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About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (March 25, 1999)
NU athletic department
should repay students
The University of Arizona athletic
department did a profound thing a couple
months ago. It thought beyond the athletic
See, the Arizona campus is building a
student union, too. And, unlike students at
UNL, who had to partially pay for the
union, our counterparts at Arizona did not
have to do the same. /
Why not? Well the athletic department
decided to donate $500,000 to the union as
part of a “non-academic allocation” to pay
for the students. What a novel idea.
Thinking of the folks who support the ath
letic teams instead of just thinking about
themselves. It is original, and actually, the
right thing to do.
The athletic department at Arizona won
over a bunch of people with that move. It’s
charitable, sure, but what a nice image it
puts on the department. Maybe this is buy
ing friendship, but that doesn’t mean its not
Imagine if this type of thing happened
at Nebraska. Our athletic department,
based on the success of the football team
and many other Husker squads, does well.
Very well. And spreading the wealth
around in terms of big, fat donations might
be a wise political move.
In its 1997-98 annual report, the athlet
ic department reported that it received
$934,000 from pickle card sales in
Nebraska. They received $237,500 from
brick sales inside Memorial Stadium.
There were numerous other donations
from various clubs, such as the Cattle Club.
Now consider some of the projects the
athletic department spent that money on or
will spend their money on: Memorial
Stadium waterproofing, $1.8 million
(what are they waterproofing?); carpet
replacement in the Hewitt Center, $25,000;
a remodeling of the football coaches’ lock
er rooms, $75,000. The list goes on and on.
Hey, how about throwing some money
our way, Bill Byrne? How about paying for
the union or some other big project in the
future? We’ve got no problem putting your
name on a plaque and dedicating a part of
the study area to you.
The athletic department has a greedy
image around campus. Not that it really
matters; students will still continue to
attend athletic events regardless of how
they’re treated. But it would be nice to rec
ognize those who support the program
with a little sharing o’ the green.
Nebraska should follow up on the
opportunity that Arizona took and make
good on it. Pay for something big. Don’t
insult our intelligence and tell us you don’t
have the money. Trust us, we’d rather have
a more complete union than HuskerVision
screens in the Devaney Center.
Unsigned editorials are the opinions of
the Spring 1999 Daily Nebraskan. They
do not necessarily reflect the views of the
University of Nebraska-Lincoln, its
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To protect and annoy
A personal police escort has its downsides
CLIFF HICKS is a senior
news-editorial and English
major and the Daily
Nebraskan opinion editor.
Sure, call me paranoid if you
want, but I know they’re watching me.
Who? The cops, the fuzz, the
police department, man, that oppres
sive force at work. They’re after me.
Following me 24/something.
See, you think I’m paranoid
already, don’t you? Just hear me out.
I wasn’t always this bad -1 was,
when I was younger, a normal, fully
functioning member of society. Now,
here I am, a time bomb of nerves any
time I set foot into my car.
Those of you who were here about
a year ago may recall the column I
wrote about my exploits in the infa
mous S.T.O.P. class I had to take,
which is designed to teach how bad
speeding (and reckless driving) is. In
my column, I had my fun - poked and
jabbed at the police and exaggerated a
couple of things.
(Some student actually believed
me when I joked that you had to take a
blood/urine test to get into the class.
We’re really weeding out the low end
of the bunch here at the U., aren’t
But all was said in fun and games,
and though the law came down to talk
to me about it (because, like I said,
someone actually took it seriously), I
figured all was forgotten and forgiv
Boy, was THAT a mistake on my
There are a lot of police in
Lincoln, and I’m sure many of them
are doing a fine job. I’ve met many of
them while I’ve been here, and they’re
generally good folk.
But let me tell you a little story
that ought to give you at least a couple
When I got the ticket that led to
me being in the S.T.O.P. class, I was at
a different apartment complex, and
there were two speed traps (oops,
i-.. - - "
“speed stlectives” - sorry, officers)
basically right in front of it. I know
this, of course, because I got hit in one
and my roommate got hit in the other.
And we lived just five minutes
from campus by car.
Then, last year, we moved. We
had, naturally, both grown rather ner
vous about the two speed traps (er,
selectives - look, a halibut is a halibut
by any other name, no matter how
fishy it is, so let’s call this thing what
it is - a speed trap) so we figured once
we’d move, they’d be gone and we
could relax our driving tendencies just
We moved, and the traps moved
with us. Now, instead of two traps,
there are five regularly trapped spots
on the way home, although we do now
live about 15 minutes from campus,
so I suppose the traps went up propor
And they have pulled me over for
the most obscure things you can pos
sibly think of: My front license plate
is in my front window (as it fell off
and I haven’t had a chance to put it
back on yet), I had a back tail light
out, the M-16 pointed out of one of
my rear windows extended more than
six inches from the edge of the vehi
cle, I made a turn into the wrong lane
(Did you remember that you’re sup
posed to turn into the lane closest to
you, and you can’t change lanes for at
least 300 feet?), the armor plating on
my car was too thick, a radar dish
extends too far from the top of it and,
my favorite, (can you believe this?) an
“improperly mounted” flame thrower
on my hood.
Oh, please. Like they’re easy to
attach. You put one on quickly in a
fire fight and we’ll see how straight it
They pull me over for anything
because they’re everywhere around
me. It’s like having my own police
escort wherever I go, which has its
upsides and downsides. The down
sides are that all my friends and I get
paranoid about our driving. The
upside is that we never wait long if
something breaks down.
My roommate, Chris, hasn’t been
spared from this torture either. I’m
starting to think they’re picking on
him simply because he lives at the
same place I do. While I can under
stand the speeding ticket, I’m almost
positive there’s no law against imitat
ing a UPS driver (he has the full
brown outfit and everything), at least
not when you’re not hying to deliver
The fact that he installed those
weird red lights on the front of his car
doesn’t help, because any time he gets
stopped, I swear the officer starts talk
ing to the car before they start talking
to him. (“KITT? You know how fast
you were going?”)
Beyond all this, though, I think the
police don’t particularly like his
bumper stickers. While the “I Love
Explosives” bumper sticker was
somewhat of an antagonistic start as
was the “Tattooed White Trash,” the
“LPD Swallows Live Sparrows on
Weekends” was just going all together
too far. I’m afraid of what comes next.
An alternate explanation of the
acronym LPD probably. Or an NWA
quote. Chris is getting as paranoid as I
It’s almost as though the two of us
have become singled out The other
night apparently there was a party in
the vague vicinity of our apartment
building. I know this, mainly because
there was a knock on the door, and
when I opened if there were three
police onicers, a SWA1 team, two
police dogs and the chief himself!
“We heard there was a disturbance
about nine blocks from here and your
neighbors say the walls are so thick
that they can never hear anything, but
we still figured you might be respon
sible for the ruckus. Mind if we come
in?” (It’s worth noting the SWAT team
looked disappointed that they had
brought the battering ram for naught.)
“Well, I dunno,” I replied.
“We can go get a warrant from the
judge we’ve got locked up in our
trunk, if you want.”
So after they came in, searched
the place, put some wire taps around
and made me dance an Irish jig (I’m
not even Irish!), they left.
Oh, and they shot me in the leg for
the hell of it
So, yeah, I’m a touch paranoid
about the police and I never drive
faster than 30 miles an hour any
Remember that if you see me dri
ving somewhere. And remember the
frame thrower works.
Author’s Note: Andfor whoever
didn’t get it last time, yeah, virtually
none of this happened either.
y Nebraskan, 34 Nebraska Union, 1400 "R" St., Lincoln,
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