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EDITOR
Erin Gibson
OPINION
EDITOR
Cliff Hicks
EDITORIAL
BOARD
Nancy Christensen
Brad Davis
Sam McKewon
Jeff Randall
Bret Schulte
Our
VIEW
Half-told
i . ' V •
tale
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Attitudes determined
extent of coverage
Last Friday, one of die most significant
documents in recent U.S. history was
unleashed cm a suspecting public.
Kenneth Starr's report on President
Clinton's not-so-alleged affair with Monica
Lewinsky was released for America's con
sumption. The voluminous report detailed
not only the legal and political maneuvers of
Clinton but also graphic and intimate details
of his and Lewinsky's numerous sexual
encounters.
And within hours of the report’s release,
news agencies across die country began to
debate more than the political ramifications
of the report. They began to debate their own
coverage of it.
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should cover the issue - all three major net
works willingly devoted hours of time to the
report, the rebuttals and the possibility of
impeachment. Newspapers splashed the
story on their front pages.
The question most journalists were faced
with was one of self-censorship. Namely,
how much of Starr’s report should they
quote, how much should they paraphrase and
how much should they omit in their
accounts?
Several of them spent this past weekend
pontificating on their responsibility to with
hold “lurid details’* from the report in order
to protect the younger members of their audi
ence. And in most cases, they did just that.
The same news ag&icies that have no
qualms about displaying images of mutilated
bodies following natural disasters or violent
attacks in many cases became queasy at the
mention of Clinton and Lewinsky’s sexual
encounters.
But this isn’t entirely the fault of the
media. In America, human sexuality histori
cally has been relegated to the darkest cor
ners of public discourse. Meanwhile, physi
cal violence has achieved a reverential status,
played out in films, television and print as an
eventuality at worst and as a heroic act at
best..
We can see a small child scorched m the
aftermath of a bombing. We can see a man
with his head being pierced by a bullet. And
for some strange reason, we're not supposed
to hear or say the word “vagina.”
The effects of these puritanical attitudes
have been researched, liked and critiqued a
thousand times over. And there is no need to
repeat them here.
But this past weekend, we were able to
witness firsthand the consequences of our
own social: attitudes.
As journalists, we were forced to tell half
die story. As citizens, we were deprived of
information that is, in all likelihood, of major
historical significance. And as adults, we
were all treated like children.
And the worst part of it all is that, as a
country, we asked for it
EMIMmH i MiU|
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Mook’s
VIEW
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• . I
Parking wars
UNL’s situation could turn Mad Max’
A.L, FORKNER is a junior
news-editorial major and
a Daily Nebraskan colum
nist.
I live off campus. Not to sound
like I’m bragging, but it’s a pretty
swinging bachelor pad. It’s great I
can get away with anything I want.
I enjoy die freedom. I can play
with the torch in the fireplace or fly
fish in the aquarium (you should see
the look on their littie goldfish faces
when they strike a Wooly Bugger).
We won’t even get into die laun
dry-day activities. It’s not a pretty
sight, and die police are frequently
involved.
However, I must pay a heavy
price for my freedom - besides the
rent, utilities and indecent exposure
citations.
I have to park on campus every
day.
You say, “So what? Lots of peo
ple do.”
Exactly my point. Lots of people
do. And they all are looking for a
spot when I am.
Someone pointed out the other
day that the majority of students live
off campus. But that explains a lot.
As my fellow commuters know,
you take your life into your own
hands when you try to park. And it’s
getting uglier everyday.
If you're unfortunate enough to
have class between 9:30 a.m. and
3:30 p.m., then you know what it’s
like on die front line.
The majority of us know the lit
de groan we make when we see two
cars at each aid of die parking row
facing each other like two gunfight
ers on Main Street Laredo at high
noon.
They sit there waiting for an
unsuspecting student to walk back
to his or her car. Then they follow
them slowly, like a child-abducting
student driver.
I like to screw with ’em.
I slow down at certain cars and
pretend that it’s my car. I take my
keys out when I get near a car, then
keep on going. I keep it up until the
stalker gets pissed and drives off.
Then I flag down the poor driver
that was behind the stalker and give
him my parking spot.
It’s just my way of giving back to
the university.
I think things have gotten worse
over the last five years. As dorm
rooms have become harder and
harder to come by, more students
have gone off campus.
That means more students that
drive back to campus every day.
I’m just waiting for fistfights to
erupt over a parking space. It’s
going to happen, even if I have to
slug someone.
Of course, all violence escalates.
Soon, people will be trading shots
(bullets, not Wild Turkey) over a
spot.
Heck, I’m all for it.
I’d be a real-life version of the
movie “Death Race 2000.” We’d all
have these modified cars designed
for human carnage.
Personally, I’ve been looking for
an excuse to mount twin .50 caliber
machine guns on the hood of my car.
It would benefit our everyday
lives, too.
Think about it Wouldn’t a steel
battering ram have been useful when
the bicyclists were taking over
downtown?
Mad Max meets Herbie Husker.
That’s just for the paid lots.
We haven’t even begun to talk
about meters yet.
I used meters before I bought a
tag, and I’m never going back. I’m
sick of the two-hour trip to feed die
beast again and again.
I was turning into a Pavlovian
experiment gone bad. I was getting
up every two hours in the middle of
the night to walk downstairs and
look at my can
But all of us parking lot users
are wimps. Lately I’ve been intro
duced to a group of true adventur
ers.: y
I had borrowed (honest, officer)
a car from my roommate, and I’d
forgotten to grab my parking tag. I
had no money, as usual, to park at a
meter. And I couldn’t afford a ticket
because of 32 unpaid indecent expo- '
sure citations.
I had to venture out to the nether
regions. I parked at 14th and
Claremont streets.
I was amazed at what I found out
there. If shanty towns had parking
lots they would look like this.
In between Claremont and Iowa
streets, cars were parked so close
they were sharing genetic material.
Packs of wild dogs were eating
garbage out of pick-up beds.
A gypsy was reading palms from
the tailgate of a ’72 Vega station
wagon.
Oops, my bad. She wasn’t a
gypsy; she was an art major. It’s so
hard to tell with all of the earrings.
I saw people sleeping in empty
spots, trying to save them for the
next day. I’m not sure of the logic
about that, but I digress.
At one campsite was a Lincoln
Southeast High School sophomore.
She was holding the spot until she
graduated.
“Do you know what parking will
be like when I get here? Trying to
park will be like trying to get inti
mate with a camel,” she said.
The students who park out there
are beginning to show signs of the
I saw one guy driving railroad
spikes through some shoulder pads.
Another was sharpening a
machete.
Yet another was actually reading
her textbook.
It’s even beginning to hit close to
home.
One of our Daily Nebraskan
employees parks out there. He’s
taken to wearing leather motorcycle
boots and carrying a shotgun.
While that’s not all that strange,
he also was gluing hair to a man
nequin’s head. “I’ll show diem.
They’ll only think there’s someone
in the car. While they’re sneaking up
on me, I’ll be lurking in die bushes.
Silent death,” he said before letting
loose with a demonic cackle.
However, out there I also saw the
most chilling sign of the upcoming
parking apocalypse...
They were building a cardboard
Thunderdome -two cars enter, one
carparks.
| s C \ raskan, 34 Nebraska Union, 1400 "R" St, Lincoln,
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