Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (Sept. 7, 2000)
Opinion Page 4 Daily Nebraskan Thursday, September 7,2000 ZM/vNebraskan Since 1901 Editor Sarah Baker Opinion Page Editor Samuel McKewon Managing Editor Bradley Davis No-win deal Though admirable, ASUN lobby against DOMA wrong In a sense, the Association of Students at the University of Nebraska-Iincoln is caught in a no win situation. In one comer is the prevailing notion that our student government does little more than pro vide a resume'-padder, a chance for lohn and lane Go-Getter to practice the meet and greet, the point and grin, die “ We work for youT speech. It’s more than that, clearly. They know that. Students should believe the same. But when ASUN attempts to juice up its credibility, visibili ty and activism - the moment where it intends to make a significant difference in state politics - it overstepsits bounds. Too much, in our view. The case in point now regards ASUN’s efforts to lobby for or against the Defense of Marriage Amendment that will be on the state ballot in November. According to ASUN bylaws, the gov ernment can’t lobby for or against a specific can didate. Wisely, President loel Schafer has sought clar ification on this rule, to determine whether this particular bylaw extends to prohibiting lobby efforts for or against initiatives. He presented his arguments to UNLfc Student Court, which ruled last Thursday but felt it need ed an extra week to justify its ruling. The ruling is expected to be made public today. It can go one or two ways. Either ASUN can go forward with a bill that lobbies for or against DOMA, or it must rewrite the bylaw, which is no certainty, then go forward. Either way, the court ruling can not and would not address whether ASUN should lobby one way or another. And common sense tells us that if ASUN would ever lobby, it would do so against the bill, in order to protect the chance of getting domes tic partner benefits on UNL!s campus for profes sors and administration. A lobby for the amendment? Not likely. We adamantly oppose DOMA, made clear in the Wednesday editorial, which represents the voice of the seven people on the editorial board. But we wonder if a lobby for or against the bill by ASUN would accurately reflect the constituents they represent, if it reflects them at all. We know, representatives have to deal with subjects their constituents don’t know or don’t care about But just how many student senators were elected on the basis of how they stand on DOMA? Well, none of them, since it wasn’t put on the ballot until this summer. A better question: Should a state issue that affects a great deal more people than the stu dents of UNL be the focus of the student govern ment? No. Aren’t there better fish to fly? Yes. To ask ASUN to keep out of major political issues that affect UNL isn’t easy especially con sidering we’re opposed to DOMA, as well. But the student insurance plan that allows domestic partners affects a few at best Though members of ASUN have taken a laud able stand against DOMA, perhaps they should do so on their own time and not drag the entire student body - a good number of which is prob ably for the amendment - into the quagmire. And if ASUN senators actually polled their constituents and found they were overwhelm ingly in favor of DOMA- then what? The implied answer justifies the entire reasoning behind leaving this issue alone. It’s a no-win thing. We don’t envy them. But we ask them to vote down a re-writing of the bylaws if they are forced to do so. If not, we urge they take no lobbying action. Editorial Board Sarah Baker, Bradley Davis, Josh Funk, Matthew Hansen, Samuel McKewon, Dane Stickney, Kimberly Sweet Letters Policy The Daily Nebraskan welcomes briefs, letters to the editor and guest columns, but does not guar antee their publication. The Daily Nebraskan retains the right to edit or reject any material submitted. Submitted material becomes property of the Daily Nebraskan and cannot be returned. Anonymous submissions wlfl not be published. Those who submit letters must identify themselves by name, yew in school, major and/or group affiliation, if any. Submit material to: Daily Nebraskan, 20 Nebraska Union, 1400 R St Lincoln, NE 68588-0448. E mail: letterseunlnfo.uni.edu. Editorial Policy Unsigned editorials we the opinions of the Fan 2000 Daily Nebraskan. They do not necessarily reflect the views of the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, its employees, its student body or the University of Nebraska Board of Regents. A column is solely the opinion of its author a cartoon is solely the opinion of its wtist The Board of Regents acts as publisher of the Daity Nebraskan; poli cy is set by the Daily Nebraskan Editorial Board. The UNL Publications Board, established by the regents, supervises the production of the paper. According to policy set by the regents, responsi htttv for the edtorial content of the newspaper lies solely in the hands of its employees. IN jh£ middle ages, anwuM Rmei> the heathens in what w«£ kncwn AS THE CRUSAPES1. A/OW IT'S TIME ftf? WAtch oaT.ctaVouci. Heft£ um THE H£«THgrtS. TftE STUP6MT Mi&RATiom G-/WE. NealObermeyer/DN Letters to the editor No debts to pay I have to argue with Jake Glazeski’s Sept 6 article on the amount of apathy involved when a person pays Social Security or bows down because the government infringes rules on their freedom of speech. When I look at the 1 /7th Mr. Glazeski says is going “into the arteries of the failures of society,” I see it as going into the successes of society. The traditional 70 year-old on Social Security not only deserves a rea sonable lifestyle, but they also deserve our gratitude. These are the people who have survived WWII, Korea and Vietnam. These are the people who have instituted, innovated and worked for almost all of the things we have come to depend on in our life time. On top of all of these things, does Mr. Glazeski have the ability to go tell my 84-year-old grandmother that she doesn’t deserve Medicare or Social Security, programs her productivity has been invested into? There are very few prices that I wouldn’t pay to make sure that I can see my grandmother tomorrow. The portion of my life that gets sent to keep hers alive is well worth it And another thing, please don’t call her a dreg (I got a spanking for less). From a purely ethical stand point, Mr. Glazeski argues that the “productive” per son’s right to EARN is more important than the free dom to LIVE, which he would so willingly take from the “dregs.” I was not “taught” that I have “an inherent original debt” I learned that without the investment from the people in positions of wealth, the unproductive per son will always remain unproductive. There are many state and federal programs which our taxes fund. The only way to determine what these programs go to is to vote. At least he got one thing right Richard Brown Chemical Engineering Senior Greasing money wheels In response to Jake Glazeski’s attack on American economic policy. Welfare in the lubricant of the social machine. Circulation of money is as important to the econ omy as the circulation of blood is to the body. Thus we have taxes to prevent hoarding and government spending to stimulate innovation. America is not in danger: We will continue to have welfare, and we will continue to be the strongest econ omy because of immigration. As long as Americans are free, they will choose to live the “good life” rather than break their backs. Thus we bring in foreigners to do the dirty work and high-tech labor that requires too many years of study. Omid Zehtab Senior Biochemistry/Psychology The nightmare of widescope It’s my mother. She’s call ing from work. I say I’m busy even though I'm watching a rerun of “The Cosby Show” on cable. When my mother calls, I am busy. Always. My mother is beautiful, a real Nadia. All haunting and limber like Gumby. I reflect the heat mommy’s universe sucks in. Boys bounce off me like grease pops. She sops it up. She says I should get a cellular phone. I say I would rather puke whole glazed doughnuts. A 20 second pause follows on her end because, you see, she’s done this. So she asks me if there’s anything I need from the drug store. And I say yes, I need some ointment stuff that takes care of paper cuts better than the other stuff. And some contact cleaner for vibrator lubri cant Ana, sne says, anything else' And I say no. Well, I say, maybe some ipecac. We could share, I say. I decide I want some 50 percent less fat garden vegetable crackers so I hang up on her and go to my shelf and count out 10 and take them back over to the floor next to the beanbag where I watch the end of “The Cosby Show” episode where Bill Cosby teaches his daughters how to mop the kitchen floor and Rudy ends up riding on the mop head, the television kind, without any dirt or hair or wayward particles from Nadia’s banana binge and purge. I want to tell you how they look at me. You want to know-how they look at me. There is no up.and down. Most women, like Jayme, get the up and down, and like most women, she misperceives it as some elongated, vertical admi ration. Mmm.. .no. Cuteys will deny, but up and down is a game of point/counterpoint, a tallying of a woman’s additions and subtractions at the end of the ledger. Look into them, look dutifully hard, and you begin to notice the thought processes rolling over like shark eyes, the mechanism of lust setting its hook. Like this: Chunky-wunky: Nice teats and tails, buoyed by glubs and glubs that assure greasy pimples in their packed and privates, the result of skin on skin colli sions, particularly frequent after a peanut butter triple Ridge. (Were I lesbian, I'd tongue those white heads all night.) Fuzzy-wuzzy: Cheap, thin hair. Bad teeth from throwing up too many times even with whitening toothpaste. Ethiopian honey ribs. Those little freaky veins right up by her temple, grossy-gross, the result of zero skin flack as it stretches over their fuzzy-wuzzy faces. Tiny hairs that begin to grow and grow, then curl back over themselves, like moss on a forest floor, on the arms, to retain the heat. I am different. No up and down. I am seen in widescope - a wrap-around movie screen. I am their butterscotch image. I start at the mouth and up through the nose. Then out. Then along their cheek. My hands. My lips. The one crooked tooth I have from that bike crash as a kid. My breath. Its smell of.. .nothing. Up to their eyes and through them. My image sears the retina, where it stays upside down. It’s easier that way, because it doesn’t stay there long. It boomerangs out of their eyes. Along the cheek. Back through the nose. Down to the mouth. And out And up. To the ear. Where they hear me. My voice - this tinny whine I know I make when they enter me on weekends, the one I can’t replicate on command. And in. And in is where I live, in semi-perma nence. A porcelain thing, a doll, the Madonna that is no better than a whore at 7 a.m. on a Sunday morn ing. I might as well be an artifact - studied, probed, poked, marveled. One guy said he wanted to “dese crate” me. Cum as graffiti. There's a thought. I think of exposing a subtraction, or creating one. I think of walking naked, so they could see my high thigh glubs. Or maybe I could stick my butt out in a fuzzy-wuzzy skirt. But artificiality seems like my benchmark, my very reason for being. And maybe I prefer to be a elaborate facade, perceived as entirely unattainable. Then, for a fortunate few conquistadors, a strange exploratory voyage into the polar ice caps of sexual expressionism. “I thought you were busy.” It’s Nadia, her reflection right next to my own in the window as she stands in the doorway to my room, in her home. The heat’s given away to a trick ling rain outside, and the streets blast a glittering yel low sheen, from the sun, just ahead or behind the storm, I cannot tell which. Her eyes are blacker than usual. Her black hair is entirely too teased. “Went a little too crazy with the hair spray today, huh?” I smile my utter bitch grin. Nadia looks down and holds her breath. “I got some magazines at the drug store,” she says finally. "Joy to the world,” I say. “I got ‘The New Yorker.’” “Double joy.” “Do you want it?” I flop backward onto my bed and look back at Nadia, upside down. “Just walk away, Renae,” I say. "I won’t followyou to the bathroom.” Nadia squeals in frustration and I watch her reflection swivel from the doorway. I can hear her stomping into the kitchen to scarf some store-bought peach cobbler which - boo-hoo! - she won’t find because I ate it I hear her crack open the fridge, squeal again, then the best put-down mommy can muster. ^ “You know, only serial killers act the way you do!” “But I only want you dead,” I coo back. Softball. But Nadia, she’s college-educated, so she knows, like any other college-educated, hauntingly beautiful woman, how to really twist the knife into a girl’s chest. “You know," she says, "Why can’t you be more like your sister?” Politics inside politics hurt honest work T The banquet hall is lit up with leftover outdoor Christmas lights, put on clearance after the holiday season. Round tables are lined Julie Narans up in perfect order. Ivory table cloths are draped over the tables topped with a perfect centerpiece made up of flowers and the political party symbol. There is enough red, white and blue in the room to make even Uncle Sam sick to his stomach. There are red, white and blue balloons, streamers, signs from the local campaigns, etc. The crowd starts to arrive in enough time to enjoy a private reception that, strangely enough, everyone is invited to, as they just fork out $100 more to attend it The crowd is wearing their usual event attire. The men in the ever popular dark blue suit, French blue shirt and yel low tie. The woman's attire is a little more varied. Some wear as much red, white and blue as they possibly can. Some * wear suits of black or gray. And some wear a black tight fitting dress with a gold hoop chain, making you remember hack to the Madonna phase in your life. The crowd mingles for a good 30 minutes in the doorway, looking for the "right” people to talk to. Getting verbal with the registration table because they didn’t get seated where they wanted to be. They pick up their name tag so that everyone will “conveniently” remember their name. There are the usual campaign work ers who are there to attack you with stickers as soon as you come in the door. Some politely take the sticker and then walk away fast before having to actually put it on because they liked the other candidate in the primary. But then they realize that everyone else has a sticker on so they quickly find the campaign worker and get another sticker. The crowd slowly starts to enter the banquet room. Some feel awkward because they are seated with people who aren’t “popular.” The meal is served. Salad first fol lowed by the main course. Usually chick en because it’s the cheapest. And it is always rubber chicken that needs to be smothered in salt and pepper before you can get a taste out of it Then the speakers begin. First it is the MC who is usually suckered into talking. They introduce the candidates who give the same boring speech you heard at last week's rally. The crowd claps and hollers at every mention of the candidates opponent. They clap at every mention of the parties name. They clap when the candidate says he will win. The dinner is over. The candidate sticks around to try and create small talk with everyone even though he doesn’t care to talk to them. He knows he should remember their names, but he can’t so he avoids it The crowd starts glancing over the room trying to find the “up and coming” to talk to. They avoid certain people because “they worked for so-in-so in the last primary.” Wounds dont heal. People don't forget. It’s junior high in suits. They try desperately to find out where the "in crowd” is going for after hours. They all go out,-get drunk at a local bar, dance dirty and hook up. It’s glamorous. It’s interesting to a point. It's politics. Now, take for example an individual is attending this event because he wants to get into politics and make a differ ence. He is a doctor, with a good sized wallet with ample money to give in donations to the candidate of his choice. He attends this very same event and is seated at a table with “outcasts” who, of course, are always seated together because no one else would be caught dead with them. This individual sits with these peo ple and makes a couple friends who seem to know a lot about politics. So this group of outcasts asked the newcomer if he wants to attend an event next week with them. The newcomer thinks this is great news. He has an in group! The following week when this individual shows up with this group of "outcasts” to a rally for the Governor, everyone starts to see that this person is associated with these troublemakers. So from this day on, this individual will never get asked to work on a cam paign, never get asked to a private party. And so on. They are branded for the remainder of their political career. He’s done nothing wrong. He just got seated at the wrong table. I don't know about you, but it brings back memories of the eighth grade to me.
