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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Dec. 11, 1986)
Page 2/The Battalion/Thursday, December 11,1986 Opinion ‘Plastics’ may not be a bad idea after all Mr. Braddock: “Ben, what are you doing?” Ben: “Well, I would say that I’m just drifting here in the pool.” Mr. Braddock: “Why?” Ben: “It’s very comfortable just to drift here.” Mr. Braddock: Karl Pallmeyer “Have you thought about graduate school?” Ben: “No.” Mr. Braddock: “Would you mind tell ing me then, what those four years of college were for? What was the point of all that hard work?” Ben: “You got me.” Those of you who have seen Mike Nichols’ classic 1967 film, “The Gradua te,” probably remember that scene. For some of us that scene holds a special sig nificance. For four and a half years, including summer school. I’ve been attending this wonderful University. I’ve gone through five semesters of football games of varying quality, four semesters of spring fever, four summer semesters of sweat, 146 hours of classes passed, 13 hours of classes flunked, three Q-drops, hundreds of tests, dozens of papers, plenty of projects, half a million parking tickets, billions of books, a bunch of al bums, a lot of movies, tons of concerts, hundreds of hangovers, rounds of road trips, scores of parties, a couple of dates, six semesters of dorm life, four semes ters of apartment life, one semester of duplex life, two semesters of house life, nine roommates, one cat and a big per centage of my father’s wealth. My college career has contained some of the best of times and some of the worst of times. It has had its ups and downs. There has been good and bad. You can add whatever cliche you want here. Graduation is considered to be a great achievement. I couldn’t have made it without the help of several peo ple who have been teachers or friends or both. I want to take this opportunity to thank some of these people. First of all, I would never have been here if it weren’t for my parents. They have given me almost everything I’ve needed to get through school. My fam ily has been supportive of everything I’ve done and never pressured me to do anything I didn’t want to do. I probably would not have been able to make the adjustment from the small time life of Meridian to life in the big university environment of Texas A&M without Coach G. (a.k.a. Gilbert Gutier rez). Coach G. was a science teacher and coach at Meridian High School when I went there. He came to A&M the same year as I to work on aPh.D. I wouldn’t have made it through my freshman year if it weren’t for Coach G. inspiring me to go on. During my first year in the dorm, I met a group of guys who introduced me to social life at college. The unofficial leader of the group was Josh Johnson. I learned a lot from Josh, Brian Daves, Mark Rose, Dick O’Leary, Tim Howard, Frank Reyna and all the other guys who lived in the dorm that year. In my three years in the dorm I met a lot of other great guys including Kent Hutson, Ben Barnett, Kevin Mosby, Larry Huff, Brian Nethery, Brad Sheffield, Mike Lotz and others too numerous to men tion. I’ve been pretty lucky with room mates. I’m not the easist person to live with, but I need to thank Frank Reyna, Josh Johnson, Lee Ingram, Kent Hut son, Tim Howard, Paul Sun, Brian Daves, Mark Rose and Brad Sheffield for putting up with me as long as they did. Comedian’s despair is not a humorous predicament Don't delay, send good,clean jokes immediately I have a major problem and per haps some of you out there in Read- erland can help me. It’s this: Each of the past two years, I have recorded an album of what I consider to be funny material. Enough were sold, “Be serious,” the girl replied. “You’re fat, you’re ugly and your wardrobe is atrocious.” So the guy goes on a diet and loses 80 pounds. He has a face lift and a hair transplant and he goes to one of those tanning salons and he buys himself an entirely new wardrobe. If the truth were known, I probably would use dirty material, but I get the feeling the country is tiring of Richard Pryor grabbing his privates and of the arogant sleazebagness of Eddie Mur- phy. Also, I can’t write or say a lot of dirty words as long as my mother’s alive. Lewis Grizzard He goes back to the girl and asks, ‘Now what do you think?” the producer tells me, to warrant a third album. My problem is I’m having quite a dif ficult time finding 45 more minutes of clean-to-semi-clean stories. People tell me a lot of jokes. Most of them begin by saying, “Here is some thing you can use on your next album,” and then they proceed to tell me a joke that would embarrass Richard Pryor. She is amazed. “What a hunk,” she says to him, and agrees to a date. He arrives at her door as the limo awaits. She emerges, radiant, her eyes full of the promise of a never-to-be-for gotten evening. The man has never been happier in his life. As they walk to the limo, lightning strikes the man. In his dying moments, he looks to the sky and asks, “Why now, God? Why now on the happiest day of my life?” There is a place for clean humor. Bill Cosby is a riot, and he tells about cook ing breakfast for his kids. Johnny Car- son is funny, and he has to deal with the NBC censors. I think it is more difficult to be clean and funny than dirty and funny. Dirty funny can rely on shock. Clean funny better have a punch line or it’s in big trouble. Here’s my plan: The only good clean joke I’ve head recently was about a guy who fell in love with a beautiful girl and begged her to go out wih him. God looks down and says, “Sorry, Sam, I didn’t recognize you.” I hereby announce The First (and probably only) Lewis Grizzard Joke Contest, open to anybody who can write a letter. There must be thousands of stories like that, but they rarely come my way. The idea is that if you have a joke you wouldn’t mind telling in front of your mother, write it down and mail it to me. 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 The Battalion is a non-profit, self-supporting newspaper oper ated as a community service to Texas A&M and Bryan-Collecre Sta- Opinions expressed in The Battalion are those of the editorial board or the author, and do not necessarily represent the opinions of Texas A&M administrators, faculty or the Board of Regents. The Battalion also serves as a laboratory newspaper for students in reporting, editing and photography classes within the Depart ment of J ournalism. The Battalion is published Monday through Friday during Texas A&M regular semesters, except for holiday and examination periods. Mail subscriptions are $17.44 per semester, $34.62 per school year and $36.44 per full year. Advertising rates furnished on re quest. Our address: The Battalion, Department of Journalism, Texas A&M University, College Station, TX 77843-4111. Second class postage paid at College Station, TX 77843. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to The Battalion, De- artment of Journalism, Texas A&M University, College Station 77843-4111. Mail your joke (or jokes) to Lewis Grizzard Clean Joke Contest, 66540 Powers Ferry Road, Suite 325, Atlanta, Ga 30309. parti TX ' I have made a lot of close friends through clubs and organizations I have participated in. I would like to thank those members of the Meridian Home town Club, Aston Dorm Council, Stu dent Art Film Society, SWAMP, Stu dents Against Apartheid, KANM, Society of Professional Journalists and anything else I’ve been involved in. I also would like to thank the staff of the short-lived Video Aggieland. I wish I would have had the opportunity to work with them. Super big thanks to the en tire staff of The Battalion, some of the closest friends I’ve ever had. There are lots of other friends I have made through various sources who I also would like to thank. There is one special person who has recently made my life brighter and deserves several words of thanks. Most of my professors have been ex tremely helpful, both inside and outside of class. I would like to think all of them, but there are two. Dr. Terry Anderson and Dr. Larry Hickman, who I consider to be good friends as well as good teach ers. I know I’ve neglected to mention some people. It’s not that I have forgot ten about them, it’s just that if I listed everyone it would fill this entire paper. I haven’t been avoiding anybody, I just haven’t had the time to hang; with everyone as much as I would For the first time in 22 years,din step is up to me. My life hasbeenE ing a set pattern until now. Nowii turn to make a decision. A1 I could take Mr. McGuire’sadii Ben and go into plastics. I couldg into the “real world” and joinil< race of the nine-to-five scene.Icon to grad school and collect anodic gree. 1 could become an alcholit and stand on street cornersbeggii money to buy another bottle oil Turkey. PA There are many options Icoii sue, but I have decided to tali wimpy way out. Tm goingtostavlf least one more semester, take classes, write for The Battalionui, looking for a real job in the real Jl| Sorry to disappoint you. Karl Pallmeyer is a graduating® lism major and a columnist hi Battalion. Getting hitched is a bad proposal OJS' officials vard ainst i 1‘Thei volved,' witii dir For the fourth time this semester, I found myself having to google and oogle over Margaret Artz Gxust Columnist someone’s third finger, left hand. “Oh, Suzie-Q, it’s beautiful! I’m so ex cited for you! Johnboy’s such a great guy! You’re so lucky!” As the crowd of female well-wishers grew, I let others take over clucking du ties. This is one of life’s situations that calls for tact, diplomacy and the ability to hold back what I really want to say — are you crazy? You’re too darn young to get MMM . . . MMM . . . You’re too young to get hitched! It’s that traumatic stage of life when friends start dropping like flies — straight down the aisle to the land of joint bank accounts, TV Guide, and le gal sex. No longer will their budgets al low nights on the town or decent beer — and, worse yet, they’ll be happy that way. But the singles of the world know bet ter. Marital bliss won’t be in my game plan for quite some time. Maybe it’s a form of post-pubescent rebellion, but I look forward to being an “old maid” for a few years. Building a career, furnishing my own place in my own taste, paying my own way and being respon sible for my life are my goals right now. agencie* As one of the lucky ones,wbBjL ( jj s eiits have stayed together for air j writ ing sc.ms. | (.ml im.tgiiu' gettmtK'fjections 11 .ilss.iss w ,i s s( tiiirt liing 1 rt\t(iJail ol .n heard about, but I never real]'T ^°J i j s 1 ■ , i^Bv. Bil (lose riKountri with anyonefefT ()i been through it until thissumnic:m rccc ) ( come to Reality 101, you shelterttlnew-tax ive child. I “I ask I carpooled w ith two recenld':^ saici and one lady who never vM marry. Five days a week, an h® half a day, trapped in the cant 1 people. Listening. Learning. I tried to ignore their bitter tried to write them off as M middle-aged women — excepifi the norm. But I knew I was myself . I remember tryingtoligte conversation one day by I how all my high-school girlfrieri' getting married and how happv^l cited I was for them. D Ti. “Don’t worry, they’ll all bes again in five years,” one of the* said. She made me mad. But ski made a valid point. Almost of all marriages today end ind kids are involved, they usually^ Mom. From what I’ve seen onT ing a single par® bed of roses. Dis* finately is notion* Trading these years of independence for the hope of marital sta- bility would be throwing away my chance to take charge of my life. Ob viously, not everyone thinks the way I do. “We just couldn’t wait any longer,” said a girlfriend of mine who, I was su- prised to learn, had been married a year. A mild-mannered student by day, she lives in married student housing and actually cooks things that don’t come frozen. If I use it on the nextalbum, I’ll see to it you get a free album, mention on the album cover, and perhaps even some of my jams and jellies. Decision of the judge— me — will be final. In other words, if your joke isn’t selected, I don’t want to hear a lot of whining. Act now. I’m running out of time. Copyright 1986, Cowles Syndicate “When you meet the right person, you know it,” she said with a big smile. I find comfort in that thought. Some day, I’ll be walking down the street and I’ll see him. Everything will come to gether. In his eyes I’ll see a three-bed room, two-bath house surrounded by a white picket fence, with a golden re triever in the yard and two BMWs in the garage. Mutual funds. Night classes. Baby-boomer heaven. But is it for me? No way. At least not for a while. I’m perfectly happy having a good time with my buddies, planning for the future and enjoying the present. When I fi nally do take the plunge, I don’t want to have any “what-ifs.” At 22, I’m still a kid. Graduation and everything that comes with it (unem ployment, moving back in with Mom and Dad) is here. I don’t know what I want to do or where I want to live. I’ve got some vague ideas, of course, but no life plan. Making a permanent commit ment at this point in my life would prob ably up the ratings of Divorce Court a few years down the road. Yet I’m still hap people who get® I hope for them. them. I admire a who is so sure ato aspect of his or h« : this stage of the have trouble deciding what to# the morning, and these peo; together enough to makeadf will affect them the rest of their! least they think they do. I’ve been dating a guy fort*® now. We go to games together gether, study together, depend* other. We’re best friends. Butt®' is not in the picture. Relations^ not an “if-then” situation (if lo 11 marriage). People are constant!' me if we’re making any plat® we’ve been dating so long. Are"’! ding? “Doesn’t that bother you?’ 1 " friend as the glare from her quired engagement ring te blinded me. I calmly and pok 1 swered, “No way.” It’s amazin? that in this day and age, som® think that all women want mam 2 ? V My best friend from higl thinks the same way I do. She J ing anyone right now, soshep the lowdown on the singles seen® “It’s scary,” she told merecc |1,! ; soon as you find a fun guy. J mentioning the ‘M-word.’ ’’G^j For me, the future is wideopj take a job offer anywhere ind without having to consult my ^ present spouse. And I wilU 01 enjoy life one day at a time. Aid ; few more years. Margaret Artz is a senior) major.