Opinion
/>»/]Nebraskan
Since 1901
Editor Sarah Baker
Opinion Page Editor Jake Glazeski
Managing Editor Bradley Davis
“I feel one T*
of the best things about the ASUN elections is
that it gets a lot of good ideas out there.”
John Matzen, independent ASUN presiden
tial candidate, while discussing his involve
ment in the ASUN elections
“I plan to spread happiness like the venereal
disease it was founded upon.”
Columnist Karen Brown, on her mission to
spread the love of winter
“(Eminem) is opening a way to a different
form of expression. He is not confined to the
traditional way of making music.”
Missoi Albert, an actuarial sciences gradu
ate student, on Eminem’s merits as a per
former
“I can say with complete confidence that we
could have won the national championship
last year. We had the most depth and experi
ence of any team, but the wheels sort of fell off
as the season went on with everyone getting
hurt”
Jason Hardabura, All American gymnast,
on the missed opportunities of the past
“Justice cannot exist in a world of lies or in a
world of shadows.”
Columnist Jeremy Patrick, on the value of
open, public executions
“I’ve always been mentally strong. When
coach came at me, like any player, I was upset.
But I couldn’t take it lying down. I’d be less of a
player if I would have done that.”
NU forward Steffon Bradford, on his
approach to less-than-great news on the team
“I don’t know how he thought he wouldn’t be
caught for using fraudulent Social Security
Numbers. That was so dumb.”
Sophomore Todd Ayres, on the behavior of
a signature-collector working for NUForce
“It’s just hysterical watching everyone else
go up there because it’s kind of a sink or swim
thing.”
Kaitlyn Conner, a senior Spanish major, on
the value of karaoke
“We always make an effort to be as econom
ically efficient as we can.”
Pat Logsdon, director of football opera
tions, on die recent attempts to make cut costs
to balance the budget
“The problem is not so much about having a
diverse senate as it is about having a diverse
campus.”
Jaron Luttich, presidential candidate for
The One Party, speaking on the problem of
bringing diversity to student government
“Listening to Eminem will not form the
moral in a person’s mind that violence against
women and gays is right, nor will not hearing
his music convince the person otherwise.’’
Columnist Jake Glazeski, on the absurdity
of gay-backed protests against the infamous
musician
“I don’t like the Dave Matthews Band, and
that's OK.”
Music commentator Andrew Shaw, on his
distaste for the popular band
“It’s great to be back in school. I can’t give
up.
Adam Prenzlow, freshman meteorology
major, on his commitment to his goals despite
obstacles
Editorial Board
Sarah Baker, Jeff Bloom, Bradley Davis, Jake Glazeski,
Matthew Hansen, Samuel McKewon, Kimberly Sweet
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Unsifted edtorials are the opinions of the Spring 2001 Daly Nebraskan. They do not necessarily
reflect tha views of the University of Nebraska-Uncotn, its employees, its student body or the
Univeraty of Nebraska Board of Regents. A column is solely the opinion of its author, a cartoon is
solely the opinion of Is artist. The Board of Regents acts as pUbisher of the Daly Nebraskan; pol
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Megan Cody/DN
You keep your wonderland
I hate snow.
I mean, there’s lots of
things that I dislike, but
when it comes to snow, I
give it the ol’ one-finger
salute, and as I raise my
pinky high in the winter air,
I curse my ancestors for sin
nmg and sending white Simon
powdery punishment on _u.
me, the ultimate fruit of Ringsmutn
their labor pains.
Remember that day, not so long ago, when the
that computer whiz of a(n) (internim) chancellor
we affectionately call PerlMan closed the
metaphorical hallowed gates of campus?
I don’t remember it, either, because I was too
hung over.
My frat threw an emergency keg party the
minute we heard the news, using our stash of
booze under the stairway.
When we tapped those old wooden barrels, we
discovered there was a line to be drawn between
good, healthy fermentation and moldy waste
water, but we didn’t care until far into the next
afternoon.
As it turned out, this Friday also was the day my
girlfriend was to fly into town from her much-bet
ter-than-third-tier school in St. Louis.
After sleeping in until the wee hours of the
afternoon, I staggered over to the TV and did what
any self-respecting guy would do.
I ate macaroni and cheese straight from the
box, licking a frozen butter popsicle for added fla
vor, and watched Starship Troopers until I felt my
own brain getting sucked out
Right about then, my hardy roommate Evan
burst through the door and announced we would
use this opportunity to try and work ourselves into
the neighbors’ will by shoveling their driveway. I
don’t think it worked, but they do let us pet their
dog now.
After we returned from shoveling, I got a phone
call while I was warming my butt on one of those
hemorrhoid pads you buy at Walgreens and plug
into the walL It was my girlfriend's father asking if I
could drive them to the airport since they couldn’t
find their white little Toyota amidst all the snow.
Praise God for wood-paneled minivans, I
shouted, and I hopped out of my skivvies and into
my Gap khakis, spreading half a bottle of Old Navy
over my scrawny body because there was simply
no time to shower.
Donning my superhero cape that doubles as a
Trident Gum beach towel, I ran to my car and was
off to rescue my girlfriend’s parents from the win
ter doldrums, whatever those are.
It's a good thing I was driving, since not a single
square inch of pavement in the entire town was
plowed except for the sidewalks on East Campus,
and no vehicle on the planet except a minivan or
SUV could have survived that much snow.
We charged heroically through snow
drifts and street
signs on thr
way
the airport with my girlfriend’s mom humming
“Battle Hymn of the Republic” on her kazoo, mak
ing it just in time to be fashionably late.
Fast forward to the following Monday morning.
The weekend was wonderful, and now it was
time for me to head off to school once again.
Late Sunday night, the plows had finally made
it to the major streets like 1-80,0 and Vine, which I
take to get to school.
I crept out of bed and took a long hot shower to
thaw my feet out, since we keep the thermostat at
38 in the winter, which cuts down on heating bills
and Jehovah’s Witnesses, so I can’t complain.
On the way to school I noticed that the ol’ van
wasn’t running like it used to, and I was fairly sure
it wasn’t healthy for a car to be shedding parts
while idling at a red light.
I made it about a block and a half down Vine
Street and was on my way up a small hill when my
van ceased to move forwards and began rolling
slowly backwards with the shifter on D, not R.
Of course, my first thought was that Q from Star
Trek had once again altered the gravitational con
stant of the universe.
As I watched cars in my lane swerve out of the
way and into oncoming traffic through my Vedder
brand rearviewmirror, I figured the problem was
not quite so supernatural and most likely occur
ring under the hood, as Q was not that demented.
After a quick phone call, my mommy came and
rescued me, and we stashed my van under some
shrubs on the boulevard.
She drove me to school, and I called my dad to
see what sort of fatherly advice he could offer, and
after much grunting, scratching and manly
cussing, we deduced it could only be the transmis
sion.
That's when I wet myself right there on the sec
ond floor of Ferguson Hall.
For all you English majors, the transmission (or
“trannie" as true car guys like myself call it) is the
most important, and therefore the most expensive,
part of a car.
If it breaks, you can count on taking out two
extra mortgages just to cover the labor for getting it
fixed.
Well, mine broke.
Later on that day, my dad and I discovered that
the problem was a hose which had popped off
some important part of the engine (or “chassis").
All my transmission fluid had leaked out onto
the pavement Sunday night, killing massive
amounts of squirrels and stray vegetarians, not to
mention my engine and bank account.
So here I am, tooling around town in a stolen
snow plow from East Campus until I can rustle up
enough cash to salvage my van.
And if anyone knows where I can get cheap
macaroni and cheese, please let me know.
I’m going to need something to eat for the next
five months.
Redaiming
the truth of a
woman's life
"Johnny
makes me feel
strangely good
about myself...
I never met a
man I was so crazy
about
it Kinaa has
become an obses- Elizabeth
siontome Polles
I hate him all
the time
But I still get up
When he knocks me down
And he orders me around...”
-LizPhair
A devastating epidemic has infected
this country.
Its targets are usually women
between the ages of 12 and 20. Most of
those with the disease don’t realize it
until it’s too late, if ever.
Although it has no name and is not
recognized by the medical community, it
is a mental illness, which can be triggered
by a number of factors. Most of these are
very hard to pinpoint, although environ
ment and culture seem to play a role.
It causes young women to neglect
their true selves until they wither away to
virtually nothing and, in many cases,
causes death of the spirit
The women affected by the disease
come from all races and economic back
grounds, but they share certain, distinc
tive characteristics. They have low self
estefem and have been conditioned to
please others, especially men, instead of
themselves, in order to be socially
accepted. This is the story of one such
girl.
Anna was always energetic and curi
ous as a child. She liked to catch frogs at
the pond and was fascinated by science
and nature. She happily participated in a
variety of activities, including softball,
soccer and dance.
She excelled in school and was
placed in academic enrichment pro
grams for advanced students. She had
many friends at school, both girls and
boys. Her energetic personality naturally
drew people to her.
Around the time when Anna started
junior high, things changed. Her family
life was as stable as it had always been,
but things at school suddenly seemed
strange. The boys with whom she had
once played kickball at recess were now
excluding her at the lunch table and star
ing at her in ways that made her feel very
uncomfortable. The popular girls at her
new school wore tight shirts that clung to
their bodies and full makeup every day.
They flipped their clean, shiny hair and
giggled when boys talked to them.
Suddenly, Anna no longer fit in. She
started to compare her physical appear
ance to those of the popular girls, and she
never measured up. Her nose was too
big, and her breasts were too small.
Things that had once made her happy
weren’t considered to be cool now. Boys
ignored her. If she spoke up in class or
voiced a different opinion in a group set
ting, other gills gave her strange looks or
simply pretended that they didn’t hear
her.
one wcuueu a uuyuicuu tiiiu iu ue
accepted by her peers, so she gave up the
things she had once enjoyed, tried not to
show her intelligence too much and
modeled herself after the girl who
seemed the most perfect to her. It
seemed to her that if she just went with
the flow and gave these people what they
wanted, they would like her, too.
She started to rely on other people to
give her a sense of self-worth. Without
die confirmation of these people that she
was worth something, she felt like she
was worth nothing.
By the time Anna entered high
school, she was a permanent member of
the “popular" crowd. She got invited to
all the cool parties, wore the trendiest
clothes and had a football player
boyfriend named Chris. Things were
great with Chris for a while. He told her
that she was beautiful and that he cared a
lot about her. He made her feel special.
Soon, Chris started getting jealous
and controlling of Anna. He ordered that
she never be around other guys without
him, demanded that he knew where she
was at all times and got angry at her if she
ever wanted to do anything without him.
Anna wasn’t very happy with his behav
ior, but Chris said he would break up with
her if she didn’t do these things.
Soon, Anna hardly had any friends
left because she spent all of her time with
Chris. She didn’t know who she was with
out him. She thought that if she broke up
with him, no one else would want her,
and maybe her clique wouldn’t accept
her by herself. She had allowed him to
define her, and she no longer had an
identity of her own.
I know so many Annas. I’m sure you
know Anna, too. Maybe you are Anna. I
am going to take this opportunity to tell
Anna to fight back.
Remember the girl you once were
and the girl you always wanted to be.
Think about why you’re not that girl. lYy
to become who you really are, not an
image of what someone else wants you
