Good excuse
Need to master Internet takes time away from academics
ERIN REITZ is a senior the
ater performance major
and a Daily Nebraskan
columnist
In my numerous years here at the
ol’ U, I’ve gained knowledge beyond
repair. What’s that? Oh, beyond com
pare (man, I always screw that one
up).
I’ve learned the ins and outs of
time management, goal-setting,
NRoll, Love Library and, of course,
academics. The last one has taken
the most time to master.
(Okay, I’m lying. We are all very
aware that no one has mastered their
way around Love Library. On
Monday, I saw what I believe to be
members of the 1976 freshman class
wandering around in the stacks. Too
bad they didn’t have Library 110
back then, huh? Boy, are we lucky.)
To be able to master something,
one first needs to know exactly what
it is, so I went ahead and looked
“academics” up. My tattered little
dictionary said the following: “Lots
and lots of stuff that, when all
wadded up together into something
called an education, will make you
I smarter. We think ”
The entry went on to talk about
how reading and writing were a big
part of this whole academic mish
mash, and that in order to truly be
academic, professors needed to
assign, and I quote, “a whole lotta
research papers. Or something.”
After reading that part about
research papers, I can guarantee that
I have not mastered academics. I’ve
never written a very good research
paper, I can honestly say that it’s not
my fault. I like to blame it on the
Internet.
What you may be thinking at this
point probably sounds something
like this: “Are you confusing pro
crastination with the Internet? What
the hell is wrong with you, Erin?”
My answer to you is, “Nothing’s
wrong with me. No, really. Please
keep reading.”
Truth be told, when I’ve needed il
the most (as in when I needed it to
function as a viable research source),
' the Internet has brought me nothing
but confusion and a few cruddy
grades.
Yes indeed, the Internet is a tool
of distraction and destruction that
has kept me from being productive
more than once. I’ve come to the
conclusion that I must not be “that
good at it,” because whenever I try to
look up anything, I end up at the Bob
Barker Online Cult Network approx
imately 93 percent of the time.
(The address, by the way, is
www. angelfire. com/ny/svetburger/cu
It, just in case you don’t always end
up there and would like to for some
sick reason.)
If you can remember what you
read three seconds ago, and if you’re
a math major, you will have deduced
that 7 percent of the time I must
wind up somewhere other than Bob’s
Big Cult site. Well, I do, and the
results have been just as disturbing.
Lucky for you, I’m going to tell you
all about it.
While searching for information
that would confirm David Bowie’s
alien origin (really - just ask my
friend John), I somehow found The
Onion (www.theonion.com).
This is a boisterous site devoted
to bringing you the most asinine,
fabricated, 100 percent BS news
from across the globe. (No, I’m not
talking about the Journal Star. The
Onion, people, the Onion.) I am now
aware that this little gem is guaran
teed to make me laugh harder than
hearing the words “never,” “skipped’
and “class” in the same sentence.
While exploring the Onion, I was
lucky enough to stumble into the
Death Clock (www.deathclock.com).
There you can punch in your
birth date and your sex, and it will
tell you, statistically, the day you’re
supposed to die. The most wicked
feature of the Death Clock is that
you can choose from a normal, pes
simistic or sadistic date of death. My
sadistic personal Death Clock says
Aug. 18,2016. Ouch.
Exiting all the good, clean family
fun that was the Death Clock, I
somehow came upon a site called
“Cruel” (www.cruel.com). This, by
far, may be my favorite, simply
because of the sheer volume of its
archives.
Here, they feature jacked-to-hell
sites such as How to Drive Like a
Moron, the Alanis Morissette Lyric
Generator, Everybody’s Undressing
Dave, and of course, Virtual Crack.
Here, I found that before receiv
ing drivers licenses, everyone in
Lincoln is required to peruse How to
Drive Like a Moron. 1116 general dri
ving rules will be frighteningly
familiar to all of you who own autos.
If you have something you hate
and six words to describe it, The
Alanis Morissette Lyric Generator
will write you an angst-filled song
about whatever’s making your life
hellish. Awfully entertaining (and
maybe even useful to those who’ve
been procrastinating the writing of
poetry).
Besides teaching anatomy,
Everybody’s Undressing Dave is
pretty much a lesson in idiocy. I can’t
spoil the surprise for you, but I will.
I must say that it makes no sense to
me to wear four pairs of undies at
once. Dave, therapy is a good thing.
My favorite archive in Cruel has
got to be Virtual Crack. This is the
best-kept secret on the ’Net, kids.
If you’re a little bored with all of
the virtual flowers and greeting cards
floating around out there, you can
send crack instead. Grandma can get
a message of love from you along
with a few rocks. Really, nothing
gives a warm-fuzzy like crack does.
After frolicking around the Cruel
site for approximately 12 hours, I
bumped into a link and found
(miraculously) exactly what I’d been
looking for from the start.
Well, I suppose it wasn’t exactly
what I was looking for, but it was
close enough for my screwy purpos
es. Who knew that it would take so
much searching to find the one and
only Web site entirely and
unabashedly devoted to David
Bowie’s “Area” (www.public.ias
tate. edu/~pyre/area)l
The point is not that I found this
Web site to be strangely compelling
and probably much too entertaining,
but that it took way too long to get to
it, and even then it wasn’t very close
to what I was looking for in the first
place.
Like I said before, I’m just not
very good at the Internet. Maybe
with 3,000 more hours of “surfing,”
I’ll be up to par with my fellow stu
dents who actually find what they
look for.
Meanwhile, I’ll just sit here with
this funny feeling that I would have
been better off taking an Internet
help class than one for library.
Maybe the U should start offer
ing one for those of us who are tech
nologically impaired.
What’s that? They probably do,
and I should check out the schedule
online? Yeah. Maybe later.
For now, I think I’ll just, um,
wander around this, um, David
Bowie site.
Power to the meat market
Vegetarians are missing out on the finer things in life
w.w. u^vivi/riiv is u senior
political science and broad
casting meg or and a Daily
Nebraskan columnist.
They’re out there.
Right now, in your neighbor
hoods, at your workplaces and even
in your families. They may seem like
a harmless group of scattered souls,
but they are really part of a dark
army - lurking in the shadows,
silently growing and growing. Many
only submit to these devilish desires
occasionally. They only practice the
rituals part-time. They abide by the
rules of the subculture now and then.
But some are hard-core, serious.
They are extremists in every sense of
the word. They disseminate their
propaganda through actual political
organizations. They innocently go
about their diily lives, secretly har
boring a hidden agenda.
They are strangers, acquain
tances, and friends of our friends.
But they are slowly seeping their
ideas and beliefs into the minds of
our loved ones. Our colleagues, our
sisters, our mothers and our friends.
They call themselves vegetarians.
Fruits are people, too
What they do doesn’t seem that
bad on the surface. They say meat is
unhealthy. I mean, the nutritionists
don’t exactly put it at the base of the
Food Guide pyramid. Meat equals
fat, cholesterol and heart attacks.
Words like angina, blockage and
arthroscopy don’t exactly conjure up
images of fun and enjoyment. “We’ll
have the veggie sub,” they say. Or
“I’ve already had my protein intake
tor the day. Maybe a piece of chick
en once in a while. But only white
meat.
And then there’s the animal rights
argument. The fruits and vegetables
don’t have the power to feel like ani
mals do. It’s killing the animals; har
vesting the crops. Beasts are intellec
tual creatures that have the same
claim as humans - to live in peace
without the fear of being murdered.
Or some just don’t think meat
tastes as good as vegetables. It’s too
greasy or hard to chew or whatever.
Give ’em a nice stalk of rhubarb and
they’ll be satisfied. Mmmmm,
rhubarb.
Veggie facade
It’s quite obvious that there’s
more to this whole vegetarian thing
than appears. They cling to these
nice little health and animal-cruelty
comebacks, and expect us to accept
their lifestyle as if it were fine and
dandy.
i It’s their preference, their choice.
They have surveyed the nutritional
opportunities and made their deci
sions. They are pro-veg and anti
meat.
However, we can’t or shouldn’t
discriminate against them. They have
every right to spread their ideas and
try to win converts. But then
strength is building and a takeover is
near. They need to be stopped. And it
begins with us.
Kill it and grill it
Instead of trying to bring down
their forces, we need to mount an
opposition. If there are that many
people out there that are madly in
love with vegetables, then there have
to be a few people in the world like
me.
And I like meat. No, I don’t like
it, I love it. I am a meatatarian.
Steaks, burgers, gyros, bacon
sandwiches and chicken legs are my
i favorites. Practically any part of any
dead animal is good for me. Throw it
on the barbecue and cook out the
blood. Cows, pigs, chickens, turkeys,
sheep, buffalo and emu - I’ve eaten
’em all and loved every bite.
I love the smell of steaming faji
tas as the waitress brings them to my
booth. I love the feel of the chicken
skin on my fingers as I eat the last
bite off of the bone. I love it when
I’m eating a piece of pizza and bite
into a hidden piece of ham under the
surface. I love the way I have to press
down on a big ol’ bar burger to be
able to fit it into my mouth. I love
how the strips fall out of the end of a
good Ali Baba gyro because it’s
chock full of meat. I love everything
about meat, and I know some of you
feel the same way.
4
Meat paradise
But my affection for meat doesn’t
stop there. And if we want to com
pete with the vegetarians, we’re
gonna have to go full force. I mean,
they call themselves vegetarians, but
then they can eat fruits and candy,
too. They want it both ways. Well,
mends, that s not how we re going
to play the game. When we say
meatatarian, we mean it. &
We won’t eat meat just
once a day like the experts S
say. We won’t even reserve it / ’
solely for the main course at w
each meal. I’m talking all
meat, all the time. Every M
meal, every day. JP
When I have a burger, I Jp J
want it with fries. Lamb
fries. And I won’t dip my
fries in ketchup. I’ll dip J|
’em in the leftover grease I %
from the frying pan. And ft; \
Fll like it. VI
I’ll go to a Mexican
restaurant and eat a taco. W
And, with the regular Jn|
ground beef, I won’t have jf
lettuce and cheese, but I’ll • #
request thinly-sliced roast I
meat and shredded beef. \
And not in a tortilla, in a
cow stomach.
When I wake up, I want to
choose between Meaty Charms,
Count Chop-ula and Cracklin’ Meat
Bran. And instead, I’ll just eat my
roommates’ Meaties. Yes, with the
current sports meatatarian hero on
the box.
If I go out to dinner at an expen
sive restaurant, I don’t want to see
the wine list, bring me the meat list.
I’ll take the ’79 Bordeaux. A 20
year-old bottle of meat juice. Cheers.
This is just the beginning.
Eventually we’ll gain power in
Washington and create student
groups on campuses across the coun
try. They can be the Vegans, we’ll be
the M.E.A.T.E.R.S. - The Massed
Eaters of Animal Types of Edibles
Ritualistically and Systematically.
We’ll be a force to reckon with,
politically and socially. No one will
dare question the almighty power of
the MEATERS. I envision a meat
paradise, friends, and you can be
there with me. Streets paved with
bacon, skyscrapers dripping with
grease and stadiums filled with
meatball fans. I can see the meaty
gates now.
Meatatarians of the world
9 unite; we have nothing to lose
but our vegetables.
C