Page 2AThe Battalion/Tuesday, October 7, 1986
Opinion
Saturday morning television
enlightened a generation
Battalion editor
Cathie Anderson
pointed out what
should have been
the obvious when
going over a re
cent editorial I
had written.
“If Congress
passed it, and the
president signed
it, then it’s a law
and not a bill,
right?”
“Oh yeah,” I admitted sheepishly. “I
forgot the song.”
“The song?”
“Yeah, you know: ‘I’m just a bill, yes
I’m only a bill, and I’m sittin’ here on
Capitol Hill.. . .’
The light of recognition flashed in
her eyes, and before too long, the entire
staff had joined in.
For those who may not remember
this educational icon, it was one of a
group of two-minute cartoons known as
Schoolhouse Rock that used to run on
Saturday mornings between regular
shows.
The particular song in question was a
musical documentary told in the First
person (or first paper) by a bill who
walked his audience through the legis
lative process of becoming a law.
But the bill was not alone. There were
episodes that documented the Ameri
can Fight for independence and various
lessons about parts of speech. Even the
preamble to the Constitution was set to
music.
It is these video grammar lessons that
are remembered best of all. Who could
forget the classic “Conjunction Junc
tion” or the immortal “Interjections!”?
There were tunes for nouns, verbs and
adjectives. And who could overlook
“Lolly, lolly, lolly get your adverbs he
re”?
There were mathematical musicals
too, such as “My Hero, Zero” and
“Naughty Number Nine.”
These cartoons managed to teach in a
few short minutes what English, history
and government teachers tried for years
to pound into children’s heads.
What’s more, it worked. Old school
textbooks (and for that matter, current
ones) may be a dim memory, but
Schoolhouse Rock, with its catchy melo
dies has transcended not only the years
but the curriculum.
If any programming could exemplify
the benefits of the TV-child
relationship, these were it. The car
toons’ rewards are as tangible as those of
Batman and Robin’s demonstration of
the Heimlich Maneuver on the “Superf
riends.” A few years ago a child saved
the life of a choking man after learning
the life-saving technique on Saturday
morning TV.
The tunes of Schoolhouse Rock were
irresistible, and as a result, so were the
messages. We knew this was the latest at
tempt by concerned-parent types to
make us learn, but no matter how hard
we tried, we couldn’t get those songs out
of our heads.
It touched the lives and brains of just
about every kid who got up early on Sat
urdays to watch two and a half hours of
Bugs Bunny.
Schoolhouse Rock has been missing
from the Saturday morning lineup for
at least 10 years, but the influence still
lingers. Slide into any room of college
students and belt out the bluesy lines:
“Con-junction Junction, whaaaaat’s
your fuuuun-ction? Hookin’ up words
and phrases and claaa-uses” and watch
the faces light up.
Bugs Bunny has been trimmed
(rather poorly) to half an hour. The
Pink Panther died a slow and laughless
death. The “Superfriends” have been
replaced by “Hulk Hogan’s Rockin’
Wrestling.” Somewhere in the shuffle,
Schoolhouse Rock was lost too. It’s not
even given the courtesy of immortality
through re-runs, but it is far from dead.
Slip into a newsroom Filled with up-
and-coming young journalists hunched
over computer terminals, working to
meet ever-encroaching deadlines. You
won’t Find them flipping through gram
mar books to determine if a dependent
clause takes a comma. Instead you’ll
hear them lapse into a couple of verses
of “Conjunction Junction.”
Loren Steffy is a senior journalism ma
jor and the Opinion Page editor for
The Battalion.
Speed demon’s auto-biography
From what I “
read and hear, it Lewis
appears the nation QriZZard
may soon get its
old speed limit
back, or at least one that enables motor
ists to drive — legally that is — faster
than the present snail’s pace of 55 mph.
Regardless of what happens to the
speed limit, however, I remain con
vinced it was a good thing my old friend
Raymond (Double-clutch) Norsworthy
never lived to see the federal govern
ment demand a speed limit of 55.
Raymond couldn’t have handled it.
Speed was his life, his car, his mistress.
Trying to slow down to 55 would have
been like taking away Picasso’s brush,
Van Cliburn’s piano or Jack Nicklaus’
putter.
The day Raymond turned 16 and got
his driver’s license was the happiest day
of his life. It was also the day his parents
tried to do away with him.
Member of
Texas Press Association
Southwest Journalism Conference
The Battalion Editorial Board
Cathie Anderson, Editor
Kirsten Dietz, Managing Editor
Loren Steffy, Opinion Page Editor
Frank Smith, City Editor
Sue Krenek, News Editor
Ken Sury, Sports Editor
a souped-up ’55 Thunderbird, knowing
their son immediately would drive it as
fast as it would go and probably kill him
self.
The Norsworthys, Betty Jean and
Frank, had had it in for Raymond ever
since he was 11, when he put his little
brother, Arnold, into a dryer down at
the coin-operated laundry and dropped
in a dime.
Little Arnold, who was 4 at the time,
lived through the experience, but it was
weeks before they could remove all the
lint from the various oriFices of his
body.
Raymond deFied the odds, however,
and managed to live several years driv
ing at top speed all the time.
When he arrived at school each
morning, the entire faculty and student
body would gather outside to see if Ray
mond could get his T-Bird stopped
from the 120 mph he was doing when
he pulled into the parking lot.
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Occasionally, however, he didn’t. One
morning he drove through the door to
the school cafeteria and his car came to
a halt only when about 100 pounds of
rice pudding clogged his carburetor.
Raymond also continued to terrorize
little Arnold, once tying him naked to
the T-Bird and using him as a hood or
nament.
Raymond also continued to be
stopped often by the police. He was
driving through a nearby small town
one evening and was stopped for speed
ing.
“How much is the Fine?” he asked the
officer.
“Ten dollars” was the answer.
Raymond handed the policeman a 20
and said, “Keep the change. I’ll be back
through here in a couple of hours.”
I think of Raymond often, especially
now that Americans likely will soon be
able to drive faster.
As you probably guessed, Raymond
Finally did get it in an automobile acci
dent.
He was walking back to his car after
buying a new set of foam rubber dice to
hang on his rear-view mirror, and a
woman attempting to parallel park
backed over him.
The blind girl sang Raymond’s favor
ite song, the immortal “Dead Skunk in
the Middle of the Road” at his funeral,
and little Arnold delivered the eulogy
entitled, “The day my big brother went
to that great speedway in the sky, I got
my First decent night’s sleep in years.”
There wasn’t a dry eye in the church.
Copyright 1986, Cowles Syndicate
For his birthday, his parents gave him Most of the time, Raymond made it.
The Battalion
(USPS 045 360)
Mail Call
No tricks, no treats
EDITOR:
It has come to our attention that the Resident Hall Association has
decided that students will not be allowed to go door-to-door when Halloween
rolls around. The main reasons cited for this were:
• It is a Fire hazard because of the paper decorations set up in the dorm
halls.
• The raised drinking age would present problems between the drinkers
and the “new minors.”
Though these may or may not be valid subjects for concern, they are no
reason for canceling Halloween trick-or-treating in the dorms. Many in this
area already have started planning their costumes for this much-anticipated
occasion.
I heard about this at the dining table one evening, and I was surprised
that such a decision was not opened up to the student body for public debate.
I have heard of various rules that were being enforced, marveling at their
trivially, but to be governed within our living areas without representation
seems to be a travesty of what we call “rights.”
What legal basis does the RHA have for telling us what we can and cannot
do in our rooms? It may have the authority to enmrce the drinking age
because that is a state law, but I don’t recall Texas canceling Halloween.
If the RHA was acting for our benefit, why was this decision going to be
hidden from us until it would be much too late to do anything about it? Does
our “Big Brother” feel that we are not capable of handling ourselves on this
one particular night?
Canceling the evening’s affairs may present many problems. The resident
advisers and head residents may be intent on enforcing such a ridiculously
totalitarian policy, but we are intent on having fun with or without prior
approval from our assigned baby sitters. The Moses Hall fourth-floor empire
will celebrate Halloween in our normal fashion. Everyone is invited.
Robert Davidson ’89
Accompanied by 28 signatures
EDITOR’S NOTE: The reason for the decision is damage caused bv trick-or-
treaters in past years, according to RHA president David McDowell. Cleanup
costs and the increased drinking age also were cited. RHAUoween will beheld
at the Grove on Oct. 30.
In our forefathers' footsteps
EDITOR:
In response to David V. Wilson’s letter on Thursday, I couldn’t agree
with him more. Who do those black South Africans think they are? I mean,
where do they get off demanding their — I believe Thomas Jefferson called
them “inalienable?” — rights from their government?
Yet since they choose to advocate such abhorrent behavior, the United
States should not be expected to partake in such radical, irrational behavior.
It’s not like the United States had to ally with France, Holland, Spain or
anyone else to gain their liberty from Great Britain. As a matter of fact,
America’s forefathers did it all alone.
Secondly, it’s not like the founders of this country ever had to contend
with oppression. But then again, I don’t suppose that having a government
— in which you are not even allowed to help decide who will represent you —
dictate where you eat, live, work and even go to the bathroom could possibly
compared to taxation without representation.
And Finally, Wilson’s absolutely right in saying that to abolish apartheid
would only yield civil war in South Africa. I’ll oet that’s exactly what King
George III and his parliament said about those irrational, raciical colonists
who wanted either equal treatment or independence! And it took a while, but
they were probably right. Look at this mess we’ve made.
Dawn Toi Haynes ’88
Safely tips for football fans
EDITOR:
I’m writing to “defend” the policies of crowd control at Texas A&M
football games, as presented at Sully’s Symposium by the yell leaders. Many
fellow Aggies seem to get upset about restrictions placed upon them at home
football games.
I agree with four points presented by the yell leaders on Wednesday:
1) You cannot bring signs into Kyle Field. Even though everyone in the
state knows that Aggies cannot spell (read any bumper sticker in sight), we
don’t want to give our “little secret” away during nationally televised games.
2) You cannot bring any beach balls or . ..
3) any alcoholic beverages into Kyle Field. First beachballs, then Hying
disks. Pina Coladas would be next in this natural progression of BEACH
FEVER. The Aggie Band would look slightly more relaxed in beach shirts
and grass skirts, but then senior boots woula become optional attire. What
about Senior Flip Flops ... ? Maybe Jackie Sherrill could schedule a home
game against the University of Hawaii and beach fever would be allowed for
one game?
4) No hissing or booing at games since Aggies are above this type of
behavior. This rule goes without saying. I’m just glad I don’t have a lisp!
Maybe the yell leaders could hire off-duty campus police officers to enforce
these rules. I would feel so much safer!
Tim Shull
Graduate student
Wait your turn
EDITOR:
This letter is written in response to the letter published about senior
privileges on Thursday. I couldn’t agree more with the four seniors who
wrote that letter because I found myself feeling a little bit cheated by non
seniors also.
My complaint about the underclassmen is that many of them participate
in one of the most signiFicant traditions here at Texas A&M — Boot Line!
In case you didn’t know, Boot Line is reserved for seniors only. If
underclassmen “pull-out” and stand in Boot Line before they’re seniors, it
won’t mean much to them when they do become one. In addition, if they
stand in Boot Line, they might be tempted to say “Hey!” like the seniors,
instead of whatever it is they’re supposed to say.
Underclassmen should wait until their senior year to participate in Boot
Line. Meanwhile, let the seniors enjoy what is rightfully t heirs. After all, we
deserve it, we’ve been here longer.
Mary Garza ’87
Tradition troubles
In regard to Friday night’s yell practice, let me begin by saying that I have
lost what little respect I had for the Corps of Cadets.
Let’s face it, a piece of carpet or some lame-brained tradition is not worth
a trip to the hospital. Does holding people down when they are trying to get
away and beating them with the help of 50 buddies make cadets feel “red-
ass”? If the University wants to avoid any more physical or legal
confrontations it should keep the juniors off the track.
Now for you dumb fools that ran out on the Field knowing full well what
would happen, all I can say is that maybe you needed 50 cadets to beat some
sense into you.
The highest honor goes to the cadet who tackled the girl who ran across
the field. Why don’t you try out for the Twelfth Man. Tney probably need
macho men like yourself.
Craig Browning
Letters to the editor should not exceed 300 words in length. The editorial staff reserves theriglit
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