Poor mix
Chemical language flabbergasts columnist
For the third time in as many
years, it appears as if I’m going to
fail chemistry.
Apparently, I’m not the only one
who’s concerned. I didn’t hear it
personally, but I’ve been told that
my chemical future was one of the
many points addressed by Louis
Farrakhan at the Million Man
March in Washington.
“We are being oppressed by the
white man,” he was heard to say.
“And what’s more, Steve can’t even
pass chemistry.”
I called my dad in Mississippi,
hoping indirectly for some sound
fatherly advice.
“You been drinking a lot up
there?” my dad demanded.
“Yessir,” I said in a trembling
voice.
“Well, hell then,” he slurred. “I
don’t know WHAT your problem
could be.”
My dad is like that. In his eyes,
there’s only one thing in this world
that cannot be accomplished by
drinking heavily.
That of course being his come
from-behind victory in the India
napolis 500, on a tricycle.
For some odd reason, this has
been a lifelong obsession of my
dad’s, and one that, in his opinion,
“requires not alcohol, but persis
tence, rigorous training, and
knowing the governor of Iowa
personally.”
The trutbis, I have no idea why I
feel it is my duty to keep hundreds
of chemistry teachers perpetually
employed.
For the most part, I do quite well
in my other classes. With the
exceptions of biology, calculus, and
women’s studies, chemistry is the
only class I have failed more than
once.
What makes chemistry so
difficult for me is that they take
words I’ve used all my life and give
them an entirely different meaning.
For 18 of my 21 years of life, a
Steve Willey
“Chemistry> and
journalism simply do
not mix well together.
Journalist Mike Royko is
famous for sneaking
around in his shorts
and heaving pine cones
at Chicago chemistry
laboratories. I can
hardly blame him. ”
“mole” was something on my
brother’s back that, if ever removed,
would produce a cancerous tumor
the size of a large hamster.
In chemistry however, a mole is
apparently a form of measurement
that burrows underground tunnels
through golf courses.
I wish I could tell you that this is
an isolated case, but sadly I cannot.
Take for example the word
“calorie.” A calorie is defined
chemically as the amount of heat
needed to raise one gram of water
one degree Celsius.
That’s all well and good, but just
listen to the laughter when you ask
your professor the seemingly
intelligent question of, “How come
fattening cookies in a swimming
pool fail to make the water boil?”
It stands to reason, doesn’t it? I
mean, cookies certainly have a lot
of calories, and if one calorie raises
water one degree Celsius, then it’s
obvious that.
(Aww go to hell.)
I know that laughter all too well,
because I receive it after each and
every chemistry question I blurt out.
Sometimes the teachers throw
things (including, but certainly not
limited to, their underwear) at me
when they find out I am indeed
serious.
Ordinarily, a journalism major
would not need to take chemistry.
But since I am in ag-joumalism, my
major requires me to take at least
23 hours of classes I’ll never pass.
Chemistry and journalism simply
do not mix well together. Journalist
Mike Royko is famous for sneaking
around in his shorts and heaving
pine cones at Chicago chemistry
laboratories. I can hardly blame
him.
The best method to explain the
uselessness of chemistry is by
exploring the ancient root-words
that comprise the word itself.
“Chem” stems from the Latin
word “Chemus,'’ which refers to
midgets. Likewise, “istry” roughly
translates into “the playing with, or
enjoyment of.”
"Die relevance of this observation
eludes me, other than it’s probable
that the word “chemistry” has
nothing to do with science.
Who knows, maybe I’ll surprise
myself. Maybe I’ll somehow eek
out a D minus. If I do, be prepared
to see a new Steve Willey — one
with esteem and self-worth.
And no longer will I wake up
every morning and ponder the same
two things.
“Why can’t I pass chemistry; and
yet more importantly, why is
Farrakhan worried about my grades
in the course?”
WlUey Is a Junior ag-Journallsm major
and a Dally Nebraskan columnist
Smells like...
Trio finds some scents shouldn’t be bottled
He was about my height. Plaid
shirt, jeans, dark hair. And damn,
he smelled good. I could have
jumped him.
Thursday night class, nice
breeze from the window and I was
downwind from the most magnifi
cent smelling guy.
On a recent jaunt to the mall, a
couple of friends and I took the
liberty of sampling a quantity of
men’s colognes.
The experts were...
DANI: A junior engineering major,
very taken. Obsessed with the Cure
and loves a good-smelling man.
KRISTA: An engaged graduate
student with a flair for staying sane.
A doting owner of a Siamese cat,
she, too, loves good- smelling men.
JESSICA (me): Junior, single,
romantic — and worships great
smelling men.
With the assistance of Cliff, the
Dillards cologne counter dude, the
three of us worked our way around,
inhaling the various aromas.
Here are our comments.
CK One: Dani — I’d get confused.
Jess — I don’t like to smell like a
man; I spend a lot of money trying
not to. Krista — Makes me sneeze
in the worst way.
Cool Water: D — I’d rather have
water. J — Smells like dog sham
poo. K —- Smells like someone
peed in die bottle.
Polo Sport: D — Reminds me of
Junior High. J — Ditto. Ugh! Let it
go. K — Kind of sporty; like used
sweat socks.
Catalyst: D — I love a man who
wears Catalyst. (Hmm, her boy
friend does!) J — Not my favorite.
K — Smells soapy.
Ralph Lauren: D — Reminds me
of Dad and High School. J — It’s a
high school flashback. Help!! K —
Cologne for insecure men.
Jessica Kennedy
“Thirty-five colognes
later, Cliff pointed out
that after three sniffs of
different labels, your
nose can’t distinguish
what it’s smelling. I
think all of us can
vouch for that. ”
Nautica: D — Wouldn’t kick him
out of bed if he wore it. J— Light
and pleasant. K — Too sweet.
Obsession: D — All-time favorite.
J — I’d do him. K — Dated a guy
who wore it...still can’t separate it
from him.
Claiborne: D — Gives me tingles. J
— Nice, I like it. K— OK, used to
like it, but not anymore.
Drakkar Noir: D — Definite junior
high flashbacks. J — I’d be content
to sit in his arms forever. K — My
insecure, college boyfriend wore it
because he thought it was cool.
Colours: D — No thanks. J —
Reminds me faintly of bug spray. K
— You could smell the guy coming
from miles away.
Escape: D — I’d have to escape if
he wore this. J — Sweet but
masculine. K — Nice and light.
Tsar: D — It burned my nose
hairs. J — A male mothball smell.
K — Potent.
Boucheron: D — Smells like ass. J
— Smells like a Walgreens. D —
Smells like a porta-potty.
Safari: D — Where’s Tarzan when
you need him? J — I LOVE IT! K
— Woodsy and romantic.
Lagerfeld: D — Smells like a sissy
man. J — Very yummy, not too
strong. K — For the guy trying to
smell like a manly man.
Tuscany: D — I dated a guy who
wore Tuscany, but then I dumped
him. I don’t remember if it was
because of the way he smelled. J —
Smells like rotten fruit. K — Pure
road kill.
The most intriguing is “Realm,”
a cologne based on synthesized
human pheromones.
Realm: D — I don’t know if it’s a
conscious or subconscious thing,
but it works. J — My favorite, it
makes my pulse pick up. K —
Masculine but not overwhelming.
We’re in the mood for love.
Thirty-five colognes later, Cliff
pointed out that after three sniffs of
different labels, your nose can't
distinguish what it’s smelling. I
think all of us can vouch for that.
I must say that how the bottled
scents smell on paper is very
different than how they smell on
the guy. For example: Doug, a DN
editor, points out that although he
wears Lagerfeld Photo, I’m more
likely to smell the Tide with
Bleach he used.
I’m pretty sure Lagerfeld didn’t
intend Photo to smell like Tide.
Kenedy is a Juior broadcasting, adver
tising aad pabUc relations major aad a Daily
Nebraskan cotamaist
■■■doomed
October 19,1989
Andy ManWvDaiky Nebraskan |
Mission illustrates
importance of NASA
“The five astronauts spent their first hours in
space giving a final electronic check to Galileo,
a probe so sophisticated that one NASA official
dubbed it \the Rolls-Royce of spacecraft.
Six years ago our country
launched a space probe. Its six
year mission: to seek out and
photograph strange new worlds.
To seek new life and new civili
zations. To boldly go where hu
mankind has yet to go ... still.
Six years ago — to the day,
mind you — our own Daily Ne
braskan covered the event, with
a little help from our friends at
the Associated Press.
This mission, with its fruitful
and historic results, reminds us
of the compelling reasons we
spend the paltry billions on a
(now) post Cold War space pro
gram.
CAPE CANAVERAL, Fla. —
Space shuttle Atlantis soared into
orbit Wednesday and its astronauts
started the Galileo probe on a six
year journey to Jupiter for the clos
est look yet at the colossus of the
solar system.
Earlier, concerns about
Galileo’s nuclear power supply
were left behind as Atlantis lifted
off flawlessly on its mission to
carry the $1.5 billion space probe
into orbit on the first leg of its trip.
After Atlantis had made five
trips around the world, Galileo was
ejected from the cargo bay by
springs, on schedule over the Gulf
Coast.
The shuttle moved away to put
distance between itself and the
space probe’s rocket.
The “bum” was to be an hour
later—first for 2 1/2 minutes, then
for a minute, forty-five seconds —
giving the 6,700 pound Galileo the
initial push toward Venus, its first
planetary port of call.
The five astronauts spent their
first hours in space giving a final
electronic check to Galileo, a probe
so sophisticated that one NASA
official dubbed it “the Rolls-Royce
of spacecraft.”
“Everything looksf real good,”
said astronaut Shannon Lucid, a
one-flight veteran from Bethany,
Okla., who had charge of the probe
deployment.
The crew members reported a
few problems with their own ship
as it orbited 184 miles above the
Earth.
One was with a cooling system
that might cause them to return
slightly earlier than planned in
what a flight director called “a
worst-case scenario.”
“You looked marvelous going
up,” Mission Control told Atlantis
Commander Don Williams as the
winged spacecraft reached orbit af
ter two launch postponements.
“I feel a lot better,” ^id Will
iams.
Galileo, named after the 17th
century discoverer of Jupiter’s
moons, will use the laws of phys
ics to get to Jupiter, the largest
planet in the solar system, in 1995.
Flying by Venus will cause it to
gain momentum and so will two
subsequent close encounters with
Earth.
BE OUR GUEST
The Daily Nebraskan will present a guest columnist each Monday.
Writers from the university and community are welcome.
Must have strong writing skills and something to say.
Contact Mark Baldridge c/o the Daily Nebraskan, 34 Nebraska
Union, 1400 R St., Lincoln, NE 68S88.
Or by phone at (402}-472-1782.
