The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current, October 16, 1986, Image 2

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Page 2/The Battalion/Thursday, October 16,1986 Opinion God misquoted, didn’t say Robertson should iw| EDI Karl Pallmeyer The Lord spoke to me the other night. “Karl,” He said. “What?” I answered sleep ily. It was late and I wasn’t too sure of who was calling my name. Practical jokes abound at this time of night. “This is God speaking,” he said, punctuating his statement with a clap of thunder. “I’ve got something I want to say to you.” I was wide awake. Needless to say I felt obliged to listen. “I’ve been misquoted,” he said. I was worried. If there is anything a journalist fears it’s someone saying they have been misquot ed, especially when that someone is extremely im portant. I couldn’t think of any time that I had quoted, much less misquoted, the Supreme Being, but I decided to apologize anyway. “It’s not you, it’s someone else who made the mistake,” the Almighty said. I was relieved to know that I was not responsible for a mistake that might cause a plague of frogs to descend upon the land. “Who was it?” I asked. “Pat Robertson,” the Lord of Lords replied. For those of you who haven’t heard, Robertson said that God told him he should run for presi dent. Robertson feels that this nation needs God’s leadership. Since God can’t run for president be cause he isn’t an American citizen, Robertson has decided to run in his place. I asked the King of Kings to explain the details of Robertson’s reli gious blunder. “It’s this presidential race,” God said. “One eve ning Robertson was praying to me, I usually try to ignore him but he was being pretty persistent. He asked me if I thought he should run for president, and I told him I thought he should run for pizza. I was a little hungry, and I thought I would see if he would actually do the Lord’s work for a change.” “So you never told him that he should run for president?” I asked. “Heavens no,” the Holy Father said. “Robertson misunderstood what I said. He has always had a problem interpreting my word, especially when he interprets my word for those people who are silly enough to listen to him.” I wasn’t too shocked by the revelation, the God of Robertson’s sermons and the God of the Bible I have read seemed to be two different Beings. Since I was the First person since Joan of Arc to have an exclusive interview with the Creator, I de cided I had better ask a few more questions. “Do you ever get involved in politics?” I asked. “Not usually,” the Great One said. “I like to think that you people are capable of running your own affairs without my interference.” “That’s the beauty of this world,” he said. “If I wanted everyone to believe one way I wouldn’t have given you people free choice. That’s why there are dozens of Protestant sects, Catholics, MAsRSDLIES HOU^TDtJ TOT rv^, h^ROBE PIease,Lord, gfive me . a sigh... won 1 * t Hot funny, Falwell. -Busin © 9 ( Ml rr Jews, Moslems, Buddhists, atheists and many dif- and Falwell I wouldn’t have given you pet ferent philosophies.” “Does that mean you don’t want our nation to be ruled by the likes of Pat Robertson, Jimmy Swag- gart, Jerry Falwell and all the others who say they are doing/our will?” I asked. “Of course not,” the Almighty replied. “If I wanted everyone to follow Robertson, Swaggart brains. “Do you want to know the worst aspect oft whole matter?” God asked. “Certainly,” I said. “1 still haven’t gotten that pizza.” Karl Pallmeyer is a senior journalism majorm columnist for The Battalion. ■■Halil toil I UJtll only Sup-po c-L 5.D.I. research rf oU -6 c=J i <lo \j e.'TTe $ and cX-d ^ CX.U (K ( (fzr lo o '-Hxe. p D h / To / 4* Strategic footnotes Reagan should rea* top | ■as"t and \ William F. Buckley Jr. If doctors acted like chiropractors Lewis Grizzard My secretary, the multi-talented and semi-precious Miss Wanda Frib- ish, was in a minor automobile accident recently on her way to work. It wasn’t her fault. Nothing is ever Miss Fribish’s fault. She gave up being at fault when she joined the women’s movement and started saying assertive things like “Out of my face, Pencil- neck,” and “Take a long walk on a short pier, Four-eyes.” A driver attempted to pull into the lane occupied by Miss Fribish and she had to take evasive action. In doing so, the right tires of her car blew out when she hit against the curb. Miss Fribish and her car came to a screeching halt on the sidewalk. Luckily, she was not harmed. When she called the office to say she would be late, however, she was livid with a rage equivalent to several sticks of dynamite. “I don’t blame you for being angry,” I said to her. “Sounds like a road hog to me.” “That’s not what made me so mad, Typewriter-face,” she replied. “While I was waiting on a tow truck, two chiro practors stopped and gave me their cards.” “You mean, they solicited your busi ness right there at the scene of the acci dent?” “Do I stutter, Newsprint-nose? That’s exactly what happened. “The First one said, ‘You could have severe neck and spinal injuries and not be aware of it. Come by my clinic for a free initial examination.’ ” “And what did you say to him?” I asked Miss Fribish. ) ©tsefe SCEJ pps 4-IOMAI2C2' ' , Otorrep FEATUse siviC? “I said, ‘Out of my face, Pencil- neck.’ ” “And what about the second chiro practor?” “He said the same thing.” “And you said?” “I said, ‘Take a long walk on a short pier, Four-eyes.’ ” After Miss Fribish told me of her ex perience, I began to consider what it would be like if regular physicians ever became as pushy as chiropractors. If you watch television, you know that about every eight minutes there will be a commercial advertising the services of a chiropractor. “Come on down, folks, and see Curly the Chiropractor. Have one vertebra pushed back in place, get the next one aligned for free.” Imagine a medical doctor appearing on your television screen saying, “Hello, Dr. Achenot here. If you’ve been feeling rotten lately call me for an appointment. Remember our motto: ‘If Dr. Achenot can’t make you feel better, then you might as well give up hope and wait to die.’ ” And can you imagine doctors solicit ing in public like Miss Fribish’s chiro practors? “I see you there with a cigarette in your mouth, sir. I’m a doctor. Call me when you get lung cancer.” Or, in a restaurant: “Excuse me, Ma’am. I hate to interrupt your meal, but I’m a doctor, and you look really sick. It’s probably the heartbreak of pso riasis. Here’s my card and have a nice day.” I hope such a thing never occurs, but you never know. In the meantime, if you are accosted by an overzealous chiropractor, remember the words of Miss Fribish: “. . . And the horse you rode in on, Lumbago-breath! ” Copyright 1986, Cowles Syndicate Everyone con cerned with sum mit diplomacy has spoken, perhaps even overspoken, on Factor A, over against Factor A prime, up against Factor B, which is disguising the menace of Factor B prime. So we shall dwell on strategic footnotes. A mere half-page in the current issue of Time magazine condenses the mem oirs of Yelena Bonner. She is the wife of Andrei Sakharov, the physicist who gave the Soviet Union the hydrogen bomb, in due course repented of the be havior of the government to which he had given it, and was exiled to Gorky Five years ago. We know all about the treatment of dissidents by the Soviet Union. Recently we effected the release of two of them, Yuri and Irina Orlov. It is probable that we first petitioned for the release of Sakharov, but the Soviet Union regu larly uses as a reason for not releasing him that his mind carries deep secrets of the kind that might damage the Soviet Union, were he free to divulge them. But the thing Sakharov and his wife carry in their memory has less to do with variations on E equals MC squared than on how it is that official Russia deals with those who are in disrepute, but who, for complicated international rea sons, official Russia dares not simply eliminate (Stalin style), or even sequester in Siberia (post-Stalin style). Ever since he was exiled in Gorky, Sakharov, by one means or another, has managed to get out this or that detail of what he has been submitted to, but never in such detail as now, thanks to his wife’s brief permission to visit Western doctors. Bonner writes eloquently about what life is like in Gorky under KGB surveil lance. But this eye fastens on the Sakha rovs and their automobile. Yes, they are one of the few Russians who actually own a car, a 1976 Somethingorother (the make is not revealed in the Time story). To have a car in the Soviet Union, even if you are restricted in where you can go with it, is on the order of having, in the United States, a newspaper-tele- vision-telephone-telex-helicopter-con- gressman. Official Russia didn’t want simply to remove the car from the Sak- han>\ s. soil m<Hinted nMcadsomeiliiMji <m ilic oidci of ,t National v J the order of Gouncil Operation Overlord. 1. When Sakharov declared a strike, the KGB stole the car. Co; | >1 EDI! nctl 2. When the Sakharovs proccdiBjT with their hunger strike (designedioM^I licit an exit visa for their daughteJLT law), the KGB called to say, “Ha?:] Your car has been found! Cornell I East ( .oi k\ .md gel it!" HieSaMianST^. knew better than to leave their apar mem. I d. So, f rustrated, the KGB broke the Sakharovs’ apartment and J c J patched them to hospitals to befcl^ 1 ted A It ri t his w .is if me. tho n:. F f turned t< > t lien .ipai tment — and.ler® J behold. . . . B^il §se \\l I < >utsi( 1( w ,|s t hell 1,11. On;; ? strangely misshapen. EverythingcbP 6 that could be wiisi i e\ml was. EvenBFji ashtrays had been removed. It toolm I Sakharovs, who could design a spa«® e ^l hide to Venus in the same period,!® mont hs to |>iei e it together. pd, 5. Whenever the Sakharovs did thing displeasing to the KGB,their® tomobile suffered, in effigy. If Hu spoke, by whatever means, to a fore r correspondent, a tire would be slasln a window fractured. And they were: 1 j, ( they could not pick up hitchhikers L tne suiting in difficulties. atl | le 6. Once they picked up two old MCade Their car was stopped, and theN®^j a | ladies dragged out of it. Anothert®lj t 111 (■ \ saw aiii.m w ilh a ( hildol la,:; ing with a broken leg. They stoppej 0 j ] ( take them to a hospital. The B®L rushed into the car, took the vlT £ poutingly delivered the child totk aid station and cautioned the Sail rovs: One more of these and you i; your car, permanently. Ronald Reagan apparently have an opportunity to add to hist J mit agenda four new tires for the» rovs and a brand-new ashtray, never be inopportune for thepresif to hear in mind that, in dealing General Secretary Gorbachev, I# dealing with the principal enginefi ficial Russia. And official Russia Union of Soviet Socialist Republic the embodiment of the kindofpf : who do that kind of thing to that kb people. We strung up people liketheseat remburg, and now we have champ- with them. Amazing what an in« of nuclear bombs will do foryou. Copyright 1986, Universal PressSpdU respol respol 1 wl mteg, The Battalion (USPS 045 360) 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 Editorial Policy Vhe Battalion is a non-profit, self-supporting neusp ated as a community service to Texas A&M and Bryant lion. Opinions expressed in T'/ie Batta/ion are those oflk^ board or the author, and do not necessarily represent^ of Texas A&M administrators, faculty or the BoardofR^j The Battalion also serves as a laboratory newspaper: in reporting, editing and photography classes withinilR ' merit of Journalism. I he Battalion is published Monday through Fridi' Texas A&M regular semesters, except for holidayandto^ periods. Mail subscriptions are S17.44 per semester,$516^’ year and $36.44 per full year. Advertising rates fum5» (jlicsl. Our address: 7 he Battalion, 216 Reed McDonald• Texas A&M University, College Station, Ta 77843. Sc, ond , lass postage paid .n ( ollegeStation. i\"’’ POSTMASTER: Send address changes to 77ie fc-' Reed McDonald, T exas A&M University, College 77843.