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About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (Dec. 1, 1998)
The wild ones Creative, unusual deeds get printed recognition TODD MUNSON is a senior broadcasting major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist As a columnist, there’s one ques tion I hear more than any other. And since finals are right around the comer, we’ll do this multiple choice style. Is it: A) Could I buy you a beer? B) Would you please do the honor of deflowering my triplets? C) Is it true that you’re hung like a moose? D) Would you put my name in the paper? If you need any more time to find the answer to this one, are you sure you should be in college? I may be a strapping young buck, but I highly doubt any triplets will ever see the proof for themselves, and lately, instead of free beers, I’ve been adding to an ongoing list of people who want to see their names in print. Normally, if someone is men tioned within the confines of this col umn, it’s because they’ve earned it. Being a major conspirator in sinking a Toyota in chest-deep water on a mountain pass, like the legendary Sally Fomes, is a good start. The same holds true for being a great bar tender, like Rody down at O’Rourke’s Tavern. Among the people who’ve asked to be mentioned, several truly deserve it based on their acts of ill repute. Then there are those who have no rea son other than to see their names in print. To all of you out there, take this over to a typewriter and type your name in the following blank. Gee, I think that __is a very neat and special person with a worthwhile purpose on Earth. Whew, with 500 people down in one fell swoop, let’s get to the good stuff. Katie and Shannon. I’ve known these two sassy ladies for a few years now, and they never cease to amaze me. One Friday back in September, they decided, at 2 a.m., that driving to Chicago to see the Cubs play their last home game that Sunday was a good idea. They also decided that camping out in front of Wrigley Field on Saturday night, to make sure they got tickets, was a good idea. After a while, they were approached by a couple of Dominican fellows who just hap pened to be Sammy Sosa’s brothers. Their passports proved it. In exchange for going out with them, they were promised tickets. But thanks to their good Iowa upbringing, they cut the evening short when they realized Sammy’s brothers Besides, Shannon was there to pro fess her undying love to Mark Grace. On the bright side, they did get tickets and visited Sammy’s apartment. Sam he is. For those of you wanting unbri dled rump-shakin’ action in the previ ous anecdote, you get it now with Sam, a young man who’s become a urban legend. Before Sam found the way of the Big Red, he was a student at die Colorado School of Mines in scenic Golden, Colo. wcie llVV!/ ; mX & .fccrwty-.- •]» !reof j Fut»«^e.—. If ,heiI I n. I °™ Ip Po? . . [ ft. cousm >ed . !/1-9€oR(je . A liSJfiSwttl / «o. Qcowej IAp^5 IN / FRte jv Being the player he is, he found himself on a date with a young woman named Ashley, who lived with her parents. When he picked her up, he found it kind of odd that her house was filled with Coors memorabilia. He then found it really odd when he met her father, Pete - Pete Coors, the guy on all the commercials. Turns out his date was more suc cessful than he ever imagined as he and Ashley got jiggy wit’ it, so to - speak. I couldn’t help but giggle when I saw the Coors family photo at the Coors Brewery this summer. Not to sound like an old coot, but she’s hotter than a two-dollar pistol. Forget Sosa, this is the real Slammin’ Sammy. Brent, a former co worker. He’s never asked to be men tionedforany reason, but I feel his convic tions for a certain AmyMartin/DN cause are worth noting. One day last spring, he felt it was his duty to leave work and express his feelings along side the thousands marching through downtown Lincoln in the Right to Life Rally. With a sign he made just minutes earlier, he forged ahead to the front of the rally and let his opin ion be known to all. I guess I proba bly should note that his sign said “No fat chicks.” Oh, that Brent, he’s the coolest white kid to ever wear dread locks. I’ve also got a couple of fans who deserve mentioning. First, there’s the fellow who refers to himself as “Arthur.” Thanks for the saucy letters, but I’ve got to admit, I’m about as sexually liberated as a pilgrim, and frankly, I just don’t like the rough stuff. Then, there’s Michelle. I’ve heard she puts the “atic” in fanatic. As long as she doesn’t fall into the classifica tion of stalker and keeps grooving to the Beastie Boys, she’ll always have more spice than the Frugal Gourmet. My favorite groupie of all is one Malcolm John Kass. He’s since moved on from student leader to the real world, but he still finds time read this swill online while at his real job. I just wish he’d find more time to get to Lincoln because going to Shaker’s just isn’t the same without him. While I was writing this, our photo chief, Matthew Miller, asked where his mention was. Not to be one to disappoint, here you go, Matt. Ladies, Matt Miller is an attractive single guy with a penchant for the finer things in life. As an added bonus, all his teeth are intact, and his hairline has yet to recede. Finally, there’s a trio that has more than earned its mention. There’s Dustin. We made a bet and I lost. Dustin Black is undeniably the great est rock climber in the history of rocks, and this sucker MC calls him sire. There’s Angie, my physics tutor. Without her, I’d be getting an F instead of a C-. And finally, there’s Karen - quite simply, she rules. Not only does she make a mean ham and cheese sand wich, she also has this uncanny abili ty to pick up chicks. We’ve played many games of “Looky Loo,” and I have yet to get past the looky stage whilst she’s out proving that she’s like Shaft and James Bond rolled into one. Now please stop bugging me, people, and start sliding the free beer my way. Final countdown . • _Millennium holds the key to the future, not the end of the world Today is Dec. 1,1998, the last month before the last year of the 20* century. Beyond today, just 395 days sepa rate us and the next millennium. That’s just 9,480 hours until the year 2000. Insane, isn’t it? Think back to the turn of this centu ry. The year 1900 saw no automobiles, no airplanes, nothing remotely resem bling a computer. The United States was still five states sliort of 50, the first world war was 14 years in the making, and most people had never heard of Albert Einstein, Adolf Hitler or Mohandas Gandhi. One hundred years later, it appears as if 1900 came and went without a great deal of buzz or excitement. The year 2000 should put folks in a more celebratory mood, unless the world ends in a terrible ball of fire or, as Robert Frost afforded, a different solution - a whirlwind of ice. There’s also that little matter of the Y2K bug and the possible rediscovery of an asteroid streaking at a horrific pace toward Earth. Is 2000 the end? Movies such as “Armageddon” and “Deep Impact” created a buzz among die prophesy-happy. We’ve been hearing it for a long time now. As our world hurtles danger ously toward the brink of ultimate tech nological domination, are we losing sight of the human aspect of being hiiman? It sounds absurd, but is it a sign? Those who choose to toot the dooms day whistle like to say so. In these days, people are growing apart from one another. To some extent, mankind has taken leave of its senses in these futuristic times. The surrealistic idea of computers and technology controlling our every movement is a very frightening prospect for us as human beings. While it is unlikely that it could come to that, there is a reasonable suspicion that it is a possibility. But the end of the world? Who can sty? The Judeo-Christian mythos can point to several passages in die Torah or the Bible that an apocalypse, or at least signs of an apocalypse, is upon us. Others, choosing to follow the more secular, perhaps less believable prognostications of medieval sorcerers like Nostradamus, can also see where current world events might signal the beginning of the end. The idea of an all-ending battle in the Middle East has long been a staying point for world-ending prophecies. With the current situation a long way from a peaceful end, it’s beginning to look a lot like a full-scale blood bath is in the works. The world in this century has grown a great deal. It’s had a lot to overcome in war, in peace, in science, in religion. While we have grown to accept many things and learned not to be so quick to judge, there has been a moral and ethical decline in America. Our universal civilization teeters more and more each day on what paths it chooses, walking the line between clear-cut deontology and ethical rela tivism. But because of this, is die world going to come to a cataclysmic end, and, moreover, is that end going to come with the year 2000? No. We cannot presume to know the end of the world. Does God, the reli gious “ender-of-the-world,” maintain the same calendar as we do? It is face tious for us to make attempts at guess ing when the world will end. We can not possibly comprehend God’s plan for this earth. For those who choose not to believe in a God-wrought apocalypse, is the geologic clock able to sense a finite “year 2000”? Obviously, our technology can’t Maybe that’s going to be the end of our world - at least the world as we know it The real truth is that we can only wait, and while waiting, why worry? Our world civilization will run its course, and there’s nothing to stop it short of a total revamp of values and the erasure of freedoms that the world has realized in our century. And what a great century it has been. So as we sit here on Dec. 1,1998, waiting for the end of the 20* century and the promise of a new, exciting and frightening century, we can say that we know only one thing for certain about the future - that being that we know nothing and are never going to have the time to learn. As we like to say in our time, the future is now.
