1 l
Mail Call
Non-regs build hell outta bonfire
EDITOR:
I am writing in response to a comment made by Heidi Halstead in her Nov,|
letter and to a general misconception held by many Aggies. In her letter, Ms.
Halstead writes, “Who works the longest and hardest on the world’s largest
bonfire? The Corps.”
It’s statements such as this, made in ignorance, that cut deep into the heart! I
the hundreds of non-regs like myself who spend countless hours of their timeto
make bonfire possible. It is statements such as the one made by Guy Broomatlas
year’s bonfire, when he thanked the Corps for building such a beautif ul bonfire,
that fuels the resentment felt by some non-regs toward the Corps.
These statements are made in ignorance because if either of these individual!
had spent time working on bonfire, they would know that of the eight days
designated for cut this year, the Corps attended three and non-regs attendedall
eight. They would know that of the eight ropes that secure centerpole, six were:
the hands of non-regs when it was raised. They would know that when pushstait
the shifts will be divided evenly between non-regs and the Corps. They would
know that the red pots, who supervise the building of bonfire, are both non-regs
and cadets.
If these individuals and others who believe that the Corps builds bonfirewii
spend some of their time building it, they would know that AGGIES buildbonfm
Ruston Hughes ’89
Letters to the editor should not exceed 300 words in length. The editorial staff resen’es the right to edit letlmjm
and length, but will make every effort to maintain the author’s intent. Each letter must be signed and must mb
classification, address and telephone number of the writer.
It’s Thanksgiving, but are we really thankful?
When one thinks of Thanksgiving, an
image of turkeys, relatives, and football
usually comes to mind. Thanksgiving is
a time for rest and relaxation. It’s a
chance to get away from the pressures
of life for a few days and to forget about
the hassles of school or work.
And it’s only right for people to want
to forget about the bad things in their
lives for a while. But have you stopped
yet to consider all of the good things in
your life that you can be thankful for?
I just did, and I came up with more
things than I had expected.
First of all. I’m thankful that I’m
healthy enough to enjoy this holiday. I
don’t have cancer, I don’t have the flu. I
don’t even have the sniffles. There are
lots of people who want nothing more
from life than to be in good health. All
over the world, people are dying simply
because they don’t have enough food or
adequate medical attention.
I’m also thankful that I have a family
with whom to share this holiday. When I
go home I will be greeted by my parents
and my two brothers, whom I love
dearly. I will spend Thanksgiving Day
with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grand
parents. We’ll all sit down to a giant
meal and we’ll eat things like turkey,
cranberries and pecan pie. During the
day, twenty different people will ask me
how I’m doing in college, and they’ll do
so because they really care about me.
Another thing that I’m thankful for is
that I live in the United States of Amer
ica. I could just as easily be some place
like Cambodia or Afghanistan. Here in
America if I feel like running through
the streets screaming that Ronald Rea
gan is a foolish dunderhead, I can do so
without fear of governmental retalia
tion. If I ran through the streets of Mos
cow yelling the same thing about Mik
hail Gorbachev, I’d probably end up
shoveling snow in Siberia for the rest of
my life.
And what if I’d been born in South
Africa or Iran? Would my life be as
good as it is right now? I doubt it.
So no matter how much we like to
complain about America, maybe tomor
row, on T hanksgiving Day, we should
make an effort to remember some of
the positive things about our country.
But perhaps all of these things
(friends, family and country) aren’t
enough for you. Maybe you still see
yourself as being on the bottom of the
heap. Maybe you’re thinking, “Yeah, if
life is so great, how come all of my
neighbors can afford expensive new
cars, while I have to settle for an ’81
Chevy?”
Maybe you look around and you see
only the things that you can’t have.
When you’re walking around town,
maybe you notice the guy in the three-
piece suit and maybe you wonder how
much money he has.
Maybe you think to yourself, “I’ll bet
he lives in a really fancy, expensive con
dominium.” Maybe you secretly envy
him for all of the things he owns.
And as the man in the suit gets into
his Mercedes-Benz and drives away,
maybe you don’t notice all of the folks
on the corner waiting for the bus.
But they are there. Standing in the
cold. Waiting.
One of them is an elderly woman.
She’s wearing an old, moth-eaten over
coat that’s not doing a good job of keep
ing her warm. She’s waiting for the bus
to take her to her job at a local motel.
When she arrives at work, she’ll start
cleaning rooms, dusting furniture and
making beds. Nine hours later she’ll be
waiting for the bus again. Eventually, it
will come and it will take her home to a
tiny, dingy house on the “bad” side of
town.
When she gets home she’ll —
But you’re not listening to me, are
you?
No, you’re still watching the Mer-
oedes-Benz as it drives off. There it
Grandly, extravagantly, it wheels dm
the road.
And here comes the tired, rustyk
chugging up the street. Theoldl)
just got on it. She’s on her way to wort
But I forgot . You don’t want toi
about her. Nobody does.
You are too busy complaining il
you don’t make enough money,thatj
don’t get good enough grades in sck
or that you can’t afford the payments!
your new stereo system. But ifjustfm
moment you would'think about died
dren in Ethiopia who are starving
death, or the people all overthenoi
who are dying of AIDS, maybemeen
the payments on that newsten
wouldn’t seem like such a life-or-dei
crisis.
Maybe then you will understand!*
thankful you should be.
Dean Sueltenfuss is a junior jowl
lism major and columnist for The t
talion.
Pallmeyer’s legend still casting large
Earlier this semester, an era ended.
You probably felt it and didn’t even
know it. He’s gone, but I’ve decided
we’ll never outgrow him.
His ghost still haunts this place. Ev
erywhere I look, I see him. He’s in the
museum. He’s in the files. He’s in the
morgue. He’s in the walls (even though
we attempted to cover him with paint).
For as long as we live, he’ll be with us.
He’s even in letters we get from fresh
men. I don’t even know where they’ve
heard of him. He’s a legend. That’s all
there is to it.
I’m talking about Karl Pallmeyer.
Once the object of hatred the world
’round, we now get letters saying,
“Bring Karl back!” Talk about a fickle
public. Well, you’re too late. You took
too long to make up your mind. Heaven
knows he stuck around here long
enough. Now he’s gone. The Lord
works in mysterious ways. And that’s
why Karl works for the Brazosport Facts
now.
You see, Karl was that one of a kind
phenomenon who could see if you could
get everybody under the sun as annoyed
off as possible with as little effort as pos
sible. It’s kind of a “tradition” (we do
hold some things sacred) here at The
Batt to see how much mail columnists
get. Of course, you have to believe in
what you’re writing. And boy, did Karl
believe.
When Karl said bonfire was a danger
ous waste, he meant it. When he said the
Corps of Cadets was inhabited by apes,
he meant it. When Karl said bowheads
were stupid, he meant it. When Karl
said College Station is a cultural black
hole, he meant it. (Of course, this was
before Street Pizza started playing.)
Do you get the impression that Karl
made a lot of friends here?
Actually, he did. If you spoke to him
instead of yelling and calling him a com
munist (the all-encompassing super-
duper new-and-improved insult-to-
beat-all-insults), you’d find out he’s a
nice guy. A little weird, but nice.
Steve
Masters
Columnist
Obviously some of you know who he
was. I picked up a letter from a partially
informed freshman who wrote, “I heard
about somebody named Carl(sic) who
once worked there . . . .” Someone else
wrote and said we columnists weren’t
(aren’t) doing our jobs properly because
we aren’t (weren’t) controversial
enough. This is because we live in a
shadow. Try as we might, we’re stuck
with the Legacy Of Karl. And believe
me, it’s a big - shadow.
I never actually met The Man, The
Gut, The Legend until last summer
when we both took Philosophy 111. He
graduated in August 1986, but stuck
around trying to get his grades up
enough to get into graduate school. In
Fall 1987, the traitorous scum (I mean
that nicely Karl.) left The Batt to work
for that other newspaper in town.
That’s OK.
We spent most of the first summer
session cracking really sick abortion and
pornography jokes. I learned two things
about Karl this summer. One, he’s one
sick puppy, and two, if you throw a
party, Karl will show up.
Karl is widely known for his drinking
skills. Just ask our reviewer, Shane “The
Beast” Hall. Together they made sure
Carney’s Pub stayed in business. And on
more than one occasion they helped rid
me of a keg or two.
But what most people don’t know is
that Karl was a musician, too. You
haven’t heard a song butchered until
you’ve heard Jerry (another old Batt
god) and The Battmen sing R.E.M.’s “S.
Central Rain.”
The problem is, no matter how good
we are, no matter how controversial we
are, we have to answer to Karl’s ghost. If
shadows
one of us writes some scathing anti®
dition column, somebody out there is
most guaranteed to write us a letter*
ing A) we’re communist bastards
Highway 6 runs both ways, C) were)
trying to be the next Karl Pallmej®
D) all of the above.
Actually I’m probably screwing
just bv mentioning his name, been
now another whole generation of |*
pie knows about him.
Listen. I know most of you don’d
lieve in what we write. We undersu
that. We expect that. I know that si*
of you will even write letters toustet
us how- much you don’t believe in*'
we write. But if you would stopconf
ing us to the legend, you might find*
we aren’t exactly imitators.
OK. Maybe we are.
Steve Masters is a senior journv
major, a senior staff writer and d
nist for The Battalion.
The Battalion
Member of
Texas Press Association
Southwest Journalism Conference
The Battalion Editorial Board
Lydia Berzsenyi, Editor
Becky Weisenfels, Managing Editor
Anthony Wilson, Opinion Page Editor
Richard Williams, City Editor
D A Jensen,
Denise Thompson, News Editors
Hal Hammons, Sports Editor
Jay Janner, Art Director
Leslie Guy, Entertainment Editor
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BLOOM COUNTY by BerRe Breath