Opinion D«//) Nebraskan Since 1901 Editor Sarah Baker Opinion Page EcStor Jake Glazeski Managing EcStor Bradtey Davis Quotes of the week “I can't stress enough how important out of-state students are to UNL.” Joel Schafer, UNL student body presi dent, on one of the target groups for future recruitment efforts “I look at Dave Matthews now and see a modern-day Huey Lewis. The songs are nothing but pop drivel. If you enjoy the music on that disc, you have no soul.” Columnist Tony Bock, on Dave Matthews Band’s most recent opus “We just wanted so badly to beat the team we weren't supposed to be beat.” Husker forward Paige Sutton, on the end-of-season hopes of die team “A fundamental education has to take us from the provincial place we all start from, whether it's geographical provincialism or ideological provincialism, and then we enter a world that is supposed to tell us the world is much more complex than we imag ined/ English professor George Wolf, on his unique approach to creating a positive learning atmosphere “In the middle of the night, I steal over to East Campus in my Red Lobster bib with plastic knives and forks and slice a piece of cow/ Columnist Dan Leamen, on the luxuries of college-living “The festival gets anywhere from 100 to 200 entries in the narrative, documentary, made for public television and young media artists categories/ Dan Ladely, Mary Riepma Ross Film Theater director, on the Great Plains Film Festival “Whoa, I seriously cannot believe this/ Jessica Lopez, first vice president-elect, after it was announced Score! had won the runoff “It seemed more of a burden to wrestle than something to do for fun/ NU wrestler Ati Conner, on a wrestling slump he has recently overcome “I'm just trying to get my art out there. The more people that see it, the better/ Artist Becky Potter, on the non-mone tary reasons she has opened an art show at Club 1427 “A public institution of higher learning is about more than simple statistical informa tion. It's about exemplifying values and ideals that are pillars of a just and good soci ety/ Daily Nebraska editorial, on the impor tance of diversity in university recruitment and policy-making “I use the instrument to communicate different levels of emotion. It's about play ing the instrument like a voice/ Clarinetist Richard Stoltzman, on his approach to music-making “The possibilities for creative pandering are probably endless, but the main thing is to be creative. There is nothing worse than a boring sin/ Columnist Chas Baylor, on the untapped potential of the sin business in Nebraska Edttorial Board Sarah Baker, Jeff Bloom, Bradiey Davis, Jake Glazeski, Matthew Hansen, Samuel McKewon, Kimberly Sweet Letters PoKcy The My Ntfratfan waioomee brief Mm to «w ecftor and guaat cdumns, but does not guaran tee tar pufatceflon. The Daty Nebraekan main* (he rif** to edt or reject any material subrrettecL ButontoBednatoerttoheromea property of ttwOetyNabraefcan and cannot be nehened. Anonymous aUvrieaianewB not be pubtahacLThoae who aubn* totters must identify themaeive8 by name, year In acted, major anchor group aflKation, ff any. Submit malarial to: My Natation. 20 Nebraska Union. 1400 R St Lincoln, NE 685880448 E-mat MknM^nb^oni Untignadedfcoriale am fteopMoneaflhe Spring 2001 Daly Nebraskan. They do not necessarily (•fleet *t# views of the University of NabrntaMJnootn, its employees, its student body or the Utaetafly of Nebraska Does! of Regents. A oofcmi to solely Vie opinion of teatihor; a cartoon is solely tfreoptiian of Be arttat The Board of Regents acts as pubieher of the Dafly Nebraskan; pot cy to aat by •» My Nebraskan Edtorief Board The UNL Pubfcations Board, estabished by tha regents, supervisee •» production of fte-paper. Accosting to pofcy aetby the regents, neeponsr b«ytoi^adtaltiootanto< toe newapoparles solely in tie hands of Its employees. Megan Oody/DN Case of the vending heist So there I was, standing knee-deep in a pile of Daily Nebraskans strewn about the recycle bin in the lobby ofHenzlikHalL Stardate 47988.1, and I had 10 minutes till class, uauy. t nao uic iuiu ui ait uc- --- ation, only I hadn’t studied SinfKHl for our impending quiz. Ringsmuttl No matter, though, since mm this is the last week before Spring Break. Holley-loo-ya, and please pass the jetty! I reached down for a DN and got a freshman instead, and after helping him to his feet, he offered me the yellowed discount clothing insert as a small token of appreciation. I took it and began to drool over the prospect of buying a genuine for mal set of Calvin Klein underpants for only $5.99 when I heard a thump. 'Thump!'* it went and I paid it no mind, think ing someone had simply passed out from too much pre-holiday cheer. It was, after all, the Tuesday before break. “Thump!’’ It happened again and a little louden Giving the room a smooth cursory glance so no one would know I was curious about a thumping noise (I mean, come on), I discovered nothing. There were some stray high school students, pre sumably left for dead after not making it to die bus on red letter day, a few teachers-in-training and many studious students like myself eagerly await ing the start of Health Education 101 in a matter of minutes. No frolicking rabbits, no construction workers and no drum majors were anywhere to be seen, yet still it thumped. This was becoming very sketchy. Luckily, I had my pair of trusty Hardy Boy Keds and A magnifying glass, which I ■ ifigfrL ^ tnrew in tne direction or the freshman I rescued earlier. Curse him for his incompetence! Were it not for him, would be right by the lecture hall door, smoking Virginia Slims and waiting for class to start I turned around Scott Eastman/DN see if I could pinpoint the source of die thumping sound and lo and behold, I did. Just beyond die comer of a wall, I saw a guy not much bigger than me furiously banging away at (Can you guess? Can you stand the suspense?) a vending machine. Rather anticlimactic, yes? I thought so too. I took a random guess (in science they call it a “hypothesis,” ldds) and figured that die vending machine had failed to dispense some candy for which this hungry college student had paid. Now, I’ve been educated in public schools since I was weaned (except for a brief stint in a Catholic school, but we won't, as they say, go there), and if there’s one immutable fact I have learned it is that drugs are easier to come by if you have a stack of fake hall passes and a high GPA. Nobody ever sus pects die good guys, or the butterfly for that matter. Unfortunately, since I fit neither of those crite ria, I was forced like every other kid in die Lincoln Public School System to get my drugs from in school vending machines and only during lunch or after school. 1 went on to learn that if a machine decided to break, get stuck or simply be shut off and not give you what you pay for, there is no way you can change its mind. Upon not dispensing any item following the insertion of money, a vending machine will sit there and mock die insertion. “Ha!” it will say. “You paid for stuff that I’m not letting you have! Sucker.” No amount of kicking, punching, cursing or shoot ing will ever get those precious litde baggies of hard, white and sometimes powdery substances called Lick-m-Aid out of a vending machine. Your only hope is for some nerd to come along, put in some cash and pray he selects the same thing you did. Then you just beat him up and take what was rightfully yours in the first place, but be sure to toss him a DN clothing ad for com pensation. isacK to tne venaing Macnine Superstar, or so I had dubbed him, in Henzlik Hall. He was probably from some other state like New York or Canada because he just didn't seem to get it He hit that poor vending machine repeatedly with his hands, feet and bookbag, think ing it would make some sort of difference. “Oh, I’m sorry," the vending machine was probably thinking. MDid you want that Snickers bar? I didn't give it to you at first, but 1 will for sure let you have it now that you are abusing my frag ile little American-made frame." He kicked, punched and wept, but the machine would notyield. This guy's dignity was on die line, and he could risk losing it all, as well as any hope of ever getting laid again, if he let this vending machine get the best of him. Not even the pinball-machine tactic of tipping and tilting was working. This poor dude. Eventually the thumping subsided, and when the dust had settled, I glanced back at the battle scene. The machine had won, and squatted on the tile floor defying any and all undergrads to test its limits. The Vending Machine Superstar was out exact ly 50 cents and was \\w/ being led from the building by his friends, patting him on the back for consolation. I shrugged, tossed my cioming aa in me nearest aluminum can recycle bin and headed off to tackle my quiz. Write to us. Tell us what you think. Ietters@dailyneb.com Jesus calling us home Remember when you were a little kid and your parents punished you, and you would throw the most awful tern per lamrumsf You sobbed and sobbed. Your heart was broken. 'four parents didn't love you! If they did, they would have seen things your way. You kicked and screamed and wailed. In your head, maybe you realized you were bang a little ridiculous. Ibis wasn't going to get you anywhere. But your heart was crying out feeling real betrayal and longing for something warm, sooth ing, safe and free. Someplace you could almost describe as... home? Maybe you’ve never experienced this. My roommate andlhave, and we've talked about it but we tend to be a bit kooky anyway. But then again, maybe you did this last week. The circumstances behind it get more sophisticated, but the heart issue doesn't change. The heart says, “This is not my life. This is not the way itfs supposed to bie. This is not my home." For die first 16 years of my life, I told myselfthat my home was with my family on the farm outside oflincoln. My sisters and I did well in school, didn’t get involved with drugs, sex or drinking and joined our mother for church on Sunday There I learned that if I continued to be good I could go to heaven when I died, and I could be with God and all the other good people. That seemed like a good idea But when I was a sophomore in high school, I heard something that didn't seem so good. I went to a Campus Life meeting, and during the group discus sion they asked the question, “Who gets to go to heaven?* I said I thought everyone got to go to heaven if they were sincere in what they believed. One of the more regular atten dees shot back, “Nuh-uh. Only a Christian gets to go to heaven." I was somewhat offended and didn't return to Campus Life for a while. That view seemed much too narrow-minded con sidering the diversity of the world. The next chapter in “The Journey Home* found me sitting on the hood