think that it’s no big deal if a
superstar football player gets a
little ticked off at his wife.”
People are just insensitive.
“Just watch. He’ll be able to
sell his autographs few 100 bucks
a scribble.”
Preposterous. Would you pay
$100 for his autograph?
“Nah.”
See? You do have a con
science.
“Sure. I’d offer him $50 and
resell it for $100.”
©1995 Tribune Media Services, lac.
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Mike Luckovtch