Classified campaigning
Presidential hopefuls take to the back pages in search of direction
ONE SOUL: Any large political
action committee looking for a
presidential candidate, hurry
and call me about a deal. And if
you run any type of powerful
firm in the business world, I’m
ready to trade my candidacy for
your cause. $30 million+ already
raised, so only small portions of
actual soul are still available.
In return for financial support, I
will make sure to use my politi
cal prowess to benefit your
lobbying organization after I’m
elected. I have plenty of room to
work on issues -1 haven’t taken
a stand on anything yet. (Except
for the drug thing. I haven’t
done coke - for awhile.)
And please, no grass-roots
voter groups and definitely no
independent citizens interested
in the well-being of their coun
try. Send checks to: George W.
Bush 2000, Austin, TX.
Floor seats at the
Garden = cheap!
I can get any Knicks tickets you
want - all you have to do is vote!
I’m sure that you don’t know me
for anything besides my hoops
talent, so I figured I’d try to
reach you here. As for a plat
form, I’m huge on welfare and
tolerance and ready to slam
dunk my way into the White
House. I’m putting the full court
press on, America, so put me in
the starting lineup, and I can get
us a ring! Send ticket
requests/voter registration
forms to my campaign manag
er: Zenmaster Phil Staples
Center, LA., CA
I’m not looking for a child. I
need someone to adopt me. I
ran away from home when all of
the other kids went to the straw
poll. I was just scared of that big
bully, Georgie. I want to go
home now, but my party may
not take me back. They treat me
as an outcast because I pulled
that rebellious little trick. One of
the meanies even told me I had
no chance at the office. If you
want to take me under your
wing, my name is Johnny
McCain, and you can probably
find me talking to the veteran
vote - my only family left. Please
take me in. I want my mommy!
STAFF NEEDED NOW
Because my supporters have
been defecting like a Cuban at a
baseball game, I need serious
help immediately. Duties will
include calling Republicans to
desperately plead with them to
vote for me. Experience with ’88
campaign not necessary, but
any affiliation with someone
named Bush a big plus. Log on
to www.quayle.org to begin
working from your home right
away. Oh, and spelling is a
must.
Are YOU interested in how a
national political campaign
functions? Are YOU a conserv
ative Christian that supports
family, family and more family?
Well Gary Bauer’s your man,
and getting trounced in the
election is your plan. Call 1 -800
WE-LIKE-GARY today! (This
internship will be offered only
for the fall term. Our candidate
will have long since dropped out
of the race come primary time.)
TO ALL USA TODAY POLL
VOTERS - THE DOLE YOU
ARE VOTING FOR IS
NOT BOB!
My husband came up short
three times, and it is me,
Elizabeth, his wife, that is run
ning for President. I am a fully
capable individual with a back
ground in leadership: I have
been president of the American
Red Cross and ... well... and ...
uh ... I have a nice smile.
Just please realize the Dole is
for Elizabeth. Unless of course
you are checking the Dole box
because you liked Viagra -
that’s sort of a vote for me, too.
But if you’re just pineapple fans,
then you came to the wrong
candidate.
Reggie Hedd
"The f unctioning Alcoholic"
Reggie drinks his lunch before returning to
his job at the flight control tower.
J.J. Harder is a senior political science and broadcasting major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist
Campus Mormons
Wednesday, Sept. 1
8 p.m.
Nebraska Union
Get ready for a real treat when
the man, the myth, the legend -
Orrin Hatch - comes to town.
He’s running for president, so
here’s yOur chance to hear his
stance on the issues. We’d
invite the whole campus, but we
know that we’re the only ones
that are gonna vote for the Orr
Dogg anyway. Regardless, the
Stormin’ Mormon will be here,
so break out the white shirts
and backpacks, and we’ll see
you there!
Call Me Al
Hi, I’m a MWM with a tot of
work to do in the next year. I’m
tall, stoic and have been known
to move my body once every
two weeks. My friends call me
“Tree,” but then again, all my
friends are trees themselves. I
live in Washington, but my heart
lies in the rain forests of South
America. I enjoy fishing (and
releasing), fighting for environ
mental rights and standing still. I
can’t play the sax or get any
woman I want, but my hero is
still President Clinton. I’m look
ing for an America that wants
lots of regulation, a stifled econ
omy and, eventually, huge lay
offs. Call me sometime, and
we’ll talk about massively grow
ing the public sector - maybe
over dinner? I know a great little
veggie place in Manhattan.
Message Box 3847.
LOST: A chance to be
President. Left somewhere in
Iowa in ’88, which was about
the 13th time I ran for the job. I
may be viewed as an extremist
right-winger, and that’s because
I am. I started a TV show and
worked as the communications
director for Reagan, so I’m
Moments of Deliciousness _
fonutimes, When l Drink ^rape Poy, My Potty is fy&en,...
experienced in the field of pub
lic relations. (Except every time I
run for office, I really suck at
relating to the public.) So if you
know of a way for me to get
back into the race, get into a
chat room at
www.buchanan2000.com.
A personality, a little bit of charis
ma or for heaven’s sake - at least
a makeover on “Sally” or some
thing. I’m a middle-aged rich guy
with a stuffy magazine and a
geeky pair of glasses. I’ve got
more ideas than Clinton’s got
lies, but no one wants to elect a
corpse. (See Al Gore)
I’ve got a tax plan, a Social
Security plan, health insurance
plan and I’m strongly pro-life.
But, as you can see - I’m a
freakin’ dork. People think I’m
that guy on the Chrysler ads, but
after they meet me they say I’m
not as personable as on TV. I’ve
got the money to win (in my own
bank account), but if I can’t look
Have you seen me?
My name is J.J. Harder. I write this column. It
is called “Reckless Banter.”
like a normal guy soon, I’m head
ed to a death in New Hampshire.
Call 1-888-IM-4-FORBES.
Quality
Social and fiscal conservative
Republican looking for large
campaign donations. Or small
ones. OK, any spare change
you’ve got on you. I can do lec
tures, town hall meetings, heck,
by now I’ll probably dance for
you if you just contribute to
Keyes 2000. My platform is solid
and should be appealing to
America, but since I’ve never
been elected to office before,
people know me about as well
as Warren Beatty. (Wait a sec
ond, he’s ahead of me in most
polls.) If you have any money
orders or cashier’s checks, I’ll be v —
at the plasma clinic, trying to get
40 bucks for my campaign. And
please bring the Sunday paper,
‘cause those coupons are val
ued at 1 /20th of a cent. (They
add up you know.)
Welfare university
Students hoarding money that simple education does not require
And this is why I am angry.
Student loans, federal, state,
FAFSA, Uncle Sam’s wallet nestled
tightly in his back pocket. In-state
tuition, athletic scholarships and
Daddy’s checkbook.
Welcome to welfare, collegiate
style.
But don’t call it welfare because
you will piss middle America off. You
will piss upper America off.
You will piss a lot of people who
don’t get welfare off
Welfare is the people who are get
ting food stamps and living in the pro
jects. Welfare is for those unemployed
people who just can’t get a job and
refuse to get a job just so they can get
more welfare. Welfare is not what
America’s college students are getting.
They say the federal grants they
are getting, that foot their way through
five years of college, are not welfare.
Government loans that come with
4 percent interest rates are not welfare.
In-state tuition that cuts college rates
by nearly two-thirds is not welfare.
Daddy’s checkbook is not welfare.
It’s just aid for college students.
Down damn right, deserving college
students.
Call it welfare. No, don’t call it
welfare, because it makes you
ashamed. Call it a right, call it what
you want.
« But you need that money. You just
can’t go to school without that money.
You sit and sweat, with a sick stomach,
when that money is late.
Why can’t they just get the money
to you on time? And you say the
money is yours. But that ain’t your
money. It’s mine.
Call it a sob story if you want, but
don’t cry.
Mom and Dad didn’t give me the
money for college.
The government said they made
too much money. The government said
they should pay my tuition. The gov
ernment didn’t give me any money.
I got the money on my own. I get
the money on my own.
I pay my own way. And I pay out of
state. And for the last three years, I
lived on campus. And I ain’t done pay
mg.
I know I made a lot of money. But
the government took 25 percent in
taxes.
I could have used my money for
many things. But my money went to
you.
My money went to pay your
instate tuition. My money went into
federal loans and grants. But I ain’t
mad about that. I am not angry that
you got your daddy’s money either.
I ain’t mad that anyone’s getting
welfare. Because everybody’s getting
something from someone else. And
that’s all welfare is. I got mine. I know
you get yours, and that’s not what
makes me angry.
But I am angry.
You say you needed that money.
You say you have to have the money.
You say that without the money you
can’t go to school. And you won’t go
to school without the money.
And you get the money. And that’s
find And I’ll be honest with you: I
want that money too, but I can’t get it.
You got their money. You got wel
fare to the highest degree. But what
the hell are you doing with that
money?
And this is why I am really, really
angry.
Because you took the money, and
you made yourself a king.
Because you took the money, and
you spent it on things you needed for
college. You got your designer shirts
and shoes.
Because you got your $ 100 watch
es and $2,000 computers - for word
processing and the Internet - when
you had a computer lab downstairs.
Then you got your scanner and
your $300 video card. You got your
new furniture, custom chair and couch
complete with an end table, you got
your trip to Mexico for $ 1,200, you
got your custom stereo. And you still
eat fast food 10 times a week.
And I am angry because you look
pretty, and you know you do, and you
still look at people who are different
like they are different.
And you got a great body and a
great tan, and those who don’t, don’t,
and they ain’t you. And they ain’t
going to be you.
And you shoot your looks across
campus, and you just want some peo
ple to know that they ain’t going to be
a part of you. And you think it’s status.
And I am angry because you got
the money to go to class, and you go to
class and you don’t do a damn thing.
Because you haven’t realized that
you can learn a hell of a lot more from
die students in your class than the pro
fessors. You think the problems of the
university lay with everyone else. You
haven’t realized that the best way to
improve university classes is for you to
figure out you need to give a dang.
And I am angry, because while you
are smoking leaves that go for $ 100 a
nickel and are glowing with more
crystals than exist in a psychic shop -
while the rest of us smoke some brown
crap that belongs as a spice in some
bad can of spaghetti sauce - you ain’t
paying attention to what’s going on.
And you’re wasting when you
could be learning. Ask Hunter
Thompson or Jack Kerouac about that.
But Jack’s dead, and Hunter ain’t
smoking like he used to and you need
to figure that out. Too much is too
much. But pay attention while you’re
there.
And I am angry that you keep
telling people you need die money, and
you ain’t doing anything with it.
And you say that people who live
in low income systems are abusing the
system, but you are abusing the sys
tem. And you don’t even know it.
And you keep saying you need
more money to cover the rising costs
of your personal utopia at college.
And I am saying what I am saying.
You are on welfare. Don’t waste my
money.
Trevor Johnson is a senior English and secondary education major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist