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About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (Jan. 22, 1997)
Unsigned editorials axe the opinions of the
Spring 1997 Daily Nebraskan. They do not
necessarily reflect the views of the Univer
sity of Nebraska-Lincoln, its employees, its
student body or the University of Nebraska
Board of Regents. A column is sdey the
opinion of its author. The Board of Regents
serves as publisher of the Daily Nebraskan;
policy is set by the Daily Nebraskan Edito
rial Board The UNL Publications Board,
established by the regents, supervises the
production of the paper. According to policy
set by the regents, responsibility for the edi
torial content of the newspaper lies sdety
in the hands of its student employees.
Kicking the ‘hell’
out of ole English
Idle hands are the devil's plaything.
And in the town of Kingsville, Texas,
the devil has a stranglehold on the local
populace. So much so, in fact, that the citi
zens of Kingsville have called for the elimi
nation of devilish references.
The townspeople’s main proposal is that
the widely accepted greeting of “hello” and
its potentially underworldly connotations be
replaced with the new-and-improved greet
ing of “heaven-o.”
Courthouse employees in Kingsville
have already taken to answering the phones
with the new greeting, more than likely be
wildering any out-of-towners who give the
ranching town a call.
And despite the protests of many En
glish experts who insist that “hello” has no
links whatsoever to Satan's realm (it really
stems from an old German word used to hail
a boat), the town of Kingsville has contin
ued its crusade.
So in the spirit of Kingsville, we pro
pose to help in an effort to clean up the En
We can all do our part by taking out
any references to Satan and his legions.
Instead of a “devil-may-care attitude,”
take a “hot-coal-in-the-pants one.” And if
you love bugging your friends by playing
the “devil’s advocate,” call yourself a “pain
We also can’t help but recommend that
since we are what we eat — devil’s food
cake, deviled eggs and ham and meatloaf
(OK, so not exactly fitting, but it can be
evil sometimes) — we should reform our
diets in favor of angel-food cake and angel
Santa Claus can’t escape, either. The
transposition of one little ‘n’ certainly would
open the gates of hell.
And what about the Arizona State Sun
Devils? Might we suggest the ASU Sun of
a... oh, nevermind.
The point of cleaning up our language
involves more than references to Lucifer
himself. Kingsville’s main thrust is to elimi
nate “hell” from our vocabulary.
That means the governing council for
greek sororities could no longer be referred
to as Panhellenic. Perhaps Panheckick would
Heloise and her “helpful” hints could
then go to—well, we all know where.
Jesse Helms? Coincidence? Better left
And those of us who have made prom
ises to do something only when “hell freezes
over” can rest easy, because Helsinki would
now be Finnish-ed.
Let’s all do our part to strip the “hell”
out of the English language. Kingsville’s new
twist on an everyday greeting may seem a
bit eccentric at first, but if practiced regu
larly, it could come to seem as common as
the old greeting.
The Daily Nebraskan welcomes brief let
ters to the editor and guest columns, but
does not guarantee their publication. The
Daily Nebraskan retains the right to edit
or reject any material submitted. Sub
mitted material becomes the property of
die Daily Nebraskan and cannot be re
turned. Anonymous submissions will not
be published. Those who submit letters
must identify themselves by name, year
in school, major and/or group affilia
tion, if any. Submit material to: Daily
Nebraskan, 34 Nebraska Union, 1400 R
St. Lincoln, Neb. 68588-0448. E-mail:
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Gettin’ the shaft
Arrogance fails to elicit response from bookstore
LEXINGTON, Ky. (U-WIRE) —
This year, after suffering five
semesters of humiliating, intelli
gence-insulting sessions of selling
back my books, I decided to fight
I was tired of getting back a small
amount of money for the hundreds I
had invested. My first experience
was not as bad as I had been told it
was going to be. As I approached my
first semester without any real idea
of what I wanted, I took the large
brainless classes such students are
herded into. The books for these
classes are used again by other poor
freshmen, so on selling the books
back I received $85 for the $3001
I was pleased—having expected
the worst — with the Christmas
money I had been so blessed with. It
wasn’t really my money anyway. I
lived in the comfort of the dorm, my
bills being paid by scholarships.
It’s all different now. I pay for my
own life, the car, the insurance, etc.,
and the $350 I dish out every
semester is hard to come by. I
worked many hard hours waiting
tables for that money, and so I began
to build up resentment. I began to
hate the bookstores, sneering
whenever I walked by and remem
bering how they had duped me into
selling my books back.
Oh I had tried to outsmart the
enemy—borrowing books from
friends in my classes instead of
buying, until my friends caught on '
and demanded the books, or laugh
ing in the enemy’s face>and KEEP
ING the bodes.
But how much can you do with
Zosoman and Socrates, The History
of the Church? The stack of useless
them up here ... sorry, these aren’t in
the book, there must not be any
demand for these next semester.
Me: Well, how about these? (I
knew I was losing speed, but my last
hope was in the 15 Penguin classics
1 had paid $12 to $15 apiece for.)
The enemy: Uh, yeah. I’ve seen
those before. Yeah. Hmm. I don’t see
those either. “Percopius Secret
History,” mmm, 75 cents. “Lives of
the Later Caesers,” mmm, 50 cents.
Me: That is all you can give me?
No one wants these books?
The enemy: Yeah, that will be
$17.75. Would you like to sell?
Me: Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I
appreciate the money, sir.
I had lost again. Somehow the
$17.75 did not quite compensate for
the $367 I had paid for the books.
As I slowly walked to my car, I
determined that I would never again
buy obscure books that no one would
Then I realized I would never
graduate that way. So I began to plot
ways to bomb the bookstores, or
maybe bring my friends'with me to
intimidate the enemy into giving me
what I deserve.
But as I added my unwanted
books to the pile in my closet, I
realized my situation was hopeless. I
would have to keep buying bodes,
keep attempting to get at least a tank
of gas back, and take my revenge
some day when I was an adult who
actually mattered to these people.
So as you approach the enemy
again this spring, remember — you
might as well surrender now because
you can’t win.
— April RMJIe
The Kentucky Kernel
paper in my closet made me decide
50 cents was better than nothing.
So this year, I approached the
enemy with a no-nonsense-I’m-not
attitude, t even brought along a
friend who had never experienced
the joys of selling her books—to
show off my new bravado. As I think
back upon it now, I begin to see how
I was once again outmaneuvered and
suckered into a mind-numbing
surrender. But the encounter started
Me: OK. Let’s see what YOU can
do for ME! (as I slam my impres
sive, upper-level books on the table).
(Thinking to myself: He lodes
like a sophomore. I’ll impress him
with my Latin THREE and obscure
The enemy: Uh, 1 don’t see these
books in my manual. Let me look
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