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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (July 12, 1988)
Page 2/The BattalionTuesday, July 12, 1988 Opinion Time to run it’s the New Diet Cola WaiB To stay fit and healthy (and to en sure that one day I will most certainly be a manly man just like my hero, Sly Stallone) I keep to a strict and rigorous diet con sisting mainly of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, N utty Bars and Mark Nair gallons and gallons of Classic Coca-Cola. Imagine how upset I became, then, when I learned of World War III: Re turn of the Cola Wars. And we all thought we were safe. HA! You see, one of the rare times I was watching TV this summer, I happened to stumble across a commercial starring the He-Man of the boxing world, Mr. 91 seconds himself— Mike Tyson. He was telling me something or other about how the fight was over before it started and et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Much to my chagrin, though, I soon found that he was NOT talking about his big big fight but about the war between diet Coke and Diet Pepsi. And then the com mercial hit me: in taste tests, more peo ple prefer Diet Pepsi to diet Coke. (Personally, give me sugary drinks anytime. I can’t stand that diet stuff. Tastes like something you’d expect to find withering on the floor of Sbisa praying to be put out of its agony. I need the kind of drink where you just look at it and expect your teeth to fall out. Vanilla Coke, I loves ya.) OK, I took the news in stride. Since I don’t drink the stuff, I didn’t care. But a mere thirty seconds later another com mercial interrupted my glucose induced reverie. This time, Coke was the spon sor. And this time I found out that, in taste tests, more people prefer diet Coke to Diet Pepsi. What a conundrum. What do you be lieve? asking the three networks to stop run ning Coke’s ads. So, I, as the shopworthy and con sciences consumer, am faced with a problem. If, at any time in the next few millennia, I suddenly have the urge to engorge myself on DIET anything, I will more than likely have to choose sides in the NEW! and IMPROVED! Cola Wars. But with whom do I side? Where should I pledge my allegiance? Whose survey methodology is better? Scene: The Mall Time: Unknown Strange voice from behind a multi colored, very patriotic display booth: Psssst, buddy, wanna take a taste test? Huh? Come on, be a sport.” Me, the unknowing, naive, and somewhat bemused spectator/con sumer: Hmmmmmm. Voice: Aw, come on. Which would you rather drink, this nice, frothy, de lectably delicious sample of heavenly sweetness or this completely disgusting, bordering on noxious,.putrid cup of re- gurgitaton? Me: I have a choice? Voice: Oh, let’s not be existential. Try one. Me (picking up the crystal diamond- studded goblet filled with brown fizzy liquid): Hmmmmmmm. Voice: OK, that’s good. That’s good. Make a note of that, Marty. Marty (popping out from under the counter): Yeah huh. Me: Now you want me to taste the other drink? Ill Bry; e re oriel g he Itates litate o na “Th nited ave t residi on S ould metl The blish ween in ci lelatio Ig vis lines. I “Fri leopk ■lings I had) Irofes ossibl T Voice: Well, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But in all fairness . . . A Now, the Coca-Cola company is asking ABC, NBC and CBS to stop run ning Pepsi’s ads because, as Coke puts it, “ . . . our research unequivocally con firms the taste superiority of diet Coke over Diet Pepsi.” Meanwhile, Pepsi comes back with the witty retort that Coke’s ads are “misleading . . . (and) fac tually inaccurate.” Pepsi, following in the footsteps of its carbonated rival, is Me: But it’s in a paper cup covered with green slime. Marty: And carbuncles. Don’t forget the carbuncles. Voice: He worked very hard on those carbuncles. He’s very proud. Me: I don’t want to drink anything out of a cup like that. Voice: AH HAH! Make a ‘note, Marty. Once again, consumers prefer the taste of (CENSORED) to (CEN SORED). Me: Hey, I didn’t say that. (Mustering up all known courage, takes a drink from the carbuncle, slime covered pa per cup.) Hmmmmmmm. Voice: Don’t make a note of that, Marty. Me: I like this one. I like it better than the other. Voice: Oh. Marty: Oh. Voice: Well . . . ah . . . oh, yes. You are wearing a red shirt. Today, people with red shirts cannot be included in our sur vey. Sorry. Me: You can’t do that. Voice: We can do anything we want. We’re (CENSORED). And now (victory in his voice) we have proven that, in deed, more consumers who don’t wear red shirts prefer the taste of. . . Me (stomps off in disgust.) Another strange voice from an almost identical multi-colored patriotic booth: Psssst, buddy. T hirsty? Me (yelling loudly) Aaaaaargh! Give me I.B.C. root beer, vanilla bean ice cream and a good M*A*S*H episode or give me death! Applause erupts from the crowd of people in the mall. Both taste test booths are overrun by irate, fed up soft drink addicts who chant, “Root beer beer, give us root beer.” And then — soft drink anarchy.Ri beer feudalism begins. Thedarkages R.C. Cola and Dr. Pepper get off i running start. Everyone puts cans Coke and Pepsi in their f reezers at watch them explode. T he world is permanently chan| for the better. And l, of course, am crownedkii But’s that’s another column. I lecaus pig) os The ight nade; Olg ;s pre f Rus esent; ast rru Coo tuder on to angur erved laid. Th 'fodei laid. “ ;he cit Jnion Mark Nair is a graduate student® opinion page editor for The Battaliot Learning our language and culture isn’t a bad punishment Most people would probably say that Judge Mi chael Jordan was being lenient, even compassio nate, when he passed sentence on two Laotian im migrants. All he told them to do was to learn English and famil- Mike Royko iarize themselves with the culture and heritage of this country. Last year, they whacked some guy with a tire iron when he beeped his horn after they cut him off on a Chicago ex pressway. Apparently they didn’t like being beeped at. So on an exit ramp they blocked the guy’s car, got out and left him with a 13-stick gash in his head. When he passed sentence last week. Judge Jordan took several unusual fac tors into consideration. Both Laotians, Ching Xiong, 71, and his son, Bravo, 38, had a hard life. They’re from a remote tribe. They helped our troops during the Vietnam War and were wounded. After the war, they lived in refugee camps. When they came here, they were penniless and in a society that was strange and foreign to them. So rather than throw them in jail, which he could have done, the judge told them to learn our language and our ways. Now, I ask you, was he and cruel? But that wasn’t the way a Northwest ern University professor say it. The pro fessor, a neighbor of the Laotians, thought that ordering them to learn En glish and study American culture was terrible. As he put it: “The ultimate out rage.” As much as I respect college profes sors — especially those fortunate enough to teach at Northwestern, which is renowned for the beauty of its coeds — I have to disagree with his view that the sentence is “the ultimate outrage.” If the judge had thrown them into the notorious, violent Cook County Jail, insensitive inmates might have used them as volleyballs, and that would have been far more outrageous. On the other hand, I don’t believe we should demand that immigrants en tirely abandon their own cultures and folkways. For example, in his younger days, my maternal grandfather was a cavalry officer in Eastern Europe. His duties sometimes required him to gallop his horse after uppity peasants and give them a few whacks with his sword. However, when my grandfather came to this country, he understood that he could no longer get up on a horse and whack people with a sword. So he became a house painter. In chasing peasants more than painting a ceiling. Yet he didn’t completely abandon ev ery aspect of his European culture. In the old country, he drank a lot of vodka. When he came here, he drank a lot of vodka. It was not a difficult adjustment. And even after learning to speak En glish, he could still swear eloquently in his native tongue. By being bilingual, he could swear at one of his fellow immi grants or at an Irish cop, and be under stood by both. So he broadened his hori zons. To be honest, I’m not familiar with Laotian culture and customs. So I don’t know if it is considered acceptable be havior to crease someone’s skull with a tire iron after they beep their horn at you. But I don’t think the judge is being overly demanding when he tells Ching and his kid, Bravo, that they must learn that hitting someone with a tire iron is frowned upon here. Nor is he unreasonable to ask that they learn English. It could help them avoid needless confusion. It’s possible that they will hear a car beeping at them again. And if they can’t understand En glish, they won’t know that the other guy is saying: “Sorry, fellas, my horn has a loose wire or something.” So I think that Northwestern profes sor should calm down and take: positive steps, such as helping 1 neighbors learn our customs. 1 can even suggest lesson one: You cut someone off in traffic.! angrily beeps his horn. You roll dot you window, stick your arm out,exiq your center l inger and jab it toward® sky. Lesson two: Don’t pay attention! any professor who tells you wahti “ultimate outrage” is. Just wait till you income tax returl audited. Copyright 1988, Tribune Media Services,fal BLOOM COUNTY ^ ^ mmN. LIVING HERE. 1 PONT KNOW.. They deem to make it THEIR MISSION IN LIFE TV MAKE ALT MEN LOOK LIKE TOTAL Twrrs. BINKLEY / wetvezepwetv W- by Berke truth, he enjoyed riding a horse and BLOOM COUNTY The Battalion (USPS 045 360) Member of Texas Press Association Southwest Journalism Conference The Battalion Editorial Board Richard Williams, Editor Sue Krenek, Managing Editor Mark Nair, Opinion Page Editor Curtis Culberson, City Editor Becky Weisenfels, Cindy Milton, News Editors Anthony Wilson, Sports Editor Jay Janner, Art Director Editorial Policy The Battalion is a non-profit, self-supporting newspa per operated as a community service to Texas A&M and Bryan-College Station. Opinions expressed in The Battalion are those of the editorial board or the author, and do not necessarily rep resent the opinions of Texas A&M administrators, fac ulty or the Board of Regents. The Battalion also serves as a laboratory newspaper for students in reporting, editing and photography classes within the Department of Journalism. 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 request. Our address: The Battalion, 230 Reed McDonald, Texas A&M University, College Station, TX 77843-1111. Second class postage paid at College Station, TX 77843. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to The Battal ion, 216 Reed McDonald, Texas A&M University, Col lege Station TX 77843-4 111. fmm cma jP-I XON WHERE 7 Y T~'S CIRCLEP: 1 WROTE , IT MV5ELFX YH^GWY^^erkeJRreathe \ \ Fxu v 3 v^- -v \ n n\V\\ OdivAvvy. Wv\\\tA AscttcWs) - ■ u oVmw \ycovm -WuA ■■■ nnni 1 >vcu'u\ < g,s. fcltvr \N WA NN NN NSAVA *t\JI To \ovxv aW-vc\o\e vosevrAAy. s J S Vo S\\o\M ytovaVe Vo'cvY' if