1
The Battalion
OPINION
MONDAY, JANUARY 23, 1989
Mail Call
Keep religion out of the classroom
EDITOR:
In the Jan. 19 issue of The Battalion, Murray Moore and Floyd Osborne both
wrote letters that defended the professors who feel the need to share their
religious beliefs in the classroom. Murray, people who are in love with someone
may talk about the object of their affection, but the classroom is not the place to do
so. As inappropriate as a professor discussing his or her sex life in class is the
discussion of his or her religion. The ideas that these professors express are of
interest only to those who share the beliefs of Christianity.
Mr. Osborne, you seem to think that an individual’s religious beliefs are
indicative of their teaching ability. I do not believe this is true.
Also, both of you are not taking into account the fact that not all of the students
at Texas A&M University are Christian. It is not fair for the professors and
students of this secular, state university to expect non-Christians to endure
Christian ideas in the classroom. There are representatives of Jewish, Muslim,
Hindu and other faiths at Texas A&M. Although many religious denominations
encourage the sharing of their faith, as citizens (and visitors) of this country we are
also obligated to live by the principles embodied in the U.S. Constitution, including
the separation of church and state.
Jeffrey L. Zimring ’89
Letters to the editor should not exceed 300 words in length. The editorial staff reserves the right to edit letters for style
and length, but will make every effort to maintain the author’s intent. Each letter must be signed and must include the
classification, address and telephone number of the writer.
Grobnik discusses
leveraged buyouts
Mike
Royk
o
Columnist
Slats Grobnik looked up form his pa
per and said: “Do you understand this
big buyout deal with the cigarette com
pany?”
You mean RJR Nabisco.
“Yeah. I guess besides cigarettes, they
make cookies, too. If they don’t kill you
with smoke, they do it by getting you fat.
But do you understand the deal?”
Vaguely. There are several groups
trying to buy it. And they’re all offering
more than $20 billion.
“I know that. But do any of them
have $20 billion in their pockets? I
didn’t know anybody had that muchmo-
ney, except some Japanese or Arabs.”
No, they don’t have that kind of
money. They leverage it.
“You mean they borrow it.”
Yes, that’s another way of putting it.
“Then why don’t they say ‘borrow’ in
stead of ‘leverage’? If I ask the bar
tender to let me have $20 until payday, I
don’t ask him to leverage me. He’d
think I was aking for help getting off
the stool and he’d cut me off.”.
Well, that’s the way the big money
people talk.
“I think they talk that way because
they don’t want mopes like me to know
what they’re doing, because the country
might have a nervous breakdown. I
mean, the stories I read don’t say some
thing like this: ‘Three different groups
of greedy guys say they are borrowing
billions of dollars at crazy interest rates
to buy a company that makes cigarettes
and cookies, so they can start selling off
pieces of the company to cover the in
terest on the money they borrowed, and
cutting the payroll and maybe putting a
lot regular mopes out of work, and if
they pull it off they’ll all wind up with a
fat profit.”
It’s more complex than that.
“Yeah, I know. Like it don’t say that
I’m footing part of the bill because those
guys can write the interest on those big
loans off their tax bills. So if they don’t
pay taxes on it, that means the govern
ment’s going to get it from somewhere
else. And I’m part of the somewhere
else. How come they can write off that
interest and I can’t write off interest
when I but a car?”
Congress, in its wisdom, has given
them this loophole. I suppose it stimu
lates growth or something.
“Borrowing that kind of money at
juice-man rates don’t stimulate nothing
but my blood pressure. You know what
I think? I think that one of these days,
they’re going to foreclose on this whole
country. They’re going to repossess the
whole thing, from sea to shining sea.”
Who’s going to do that?
“Who? The people we’re going to
owe all the money to. I mean, if every
body is borrowing, somebody’s lending.
And that’s all anybody’s doing. These
buyout guys are borrowing and we’re
helping them foot the bill. So the gov
ernment has to borrow money from for
eigners and pay interest. And every
year, more of my money goes for fi
nance charges. But I can’t even go in a
bank and get $50 until payday.”
But this system must be good because
we’re living well.
“Oh, yeah, we’re living well. Just like
Knock Knees Tony used to live well. Re
member him form the neighborhood?”
A sad case.
“Sure, he lived well. All the time a
new car, flashy clothes/throwing money
around like a good-time Charlie. Then
the guys he’s borrowing money from
come around and say: ‘Tony, you ain’t
paid the juice on your loans.’ He says:
‘Catch me next week.’ They says: ‘That’s
what you said last week, and the week
before that.’ And that’s when he got the
nickname Knock Knees Tony. He’s still
got the Louisville Slugger marks on
both knees, you know that?”
Our national economy can’t be com
pared to borrowing money from juice
men.
“No, it’s worse. Knock Knees brought
it on himself. But I’m just an innocent
bystander. Why should I get reposses
sed?”
But you won’t.
“Why not? Every year we’re paying
more and more juice. Pretty soon, ev
erything we got is going to be going out
in juice to other countries. That means
we can’t spend it on things we need
here. So we borrow more and pay more
juice. Then they come in and buy more
of the country. That’s what I mean by
getting repossessed. One day they show
up at the White House and knock on the
door and say: ‘You missed the pay
ments. Here’s your eviction notice.’”
That’s not the way high finance
works.
“High finance, low finance, it’s all the
same. When you borrow, somebody is
shelling it out and some day you got to
pay up. You know what I think George
Bush ought to do?”
What?
“He ought to give Knock Knees Tony
a job.”
What kind of job could he give that
dummy?
“Chief economics adviser.”
What does Tony know?
“Nothing. But every time the new
deficit figures come out, Tony could
pull up his pants legs and show Bush
those Louisville Slugger marks.”
Copyright 1988, Tribune Media Services, Inc.
College memories are valuabl
I was in the office of one of my jour
nalism instructors the other day getting
some words of wisdom on how to spot
an interesting topic. It sounds simple,
but you would be surprised.
Interesting topics are elusive crea
tures. What’s interesting to some may
not elicit the slightest bit of interest
from others. I suppose if I had some
weird fascination with the mating ritual
of the Gambian Gnu, I could write
about that. Of course, that could well be
the last column I ever write for The Bat
talion.
As it is, I have never had more than a
passing interest in the mating ritual of
the Gambian Gnu.
My instructor and I finished our little
discussion and I rose to make my exit.
This particular instructor, who never
seems to be stationary for a minute,
spun out of the doorway ahead of me.
“Isn’t school fun?” he asked.
“Yes Dr. Starr, I find myself saying
that all the time,” I replied.
“So make it a topic for one of your
columns!” he said. And he blew out of
sight.
For one brief, fleeting moment his
suggestion went unnoticed. But then
the proverbial wheels creaked into mo
tion. My first thought was that the idea
stunk.
Anyone who thinks school is fun is
probably still leaving a little something
for the tooth fairy under their pillow ev
ery night.
When I think of school, a plethora of
adjectives comes to mind. Fun just
doesn’t happen to be one of them.
The first thing that comes to mind is
the 40,000 other A&M students who are
sharing this uniquely American experi
ence with me.
I’m just sure Texas A&M University
is trying to set a record — sort of like
trying to see how many people will fit
into a phone booth.
Never mind that it means servicing
the needs of students in a classroom the
size of the Roman Forum.
Never mind that probably the only
Stephanie
Stribling
Columnist
contact students have with their profes
sors occurs when they run into them in
the produce section at Safeway.
Never mind that all that dialing and
redialing for add/drops has resulted in a
splint on your index finger. (I must say,
however, getting frustrated and angry
in your own home is infinitely more fun
than it is in a line extending from the
Pavilion to downtown Bryan.)
Never mind that the class you spent
hours registering for, because you
heard the professor was spectacular, is
now being conducted by “robo-prof ’ —
one of those quasi-professors they call
teaching assistants. Even if they speak
English, they probably don’t know what
to say.
Never mind that the only textbook
every bookstore in town is out of hap
pens to be the only one you really need.
And you didn’t find this out until you
spent two hours waiting in a line some
where. This was after you tried calling
first, but they all said they couldn’t give
information on availability of textbooks
over the phone during the first week of
school (the only time you’ll be needing
that information).
Only when you’re in school can you
be certain beyond a shadow of a doubt
that there’s always something you forgot
to do — that insipid little voice inside
your head that says as it hits the pillow
every night, “Yoo-hoo, weren’t you sup
posed to read one more chapter in your
history book?”
Or just as you walk out the door
headed for Northgate it says, “Yoo-hoo,
do you really think this is the most effec
tive way to utilize your time? You know
you could be getting a headstart
research paper.”
God bless nine-to-five...
One other thing comes tomir
I think of school. It’s a simple
I’m sure many of you know we
called on-campus parking.
Fifty years from now, when
ploma has yellowed and cracked
the crisp, clean engraving onmys
ring has worn down to a seriesoti
places, I’ll reflect back on my font
at Texas A&M University.
I am certain the most vivid me
will be of me in my little Toyota,
cally racing up and down the part
with one single objective in mind
location of a 7 by 15 foot hole in .
to plant my vehicle, all the whilem
ing something about the time.
I’ll have other memories too.
ent memories:
Of the philosophy professor,
tore away the veil of my ignoranct
exposed me to the insights and
lations of some of the world’s
minds . . .
Of the history prof essor, who rtf
a mediocre essay because he
could do better. It was the most
fought, we 11-deserved “A”
earned. In the process he shower
that achievement is limitless
choose to make it so . . .
Of my triad of biology prof®
who showed me another way of los
at the world. They helped
flame in me that grew to be a bur
desire for knowledge . . .
Of the countless other instrt
whom I have both idolized and
spised. Each in their own way,
tive and negative, they have show,
how to become the person I wanttol
I suspect these are the memone
carry for a lifetime — the littleincis
niences will all too soon be forgottes
Dr. Starr, you were right—sclio
fun.
Stephanie Stribling is a senior-:
nalism major and a columnist h
Battalion.
SIGNS of the MILLENNIUM:
COMMUNISTS
TOLERATE
POPULAR
DISSENT.
I AW NOT
AGREE WITH
WHAT YOU SAY,
BUT I’LL FIGHT
TO THE DEATH
FOR. YOUR RIGHT
TO SAY IT!
ISLAMIC
TERRORISTS
RELEASE THEIR
HOSTAGES.
THE U.S.
GOVERNMENT
BALANCES ITS
BUDGET.
©1968
KARL. SPENCE
BRYAN , TEXAS
The Bs
S
Tuesc
Skinny people need diets
Everybody and his fat sister-in-law is
trying to lose weight.
I must see 15 different diet programs
advertised during just one night of tele
vision.
Lewis
Grizzard
Columnist
That’s fine, but aren’t there some
people out there who want to gain
weight? I see skinny people everyday.
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tor
Edi-
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These people look pale, sickly, and
underfed — they couldn’t be happy
looking like that.
But nobody helps them. Nobody of
fers a gain-weight diet. At least I haven’t
seen one, so I’ve decided to help.
I phoned an old schoolmate of mine,
the former Gordie Mae Poovey, who still
weighs more than the mobile home in
which she lives with her devoted hus
band, Hog Philpott.
(Hog’s no lightweight himself. Down
at Mudd’s Gulf, where he works, they
refer to Hog as “Al.” A1 as in Alps.)
As for Gordie Mae, the stork didn’t
bring her. UPS did. It took the entire
plane.
Gordie Mae can look at a bowl of
mashed potatoes and sprout a new 45-
pound arm. She tried to visit Rhode Is
land once buy they wouldn’t let her in.
There wasn’t enough room.
(I would steal Rodney Dangerfield’s
line here, but I’m not that kind of per
son. So I’ll give him credit for saying he
went out with a girl who was so fat that
when she wore watches on each of her
wrists they were in different time
zones.)
I told Gordie Mae of the plight of
skinny people and she agreed to share
her county-wide, famous “When-Your-
Arms-Get-Tired-of-Shoveling-in-the-F-
ood-Then-Eat-With-Your-Feet-BIoata-
tion-Diet.”
“Just give us a typical daily program,”
I said.
“I’d be happy to,” said Gordie Mae,
reaching into her icebox for a quart of
lard on which to snack while she dic
tated her gain-weight diet. Clip and save
the following:
Breakfast: a dozen eggs, six cin
mon rolls, a chocolate cake, thenjf
Shoney’s for the breakfast buff j
Lunch: a jar of mayonnaise, threeW
dy’s double cheeseburgers, four gr<
snowcones, and a gross of Butterfi
ers. Dinner: a barbecued goat, hold
mayo. You’ve had enough of that
lunch.
Following this type of diet too
however, can be harmful too f
health. For this reason, Sundays sho
be a day of rest. Send your husband f
wife out for tacos, and stop by 1 !
Chinese place for egg rolls and then
to the deli for potato salad and chef
cake. And if a chicken walks thro:
your house, knock it in the head and
it in case The Colonel is closed vil
you need a midnight snack.
Gordie Mae says good luck
good gaining.
Copyright 1988, Cowles Syndicate
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