freshman ought to be able
to handle.
Now if you were in
volved in, say, a love te
trahedron — that’s a
whole different story — a
problem of three dimen
sions also known as a pyr
amid scheme, and should
send you screaming “Eu
clid” all the way to the
math department.
You are experiencing
but a rift in the love con
tinuum and though it
seems lousy now, hey,
think about it. Do you
really want your kids fa
thered by a guy named
Zack? Steer clear of that
marriage thing at least un
til the first out-of-town
conference football game.
Dear Uncle Leonard,
I never thought I’d be
writing this letter from a
small midwestem univer
sity, but I was in the laun
dry room the other day
when this tall, leggy, in
credibly attractive blonde
cruised in with a basket
piled high with aerobics
outfits.
It was a hot, humid af
ternoon and the laundry
room was even hotter
with all of those washers
and dryers going at once
OK, HOLD IT RIGHT
THERE PAL. Do I look
like Bob Guccione? You
can’t write that kind of
crap to me. Do you want
to see this rag hit with a
picket line? Next letter.
Jeez!
Dear Uncle Leonard,
I’ve been trying to win
the favors of this great
looking girl who is hope
lessly hung up on a foot
ball player. I am a 90-
pound weakling and can’t
even get a sideways
glance of contempt out of
this girl. What’s the deal?
Sign me Claude.
Dear Clyde,
So what does your
brain weigh? God
wouldn’t be so cruel to
leave you without some
smarts too. (But then you
are writing to Uncle Leon
ard.) I’m bettin’ that
you’re a National xMerit
Scholar on a President’s
scholarship and that if you
head to the library tonight
you’ll find your kind of
babe hangin’ out some
where in the stacks.
Talk about electron mi
croscopy and I personally
guarantee that you’ll
score with a Star Trek
Vulcan mind meld.
But if you’re gonna
persist in your quest for
this honey, do exactly as I
say.
Go uptown into Bryan
— a place called Banzai
Books — and pick up a
current Sergeant Rock
comic book. Flip past the
gory stuff until you find
that Charles Atlas ad —
the one that says he’ll give
you the body of Conan in
seven days — if you buy
and use this junk he’ll
send you.
Follow the directions
and I promise you’ll at
least get the sideways
glance of contempt.
Dear Uncle Leonard,
I was out on a date the
other night with a girl who
lives on campus. We
danced our tails off and
went back to her dorm
room later to relax and
plan the upcoming week’s
studying schedule.
Anyway, we both fell
asleep and before I knew
it, it was after visiting
hours and there I was,
stuck on the fourth floor
with my gal Betty and
Congolia Rammer, the
head resident in charge,
roaming the halls. Of
course, she sniffed me
out, broke down the door
and turned me over to the
University Police.
My question is how to
keep this from happening
again. Not falling asleep
— I just don’t want to get
caught again. Any ideas?
Sign me Robbie.
Dear Bobby,
I am embarrassed for
your life, bud. Every cat
. who does the dorm scene,
especially with old Ram
mer on duty, knows that
the only way to make a
clean getaway is to keep a
shoulder bag of newspa
pers in your gal’s room.
If you go comatose and
can’t get out before visit
ing hours expire, you just
calmly shoulder your pa
pers and faster than you
can say “yellow journa
lism” you turn into a har
ried newsboy hawking
your papers on your early
morning appointed
rounds.
Not even Congolia will
dare stop the product of
the presses. Yell “First
Amendment!” at the top
of your lungs if anybody
gets in your way.
That trick will gives you
access to more places
than a letter sweater.
This is a technique I
perfected during my
steam tunnel years. Mat
ter of fact I was fondly
known as “The Paper-
man.” Bobby, it’s up to
you to keep this tradition
alive.
Okay, I’ve got time for
one more.
Dear Uncle Leonard,
How do I get a C. T. to
ask me out? Sign me El
len.
Dear Elsie,
Oh dang, we've run
out of space. I’ll have to
send you a copy of the
home version of Dear Un
cle Leonard and let you
figure it out for yourself.
Til next week, lost
sheep.
Tony Cornett, a.k.a. “Un
cle Leonard,” is an
eighth- or ninth-year se
nior and sometimes jour
nalism major. He’s not, by
the way, married.
.®il 8
an erotic love story for the BO’s
Fri.,Oct.3
7:30/945
Rudder Theatre $2
Sat,0ct4
Rudder 301
hkhhbbbm
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