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Wednesday, August 4,1993 The Battalion Page 5
'V Via
Purple peril threatens
American way of life
Warning: The
following column
my be too intense
for some readers.
ccording to
a Houston
Chronicle
report, Barney the
Dinosaur is set to
release his first al
lium on Aug. 31.
This must be
stopped.
The U.S. gov
ernment does not
think twice about throwing billions of
lollars at international problems such
asYugoslavia and Somalia. The gov
ernment spends countless hours debat
ing congressional pay raises and pork
Wrel projects.
However, not one federal finger has
fen lifted to stop this Barney atrocity.
The album is to be called 'Barney's
Favorites Volume 1/ which suggests
that there may be more.
President Clinton has already shown
his willingness to send in air strikes
against threats such as Iraqi and Somali
warlords. Will he save the American
people from this domestic disaster, or is
he too a minion of this terrible
troglodyte? The American people must
consider the effect this Barney-Fuhrer is
having on American children.
I Barney is warping and twisting the
minds of our young, but with an inten
sity that has never been seen before.
Utilizing their biggest weakness, the
television, the purple parasite has at
tached itself to the subconsciousness of
the impressionable young. Following a
marketing scheme that puts Batman to
shame, the demonic dinosaur will soon
release an album.
A simple album may not seem to be
a threat, but played relentlessly, it can
expose these children to Barney's horri
ble hymns at any and all times of the
day. If one can imagine the dangers of
listening to Billy Ray Cyrus non-stop,
then one can predict the impact that
this album will have on children and
adults alike.
Releasing an album is a calculated
decision recognizing the importance
that music plays in the lives of youth.
This Jurassic juggernaut is attempt
ing to ensnare older children as well as
maintain his control over the young.
We are dealing with a devious dinosaur
who will stop at nothing short of utter
chaos.
If we do not stop him now, soon we
may see Billy Ray Cyrus singing "I love
you, you love me" or Barney himself
singing "Achy Breaky Heart." We dare
not think of the cosmic consequences
this would have.
If the government is powerless to
stop this horror, then the people must
rise up against this violet vermin before
it's too late.
We're all doomed.
Thomas is a senior journalism major
DAVE
THOMAS
News editor
NOTICE ^
Thursday, Aug. 5 is the last day of publication for The
Battalion this summer. An interim issue will run
Wednesday, Aug. 25. Regular publication resumes with
the Back-to-School issue on Monday, Aug. 30.
Dishonorably defending honor
Attacks on Corps critics assault Corps' own values
L ike countless other Corps cadets
before and since, I had to memo
rize "campusologies," facts
about Texas A&M or quotes from
some of its notable leaders.
One such, and one of my favorites,
was the inscription on the statue of
Lawrence Sullivan Ross. "Lawrence
Sullivan Ross; 1838-1898; soldier,
statesman, knightly gentleman;
Brigadier General, C.S.A.; Governor
of Texas; President of the A&M Col
lege."
I, like some other cadets before and
since, memorized the words to these
campusologies, or campos, without
stopping to consider their meaning.
When some cadets last spring made threatening and ha
rassing phone calls to a young woman who had written a
letter to The Battalion, a letter critical of the Corps, I won
der if they knew the meaning of those words: soldier,
statesman, knightly gentleman?
When some cadets passed her phone number around in
the dining hall so that others could call her, I wonder if
they thought of Governor Coke's advice to the students of
Texas A&M:
"To the students: let your watchword be duty, and
know no other talisman of success than labor. Let honor be
your guiding star in your dealings with your superiors;
your fellows; with all. Be as true to a trust reposed as the
needle to the pole, stand by the right even to the sacrifice of
life itself, and learn that death is preferable to dishonor."
There are no campos about using any means, even re
pressive or dishonorable ones, to defend the Corps at all
costs, especially against a single person writing a harmless,
if critical, letter to the Batt.
There is nothing knightly about harassing and threaten
ing a lone female to the point where she is cowed into writ
ing a retraction.
In fact, the episode was the sort of thing to make me
sick, and the sort of thing that would probably have Sully
and Governor Coke turning over in their graves.
It's not that the Corps is bad. I have always argued that
its goals, producing men and women of character and pro
moting the values of duty, honor and country are noble
and worthy of pursuit.
It is simply the actions of some of its members that are
not worthy of the Corps.
Perhaps they have forgotten about the values the Corps
stands for and can only think to defend the institution itself
without regard for those values.
Having the benefit of a dead zip's hindsight, I suspect
that to be the case, since I too had memorized the words
with no understanding of the spirit of those words.
Will cadets continue to mindlessly assault its critics, ig
norant of the concepts of honor and knightly behavior?
Will any of them call to berate and threaten me?
I hope not. I hope that cadets will instead choose to em
ulate the men whose words they memorize, and adopt for
themselves the values embodied in those words.
For if everyone in the Corps were men and women of
character; soldiers, statesmen, and knightly gentlemen;
then who but a fool could criticize them?
Loughman is a senior journalism major who hopes like hell he
graduates this month
I promised myself I would never write one of those sap
py editor-says-goodbye-because-he's-graduating columns.
True to my word, I have not. However, I would be re
miss if I did not take this opportunity to thank some people
who are very important to me.
So if you don't know me personally, you have read all of
this column that is at all likely to interest you.
Onward, then.
Thanks, Mom and Dad, for making this six-year expedi
tion to Aggieland possible. If you ever lost faith in me
when it seemed I was bent on making a shambles of life, it
never showed.
Thanks, Kevin, for a kick in the butt when I needed it
most. Mail me my shoes, dork!
Thanks to the Military Science department for a second
chance at a commission. I will not squander it.
Thanks to everyone with whom I have worked at The
Battalion, and to the faculty and staff who have worked
with us. It has been one of my most fulfilling and valuable
experiences at Texas A&M.
And finally, thanks to anyone I've left out whom I
shouldn't have. A lesson in journalism -- space always
seems so limited ...
-30-
Students become meat on the hoof in university stockyard
I t's that time
again. A
scholastic sea
son has come to
an end and Texas
A&M readies it
self to sell off an
other truckload of
graduating se
niors.
Whenever a se
mester tapers to a
close, a soft sense
of death encom
passes the cam
pus; an aura of
sadness that many
are leaving never
to return. For
most, graduation is a time of elation
and forging ahead into a new and excit
ing life.
However, just what is that new life
going to be anyway? Excepting the
novelty of your first real job, your first
self-earned new car, and perhaps your
first spouse, the newness of life in the
Keal World may wear off.
Although those of you entering
fields where the scenery is frequently
changing may thrive on the unex
plored, there is no uncharted territory
like the vast expanse of knowledge we
DON'T have. This is where the Real
World and universities part company.
The Real World is just that, "real,"
you are trained in a specific manner to
perform a specific task to earn an
amount of money to live a particular
way. It's really quite mechanical and
mundane, but at the same time very
natural and not unlike a bunch of rumi
nating animals milling around trying to
survive. Farm animals.
However, if one takes this point of
view, it is necessary to view college in
much the same way, with the exception
of the goals involved. If you think
about it for a moment, university stu
dents also behave much like animals;
not in reference to party-animals, sex-
crazed animals, or guys who live like
animals, but a specific animal we Tex
ans are all familiar with.
Cows. I'm a cow. You're a cow, too.
In fact, we all are cows wallowing and
munching away in this multi-level,
concrete laden academic feedlot we call
school. But before those of you who are
dieting storm the Batt office, let me say
that I'm really referring to all college
students regardless of age, sex, mor
phology or fodder preference.
When I left the barn and made Col
lege Station my new home, it was a
Corps breakfast where I first heard the
phrase, "Geez, I feel just like a cow" ut
tered right beside me as my buddies
were pushed and prodded through
Duncan's doors. At that very moment
it was decided that, yes, I too was a
cow, and the bovine behavior was only
beginning.
In the next four years many, many
more similarities of students to happy
heifers became apparent, especially
during registration when those carpet
ed partitions are arranged to channel
students into the "sweet old lady" cor
ral for trough assignment. Often, when
the line streamed out the Pavilion
doors, and the crowd would strain to
make it into the air conditioning, I
would break the ice with my neighbor
by asking, "Don't you feel you're a
cow?"
Usually there would be a somewhat
quizzical glance followed by a forced
smile and a, "Yeah, uh huh, sure."
Sometimes however, interesting con
versation would break out using my
brilliant lead-in; with me learning
names, cheap happy hours, good pro
fessors and to be really careful when
asking a girl if she's a farm animal.
I must have said "No, no, I didn't
mean it THAT way" a dozen times.
Once in a particularly packed crowd I
even Mooed. Someone answered.
Now that a number of you are think
ing to yourselves that you possibly do
have cowish tendencies, let me remind
you that when you drive to your home
town, or if you've ever passed a feedlot
(surely you would remember), what
you are actually witnessing is the ani-
malification of college. Think about it.
There they all are in a terrific social
environment with no more prodding by
higher-ups, living on their own, eating
like animals, and even engaging in oc
casional romantic practices.
The feedlot, like college, has a pur
pose: to fatten. Many times you and I
have felt we were full, that we just
couldn't take in another byte, but the
trough wasn't even close to empty. As
the pounds accumulate, we anticipate
the weigh-in where we will be deemed
fat enough for commercial use.
Unlike the hapless Hereford, howev
er, graduates can usually escape being
made into fajitas.
At this point I must say that even af
ter chomping at the bit to exit this feed-
lot, spending four years in the slaugh
terhouse can make one so thin and hun
gry that return is eminent. I guess you
could say there's just more feed here.
Moo.
Stanford is a graduate philosophy student
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