Z>«/)Nebraskan
Since 1901
Editor Sarah Baker
Opinion Page Editor Samuel McKewon
Managing Editor Bradley Davis
Glad you voted?
Down-to-the-wire race
, will go into history books
Four more for Gore?
Or the son rises again?
Both were possible headlines the Daily
Nebraskan staff prepared for today’s edition.
The staff went back and forth throughout
the night. The segment of the newsroom sup
porting Gore cheered when the networks
reported the vice president had won the state
needed for victory - Florida. #
The Bush segment grew ecstatic when the
media reneged and gave the state to the
Republican later in the evening.
By 1 a.m., the networks gave the race to
Bush. But at 2:30 a.m., they said Gore trailed
by just more than 600 votes.
By 3 a.m., Bill Daley, chairman of Gore’s
campaign, announced the vice president
wouldn’t concede until a recount was taken.
Who knows when we’ll find out who the
next president of the United States is?
But one thing is certain. At 2:30 a.m., Dan
Rather, anchor of CBS evening
But after news, put it best when it was
two announced Bush’s victory in
decades of Florida was not secure.
relatively “No one is going to live long
predictable enough to see this again,” he
Electiont s^d °
^n?rftnS Throughout the night, the
nice to media personalities and politi
eiinntinnc cal Pundi*s proclaimed this
like this to Elec?on Day was history in the
shake making.
things up This will go down in the his
It reminds tory hooks - right next to the
us that other electoral oddities that
every vote have occurred in the last 170 or
does count. soYears.
- The political pundits who
predicted during the past week
that the candidate who won Florida would
win the presidency were right.
But who would have guessed that figuring
out who won Florida would have been so dif
ficult?
Each pundit will come out with theories as
tt) how this became the closest race for the
presidency in U.S. history.
We have a few guesses.
With the economy the best its ever been,
citizens had no reason to decidedly overthrow
Gore.
Some voted for Bush so they could forget
about Bill Clinton’s antics during the past
eight years.
The economy is healthy. And with their
stomachs and pockets full, many cast their
votes based on the president’s character
rather than policies, issues and the national
well-being.
Another thing is clear, as well. Both candi
dates boasted relatively centrist positions.
The close election was probably a reflection of
the close proximity of the two candidate’s
views on the political scale.
But after two decades of relatively pre
dictable Election Days, it’s nice to have situa
tions like this to shake things up.
It reminds us that every vote does count. At
3 a.m., the popular vote was stalled at 48 per
cent for Gore and 48 for Bush. Gore trailed
Bush by just 18,000 votesr
It’s nice to know that trip to the voting
booth mattered - whether you live in Florida
or Nebraska.
Editorial Board
Sarah .Baker, Bradley Davis, Josh Funk, Matthew Hansen,
Samuel McKewon, Dane Stickney, Kimberly Sweet
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Unsigned editorials are the opinions of the Fa* 2000 Daly Nebraska). They do not necessarily
reflect toe views of the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, its employees, its student body or the
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v A y *
AC(USB /*|£ OF ROT 8E/WG- INVOLVED.
SA<f I'M Not CONCERNED A60UT OTWER StvVEUTS.
ClAiM I'momTop Td^H.
WELL I'm HERE To fAOVS WRong
x As i urge all s-wpa/rs to
NealObameyer/DN
Confusion becomes you, love
I feel as though I am
trapped in a novel of Kafka.
It’s not that I see a bunch
of cockroaches, and it's not
that I am literally put on trial
mysteriously for no immedi
ately discernible reason. But
Democrat and the votes split nearly down the mid
dle every time. It’s like they think there’s an actual
difference between the two.
I can’t even say the words, “Republican” or
“Democrat” any more. I start “Repuuuubl- bl-I- c
c-RAT. Republicrat!” And all the while the poor third
parties scratch at the door like starving strav kit
me reamy i live, it aoesn t l—^—i tens, and I know you hear them, butyou don’t want
seem like everyone else s JdkG to let them in because the two fat cats shedding all
reality, jike a loose collection GldZGSki over your nice furniture in the living room will
of random fictions, and no scowl and hiss atyou if you feed any cats other than
one seems confused by this them.
but me, so I wonder, do they see it, too? You say, “I can't feed those kittens because then
Does it make sense to them? the fat cat I don’t like will get fatter.” like that makes
The world is a kaleidoscope of kaleidoscopes, sense?
and trying to form an identity in such a barrage of But of course, the Pepsi commercials on TV
colors is utterly impossible. All I can do is wave my don’t want you to think that there are other cats,
hands in describing the confusion; perhaps some- either. The Pepsi Guy comes by every Tuesday on
one understands. His way to the buffet to feed your fat cats - they like
Evidence I: People believe in God. I don't Him. And since you don't think much
. wiuw wuy. rtuaii or Ajisnna or miaana
or DiXi’a, princess of Ttoix bars. But so
many people believe in some sort of
godhead, like this entity of indetermi
nate nature actually exists and actual- j
ly cares a whit or two over the doings- 1
es of people, cultures, societies,
nations, worlds.
I believe in_because_
said he/she/it/they exist... I believe
in_because _ said
he/she/it/they exist.... It’s a perpetu
al mantra, and it’s the same across
religions. Christians say they are
right because theirs is the only
religion that absolves them
from sin, that makes
accurate prophetic
declarations.
Ui course, it s also
Christianity that V
requires absolution V
from sin, and it seems a 9
bit suspect when the 7
evidence of the /Jk
prophetic fulfillment
lies in the same text of «|
the prophetic declara- w|
tions themselves. ^
And then Muslims say ^
this, Hindus say that, and
my poor head is spinning t
from the onslaught, when *
DiXi’a asserts herself and
says that it's my fault Ben
Folds Five broke up because
I forgot to pay tribute to her
on Dec. 12,1987, but hell, I
didn't have any change then,
so what can I do?
■All these religions - like a
big buffet, like Old Country, a
shining jewel on the mile
long travail to my ex-ex-ex
boyfriend’s place, it's like the
roast beef and the chicken
are aware of each other’s
existence, but they do not
acknowledge that there is no
way of comparing one
objectively to the other; one
rlnor n— __
besides the half hour you cram for
every exam (diligently! diligently!
At least you do that much, you
fuck!), you take care of your fat
cats.
Evidence HI: People believe
in the greek system. I don’t
know why. It’s like 39 ways to be
the same. I’m surprised that a
clothing chain hasn’t sprung up
at the root of the fraternity tree
row, say, instead of gas stations
(which admittedly are just as
important as clothing for the
cohesiveness of the Greek sys
tem, but we can put those in
the strip mall which really
should be there). Imagine:
A whole line of clothing
stores, where you can get
your Abercrombie fix
(first sign of withdraw
al: Old Navy).
f 1 m all for creating
clubs that emphasize
solidarity and unifor
mity -1 hate people
who aren't like me, after
I all (I have 3 friends) -
/ but people doing this
believe - get this, they
actually believe - that
they are creating leaders
for the future. And maybe
they are, but only by
default. Maybe the home
coming king is going to
have my ass in a ham
mock some day, and I’m
going to have to be will
ing to take it as long as I
want a job, but it won’t
have had anything to
do with the fact that
m he drank a lot and
gA had an ad-hoc
harem while con
vincing his frat
buddies to vote
JerryMorgan/DN as t^ie
capstone to a
r.—r. —r weeK s worm ot
true than the other, indeed, activities that
such decisions only make > recall and celebrate
seme when you re in/at/near the our primitive roots (Ma
bunet and sippmg on a soda fountain drink (prefer- & Pa Neandrathalis).
ably Pepsi, because that's the only drink my taste Eh... it's so much like Grade A beef. Line ’em up,
buds will acknowledge (Pepsi has purchased the stuff ’em up, ship 'em out, grind ’em up. Yummy,
rights to my tongue)). And next to the roast beef you have the chicken.
Argh! = sound of exasperation. See why I'm con- Sororities. But you always have the Pepsi. You have
to have the Pepsi.
Evidence II: People believe in politics. I don’t So you see, it all makes sense in the end. Just not
know why. Most people vote either Republican or to me.
r ___
Tell us what you think. E-mail your letters to : letters@unl.edu or call us at 472-2588.
Creating
a poem for
all seasons
When you see
things differently,
say like a poet, a
change in sea
sons is an obsta
cle.
the only way to —1
calm yourself is Dane
to scribble hap- Stickney
hazard thoughts, ■■■■
terrors, trappings
onto a page, altering your view is diffi
cult
A week ago, failures were specks of
colors falling off a brittle skeleton that
was plagued by the midsummer storms,
just now losing its will. They'd pile up in a
spectrum of browns, oranges, yellows,
reds and remind me of all that I can't rake
up into neat piles. And if I ever did, they'd
blow across the sidewalk of my mind
and green grass of my soul, polluting
and wrecking.
But, walking out of a dark, stone hall
way, pushing a metal door open and ,
walking outside, I’m shocked. Hie trees
have given up, but we're still here.
Hie cool yet warming wind packed
its bags and sunshine decided not to
attend today. Hie leaves that had once
looked electrified, plugged into nature’s
invisible outlet, have now been switched
off.
Hie closet filled with Gatsby's sting
ing silk ties and crisply pressed shirts has
been replaced with the gray-white
blackness of Humphrey Bogart’s attire.
Failures turn to rejections, which are
vastly unlike leaves. Its now sharp bits of
ice, becoming softer as the day gets cold
er. It doesn’t pile up like leaves, evenly
dispersed. It drifts, weighing down
some, while leaving others free, unbur
dened. Hie frigid northerly push bellows
in a loud voice, “It’s unfair.”
I try to find a way to take this sudden
feeling and put it into lines, broken into
stanzas that represent the feel of winter.
I need to draw an antithesis with the
heat of confusion on my inside and the
wind chill outside of all of us.
There has to be a perfect word to
describe the way new fallen snow looks
so innocent lying on the daik, rigid grass.
Or a way to describe the girl walking
out of a brick sorority house trying to
look classy while still staying warm.
What’s die word? Sheer. Elegant
Mindful. Shadowed. Tight. Maybe
just cold.
Hien, I think, maybe it's in cement
Cement is a factor only in summer
and winter. In between it’s just there to'
be walked on, trampled, forgotten
about In summer, it is supposed to fry
eggs, although I’ve never seen it happen.
In winter, it’s the foundation for the glass
that makes us lose our step.
And in that regard, winter is all about
cement
Its rigid surface is like goose bumps
on the sorority girl’s legs. Its slippery
coating is the uncertainty of winter, the
lame-duck attitude the end of a year
brings.
Its lack of color mirrors the season of
whites, blacks and midtones. Its rough
ness casts many shadows, revealing the
contrast of winter - heavy coats that
make us thick and ornately wrapped
presents, fulfilling a wish.
Its weight is the feeling I get every
day. The heft bringing tunneled vision,
blurred on both sides of my eyes, taking
away the periphery. It's the feeling of
staring out a dorm window after a fight _
the horizontal blinds leaving burned
strips across my retina. In between is a
parking lot full of cars. Covered in white.
It’s the weight of the world pressing
down on me, making me feel like I’m
going to expl
Wait That’s a cliche, and poetry can
have no cliches. So I am told.
The window on my right is cracked
open, letting the newborn cold seep in,
wrapping its gnarled fingers aroundmy
toes. (Picture a dark shadow of a spirit
plaguing me like that of Jacob Marley.
Only younger.) I knew it would happen,
but I opened it anyway, punishing
myself. Something I do when I’m mad.
Or when I fear rejection.
So this is the point where I crumple
up the paper or hand in the stanzas to
some older man with a gray head. He’ll
give me a -, ok or +, and I'll attempt to
revise it. Even though most of the feeling
of the moment has left me.
Then I'll struggle for something else
to write about. Attempt to make new
parallels.
It just seemed like I had subject mat
ter in my hand, but now it’s gone. The
leaves had so much for me. Veins.
Feathery flight. Nostalgia. Resolve to
fight death.
Today, I've got snow. It’s white. Looks
whiter against the night’s sky.
It’s cold, an arbitrary feeling like love
-hard to describe with few synonyms.
But as the numbness in my toes works
its way further up my legs, I need to shut
the window to shield myself from the
cold.
Or perhaps I should take off all my
clothes, cross my legs and chill myself to
the bone. Get to know that cold. Make it
part of me.
