Page 2AThe Battalion/Monday, April 11,1988
Opinion
Mail Call
No kid gloves
EDITOR,
One can only applaud Sue Krenek’s desire “to treat Jackson like a real
candidate.” Her column of April 1, however, does not lead us very far in that
direction. Instead of offering a careful analysis of the issues that Jackson has
addressed, she merely presents a series of ‘ad hominem’ queries about his
past record. In that respect, she follows the same mainstream press that she
criticizes, blurring or even ignoring substantive ideological questions by
dwelling on matters of character.
That leads to the second point. Krenek’s contention that Jackson owes his
emergence to kid-glove treatment from the press is not only presumptions
but contemptuous of the thousands of voters — I happen to be one of them
— who cast their ballot for Jackson not because he’s black, not because he’s
“charismatic,” but because he has taken the most stridently progressive stance
on the problems of Central America, corporate power, unemployment, eco
nomic injustice and drugs. If Texas Agricultural Commissioner Jim High
tower and The Texas Observer (among others) have given Jackson their en
dorsement, it is, as The Observer notes in its Feb. 26 issue, “because Jackson
has consistently promoted the progressive and humane political and eco
nomic agenda.” (Not everybody takes their cues from Time and Newsweek.)
Finally, Krenek would do well to give closer scrutiny to the real benefi
ciary of kid-glove treatment from the press: Ronald Reagan, whose repeat
edly erroneous statements go beyond the “wacky” and “off the wall” to the
point of revealing a shocking ignorance and insensitivity. What will history
have to say about the media’s contribution to America’s adulation of a presi
dent who cited trees as a major source of pollution, who claimed that segrega
tion no longer existed in South Africa, and who stated that no living German
had experienced World War II as an adult?
Nathan Bracher
Assistant professor of French
We already have a standard
EDITOR:
In reading Brian Frederick’s column Tuesday, I wondered why he
looked past our already existing standard of morality (for generating civil
and criminal laws) to find his answers. The standard is the U.S. Constitution
and the Bill of Rights.
These documents were written, not by Christians, but Deists who re
garded God as an aloof spectator who neither responded to prayer nor de
manded immolation. Deism was a stage in the atrophy of religion. All men,
said Jefferson, are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights;
Jefferson meant our individual rights derive from the ‘nature’ of man, not
from the ideal of Cod as a creator. So the source of man’s rights is not divine
or congressional law, but man’s identity; rights are required by man’s nature
for his proper survival. t.. .';.t ■.
( v , , aioimq
All national or state legislation which contradicts or imposes upon this
standard of individual rights should be rejected. A law’s purpose is only to
protect ‘rights’, not the prejudices of a mob.
Abortion, sodomy and evolution, have nothing to do with the violation of
man’s rights. A clear cut division can be drawn between the rights of one man
and another — no man has the right to initiate the use of physical force
against another man. Because this is an objective division, it cannot be
changed by differences of opinion, by majority decisions or by the arbitrary
decree of society.
Brian’s solution to unlimited arbitrary power in our government avoids
the basis for moral law (not to mention the Fourteenth Amendment). Brian
proposes to put this unlimited power in the hands of many little govern
ments. Ayn Rand summed it up when she said, “The bxeak up of a big gang
into a number of small gangs is not a return to a constitutional system, nor to
individual rights, nor to law and order.”
Kevin Copps ’89
You will burn
EDITOR:
We are a group of ‘ordinary’ Ags who are absolutely appalled by the ac
tions of some of our Aggie friends. It seems a number of misguided individu
als, possessed by their insatiable desire to tan, have found their tanning spots
at the All Faiths Chapel. Skimpily clad, these individuals lie in the grass on
Chapel premises inside the brick fences. Even a bold few men have taken
their desire to exercise inside the Chapel — without shirts on!
The point of this letter is to point out the blatant level of disrespect shown
towards the Chapel. The Chapel is more than a building erected on campus.
It is an inviolable sanctuary of God for all those who choose to utilize it. These
people have desecrated the purpose of the Chapel, and it had ought be
stopped. The Chapel is used for religious services, Voices of Praise choir re-
hersal and just as a haven for anyone who needs it.
If you must tan, don’t do it on the Chapel premises. If you must do it at
the Chapel, do it with your clothes on. THANK YOU!!
Chris Henderson, ’91
accompained by three signatures
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Springtime sponsor madness
Ah, yes, week-
e n d s during
springtime. There
is nothing quite
like them. Satur
day and Sunday,
two days of pure
bliss and relaxa-
tion. Time to
watch the trees
bloom, the birds
chirp, the small
filthy neighbor- ]
hood urchins chase
weekend.
Mark
Nair
cars. Ah, yes, the
Oh, wait, wait, wait. I almost forgot.
We’re supposed to be in college. We’re
not supposed to relax. We’re supposed
to research and do homework and
study. After all, these are the best years
of our lives.
So, there 1 was. It was a dark and
stormy Friday afternoon. I sat, stunned,
looking at the piles upon piles upqp,
piles of work I had to do. I waded
through the assignments, slashing away
with my machete. So much to do, SO
MUCH TO DO! THEY’LL NEVER
LET ME GRADUATE!
So I said hose it, and I went to Hous
ton for the weekend.
A quick note about Houston, my
home away from home, domicile and
residence and domain of my parents,
my high school and Mac the furniture
man. Every time I go home (once since
the War of the Roses, and that’s only be
cause I won the betting pool and had to
collect), I have this uncanny feeling that
my parents will rush to the door, look at
me strangely and then announce that,
no, they don’t need any more mag
azines, hair care products or any other
sundry you-rip-it-we-fix-it products. Ei
ther that or they will engage in the fol
lowing dialogue:
DAD: The prodigal son returns! How
much do you need?
MOM: My gosh, son, how you have
grown!
DAD: Last time we saw you, you were
knee-high to a grasshopper.
MOM: You look awful. You’re start
ing to look like a sports writer.
ME: Oh, excuse me. I have the wrong
house.
Anyway, back to the story. It was sud
denly Saturday, and we decided to have
a nice family outing. We quickly decided
on The Houston International Festival
because it sounded so soothingly cultu
ral and important. Far be it from us to
miss something soothingly cultural and
important. After discovering that the
thing between us and the festival was
Houston traffic, w r e argued for hours on
how to arm the car. And then w r e were
off.
We found parking (don't ask how; I
still don’t understand how we did it) and
traversed downtown (on foot, no less —
a dangerous stunt) to the festival
grounds. And there, before me, two
huge blue signs flanked the Interna
tional Stage. On the signs were the let
ters that, if read in sequence, said:
“AT&T.”
I was expecting phones to start doing
a show on the stage. I was disappointed.
The Scandinavian Folk Dancers showed
up instead; They weren't phones, but
they,were OK.
We walked around to all the other
stages, expecting performances (as the
signs led us to believe) by such groups as
“Jack in the Box,” “J.C. Penney,” “Texa
co” and other corporate giants. Instead,
we saw things like the Middar Aborigi-
nial Theatre Group, Wilfred Chevis &
The Texas Zydeco Band and the Aus
tralian Jazz Orchestra. Imagine how up
set we were.
Up to this point we were wandering
around aimlessly. It was time for a
change. It was time to get a program of
events. It was time to know what we
tional Festival without at leastoneO®
( ial Femporary Service.
Thai we were missing several na
events by stewing over who andib
were the sponsors <>t the festivals hose
ear. 1
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we were missing several neato events
deciding who and what hadthelai^K
most obnoxious sign/banner/pampf:
that told everyone they were sponsor
the festival.
For instance, it was hot. Peoplew
hot. A I&f gave out little pieces of:
board attached to little woodenhani
If one were to hold the woodenhanci
one's wrist back and fo
therein making the piece of cardboz
move back and f orth, one couldexpeai
fairly nice breeze to cool one off Ji iiolle
on these pieces of cardboard tint n
in
! Tan ii
attached i<> little wooden handle'v Gn
the words "I am a fan of AT&T
found this a rousing indication ofil
it prw| JVayn
TYacy
were missing.
This is what the official program of
events told us:
That the Official Australian Wine of
the Houston International Festival was
Wolf Blass Wine. I tried to find the Offi
cial German Wine, the Official Ca
nadian Wine, the Official Vatican City
Wine but was stymied. Oh, well.
That the Official Headquarters Hotel
of the festival was the Four Seasons Ho
tel. I do not know what a “headquarters
hotel” is, but as long as it is an off icial
headquarters hotel, then it must be im
portant.
That the Official Temporary Service
of the festival was Kelly Services. Like J
always say, you can’t have a real Interna-
spirit of internationalism
over the festival.
Finally it was the end of the day
was time for us to dodge the“sdi
group of some 200 artisans (in
five from Australia)” on the way
the car. It was time for ustotra
home, sit around (the phrase "ta
around” can be substituted herewitl
penalty) and relect in a wondrous its
rie on our day at the International Its
val. It was a time to ask, “WasittM
Oil Company or the Westpac Bant:
Corporation that sponsored Larn
zak and Sax-No-End?” 11 was a ti®
count how many sponsors wep
member and then count howl
shows we could remember, finding!
that the number of sponsersalways*
numbered the number of shows.
And it was a time to think abonk
merits of sponsorship, billboardsi:
late-night commercials. And then it *
a time for reality to hit me squared
face like a bowl of HamburgerHdf
and for me to remember those
mous words, “1 am your term pa]
shall not wait.”
After such a fantasy weekend, s
can be such an ugly thing.
Mark Nair is a senior politicals^
major and opinion page editor0
Battalion.
BLOOM COUNTY
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