Summer lovin’
Long days leave time for cooking, predicting weather
Well, after months of useless
busy work and a little bit of learning,
we finally get to shut our books for
good, or at least for a few months, or
for a week if you’re taking summer
classes.
So, we’ve prepared an almanac of
sorts to help you, the student, through
the summer months. We've got
recipes, puzzles, sewing techniques,
gardening advice and other junk that
you might like. And no names used in
this article are real in the metaphysi
cal sense, possibly not even ours.
Recipes
A Special Surprise Party’
Ingredients:
1 can Natural Light Beer
3 green olives
2 oz. Tang
Directions:
Drink one third of the Natural
Light, pour Tang into can and stuff
in olives. Shake in can and pour gen
tly into crystal martini glass. Enjoy!
Cheese Souffle
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Set
pan of water in oven. Prepare a two
quart dish (4 or 5 inches high). Butter
dish and sprinkle with two table
spoons dry bread crumbs. Cook 2Vi
tablespoons butter and three table
spoons flour together slowly to make
a roux.
Pour three-fourths of a cup scald
ed milk into the roux, stirring with
wire whisk; cook until thick. Add
one-half teaspoon salt, dash each
pepper and nutmeg. Add three egg
yolks to sauce. Beat six egg whites
(three-fourths cup); add dash salt and
one-fourth teaspoon cream of tartar.
Continue beating until soft peaks
form. Put big dollop of egg white into
sauce. Add one cup grated Swiss
cheese (Gruyere) or one cup chopped
seafood. Fold egg whites into sauce.
Fill mold two-thirds full. Set in
pan of water in oven. Bake one hour
to one hour, 15 minutes. Can leave in
warm oven for half an hour if neces
sary. Serves 6 to 8.
This Day in History, April 27,
1996: Chad Reade of Omaha was on
spring break from Millard North
High School. During the late morn
ing and afternoon, he was on a lone
drive from Colorado,
where he d been
skiing with his
family, to S
Idaho, f
where he g
would g
stay g
with g
h i s g
broke down. After a six-mile
jog/walk he found a pay phone and
was able to reach his girlfriend.
She informed him that she and
some “friends” would come and pick
him up. When she finally arrived, she
was with several other guys. On the
drive to her house in Idaho, she sat in
the front seat of the car with another
guy. Chad found this odd. However,
he said that it became even odder
when she started holding the other
guy’s hand.
Chad
Reade was very civil and decided to
wait until their arrival at her house
before asking her any questions.
When they arrived, and before he
could say anything, her Mormon
uncle grimly approached him.
“As long as you’re in my house,
there will be no fondling of my
niece,” the man told Chad.
“For some reason, I don’t think
that will be a problem,” responded
Chad.
When Chad finally did talk to the
lady in question, she informed him
that although they’d been
seriously dating tor
weeks, she didn’t
think that they
were in an exclu
sive relationship.
Damn Mormons.
Yiddish
Words
girl- \
friend
and her
family for
four days.
However, ^
before he made it
across the Idaho state
line, his automobile
Megan Cody/DN
Mensh - a substantial human
being. Mike Echternacht is not a
mensh.
Shiksa - a non-Jewish woman. If
Chris Smith were a female, he would
be a shiksa.
Shlock - trash, anything of little
worth. Scott Cameron is filled with
shlock.
Shmaltz - rendered chicken fat.
Mmm. shmaltz.
Weather proverbs
(from the “Old Farmer’s
Almanac ”)
Thunder in April is the end of
frost.
Expect rain when the bull leads
the herd to pasture.
If you want it to rain, cut or burn
a fern.
Easterly wind and rain bring
cockles here from Spain.
The following are weather
proverbs for the University of
Nebraska:
If at any point in time, anyone
ever takes Brother Daniel the prophet
seriously, it will rain for the next six
months.
Sitting by Broyhill Fountain
causes sorority members to act in a
cheap fashion demeaning to all
women.
If a UNL student publicly states
an opinion contrary to Chancellor
Moeser’s, he will be shot in the
genitals with an F5 tornado.
If, in the future, a
University of North
Carolina student publicly
states an opinion contrary
to Chancellor Moeser’s, he
will be shot in the genitals with
an F5 tornado.
We hope this information will
help you through the coming summer
months. We plan on utilizing it and
hope you will, too. For example, if -
you plan on traveling from Colorado
to Idaho to meet your Mormon sup
posed girlfriend, you may now want
to think twice. Or, if you plan on
opposing Chancellor Moeser in the
next few weeks, you may first want to
think about your genitals. We know
we wiH.
Lhns Gustafson is a sophomore agncultural economics major and Lucas Stock is a freshman English major. They are Daily Nebraskan columnists.
Cliff Hicks was a senior news-editorial and English major and a Daily Nebraskan legend.
“/ think it’s time we blow this
scene. Get everybody and their stuff
together. Okay, three, two, one... let’s
jam.”
I always wanted to be a rock ’n’
roll guitar hero. I always wanted to be
a bounty hunter. I always wanted to
be a movie star.
I always wanted to be a legend.
I am none of these things.
It wasn’t particularly by choice
that I became a writer - it was just
something I was good at, and I liked
being told I was good at something.
So I wrote, and I wrote, and I
wrote.
When I got to high school, I went
into the creative writing program and
got drafted to work with the newspa
per because I was good with comput
ers, and no one else was.
They eventually gave me the col
umn on the newspaper’s opinion
page. I should have quit then, but I
didn’t. It was a bug that wouldn’t go
away - journalism, that is.
The problem was that, despite the
fact that I enjoyed people regularly
reading what I had written, I hated
working for a newspaper. It often
meant that I was writing about things
I couldn’t care less about.
Local politics - who cared? Not
me. Accident in the auditorium - so
what? Teacher fired because of dis
agreement with administration over
teaching methods - nothing I was
interested in.
It took me a long time to realize
this, of course, but eventually I’d see
that newspapers weren’t really what I
wanted to do. But I’d work for anoth
er newspaper before I’d come to that
conclusion. That second paper was
this one.
Before I even graduated from
high school, I was drafted to come
work at the Daily Nebraskan. Like
everyone down here in the basement
of the union, I started as a grunt - in
my case, as a reporter.
Over the course of five years, I
wore nearly every hat in the office -
editor, columnist, page designer, crit
ic - and it all served to reinforce the
idea that newspapers weren’t for me.
I wanted to write about some
thing that interested me, that
intrigued me, that, quite frankly, I
cared about.
When I finally got my chance to
write an opinion column at the DN,
things started to change. Drastically.
I started caring about what I was
writing about, because the ideas were
mine, and the topics were generally
things that mattered to me.
And people read my column. Not
a lot, not that often, but at least some
of the people, some of the time.
People would tap me in classes
and tell me what they thought about
my column. During my stint as opin
ion editor, I got the occasional death
threat and the semi-regular harass
ment. I rather enjoyed it, because it
meant things I printed were getting
under people’s skin.
But when there’s a long period of
silence, you forget people are read
ing. And it had been a long semester.
Nothing lasts forever, though.
Three weeks ago, I made a pass
ing reference in one of my columns to
window shopping for an apartment in
California. The day it was published,
some guy I didn’t know grabbed me
from behind by the shoulder and said,
“Is it true? Are you leaving?”
“Yep,” I replied. “It’s been a nice
run, but it’s over now. Time to find
myself a new place to gig.”
“Where will you go?” he asked.
“What will you do?”
I smiled mysteriously at him. “An
old man once told me, as he held a
rock before me in the palm of his
hand, that when I could take the peb
ble from his hand, it would be time for
me to leave.” With that, I reached into
my pocket and pulled out a small,
well-worn stone. “My time here is
finished.”
Was it arrogance, or some under
standing that I had advanced as a per
son, that I had grown ... that my time
here was finished?
The guy looked down, then
looked up, pausing before he took my
hand and shook it vigorously. “It’s
been an honor reading you, man. You
take it easy out there, all right?”
There was a long, awkward
silence. He couldn’t think of anything
else to say, nor could I, and he wan
dered off, not another word spoken
between us.
Has the columnist thing been
fun? Sure. I’ve enjoyed writing for
the attention of thousands, and I’ve
enjoyed the attention.
Has it ever gotten me anything?
Hell no. I’ve never gotten so much as
a free drink, much less a meal,
because of my column. Despite my
many suggestions of being single and
desperate, I’ve never gotten a date
because of my column. When it boils
down to it, I’m not even sure I’ve
changed one person’s mind on one
solitary issue.
Still, I enjoyed it while it was
here, but now that time is over. Will
anyone notice that I’m leaving?
Probably not.
There is a saying that it’s better to
burn out than to fade away - I’m
doing neither. My flame isn’t dying.
It’s relocating.
I must pause to thank the three
guys who have kept me sane and
semi-sociable over the past few years
- Topher Charnley, Joe Lupo and
Mustafa Bashir - because without
them, I would have been nothing.
And now, I stand at the beginning
of a grand adventure. I know not
where the path leads, and I know not
where the path ends. All I know is that
I will travel it until my time is done.
I will not surrender; I cannot
yield.
I may not be a rock star, but I’m
going to do it my way, and damned be
anyone who gets in the path of my
righteous voyage.
Like a phoenix rising from the
ashes, my life is about to begin again.
I am anxious, nervous and perhaps a
little frightened, but I feed off my
fear. I learned long ago that fear is not
something to be fought - draw
strength from your fear.
I stand at the top of a minor hill
and at the bottom of a monstrous
mountain.
Part of the journey is done - but
now the adventure begins.
“Adios, cowboy
The flames flicker at my feet, a
shadow passes over me and like that
... I’m gone.
Fini
Well, folks, that’s a wrap
You’re still here? He’s finished. Go home. It’s over