Heather
LAMPE
Crowd control
Where two or more are gathered, there go I
Living in a world that’s covered
with billions of people, you would
think I would be used to all of them
by now.
You would think I’d be used to th<
nutty drivers in
the Target
parking lot, the
overly aggres
sive women
pushing their
way through the
grocery stores,
die people who
cut in line at the
food court.
Since I am a card-holding
member, one would think I’d be used
to the public. Sadly enough, I’m not.
I think the word “public” should
be added to George Carlin’s list of
the seven dirty words that can’t be
said on the air. Public would be the
eighth. (For all the perverts out there,
that’s public with an L.)
I truly understand why the wealthy
build private bowling alleys and
movie theaters in their hones. I
understand why there is development
of programs on the Internet that
would let a person order their
groceries to be delivered. I under
stand why people use catalogs.
I guess I should become a recluse,
because I can’t go out of my home
without being annoyed. Don’t get me
wrong. I love most of my fellow
M
I think the word ‘public’ should be added
■ to George Carlin’s list of the seven dirty
words that can’t be said on the air.”
women and men. If I saw any (me of
you walking down the street, I might
be apt to smile, say hello and give
you a big wet kiss right on the lips.
But there is something about
people congregating in large groups
in public places that leads me to
believe that the police need to
exercise their right to use tear gas
more.
People seem to undergo a
metamorphosis when gathered in
large groups. People who you would
normally like one-on-one become
people that you’d like to back over
with your car. Any trip to a large
movie theater will prove my point.
Scenario 1:
You and your date arrive at the
movie theater early to avoid waiting
in a long line. You are standing
politely in line when a large herd of
. teen-agers comes up to talk with the
people directly in front of you. “Hey
man, can we stand in line with you
guys?” I guess I just assume people
would learn. Do you remember the
boy in your kindergarten class who
got beat up for cutting in the choco
late milk line at snack time? The
annoyance with “cutters” doesn’t go
away with age.
You may not be pummeled by 12
5-year-olds, but just when you think
you’ve gotten away with the perfect
crime, a chewed-up gummy bear will
be hurled into your hair.
Scenario 2:
You and your date are sitting and
enjoying the movie. Suddenly a pair
of feet, smelling like aged cheese,
arrange themselves on the back of
the chair next to you.
Meanwhile, the women in front of
you, who have seen the movie three
times before, talk loudly, revealing
how the movie ends. Just as you are
about to beat them with your popcorn
tub, you see smoke and panic that the
theater may be on fire. But alas, it is
just these women’s husbands
smoking cigarettes that smell worse
then the feet that are cuddling with
your head. Maybe they couldn’t read
the NO SMOKING signs—the
illiterate go to the movies, too, you
know.
Scenario 3:
You chug a supersize soda and
have to relieve yourself 15 minutes
into the movie. You walk into the
restroom and are overtaken by the
stench in the air. No amount of
potpourri could save you now.
Gagging, you walk to the first
stall, only to be met by an unflushed
toilet. Nearly unconscious, you
stagger to the next stall and nearly
slip and fall in the puddle in front of
the toilet. (Do these people pee on
the floor at home or do they*save this
experience just for me?)
You finally decide going to the
bathroom may put you at risk of
contracting a flesh-eating disease and
decide not to go. But since you
touched all the door handles, you
decide you had better wash your
hands. You wash your hands with
scalding water and diluted soap and
are ready to dry them, but find out
that the movie theater refills the
paper-towel dispensers every leap
year.
You run screaming from the
theater, leaving your date alone to
contend with the cheesy feet.
This hermit thing is looking better
and better.
Lampe is a senior news-editorial
and English major and a Daily
Nebraskan columnist
Brent
POPE
A meaty issue
Hunting: I just don’t get the thrill of the kill
The following quote represents
the ramblings of a madman: “Be
vewwwwwy quiet. I’m hunting
wabbits.” That’s right, I’m suggest
ing that loveable, bald Elmer Fudd is
actually a bad
man, a ‘
vewwwwwy bad
man.
Now
before you start
labeling me as a
hunterTiater and
a hypocrite for
eating meat
myself, let me
explain. I’m not naive enough to
believe that the meat I eat is simply
delivered to the store by the Meat
Fairy, but if you hunt for food, that’s
a different story. Hunting for that
purpose is OK. I’m talking about the
hunters who kill just for the fun of it.
That’s why 1 despise good old Elmer
J. Fudd; he is the stereotypical
example of a bad hunter. He just goes
out and tries to shoot whatever Daffy
Duck says is in season.
But even though I tolerate it in
certain situations, hunting just
doesn’t seem that fun to me. My dad
tried to get me to go deer hunting
with him one time. Here’s a rough
recollection of that conversation:
ME: Can 1 bring a radio?
DAD: Np music, it’ll scare away the
deer.
U
That's why I despise good old Elmer J.
Fudd; he is the stereotypical example of a
bad hunter. He just goes out and tries to
shoot whatever Daffy Duck says is in
season."
ME: Can I tell jokes?
DAD: No talking, it’ll scare away th<
deer.
ME: Can I bring something to eat?
DAD: No food, the smell will scare
away the deer.
ME: When do we have to leave the
house?
DAIj: Before sunrise, so we don’t
scare away the deer.
ME: So we’ll have to bring flash
lights, right?
DAD: No flashlights, they’ll scare
away the deer.
ME: What if I can’t see and fall off
of a cliff? .
DAD: No falling off cliffs, the noise
will scare away the deer....
All of this brings me to the heart
of what I’m getting at, which is this::
don’t GET hunting. I mean, I just
don’t understand why it’s still
popular in this day and age. I think 01
hunting as something you do to get
: meat, and that’s what 1 thought
grocery stores were for.
t There’s got to be a less dangerous
(and lazier) way to obtain meat and
still have some of the “fun” that
hunters have. Here are a few things
that I came up with:
i. We could have a store where
you can go in, grab a rifle, and shoot
blanks at a man in a walrus costume.
Then the man in the costume reels
around for a while and finally
collapses cm the floor. Then you go
in back and pick up meat from the
butcher that supposedly comes from
the animal that you “shot.” (And the
whole time the butcher tells you how
you are a mighty walrus slayer.)
[ 2. Or, we design a store where you
grab a harpoon at the front door.
Then you go to a giant swimming
' pool at the back of the store, get in a
raft and harpoon the floating pieces
of meat in the pool that you want to
take home. (And the whole time you
can pretend that you are Ismail the
great whale hunter.)
3. How about this? A store where
you get a bow and arrow and sit in a
tree until a mechanical bull waddles
in front of you. Then you shoot
arrows at the bull until you hit it. And
just in case you aren’t a great shot,
the bull keels over after three minutes
and you can claim that you scared it
to death!
4. Here’s a new concept: Meat
pifiaias! One of those new-age stores
could have piflatas hanging from the '
ceiling filled with your choice of
meat. All you would have to do is
grab a club and slug the pifiata until
it breaks and you are showered with
a glorious batch of delicious beef
jerky. (Conan would declare you a
powerful Barbarian indeed.)
As you can see, there are plenty of
of exciting meat-gathering options
other than actual hunting. And I
didn’t even mention CYBER
HUNTING and punching slabs of
meat Rocky style. (YO!)
Pope is a senior broadcasting
major and a Daily Nebraskan
columnist
