Bats in the belfry
Perfect plan needed to end rodent rampage
TODD MUNSON is a
junior broadcasting
major and a Daily
Nebraskan columnist.
Talking ’bout the ghetto.
That’s right I’m talking about the
’hood, the slums, el barrio, T-town,
you name it. Names like these con
jure up visions of run-down housing
projects, entrepreneurs striking it rich
foraging for valuable aluminum, and
a general populace that thinks it is
socially acceptable to pack heat.
Common sense says that if you
have the wits or the wherewithal to
avoid living in the slums, you do it
faster than a 15-year-old boy on a date
with one of the Spice Girls.
As you might have guessed, it’s an
understatement to say that I’m not the
sharpest knife in the drawer, and
because I consider this $15-a-week
job a significant source of income, I
can’t afford to live in a trendy apart
ment complex named after a nonexis
tent, tree-lined meadow. Thankfully, I
found someone as destitute as myself,
so like many college students we
pooled our resources and were able to
afford a little slice of hell to call our
own.
Actually, it isn’t so bad. We live
10 feet from campus, split $300 a
month in rent, and ...
Who am I kidding? Living where
we do sucks ass. Let’s see, our shower
is a hose connected to the tub’s faucet
that is clamped to the ceiling. Hot
water is plentiful on 90-degree days,
but since there’s no air conditioning,
Aaron and I usually spend our sum
mers loitering at the local less-than
$2 movie theater. We tried to capital
ize on our pad’s uncanny ability to
retain heat by leasing it out as a tribal
sweat hut, but there weren’t any tak
ers. Then there’s the living room win
dow that was broken out in December
only to be expediently repaired this
July. Nothing helps keep gas bills lew
like using a Hefty Bag as a window
during the coldest months of the year.
In the two years I’ve lived as a vic
tim of a slumlord, I’ve grown used to
the little quirks associated with ghet
to living; but sometimes little events,
like what happened last Sunday, make
me long for tame, predictable subur
ban life.
I awoke at about 10 a.m., unable
to sleep because of the heat. To the
kitchen I went with a hankering for
Coca-Roos. Sadly, my Coca-Roo
dreams wouldn’t be realized unless I
washed some dishes.
I quickly got to work, but was
struck by the smell of curdled milk.
Fearing for my life, 1 quickly turned
away. As fate would have it, the sour
bovine juice was only the tip of the
iceberg.
Hanging from the ceiling by its
clawed feet was a bat with a wingspan
the size of a Datsun. At first, I thought
it was one of Aaron’s weird toys. Then
it twitched. Dismissing it as a battery
operated toy bat, I calmly made my
way to Aaron’s bedroom.
“Hey man, where’d you score the
bat?” I asked, waking him up.
“What bat?” he replied.
“The one sleeping in the kitchen.”
Responding with words too harsh
for this publication, Aaron was just a
little disturbed.
In our underwear, we sat on the
couch for more than an hour planning
a strategy, hoping all the while that
our new friend would up and fly
away. Not a chance. With each one
wanting the other to deal with the
beast, we agreed there was only one
thing we could do. It was time to set
tle this predicament like men, or at
least chemically-dependent college
students.
As Aaron fired up the Super
Nintendo, I crept into the kitchen try
ing not to wake the sleeping vermin. I
opened the cupboard and pulled out a
bottle of Wild Turkey and rinsed out a
shot glass as quietly as possible. I
wasn’t quiet enough. His sinister ears
perked up and he began to stir, reveal
ing fangs the size of Ginsu knives. I
shut off the water, and it was enough
to return him to dreamland.
Joining Aaron on the couch, we
began to play a winner-take-all game
of John Madden ’94. The winner got
to watch the loser take care of the fly
ing rodent problem. As a conso
lation, the loser gets a better
buzz than the winner since
each time a touchdown is
scored on him, he has to take
a pull of the ol’ Wild Turkey.
To make a long story short, I
whupped his ass 49-28.
Now that we were good
and drunk, it was time to put
the smack down. Setting the
mood, I cranked up Black
Sabbath on the turntable.
Aaron armed himself
with an old textbook and
a large box. His plan
was to knock the bat
into the box and throw
it out the open win
dow. Tennis racket in
hand, I had his back.
Aaron swung, and
it was over before we
knew what happened.
The bat fell to the
ground, twitched a little,
and ceased moving. A
spot of blood was left on
the wall. One shot and it
was dead. Aaron was
the man. Towering over
our victim, we realized
death isn’t cool, because
there’s a bloody mess to
clean up afterward.
As Aaron used his
foot to sweep the bat
out the window,
Christie, our good
friend and queen of
sound judgment, walked
in. Hearing about our epic
battle with the beast of the
night, she had a question,
and a darn good one: “Why
didn’t you guys call ani
mal control instead of
getting all drunk and
killing this poor bat?”
Did I yet mention
that I wasn’t the
sharpest knife in the
drawer?
Matt Haney/DN
Art articulation
Indifference to culture dooms students
BARB CHURCHILL is a
graduate student in wood
winds performance and a
Daily Nebraskan colum
nist.
It’s time to fight student apathy,
and embrace culture. In that spirit,
please run, don’t walk, to the art
show “Dan Howard: Valedictory,”
which is currently being exhibited in
Richards Hall until Thursday. The
hours are from 9 a.m. until 5 p.m.,
Monday through Thursday. It is
FREE, absolutely free, which is
something you can’t say about most
things. You owe it to yourselves to
attend this exhibit.
Culture is vital. And, as you may
have read right here in the Daily
Nebraskan, Howard is an important
artist. He also is a vital, charming
and articulate man. Howard loves
talking to students, and has much of
value to say to anyone, not just
artists. Besides, his work deserves to
be seen and appreciated by you as
University of Nebraska-Lincoln stu
dents. If you don’t go in larger num
bers than expected, only about 600
800 people will see Howard’s work;
many of whom won’t even be UNL
students. As Howard said, “More stu
dents would rather shell out $30-40
for a rock concert than go to the Lied
Center showcases or come here.”
Unfortunately, this is true. It’s rather
appalling that we are so apathetic
that we refuse to go see a free art
show. Are we really that afraid to
experience culture?
Howard also stated that, “It is
unfortunate that students fail to take
advantage of their opportunities to
expand their minds and acquaint
themselves with art and music while
they are here, when it’s cheaper and
they perhaps have more time in
which to do it in.” Take it from me,
folks, Howard is right on the money.
Bad as it is now, with trying to bal
ance school, work, family and
friends, it is much, MUCH worse
once you get out into the full-time
working world.
Despite the fact that I was the
second Daily Nebraskan reporter to
interview him, Howard was unfail
ingly cheerful and polite. We talked
about many things, including time
management, student apathy, and
artistic talent, as well as the specifics
of this particular show. It was an
enriching conversation, something
that I had needed desperately, since I
\
have been seriously questioning why
I’m here at UNL. Howard assured
me that the better part of his artistic
talent has been his persistence, and
that exploiting your own talents is
the best way to not give up - regard
less of whether your talent is in oil
painting (his talent), music (my tal
ent), or garbage collecting.
One of the questions I asked
Howard specifically about painting
was, “It seems to me that these paint
ings were meant to be seen from two
different perspectives, both close up
and far away. Am I right?” Howard
told me that this was exactly right.
(I’ve taken exactly one art history
course in my life, and that was in
high school.) Howard said he tries to
paint on two levels because it is more
interesting. Up close, you can see the
brush strokes, the color, and the
intensity, while farther away you can
see a pattern or a picture and medi
tate on what the art is trying to tell
you. This seems like a good
metaphor for life, as “up close” you
can see the dedication and commit
ment that you are putting into your
education (or not), whereas from “far
away” you can start to see growth
patterns, how you’ve changed and
developed over time.
Different perceptions of the same
work are endemic to art. As an exam
ple of this, this faithful, intrepid
Daily Nebraskan columnist asked
u—
It s rather appalling that we are so
apathetic that we refuse to go see a free art
show. Are we really that afraid to
experience culture? ”
him about painting No.23, which
looks (to me) like a waterfall.
Howard at first said that what he was
trying to do was to “engage and
involve the viewer, but leave the
interpretation alone.” He continued,
saying that he wants to elicit an emo
tional response from the viewer, and
remind them of something - a mood
a place, a person, whatever.
However, I did eventually get him to
reveal what HE was thinking about
while painting No. 23, and he said
that he was thinking about fire and
its devastating consequences. What I
saw as water, he saw as haze.
However, Howard said art should
have no value judgments. Therefore,
even though I had a radically differ
ent take on No. 23, he still saw it as a
valid response.
I used our differing perspectives
about the same painting as an open
ing to ask him about nontraditional
students, a topic near and dear to my
heart. Howard stated that he has
found that nontrads are invariably
more focused, more dedicated, and
are more willing to accept criticism.
Sometimes, he said, undergrads are
afraid that if they are criticized, that
they just aren’t doing it right and
therefore take criticism more person
ally. However, most nontrads do
NOT take it personally, knowing
they’re here to learn. And, since most
nontrads have gone through difficult
times before re-entering school, they
are invariably more focused and dis
ciplined.
Howard is an intelligent and
interesting man, whom I would have
been pleased to have as my professor
in any class that he cared to teach.
(He is now retired, so now none of us
can have that privilege.) However,
you owe it to yourselves to go and
meet him. He is dedicated, focused
and well-organized, belying the
stereotypes about artists. If he is not
there, please meet his paintings.
They will tell you something about
the world, or yourself, that you didn’t
know before.