by Anna Skorczeski
As a recent college graduate, I am entering the "It's hard to meet new people" phase of my young social life. Let's be honest, high school and college were both 4-year-long group dates. Meeting people was not hard. But now I am no longer surrounded by people of all the same age that share many of my interests. I have had my first glimpses of The Bar Scene, and based on what I've seen, things look bleak. From my preliminary observations, I have found a predictable interaction between total strangers:
Man approaches woman in bar. Possibly orders her a drink. Creates awkward unsolicited small talk that often manages to include his yearly income. As last call nears, a fear of never seeing this wonderful lady ever again mounts. He asks for her number, or slips his to her.
The man knows three things about the woman:
her general physical appearance
that she goes to bar
that she speaks English
Is that really enough? Maybe she has anthrax. Maybe she eats her toenails. Maybe she has jars of spiders in her closet. Maybe she puts mustard on her ice cream. Maybe she doesn't brake for puppies. Maybe she gets heavy bloody noses once every 6 hours. Maybe she has a tattoo of Weird Al covering her entire back. Is anyone willing to risk all these things for the minute chance that someone will sleep with you?
This abrupt approach leads to the option of the Fake Name and Number. Giving out false numbers and telling strangers false names upon introduction is a very common defense, it turns out. Having been raised under the Judeo-Christian ethic of "Do Not Lie To People," this Bar Tactic has not come easily to me. My first impulse, when asked my name, is to tell my name. No, no, no. Always have a pseudonym ready as unlike your real name as possible so they can never track you down. I made the mistake of just going with Anne the other night. I'm still a beginner.
Cell phones are an added curse. The stranger is able to immediately check the validity of the number you have just given them. And, when your phone doesn't ring as he dials the number you gave him, the poor fool says, "Oh, you seem to have accidentally given me the wrong number." Of course it's the wrong number, and you're an ass for pointing it out. It's like saying, "Oops, you forgot to invite me to your party." To these people I assign writing out the definition of "intentional" 100 times on the blackboard.
No amount of good will or even pity is going to make it worth my while when you drunk dial me at 3:24am. So sorry, but my name's Shaniqua and my number's 777-1100. Call me.
Friday, December 13, 2002
Ode to Algona
by Bryce Wilson
They can't believe I could spend an hour of my day getting to work.
They can't believe they drive an hour to a mall.
I have moved from a large city to a small town.
I don't hear planes now.
I hear trains a lot, though.
A lot of cars don't make me late from work.
Grain trailers make me late for work.
I know what a grain trailer looks like.
Now.
After high school I never went abroad.
In fact, I still haven't.
It kinda feels like it though.
It seems a poem on living in a small town doesn't stand a chance of being interesting.
If I had some funny anecdotes, then maybe.
I like funny anecdotes.
I have no funny anecdotes.
They can't believe I could spend an hour of my day getting to work.
They can't believe they drive an hour to a mall.
I have moved from a large city to a small town.
I don't hear planes now.
I hear trains a lot, though.
A lot of cars don't make me late from work.
Grain trailers make me late for work.
I know what a grain trailer looks like.
Now.
After high school I never went abroad.
In fact, I still haven't.
It kinda feels like it though.
It seems a poem on living in a small town doesn't stand a chance of being interesting.
If I had some funny anecdotes, then maybe.
I like funny anecdotes.
I have no funny anecdotes.
Bowling for Controversial Film
by Stephanie Anderson
None of the Young Republicans wanted to go see Bowling for Columbine with me. This may be because I smell, but they say that it is because "Michael Moore is a piece of s**t." (You may note that I was a little too conservative to actually spell out a curse word and print it on the Internet, and even in my head, I said "beep" while I typed it.) Despite the advice of those feeling more self-justified, I temporarily teamed up with a couple of Donkeys and went to see what all the fuss was about.
To my amazement, Michael Moore, who cleverly stars in his own documentary, does not even resemble South Park's "Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo." Yes, he is slightly obnoxious and self-righteous, and no one could rightly accuse him of following through on a train of thought, but his film brings up some excellent points.
Influenced by pre-movie criticism or not, I expected the film to be one long tirade basically saying: "Guns suck. If no one in America had a gun, we would all hold hands and sing 'We are the World' every day before we sat down for warm cookies and milk." While Charlton Heston took more abuse than Moses ever should, that wasn't exactly the point. The movie seemed to think that guns cannot be the problem, citing Canada's giant gun ownership numbers as proof.
Instead, the film had three basic contentions: 1- The US government is violent. 2- Fear is ingrained into our citizens through the media. 3- That same fear stems commercialism. The thought process connecting these points, if drawn, would look something like a child's interpretation of cartoon tumbleweed.
The film raised interesting questions: Are we a more fearful culture than others with lower homicide rates? Is a combination Bank/Gun Shoppe a good idea? Does government foreign policy affect young people's attitudes toward each other and the world? How far will the media go to sell us something? Is bowling the root of all evil, and more importantly, can it be considered a sport?
But less philosophical questions also came up. Such as, Michael, could you accompany those numbers with percentages to make them at least marginally comparable? Do you know that it is not ethical journalism to only present the facts that support your side of the argument? And, do you ever consider shaping the bills of your hats? It's not enough that the hats are plain ugly, you could also cleanly slice cheese with his visor.
Though my head is mostly full, a little bit of learning and even an independent thought or two crept in as a result of seeing Bowling. I suppose that by entertaining views you disagree with, you run the risk of your mind being changed, or, even worse, your own views being validated.
None of the Young Republicans wanted to go see Bowling for Columbine with me. This may be because I smell, but they say that it is because "Michael Moore is a piece of s**t." (You may note that I was a little too conservative to actually spell out a curse word and print it on the Internet, and even in my head, I said "beep" while I typed it.) Despite the advice of those feeling more self-justified, I temporarily teamed up with a couple of Donkeys and went to see what all the fuss was about.
To my amazement, Michael Moore, who cleverly stars in his own documentary, does not even resemble South Park's "Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo." Yes, he is slightly obnoxious and self-righteous, and no one could rightly accuse him of following through on a train of thought, but his film brings up some excellent points.
Influenced by pre-movie criticism or not, I expected the film to be one long tirade basically saying: "Guns suck. If no one in America had a gun, we would all hold hands and sing 'We are the World' every day before we sat down for warm cookies and milk." While Charlton Heston took more abuse than Moses ever should, that wasn't exactly the point. The movie seemed to think that guns cannot be the problem, citing Canada's giant gun ownership numbers as proof.
Instead, the film had three basic contentions: 1- The US government is violent. 2- Fear is ingrained into our citizens through the media. 3- That same fear stems commercialism. The thought process connecting these points, if drawn, would look something like a child's interpretation of cartoon tumbleweed.
The film raised interesting questions: Are we a more fearful culture than others with lower homicide rates? Is a combination Bank/Gun Shoppe a good idea? Does government foreign policy affect young people's attitudes toward each other and the world? How far will the media go to sell us something? Is bowling the root of all evil, and more importantly, can it be considered a sport?
But less philosophical questions also came up. Such as, Michael, could you accompany those numbers with percentages to make them at least marginally comparable? Do you know that it is not ethical journalism to only present the facts that support your side of the argument? And, do you ever consider shaping the bills of your hats? It's not enough that the hats are plain ugly, you could also cleanly slice cheese with his visor.
Though my head is mostly full, a little bit of learning and even an independent thought or two crept in as a result of seeing Bowling. I suppose that by entertaining views you disagree with, you run the risk of your mind being changed, or, even worse, your own views being validated.
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