The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current, November 30, 2000, Page 4, Image 4

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Since 1901
Editor. Sarah Baker
Opinion Page Editor Samuel McKewon
/ Managing Editor Bradley Davis
The real truth
Protecting student records
jeopardizes safety ofUNL
Your transcript contains grades, the names
of courses you have taken and your grade
point average.
That sounds like an educational record to
us, and as such, it should only be released with
your consent.
We think your financial records ought to be
held confidential, too.
But should the record of the time you beat
the hell out of someone because they pissed
you off remain secret?
What about the time the university found
that you had raped that girl at a party?
Absolutely not.
The issue of releasing university discipli
nary records is not a new one, but with the
Daily Nebraskan’s requests for those records
this fall, it has become an issue at UNL.
Since Congress prohibited the release of a
student’s educational record in
1974, some universities have
used that clause to deny access
to disciplinary and campus
police records.
Maybe those universities
thought they could preserve
their image as a safe place for
parents to send their children.
Maybe they thought they were
protecting those students vio
lating their codes of conduct
They were definitely wrong.
Every current and prospec
tive university student has the
right to know the most accurate
information about the safety of
their campus and any precau
tions that may need to be taken.
The concern for the overall
safety of the campus outweighs
the privacy rights of students already found
guilty for violating the student code of con
duct, especially when their violation is a crime
of violence or a sex offense.
Congress realized that much in 1998 when
it amended the Higher Education Act to state
that sex offenses and violent crimes are not
part of a student’s educational record.
They are a matter of public concern that
should be shared with the campus communi
Take it
from us,
booze is
not the
Nor is it
even the
Lincoln has
a lot of
great small
venues, but
the venues
are mostly
The Daily Nebraskan asked for the names of
those students the Office of Judicial Affairs has
already found guilty of violating the code of
The records that we asked for would only be
released after the matter was thoroughly
investigated and decided. There would be no
danger of defaming someone’s character on
the basis of an allegation that might later prove
But the university rejected our request.
Officials seem to believe that the confidential
ity of the system and the privacy rights of stu
dents guilty of sex offenses and violent crimes
is more important than campus safety.
Now we encourage you to ask. Call the
office of Student Affairs or Judicial Affairs, and
ask them why the policy is this way.
Or contact your ASUN or Academic Senate
representative. Tell them you are concerned,
ask them for more information. But most
importantly, think about v hat they tell you.
Why are these records kept confidential?
And if the University of Nebraska-Lincoln
campus is really as safe as we’re all supposed to
believe, why don’t they just prove it to us?
Editorial Board
Sarah Baker, Brfidley Davis, Josh Funk, Matthew Hansen,
Samuel McKewon, Dane Stickney, Kimberly Sweet
Letters Policy
The Daily Nebraskan wekx mas briefs, letters to the editor and guest columns, but does not guar
antee their pubfcation. The <?aity Nebraskan retains the right to edit or reject any material submitted.
Submitted material become s property of the Daily Nebraskan and cannot be returned. Anonymous
submissions wi not be ptfciished. Those who submit letters must identify themselves by nane,
year in school, major and/or troup affiliation, if any.
Submit material to: Daily Nebi tskan, 20 Nebraska Union, 1400 R St Lincoln, NE 68588-0448. E
Editorial Policy
Unsigned editorials are the opink.ns of the Fai 2000 Daily Nebraskan. They do not necessarily
reflect the views of the University i ♦ Nebraska-Lincoln, its employees, its student body or the
University of Nebraska Board of Reger's. A column is solely the opinion of its author, a cartoon is
aoMy the opinion of its artist The Board o.* Regents acts as publisher of the Daily Nebraskan; poli
cy is sat by the Daily Nebraskan Ecfitorial Boara The UNL Publications Board, established by the
regents, supervises the production of the paper. According to policy set by the regents, responsi
bly far the editorial content of the newspaper Kes solely in the hands of its employees.
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Neal Obemneyer/DN
Letters to the editor
Billy Boy
Well, Bill Clinton has finally neard the cries of the
“throngs” of Nebraskans beckoning him to visit our
fine state. In fact, the DN stated that this newspaper
wished to put their collective weight behind an appeal
to the president to come to Nebraska and experience
some good old football (a stereotypical look at this
state) and Nebraska values.
Instead, Clinton chose to go to Kearney, and that is
a terrible choice, if you listen to the editors of this
newspaper. Congratulations to the DN! You have
managed to perpetuate the myth that the only thing
worthwhile is east of Lincoln and south of Omaha.
You state that UNL is one of die great things about
the state... yetyou belitde another fine institution and
city that has worked hard to improve itself amid the
financial glutton that is the University of Nebraska
Lincoln. As a graduate of UNK, and current student at
this university, I can tell you that UNK is as fine an
institution as this third tier wonder!
Clinton is the President of the United States, and
while I may not have voted for him, he is still our pres
ident ... yes die “ultra-conservative” third districts too,
not just that of Douglas and Lancaster counties. The
question is not who “overwhelmingly supported and
voted for him,” it is who worked the hardest to invite
him to come. So I tell you what... if the DN works hard
enough, maybe they can get George W. Bush to visit
Lincoln in a couple of years.
Scott Stork
College of Law
The obligatory rape scene
there is two ways of
encountering the truth as we
know it the obvious and the
indirect and i am not particu
larly interested in either of
them as it would require my
interest in the truth of which i
nave lime to none ^3
not anymore petallima
not like this Watson
not when like an intoxicant
it gets the best of you and you
sense that in the wake of better
judgment you can hurt and hurt and hurt
without fear of reproach
without fear of reprisal
because it is after all just a story you are getting just
a story and at its very core there is fiction the very
nature of creation and the goal
to create her in you
sprinkle the honeydew of life upon her make her
rise and grow inject pain and memory drawing a real
life abstract out of your own imagination and one
never does consider
die cruelty of it of making it go the cruelty of what
it is we embark upon me
petaluma watson
in the hours when waiting i come upon my name
over and over again, considering the nature of it, con
sidering die girl whom i create in my own image
There are two ways of encountering the truth as
we know it die obvious and the indirect, and I am not
particularly interested in either of them, as it would
require my interest in the truth, of which, I have little to
Not anymore. Not like this.
Not when, like an intoxicant, it gets the best of her
and she senses that in the wake of better judgment,
she can hurt and hurt and hurt
Without fear of reproach. Without fear of reprisal.
Because it is, after all, just a story you are getting,
just a story. And at its very core, there is fiction - the
very nature of creation and the goal
To create me in her.
Sprinkle die honeydew of life upon me, make me
rise and grow, inject pain and memory drawing a real
life abstract out of her own imagination, and one never
does consider the cruelty ofit,ofmaking it go-the cru
elty of what it is she embarks upon; Me.
Calgary Johnson.
In the hours when waiting, I come upon my name
over and over again, considering the nature of it, con
sidering the girl whom I have been created in her
i suppose you want a conclusion a way to end
things something beyond the artistic mess this has
become in front of your eyes a stylistic snafu the lack of
a coherent goal the lack of whatever the lack of
what if we could be beyond this
this this this
way of communicating where i relate to you you to
me and there it is in simplistic pat formation where
there is no crossing over there is no petaluma watson
no god no me no you just relation easily quotable
experiences for your refrigerator door to tack up with
bread magnets
you seek a collective experience where this space
could be used to extrapolate on the horrors of bad hair
days broken straps of backpacks and the tiny needling
pricks of pain you feel in the very back of your spine
you seek bloodletting you seek communal thought
you seek understanding this higher plane of happi
ness that allows you to see into me
and so all that is before me i throw it all up to you
and pop all the pimples
and leave it entirely undone an ending short of the
17 confessions because you have stopped reading
long ago so long back where it ceased to make sense
where it ended in cohesion
where it dropped on the flip side of the universe
where it became me and you and instead of rela
instead of understanding
it became bearing witness
the infliction of pain
I remember cold. I remember rain. I remember the
porch, being out there, reading, eating a snack. There
for the first time. I remember seeing him and forget
ting that he was coming over for my sister. So I went
I came back. I remember the taste of blood. I
remember feeling a tooth chipped. I remember seeing
him above me. I remember the gold lock of his hair
against his forehead. I remember his breath as he
reached down to kiss me. I remember the smell of
Cheetos. I remember reaching up to the arm of the
I remember trying to pull myself up. I remember
being pushed down. I remember being hit with his
right hand. 1 remember his penis in my mouth, now
covered with blood. I remember a whole where my
teeth were, so his penis jarred loose another one of my
And I remember another voice. A woman. Above
him. Looking down. Looking at him, looking at me,
looking at herself. I remember not recognizing her
face. I remember how she bent down, legs first, like a
weight-lifter in my high school gym class. And I
remember that she whispered in his ear. I remember
he smiled. I remember he pulled out
“Obligeetorie rape seen,” he says. “Cain’t think of a
There she is - her again - petaluma, above him
it's calvin
Above Calvin, smiling, mouthing words I can't
because it’s gibberish there are no words
And she keeps talking in tongues, pimples whatev
stop i ask in question
can't go where as god of you do you expect me to go
all around you is me die couch is me calvin is me your
hair is me your beauty me this space in the paper is me
What do you want? What? What?
you expected what me to reveal myself in appeal
ing phase
did you want a fairy
don’t you see the privilege in knowing in not hav
ing to believe in anything in being self aware
It's the greatest burden there could possibly be.
What’s knowing anything? That I am a character on
this grand set?
this is hardly grand you’re a bit player one of the
minions you inhabit the smallest parts of my imagina
tion yours is a sordid little tale empty of grand mean
ing of fulfillment the relate stories this is the grand
And I don’t care whatever set it is. I just want you to
set it back to whatever. To where I don’t know. To where
I am entirely unappealing or sexy or attractive or trou
bled or anything ludicrous. I’m tired of a rousing exis
tence. It doesn’t fit me.
not fit to carry on
Not fit for any of it I just want out No more trials.
No more mirrors. No more stories. Give me just one
time, one space, to leave them with me, a piece of me
they can remotely get to.
selling out to masses
Call it that Art is bullshit,
not a bang
Yeah, the whimper,
just want to fit in
Yes. Yes.
with the kingdom to inherit you’ll walk away turn
away from me relinquish what i’ve given you
Give me normal. Unexceptional. Punctuation. Ten
steps. Whatever is the opposite of greatness,
then who will have it
Give it to the ugly girls.
L. Ron's big
Web secret
Not less than a
week ago I was lis
tening to one of
my favorite bands,
Tool, and I came
across an interest
ing lyric, which I
have edited so as
to uphold the liter
ary decency con
ventions of the
Daily Nebraskan:
“ ITo Have Sex With] L Ron Hubbard and
[To Have Sex With] All his clones.”
I’ve heard the song "Aenima” about
5,000 times, but I've never put much
thought into the words because like most
teenagers haven’t figured out yet, music
really isn’t about the words. Its about the
spiked hair and piercings. Occasionally,
though, a lyric catches my eye, ifyouwill,
while passing through my ear, and on its
way, it makes a pit stop in my brain for
“Who is L. Ron Hubbard, and why is
he making clones?’’ I said aloud to myself
“Pipe down, I’m trying to sleep!”
shouted Evan from across the hall. Of
course my next thought was how to
acquire food or sex, being the typical
alpha male that I am. Upon inspection, I
discovered the fridge contained but one
moldy donut and a slice of muenster
cheese, and then I remembered that I
have vowed to remain a virgin until I am
I was not having much luck that night
All other thought processes abandoned, I
decided to turn my energies toward mat
ters of less importance and figure out who
L Ron Hubbard was.
Enter the Internet Oh, sweet Internet
Provider of bad research materials and
inaccurate data, wouldst thou aid me in
my quest? Yes, I woulsdt, it answered. I
tried my favorite search site,, and typed in L. Ron
Hubbard. It popped up a neat little list of
sites to visit, but the few I clicked on were
just places to buy his book “What is
Apparently, this Ron guy must be
quite the fellow, seeing as how he can be a
scientist, write a book about it and sell it
on the Internet Ah, the gilded age of tech
nology. How did we survive without thee?
So far, I had discovered that L. Ron
Hubbard was some sort of author, and
judging by the cover of his book, he liked
to write science fiction, which seems
about accurate for a scientologist, doesn’t
I was still fairly clueless, though, and
having exhausted my only option of
searching, I tried, in desperation, a
method pioneered by my girlfriend who
attends Washington University in St.
Louis. I simply typed the address to see what hap
pened. All I can say is, those WU people
sure know how to pick their students!
It worked like a charm, and I was
whisked away to the official Scientology
Web site. I figured this would tell me for
sure who L Ron Hubbard really was.
Since we have a super-fast ADSL line
for Internet access here at Alpha Sigma
Sigma, I opted for the souped-up version
of the site, thinking it would offer more
bang for my proverbial buck.
Immediately a picture of the same book I
had encountered earlier showed up, with
the headline fading in: “What is
Scientology? Find out for yourself.”
I could hardly stand the suspense by
now, and this L Ron Hubbard character
seemed to have hit upon something
rather profound if it made casual Web
surfers such as myself want to find out
“The Scientology religion provides
practical answers to the spiritual myster
ies of life,” said the next page of anima
tions. Ah, I see. L. Ron Hubbard had
found a way to address all the spiritual
problems I’ve been having recently. This
was great! I couldn't wait to find out more.
“It helps people help one another. It
strengthens peoples ability to think for
themselves.” By now I was floored. L Ron
Hubbard had become my own personal
hero, which was possibly why Maynard
from Tool wanted to have sex with him so
badly. I could see why. L. Ron Hubbard
was not only going to lift me up from the
spiritual dumps, but make me think for
myself. What more could a guy want?
Buy this book at tine Dookstores
everywhere," said the next message. I
knew there would be a catch. I was ready.
I was willing. I wanted to find out about
Scientology or, at least, about the man
who invented it, but to do that, I was
going to have to buy the book. As you may
imagine, this was where things went sour.
A series of testimonials from people iden
tified only by a picture and description of
their career (“businessman,” “photogra
pher,” "roofer") failed to convince me that
I needed this awesome new Scientology
religion to make my life complete.
I still had no clue what Scientology
was other than, like so much Pepto
Bismol, it causes massive amounts of
happiness in massive amounts of people.
In the meantime, I suppose, I’ll just have
to stick with boring old Christianity and
hope that someone will somehow save
me from my shallow life. Perhaps even
forgive my sins. Maybe even for free, just
by having a little faith. Nah, that’s way too
messed up.
Perhaps I’ll sell my mouse pad and
pawn off my pitch black rabbit slippers so
I can buy L Ron Hubbard’s book. I never
did figure out why Maynard was singing
about clones.