Page 2/The Battalion/Wednesday August 21985
Botha's word all
Falwell needs
The Rev. Jerry Falwell, leader of the Moral Majority, has
once again demonstrated his narrow view of reality. Falwell,
who is on a fact-finding tour of South Africa with nine other
U.S. clergymen, obviously has found few facts.
He claims the country is making advances towards racial
equality.
Falwell met with South African President Pieter W. Botha
Monday who assured him that his country is striving for equal
rights and political equality for the nation’s black majority.
Currently, South Africa’s apartheid policies prohibit black’s
from having a voice in the government. They are denied the
right to vote, they are segregated from whites and forced to live
in slums.They are denied basic human rights.
Falwell said he asked Botha if the South African government
is in reform and Botha replied it was. He then asked Botha if
blacks would be able to participate in government and the presi
dent said they would.
That was all the assurance Falwell needed. He has already
planned two television specials denouncing U.S. proposed eco
nomic sanctions against South Africa.
Such assurance from Botha is about as comforting as a
promise of a free society from Atilla the Hun. Did Falwell expect
Botha to say “Well, no we’re going to continue our racist policies
and never allow majority rule”?
Despite the violence, protests and obvious facts to the con
trary, one word from the South African president is all Falwell
needs to start another crusade of ignorance.
Falwell, in his conservative-for-conservative’s-sake approach
* to reality, has seen one side of the South African problem and is
ready to leap to the defense of a racist, elitist government which
charades as a democracy.
If he sees progress in South Africa merely because Botha
says it’s there, Falwell must look at the world through a thick
layer of wool.
The Battalion Editorial Board
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By ART BUCHWALD
Columnist for The Los Angeles Times Syndicate
Whilst Art Buchwald is on vacation
we reprint some columns from the past.
Is there organic life in outer space?
This is one of the major questions being
asked in scientific circles today. Does
this organic life resemble ours, and if
not, what type of life exists can (other
planets? What effect will it have on us,
first of all as Americans, and secondly as
human beings?
It is not to early to worry about these
problems and to prepare for them. I
have already started an organization to
hate life in outer space. I feel, as do
many of the people who have joined my
society, that life in outer space presents
a danger to every man, woman and
child in the world, and the public must
be alerted to these dangers before we
make the fateful step of being taken in
by beings on other planets, who will in
all probability try to dominate us.
There are some Munich-minded in
dividuals who are prepared to make
friends with the organisms in outer
space. They are willing to trade our way
of life for ways of life foreign to us.
They are blind to the dangers of taking
up with people — if you wish to call
them that — who have none of the cul
ture, the background or the intelligence
that we have on earth.
It is for this reason that the Society to
Hate Life in Outer Space, or HALO, as
it is known for short, was formed. We
must combat all attempts to come to
terms with life in outer space or lose our
own in the attempt.
My society believes that there is some
thing inhuman about life in outer space.
If they were our friends, as they pre
tend to be, why haven’t they made
themselves known? Why haven’t they
come out and declared that there is life
on other planets? What have they got to
hide?
Obviously they’re waiting for us to
make the first move. They want us to go
to them. They prefer to tackle our boys
on their own territory. They must know
about our attempts to get into outer
space, the money and time and effort
being expended to reach them.
But have they cooperated in any way?
Have they offered to pay part of the cost
to get one of our people out to them?
They have not. All attempts to reach
them by radio and other communica
tions have failed. They refuse to answer
our calls, they ignore our wave lengths,
they are probably laughing at us right
now. It is typical of life in outer space to
be sneaky, uncooperative and treacher
ous.
But once we make it to one of their
planets, then what? Will we be greeted
driven off by truck
as scientists in search of nen
to conquer? Will they unde
that all we want to doisstudi
and find out what makes die!
I hardly think so. First, thevl
kill us. If their weapons are lii
ours, then they’ll try towinii
and prey on our naivete 1
doesn’t succeed, they’ll try to
school with our children.
HALO is not waiting unt!|
conquer space. We are prep;
educational program nowwtui
prevent life in outer spacefwi
ting into our lives.
I think all books on outer
should be censored, and on!
I PALE
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uilty o
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that affirm our way of life sk'l|)thei cl
allowed on library booksheltl
think all our astronauts sho
briefed on the dangers of
outer space. They should beif
recognize the enemy. Goof
should hold hearings and tail
nesses who have defected
outer space to show whatcoult
pen on our planet if outer-spas
ganisms infiltrated our goverr"
and labor unions.
Harr
-tine to
the Te>
Tons’ *
Earner
state p
said.
We have the mo
program. What we i
cooperation of ever;
too early to join.
“Would you want
outer space to marry
I have always been
the laughing stock of Rhonda
all my friends be- Rubin
cause of cars I ve Guest Columnist
driven.
While they got Cameros and Datsuns
after getting their driver’s licenses, I got
to share my mother’s 1968 Plymouth
Valiant.
It was a fun car. There was nothing I
couldn’t do to it. It was a mini-tank that
wouldn’t be stopped by the garage wall,
curbs or parked Volvos.
However, it had a sense of humor
and tended to stall while crossing major
intersections during Houston’s rush-
hour traffic.
That didn’t matter. What did matter
was my friends’ opinions of my mode of
transportation.
The only thing they liked about the
car was the stereo and the fact that it
could seat six people comfortably (and
nine uncomfortably).
This was the reason I was always the
one elected to drive. Of course, I had to
park at the other end of the parking lot
so nobody would see them get out of the
car.
I was so traumatized by my senior
year, I decided to show them that I
could own a car too.
Being the wealthy person that I was, I
begged and pleaded with my parents to
help me pay for it.
Finally, the day came when I was to
roll out of the dealership driving my
slightly used 1976 Toyota Celica.
I was so proud of myself at that mo
ment. I couldn’t wait to get it home to
wash it.
Unfortunately, it died on the way.
My triumph turned had turned into
another joke for my friends. I told
them, “Hey, it gets me where I want to
g°-” , . •
They said “Yeah, when it runs.”
This car lasted all of two years. It died
a noble death and coasted into a parking
spot on campus before uttering its last
back-fire.
It was decided that I was to get a new
car so I wouldn’t inherit anyone’s prob
lems.
I wanted a truck, and my parents
wanted me to have a nice little car.
I didn’t want a nice little car. I wanted
a truck.
We compromised, and I became the
proud owner of a new 1984 Toyota
pickup.
Again I was laughed at. All my
friends who owned trucks asked me why
I didn’t “get a real truck.”
That doesn’t bother me anymore,
and they don’t laugh anymore, because
now they know that baby truck has got
ten me through floods, snow, intense
heat and the Houston freeway system all
at 28 miles per gallon.
Rhonda Rubin is a junior journalism
major.
The Battalion
USPS 045 360
Member of
Texas Press Association
Southwest Journalism Conference
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Assistant News Editors.., .....'tM
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