Heather
LAMPE
Gulliber’s travels
Funky, wacky escapades make life of ‘suckerhood’
iney say mere s a suctcer oom
every minute. Well, on March 28,
1974 “baby gullible” was born, and
if you promise not to try and sell me
a used car, 1*11 tell you it was me.
Street smarts are not my forte. I
was again reminded of this last
night. I answered the phone late last
night and I thought my day of
fortune had finally arrived.
“Ms. Lampe, this is Biff Biffert
with the Bank of Zimbabwe Na
tional Sweepstakes. We have just
been informed that your name was
chosen as the winner of an all
expense paid cruise around the
world.”
“Oh my God!! No way!!”
“That’s right Ms. Lampe, you
will be joining us on our luxury liner
as we cruise to exotic destinations.
All we need to confirm is your
name, address, social security
number, numbers from all of your
credit cards and your checking
account number. We will also need
you to send us a box of checks, so
we can confirm that you are indeed
the winner.”
“Wow! Tm so excited. Okay my
Visa number is 5555-6666Hey
wait a minute, what sweepstakes are
you with again?”
“Oh, nevermind Ms. Lampe, we
just realized that we made a mistake.
Apparently someone else has won.
Story. Goodbye.* , l
Okay, so maybe I’m not that
much of a putz, my credit card
number stays between me and God.
But I have been known to buy 12
year subscriptions to Outdoor
Knitting in hopes of winning the
Publishers Gearing House. I
patiently waited after the Super
Bowl this year for my $10 million
prize to arrive, but Ed McMahon
never came. I fell asleep clutching
my January issue of Time Life Books
“Do It Yourself Brain Surgery.”
My gullibility follows me into
other areas of my life. Going to the
grocery store causes me to struggle
with my inner demons ... you are
now entering Heather s stream of
consciousness. Please pull down
your lap bars and keep hands and
feet inside the tram at all times ...
Should I buy Wheaties or generic
wheat flakes? Gosh, Ken Griffey Jr.
is on the front of the Wheaties box,
that must mean they’re better. Oh
sure, they cost $30 more, but if a
professional athlete eats them that
must mean they are a better product.
Even though they both have the
same exact ingredients, I must have
the Wheaties.
I am also an easy target for
astrological predictions and far
fetched miracles. I don’t care if they
did catch someone driving around in
circles on a tractor, those crop
circles in England were real.
So what if they found traces of
food coloring in the tears of blood
that fell from that statue of the
Virgin Mary — it was a sign from
above and you can’t convince me
otherwise. I read the National
Enquirer, damn it, and its reputable
news service is never wrong. Elvis is
still alive and he’s pregnant with an
alien love child.
My husband is worried about me
because I haven’t left our house in a
month. I read my horoscope for the
week and it was not favorable.
It read, “Your moon is aligned
with Uranus this month. You will
meet a tall, hairy stranger with
double-jointed thumbs; take his
advice seriously, but do not share his
tuna sandwich. You may face
hostility from co-workers this
month. Their sun is aligned with
Neptune and they have recently
purchased a semi-automatic weapon.
It may be wise to avoid humanity all
together. Stay in your home and lock
your doors.”
Movies tend to tap into my
naivete also. I watched John
Travolta in “Phenomenon” this
weekend. For those of you who
haven’t seen it, the movie is about a
man who gains intellectual powers
beyond belief. His mind is so clear
and focused that he has the power of
telekinesis, which is the ability of
being able to move something with
one’s mind.
All week I have been walking
around squinting at things in my
house, trying to make them move.
My husband thought maybe I needed
glasses — so he called the optom
etrist. But when I told him I thought
I may have successfully moved the
coffee table with my powers, he
scheduled an appointment with a
psychiatrist.
See, I knew Dionne Warwick and
her psychic friends were right. My
moon is aligned with my anus.
Lampe is a senior news
editorial and English major and a
Daily Nebraskan columnist.
Steve
WILLEY
Twist and shout
\Expert' says, *Body parts, tornados don't mix'
Warmer temperatures (so I wrote
this early, and it ain’t accurate. SUE
ME!), as well as the beginning of
March, signify that spring is just
around the comer. Soon flowers will
be blooming, birds will be yelping
and fat people like me will be
mowing their yards without their
shirts.
But with the glorious rebirth of
spring looms the awesome destruc
tive power of tornados. As part of
the infamous “Tornado Alley,”
Nebraska is not unfamiliar with
tornados, and spring and summer
are the most likely times to get
acquainted with them.
You may not know this, but I’m
somewhat of an expert on tornados.
You see, I used to live in a trailer
park in Mississippi and like all
trailer-park residents, my family and
I encountered tornados every seven
hours. Through sheer experience, I
have mastered the proper way to
land on the ground whenever a
tornado drops me 14 miles away
from my home. (The proper method,
by the way, is never nose or testicles
first)
Being an expert, I have decided
that it is my God-given responsibil
ity to educate the public—well in
advance—on the proper ways to
weather a tornado. If you follow my
guidance -— which I really hope you
don’t—you will undoubtedly be at
a huge advantage when a tornado
does cross your path. Here’s a step
by-step guide:
1. VERIFYING THE TOR
NADO: When a suspicious-looking
funnel cloud forms in the distance, it
is important to make sure that it is
indeed a tornado. After all, there’s
no point getting all riled up and
frightened if it’s just a giant floating
Bugle com chip.
The best way to find out if it’s a
tornado cloud is to approach it and
shout the following phrase above the
train-like rumbling: “Hey! Are you a
tornado?”
If the cloud says, “Why yes, I am
a tornado,” throw your bottle of
whiskey at it and drunkenly run like
hell. If, however, it says nothing but
instead chooses to swirl around your
body and give you a permanent Afro
— rest assured that it’s a twister.
Perhaps an easier way to tell if
the cloud is a tornado is to listen to
the radio. If the radio says that your
area has been issued a “tornado
watch,” that means conditions are
favorable for tornados. Most
lurccasiers ueune lavoraoie
conditions” as the mixing of warm
and cool air, the grand opening of a
new trailer park, or the falling of
golf-CART size hail.
If the radio issues a “tornado
warning,” that means a tornado has
been spotted in your area. If,
however, your radio is playing the
“Rush Limbaugh Show,” you should
change the station, as you shouldn’t
listen to this program—even
during beautiful weather.
2. FILMING THE TORNADO:
Depending on whether or not you
are extremely stupid, you may wish
to film the tornado with your
camcorder. TV networks will pay
large sums of money for footage of a
tornado sucking up livestock and
hurling them through a tree.
But you must be courageous and
steadfast when filming. No one is
going to pay any money for a distant
picture of a dog chasing its tail
while you cry, “I want my mommy!”
In a recent show on the Learning
Channel, I saw a man film a tornado
even AFTER he was struck by
lightning.
“I gist got heet,” he said in a
heavy Texas drawl. The man
continued to film until the tornado
consumed his house. Eventually, he
was knocked unconscious by a flying
telephone. That’s the type of
stupidity that is financially re
warded.
3. SEEKING SHELTER: If
you’re the type of person who
screams hysterically, runs around in
circles and flaps your arms up and
down—especially when you run
out of napkins — filming may not
be your first priority.
If you are dead set on finding
refuge, there are many places to go,
and likewise, to avoid. Unquestion
ably, the safest place to be is in your
basement and hiding under your
significant other. If you are uncom
fortable being the “weenie” and
hiding under your spouse, simply
tell him or her ALL tornados strike
from the ground up, and you are
willing to die for the person you
love.
If you don’t have a basement, you
must work quickly and begin
building one; time is scarce. After
calling all the contractors in the
phone book and receiving, “SAY
WHAT?!” as a common response,
you should give up on this idea and
go to the bathroom. But don’t
actually “go to the bathroom,” as
there will be plenty of time for this
when the tornado vaporizes your
roof.
Actually you should merely enter
your bathroom; the metal pipes will
offer an abundance of support. If you
have no bathroom, concede defeat
and lie under a chandelier or some
other lethal object. After all, without
a bathroom, your life probably isn’t
worth living anyway.
4. GETTING BACK ON
TRACK: Eventually the tornado
will pass. The only way to be sure of
this is to watch your pets. AU pets
have an uncanny ability to detect
bad weather. For example, if you
notice that your pet basset hound is
still standing on its hind legs and
Matt Haney/DN
bracing itself in a doorway, it’s best
to stay put.
The first thing to do after the
tornado passes is to inspect the
damage. Sometimes the damage is
minimal — a fallen tree here, a
headless cat there. But often it is
extensive. For example, you may
now have a Tibetan Monastery lying
where you mother-in-law once was.
If that’s the case, you should sob
uncontrollably and — after destroy
ing all the insured items in the
house — call your Allstate agent.
While tornados are not to be
played with, I don’t believe they are
to be feared either—that is, if you
know the proper methods of reac
tion.
lb the untrained, tornados are
cute and fluffy angels of amputation.
For you, the trained, they are just
another harmless thunderstorm that
has thoughtfully relocated your
house somewhere in the Gobi desert.
Willey is a senior news-editorial
major and a Daily Nebraskan
columnist