Open Collections

 Vibrating wildly on
various over-the-counter
wake-up medicattions
since 1987.
"Who cares if it doesn't
do anything?
It was made with our new triple-
-iso-birurcated-krypton-
gate-MOS-process."
Vol 7 No 5 • 8 Nov '93-
BLIND MELON LEAD SINGER
TESTS POSITIVE FOR STEROIDS
"Its 95% alcohol! We've lost half the sample, though. Cheers!" claims officer.
Kevin Phillips-Bong
Roving Correspondent
VANCOUVER—Officials
announced today that Shannon
Hoon, lead singer of the popular new rock group Blind
Melon, has tested positive for
steroid use.
The announcement was
made by forensics experts from
the Vancouver Police Department, headed up by Dr. Yuri
Nayshin. "After several consecutive analyses, our team confirmed the presence of several
foreign elements in Mr. Hoon's
system, among them anabolic
steroids."
Dr. Nayshin went on to
explain that a sample of Hoon's
urine had been collected by an
operative sitting in the front
row of Blind Melon's Oct. 30
show at the Pacific Coliseum.
"During the show, Mr. Hoon
was ordered by the operative to
submit: an "on-the-spot" sample
for random testing, and Mr.
Hoon complied without hesitation. In fact, he proceeded to
submit: samples to most anyone
in the vicinity," said Dr.
Nayshin.
Hoon was unavailable for
comment, but The 432 has
learned that there is some controversy surrounding the results.
Nathan Thurm, publicist fo:r
Blind Melon, has claimed that
the results were tainted due ro
sample contamination. "Th<:y
collected the damned sample: off
the Coliseum floor," said
Thurm. "Of course it was
messed up. Blind Melon doesn't
use 'roids," he said.
Reports that the urine test
confirmed the presence of such
elements as ethanol, linoleum,
floor wax, potato chips,
cigarette butts and lost car keys
in Hoon's system were neither
confirmed nor denied at press
time.
Today's announcement was
part of an extensive investigation designed to track the
steroid use of many of today's
popular singers. "It is our belief
that as many as one in three of
all contemporary musicians use
performance-enhancing drugs,"
said Dr. Nayshin. "It's our job
to make sure that the performances being given by today's
artists are the best they have to
offer, but while maintaining a
fair level of competition for all."
The history of steroid use
among singers is well documented, as more and more veteran rockers admit to previous
use. In 1981, the Rolling Stones
were suspended from international performance for eight
years after guitarist Keith
Richards was finally caught on
suspected longtime use of
testosterone to bulk up. The
case was especially difficult to
prove because, as Richards later
said himself, "They couldn't
detect the hormone level in my
system underneath all the other
drugs. But I'm clean now, and
gradually working my way back
up to my natural weight of 315
pounds."
Other noted steroid users
include Ted Nugent, Ozzy
Osbourne, Pink Floyd, and Boy
George. None of these groups
were ever caught in the act, but
admitted to juice use after the
ends of their careers.
"I suppose most people knew,
what with my temper and all,
but they just didn't care back
then," said Osbourne. "Either
that, or they thought the biting
the heads off of the bats was just
part of the show."
Said George of his experiences with the drugs, "Why do
you think I act like this? I used
to be a girl. I just took too many
of the bloody things."
Upcoming $c ience
Events
BioSoc Ski Trip Meeting
Nov I& 12:30 BioSci 2449
BPP Pizza & Pop Mixer
Npv 17, 12:30 Woodward
BPP Bzzr Garden
Nov 26, 4:30 Woodward
BPP Gym Night
Nov 12, 9:30 Osbourne Gym
Geography Bake Sale
Nov 10 B:30-2:30 Geo Lounge
PaeificRim/Geo Bzijr Bash
Nov 12, 3:30 Geo Lounge
Geography Bzzr Garden
Nov 26 4:30 Geo Lounge
CS3 Gym Night
Nov 12, 8:00 Osbourne Gym
Plus all the events found in thu
issue!
The Heiisenberg Uncertainty Kiosk Editorial
Ryan
McCUAIG
Normally, my articles seem
to have nothing to do
with the universe as we know
it. However, this time I choose
to use the space to warn all of
you about a power struggle for
the editorialship of this paper.
It seems that some young
upstarts have taken it upon
themselves to ban me from the
responsibility of my post and
attempt to relieve my mild
case of carpal-tunnel syndrome by barring me from the
duties normally befalling the
Editor. At least I remain in
control of these mountebanks,
as I can determine the final
outcome of this dear rag.
God forbid they catch me
writing this. Oh, what am I
worried about? After all, what
could they possibly
THE POLITICALLY CORRECT
STRIKE BACK
Kevan
DEiTLEr-
BACH
It is a dark time for the Conservatives. Preston Manning,
striking from a hidden base,
has won his first victory.
Kim: If this is a councillor's
ship, then where is the
ambassador? Charest, tear
this ship apart until...
(Oops, wrong reel...)
Following the destruction of
the Ubyssey's politically correctness ray and editorial staff, Science forces have been forced to
retreat to the frigid wastelands of
Whistler. There they find refuge
in the long abandoned AMS
Cabin. Luke has been studying
the Force and is now able to
communicate with his calculator. Leah, though worried about
Luke's seemingly one-sided conversations with home electronics,
has obtained a voice-equipped
laptop computer—model
HY50. Meanwhile, Art Vader,
having surrvived his crash
thanks to the Force (and a driver's side airbag) is conducting a
large scale search of the lower
mainland. Back at Whisler,
Luke and Drum are just finishing a patrol.
Luke: East face is clear. I just
want to check out a fallen
skier not far from here.
Solo: Roger, I'll see you back
at the cabin.
Luke: No, it's Luke. Remem
ber?
As Solo moves on, Luke,
chuckling to himself at his keen
wit, skies into a crevice and
bashes himself unconscious. Back
at the cabin, Solo meets with
General Al Etric.
Etric: Solo, you're back from
your patrol. Where's Luke?
Solo: He's checking out a fallen skier.
Etric: With all those skiers, it
will be difficult to detect
Ubyssey attacks.
Solo: General, I've got to
leave.
Etric: I'm sorry to hear that. I
thought you decided to stay.
Solo: Those Engineers we ran
into on Granville changed
my mind. If I don't pay my
Engineering dues, I'm a dead
man. Well, Leah, I guess this
is it.
Leah: I guess it is.
Solo: Well don't go all mushy
on me. See you later.
Leah: Drum, wait!
Solo: What do you want?
Leah: You still owe me 20
bucks.
Solo: That's not it. You're
afraid I'll leave without a
good-bye kiss.
Leah: I'd sooner kiss a artsie.
Solo: I... (struck silent at the
impact of such a grave
insult).You... (runs off in
shame)
Later, in the driveway...
Solo: What are you doing,
Chewie? We're getting out of
Science UBC Jackets.
Navy melton.
White leather.
From $150.
Science Sales.
CHEM 160.
*-l think it's dead.
-No, Tm not!
Nuff Said.
here. Put those snow tires
back on.
Rebel:   Sir!
Solo: What do you want?
Rebel:   It's Leah. She's being
trying to beep you for the
last hour.
Solo: I turned it off. I don't
want to talk to her.
Rebel: She's worried about
Luke. He hasn't come back
yet.
Solo: What? Are the snow
boards ready?
Rebel:   No, we're having
problems adapting to them.
We keep falling down.
Solo: Then we'll have to go
out on snow-shoes.
Rebel:   The temperature's
dropping too rapidly. You'll
freeze your ass off before you
reach the first chair-lift.
Solo: Then I'll see you in
Math 101.
As Solo starts out, Luke
regains consciousness and climbs
out ofcrevise only to collapse a
few meters later, fust before Luke
passes out again, a familiar
apparition appears...
Dobiewan: Luke.... You
must go to the McGill System. There you will learn
from Yertl, the Jedi master
who instructed me.
Luke: Bill, Bill...
As Bill fades from sight, Solo
discovers Luke. They are both
rescued at dawn by a slightly
inebriated (and lost) Kokanne
commericalfilm crew. When
they return, the rebels intercept a
transmission from a suspicious
VW van parked outside. Leah
gets her laptop to interpret the
code.
HY50: I am fluent in more
than 6 million forms of communication. This transmission matches none of them.
There is no coherent pattern
at all in the message.
Solo: Then it's either rap
music, or the Ubyessey's
found us.
Etric: We better start the eva-
cutation.
Meanwhile, in Voders personal limo...
Cowboy: Our agents in
Whistler have found something. It could just be ski
bums, but...
Vader:   That's them. Move all
forces to Whistler.
What awaits Voder's forces at
the Rebel base? Stay tuned next
issue for another exciting episode
of Campus Wars - The PCStrike
Back. Same Science time, same
Science channel!
The Faculty of Arts
announces the creation of
ARTS CO-OP
Gain valuable career experience!
Available for all Arts departments <o
Bout the same as yesterday..."
Volume 7, No 5
8 November 1993
Ryan the Graeme
Editor
Graeme the Graeme
Assistant Editor
Contributors	
Leona Adams*. Steve
Coleman, Kevan
Dettlebach, Jason Holmes,
Graeme Kennedy, Ryan
Graeme McCuaig, Blair the
Not-Graeme McDonald,
Derek K. Miller, Sarah
Thornton, Laurie Yee,
Delwm Yung, and some guy
named Rog.
Nice try, but no ceegar to
Well, you know who you are...
Thanks for your contributions,
and keep trying!
Feedbag Strapped on courtesy
of Sasamat Pizza and eaten by
Sarah Thornton, Jason
Holmes, Blair McDonald,
Ryan McCuaig, Roger Watts
Layout
Graeme Kennedy, Blair
McDonald
Distribution	
Keebler Elves Local 2461
Printing	
College Printers, Vancouver,
B,C
The 432 is, produced in the
Science Undergraduate Society
offices, located between Wreck
Beach and Burnaby
somewhere.
Submissions to The 432
should be about 500 words in
length, proofread, and
extremely silly in nature, "The
submission of non-satirical or
morose material will result in
banishment of the offending
writer. I know, believe me.
Blair
Mc
DONALD
E' ver feel uncomfortable in
./large groups? I hate being
surrounded by people I don't
know. It's not that I'm afraid
of having a six-inch blade
slipped between my ribs
(unless I'm standing in line at
the Granville Cineplex, with
the crowd chanting "Curb-
stomp him... curbstomp
him..."), it's that I detest all the
small talk that people use to
disguise the fart that they
hardly know you, and couldn't
care less about your problems.
Does anyone actually care
that the guy upstairs owns
what must be the Most
Wicked Sound System Since
Woodstock, and takes great
pleasure in doing sound, tests
at three in the morning? Do«:s
anyone care that I've considered buying a gun and putting
the owner of the MWSSSW
out of my misery? I'll probably get a medal from NASA
for returning all the off-the-
shelf parts used in constructing
that auditory nightmare, 'caui.e
they must be wondering when
all the electrical components of
the new shuttle went missing.
Everyone develops their
own defense mechanisms to
deal with people. Some just
ignore everyone, spending all
their time locked in the dungeons of Main Library until
somebody finally takes away
their textbooks and sets them
free. Some buy high-poAvered
rifles and start looking for a
good vantage point. Others
affect a great bonhomie attitude, making up grand stories
of how great their life is when
they actually live in the back of
their Datsun. Case in point:
just look under a table at the
Cheese any day of the week,
and you'll find some sorry
engineer glued down with a
mixture of peach schnapps and
Maximum Ice. I've also seen a
lot of socially inept people
respond with a rude comment
or two, but rudeness is
uncalled for, at least until you
know the person better.
Personally, I prefer "Oh,
about the same as yesterday..."
It works well in most cases,
because the people who do
know you probably have some
idea how badly a math class
can ruin my day. I've used this
phrase for years now, and it's
always worked.
Until I made the Shakespearean mistake of smiling at
a person I had always detested.
After all, I was in a good
mood, what with the Purple
Jesus (a carefully mixed combination of Purplesaurus Rex
Kool-Aid and cheap Russian
Prince vodka) slowly taking
control of my consciousness,
and the beat of the MWSSSW
replacing the pulses of my nervous system. Life was good.
Until the detested one saw me
across the room, and made a
beeline straight towards me,
arms stretched out for a hug.
"Hug? No way!" I thought, as
I tried to sidestep the oncoming human bullet. A hazy picture of the corrida de toros in
Pamplona surfaced in the back
of my mind.
Somehow she managed to
get her arms around me,
despite the table and three
chairs I tried to put between
us. She beamed at me, looking
happier to see me than I was to
see her.
"So, how are you, anyway?"
said the pint-sized clone of
Kim Campbell.
My back crawled, and the
hair stood up at the nape of
my neck at the sound of her
voice, so sweet and gooey like
the Halloween toffee left from
last year under the couch.
"Oh, about the same as yesterday" I replied, trying to sound
cool and casual. I started
looking around for an escape
route. Any escape route. Usually I have these things
planned out well in advance.
She sighed, with that perky,
annoying shake of the head
that all semi-literate blondes
seem to have. (Note: For my
own continued safety and well-
being, I'd like to make it clear
that only the semi-literate
blondes have that annoying
mannerism), (ed: ditto.)
"No, silly... How are you?"
she said, obviously finding my
remark to be quite witty and
charming. Mystified, and getting a strange sense of deja vu,
I repeated my standard reply,
thinking she hadn't heard me
correctly the first time. She
shook her head again, this
time putting a different spin
on it that I translated into just
a touch of exasperation. "I
haven't seen you for monthsl"
(Naturally, I thought. I've
always seen you first.) "I want
to know what's new in your
life, how you'refeeling, every
thing!"
I couldn't believe it wasn't
working. In a fit of extreme
annoyance decided to give her
exactly what she wanted. I
took a deep breath, and started
in on my complete history of
the last five months.
Minutes passed, while I
rambled on and on about
absolutely everything I could
remember doing, wishing I'd
done, or heard about someone
having done since last March.
I was well into describing the
pain of the groin pull I suffered in iaido class last week
when she finally started to
crack. She started to glance
around the room, fidget, and
shift her weight from leg to
leg. I had her right where I
wanted her, helpless to leave,
forced to endure an endless
litany of complaints. I gloated
at her predicament, and delivered the coup de grace.
"—and luckily the doctor
said," as I leaned conspiratori-
ally towards her, "'Penicillin
can cure just about anything.'
So anyway, how have you been
doing these last few months?"
She smiled nervously. "Oh,
the same as always..." she said
as she backed slowly into the
crowd. "See you around!"
I haven't seen her since,
luckily. Guess sometimes honesty (or a close substitute) is
the best thing for getting out
of unwanted conversations.
If only it could get rid of the
guy upstairs.
Sigh.
Smith & Wesson will just
have to do.
Der Crossverd
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THIS WEEK'S THEME:
Beer, (it was only a matter of time)
Across: 1. La Chauffe D'Ardennes 3. Pacifico 5. Young's Old
Nick Barley Wine 7. Moosehead 9. Ruski 11. Guiness 13.
Chung Hua 15. San Miguel Dark 17. Razor Edge
Down: 2. Starnobrno Leu Blonde Dopplebock 4. Sam Adams
6. Awooyo Special 8. Red Stripe 10. Frydenlunds 12. Xingu
14 Eku Heffe Wieisse Dunkle 16. Okocim 18. Singha 20.
Maccabee 22. Moretti
^F*! "iZ P^f 'OS PUBI!EH,L '81 PUBi°d "91 J&iK<"3f) Jl ['ZEJg
sipjisny 'it swstdfijitfd -gt suiqo
(uoisi/^-ct-ureissXg ui psptAOJj) -.suounjoc IQv. Looks. Tough Decision? Chaa!
Graeme
KENNEDY
Tuesday is my Sunday, so at
ten AM I was sleeping.
Nevertheless, the phone rang
and I awoke from a dream just
in time to avoid a horrible disfigurement at the hands of a
band of Hare Krishnas, whose
T-shirt printing orders I had
screwed up in a summer job
two years ago and never owned
up for.
Me:   "Hello?"
Voice: "Hi, is this
Graeme Kennedy?"
Me:   (considering lying and
going back to sleep) "Who
may I ask is calling?"
Voice: "My name is
Kennedy, and I'm running for
councillor in the civic election."
Me:   (interrupting) "Oh,
well, I'm not really very interested in city politics."
Voice: "Um, aren't
you running for mayor?"
At this point, the relevence
of her call became apparent.
To make a long story short,
I have dropped my name off
the list of candidates for
Gotham City and reduced the
total roll to 23 , more than a
page's worth, which is the
problem. You see, there will be
two Kennedys on the ballot,
which is randomly seeded, so
that I might attract her voters
by accident.
Imagine the guilt.
Enough of this mayor stuff,
apparently my last article was
just too confusing. And, no, I
do not use.. .ah...'herbs' while
writing.
As far as accepting responsi
bility, I was persuaded to take
the Sales Manager position
right here in SUS. When the
drugs wore off, I stuck with it
anyway, and my life has had
the following pattern: wake
up, work, swim, do sales stuff,
home, eat, watch TV, sleep.
Well, I haven't exactly been
watching TV per se. It seems
that by the time my day has
ended all the networks are
showing the same boring show
about some First Nations gentleman in native dress, whose
head is just sort of hovering in
front of a bunch of circles and
numbers and things. Either
this or the show with a bunch
of vertical stripes in multiple
hues. Boooorrrriiiing.
My friends have been trying
desperately to improve my
social life, and they're failing
dismally. The problem is that
they're trying the wrong
approach: they're trying to set
me up with women and not
telling me what they're up to.
This is guaranteed to fail. This
is what my friends will tell me
about my prospective date,
and where I know the future
problem will lie:
1) "I met her at a bar/nightclub/singles barbeque."
Since I would rather walk
barefoot across Lego than get
involved with a woman who
hangs out at bars/nightclubs/
singles barbeques, the evening
would not go well if I took her
to the (upcoming) Porgie and
Bess.
2) "I showed her your picture and told her all about
you. She really wants to meet
you!"
This is always death. My life is
chaos, and I'm a 'strange
attractor', if you know what I
mean. This gets to the heart of
my singledom, however. As
Groucho Marx once said "I
would never join a club. If
they let me be a member,
clearly they aren't exclusive
enough."
3) "She's really pretty."
Disappears into the bathroom
to touch up her nose powder.
Takes about 30 minutes. You
soon discover that the best way
to get out of a conversation is
to tell her that her lipstick is
gloppy and you're rescued for
about an hour.
4) "She's had some pretty
bad relationships, and she's
looking for someone as nice as
»
you
Her ex is named Bluto. Yer
toast.
5) "She thinks you're really
cute."
I've lived the life of a teddy
bear. I don't need any more
cheek squeezes, thank you very
much.
6) "You two are perfect for
each other."
Apparently, my friends thinks I
want to marry a duplicate of
myself, only with nice breasts.
7) "Do you mind if I bring
my someone along?"
Proving that my friend is completely oblivious to the fact
that I have been trying to get
her attention for the past six
months.
I think I've made myself
clear. In any case, I went out
with category 3 on Saturday,
and... well... it could have been
worse. We went to see the
Rocky Horror Picture Show at
the SUB, so I delegated the
task of supplying toast. This is
not difficult to do: you make
toast, you bag toast, you carry
toast to theater.
But, nooooo... She forgot,
so I ended up slicing up a loaf
" of focaccia bread, and grilling
it in a toaster oven. I began to
feel that there is no justice in
the world when I realized that
I was throwing fine Italian
herb breads about a theater at
1 AM whilst dodging dry half
loaves, crusty slices and a selection of mouldy dinner rolls.
All this was interspersed
with several long trips to the
'little Tammy-Fae Bakker's
room' and a general lack of
Sales Slips
TJ umours of our death have been
XVgready exaggerated. We did, in
fact have a sort of a 'false start' after
our original Sales Manager, Angela
Kay, was left unable to fill the position after a fireball car accident
which, fortunately, did not leave
her horribly disfigured or maimed,
only a little shaken. I'd like to
thank her for the work she has
done for Science Sales so far. This
out of the way, I'll start with the
introductions:
Graeme Kennedy (That's me) -
Sales Manager. A 'Colonel Blake'
style of leadership helps me look for
new things to order, coordinate the
orders and decide what gets ordered
again, what gets sold cheaper than
we paid, and what gets given away
to be used for the training of family
pets. I also get to make up ads,
write in the 432, and draw until I
inhale enough ink that I stare into
space muttering "The colours...the
colours".
Terence Lai - Bookeeper.
'Radar' mails my letters, faxes my
faxes, tries to get me to sign letters
he claims are important, and generally keeps the place from falling
into disrepair and disrepute. I have
had little luck getting him to polish
my shoes, however.
Jesse Burnett - Sales Rep. 'Hot
Lips' is a permanent fixture in the
SUS office and will be there to help
with questions about Sales merchandise, sizes, colours, new products, and generally talk your ears
off.
Tessa Moon - Sales Rep. 'Rosie'
claims she has never owned a Nintendo. Never heard of Atari, either.
If she couldn't lie about this to me,
she couldn't mislead you.
Amy Siegenthaler - Sales Rep.
'The nurse who is new this season
and nobody knows her name 'cause
everybody just calls her 'nurse' will
also be able to help you select items
for size, colour, and inform you of
special deals or packages.
Hope to see you in blue.
comprehension throughout
the evenings' conversations.
Ahh, the evening did end on a
positive note (we didn't try to
humiliate each other in a public place) and I must admit
that I have spent many worse
Saturday nights.
The greatest irony of all this
is that she probably has an IQ
of 200 and is mocking me,
right now.
I suppose a little humility is
in order.
PRE-MED SOCIETY
presents
Dr. Livesley
PSYCHIATRY
Tuesday, November 9
and
Dr. McCormick
OPHTHALMOLOGY
Tuesday, November 16
All lectures held in FNSC Rm 60
at 12:30
luence.
Power.
Caffeine.
Next 432 deadline:
26 November.
IIItlHIEI • H011.14 • 7-.30 Pr Study Abroad
m
UBC Student
Exchange Programs
Australia* Denmark
England* France
Germany* Hong Kong
India* Japan* Korea
Philippines* Scotland
Singapore* Sweden
Taman(ROC)*UnitedStates
Financial Aid Amhble
For More Information
Visit Ike
International Opportunities Area
Brock Hall Student Resources Centre
Monday -Thmsday:
8:00 am -6:00 pm
Fridays: 8:00 am-430 pm
or attend one cf Ihe
Exchange Program Information
Sessions
to be held around campus (1230 -1:30 pm)
Novl8-BuchA104
Dik Miller, Ea>-Warrior
METER
When we last left our hero,
Dik Miller, he had just witnessed a water balloon being
dumped on Preston Mannings
head. Needless to say, all hell
broke loose. We rejoin him
and his friends some weeks
later.
"Good thing Preston Manning isn't Prime Minister, you
know," said one of the Clayoquot protesters to me as we
sat around a crackling camp-
fire in the misty fog of Vancouver Island's west coast.
"Damn right," I said, rotating a tofu weenie on the end
of a stick. "You know, it's kind
of getting cold here."
'Tt is November, you
Clas^\.ct
GRADUATING CLASS GIFT CAMPAIGN
Graduating?
What would you like; to leave behind as a
gift for the faculty?
Send your ideas to Keith
Tel: 822^235
m
R1THIHKIHG
HISTORY MB
IU0LUTI0H
DR. STEPHEN JAY GOULD
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm^mmmmmmmmmmmmmm
m
LTO1MR • 1K.1 • 7:M PH
'know," he noted. "Most of the
people have left because of
that. I'm glad you stuck
behind to lend us support. I
mean, it could get really lonely
here..." I noticed a somewhat
""disturbing gleam in his eye.
"Look, er..." I said. "Uh, it's
not that you're not an attractive guy or anything, but, well,
er, I'm not, er, very...um..."
He was looking puzzled.
"What the hell are you talking
about?"
I looked back. "I gotta go."
"What?!"
"Um, I'm kind
of ..uh...asthmatic, and the
humidity is getting to me."
"You seemed fine during the
fog and rainstorm last week."
"Uh...I'm getting a little
chilly."
"You're sweating."
"I...uh...I've decided that
I'm going to East Timor to
defend the rainforest there." It
was the only thing that came
to mind.
"Really?! Great! There's a
convoy leaving tomorrow for
the airport. I'll introduce you
and get you on your way."
"Uh..." I didn't know what
to say.
"Now eat your tofu dog and
get some sleep. You have a
long flight tomorrow."
Damn, I thought.
Poke poke poke.
"Mmmphrlpthlth," I said.
Poke poke poke.
"Wake up, Miller."
"Grrrrmphtlpththth," I
replied.
"WAKE THE HELL UP!"
I cracked my eyes open.
"Where am I?"
"We're about midway over
the Pacific Ocean."
I looked up. The person
speaking was in uniform.
"Then why did you wake me
up?"
"You wouldn't happen to
know how to fly a plane,
would you?"
I blinked. "Why do you
ask?"
"We need someone to fly
the plane."
"What exactly happened to
the person who was hired to
fly the plane?"
"He's dead."
"You hired a dead person to
fly the plane?"
"No. He died a couple of
minutes ago."
"Well, I don't know how to
fly a plane, so if you don't
mind I'm just going to go to
sleep again." I turned over and
closed my eyes. "Wake me
when we get to Indonesia."
"At this rate," said the attendant, "we'll never arrive there.
We'll just die a horrible, fiery,
painful death as this aircraft
careens helplessly into the sea
thousands of miles from the
nearest land!"
One of the other passengers
poked his head up over the top
of the seat. "What did you say,
miss?"
She looked up suddenly.
"Oh, nothing."
I opened my eye again. "All
right then." I stood up and
reached into the overhead
compartment, from which I
brought out my trenchcoat. In
one of the pockets I found my
Dik Miller ™ Emergency Aircraft Piloting and Szechwan
Cooking Handbook.
"Lead on to the cockpit," I
declared, wiping the sleep
from my eyes.
Shoving the late pilot out of
his seat onto the floor, I took
the chair and gazed around me
at the controls.
I grabbed my Dik Miller™
aviator's goggles and strapped
them to my face.
I put on the Dik Miller™
leather aviator's cap.
I glanced down at the manual.
"Contact!" I shouted.
"What was that?" asked one
of the other crew members.
"You know, when you start
a plane, you're supposed to
shout 'Contact'!"
"This is a modern jumbo
jet. There are no propellers.
You don't shout 'Contact.' You
just use these hyper-modern,
high-tech controls and take the
plane to a safe landing in
Jakarta."
"Oh." I looked back down
at the handbook. I wished I
had sent in the registration
form that entitled me to regular updates. This one had a
advertiser's flash on the cover
that tastefully pointed out the
all-new chapter on navigation
by Amelia Earhart.
"Where's the choke?" I
asked.
"AAAAAAAAUGH!"
When I regained consciousness, I was being shoved down
one of those inflatable yellow
emergency slides projecting
from the side of the plane.
I landed in a shallow pool of
water, from which I was
plucked by a passing emergency crew.
"What happened?"
"From the radio report,
some nutball tried to fly the
plane after the pilot died. They
managed to knock him out
before he did any major damage and had the plane land
itself on auto-pilot. Good
thing too. Would've killed the
bunch of them if they hadn't
subdued him."
"Oh."
"What's your name, anyway?"
"Dik Miller, Private Ey— I
mean, Dik Miller, Eco-Warrior."
"Oh, you're the guy who's
heading up the East Timor
Eco-Warrior Fest, aren't you?"
"Uh, I guess so."
"Right. The government
death squad will see you now."
"Oh, thanks."
Will our brave hero escape
from the deadly clutches of the
Indonesian secret police? Or
will he just bumble along
another inept adventure? What
would you bet?
" If everything to do with
student politics were to be
obliterated tomorrow,
would the earth stop
turning?
Who knows? It might even
spirt faster,
(In which case, we'd all
weigh less and therefore
there'd be no more Jenny
Craigads<..) f f
MlCftOfM©l<0«VY
>   CONTEST
Friday
Jan 21st
3-5 pm
"BeaUBCBrewMaster"
IBrAjfteastyfi
>*untedtieMin*mUK*ieair>^^ I Grim Tales (V2.0)
Leona
ADAMS
Preamble: It is one thing to
devote three painful hours
of your life to something. It is
something entirely
different to do it twice. Such is
the bitter irony about which
revolves my existence. Welcome to my neighbourhood.
Letting go is usually a
difficult process for me, but
this week I did it with style (or
at least I thought I did). For
some time now, I have been
involved in a very unhealthy
codependent relationship. In
spite of all of his abuses, in
spite of all the hours I spent
trying to figure him out, I kept
coming back to him. But that's
was all over. The Roadrunner
and I were no more. But now,
out of patience and down on
my luck, I've come crawling
back again. I'm so ashamed.
Dear friends, we have
gathered here today to lay to
rest an undear, undead friend.
Anyone who has ever read any
of my articles knows the Road-
runner well, even if they don't
know his name. For the
record, the Roadrunner was
the older and more crochety
Macintosh on and at which I
usually ended up writing and
cursing. We had a love-hate
relationship: he loved making
my life a grim shell of an existence, and I hated him for
doing it. He was dead for the
majority of the past week, but
has been resurrected for the
sake of production night by
Dr. Ryanstein and his Band of
Merry Wreakers of Havoc.
The more astute
among you may wonder why
BPP presents
November 26 Bppr Garden
November 17 Pizza & Pop
pizza 25 cents
pop 25 cents
12:30 IRC
First Year Committee
Pizza & Pop Nite
$2 for a pizza and pop
First Year students get
first one free!
Thursday,
November 18th
7:30pm
SUS CHEM 160
this is the sequel to Grim
Tales, when you really don't
quite remember having seen
the original. This is reasonable,
because most people haven't
seen the original, not even our
trusty editor extraordinaire.
Wile E. (the other Mac, naturally) has apparently taken up
where his evil cohort left off
and has eaten the original version of this week's creation. I
was the victim of a similar
ingestion earlier this week, the
only difference being that in
that case, a) it was a lab report
and b) my computer gave it
back (you never realize the
importance of commands like
Undelete until you actually
have to use them). I once saw
an episode of the Jetsons where
George had been responsible
for the firing of a robot, so the
computers (which can think
independentlly by this time, of
course) put out a Code Blue or
Red (you want colour accuracy, hire an interior decorator)
on him. This meant that every
single computer he encountered just did its level day to
screw him up beyond all
recognition. Now I don't tend
to view myself as a paranoid
person, but when I notice a
trend...
Anyway, as you can
probably tell from the title,
this article originally had a
morbid, dark sort of feel to it.
This is, of course, totally unrelated to the fact that I've spent
the past few weeks filling out
med school applications.
There's nothing to work wonders for your self-esteem like
trying to convince others that
they should let you into their
med school, and then realizing
that you're not sure if they
should. When I feel this way, I
usually try to think of someone whose professional
prospects are worse than mine.
For some reason, the only person whose face pops into my
head is Kim Campbell. Her
whole ad campaign was just
bad idea jeans with extra crap
and a side of Spam. (One
thing that you may or may not
have noticed about me is my
tendency to forge my own
expressions, whether they are
genuinely original or amalgamations of other things I have
heard. Bad idea jeans with
extra crap and a side of Spam
is one of many. I should really
write a glossary.)
To commemorate
November as Happiness
Month, I submit for your approval a pair of Mensa/Densa
questions.
Mensa question: A man
walks into a room in which
there are two doors. He is
informed that one of the doors
leads to eternal peace, happiness, fulfillment, etc: the
whole she-bang. The other
door leads to death, destruction, and other fun stuff. Each
door is guarded by one person.
The man is also told that one
guard always lies while the
other always tells the truth. If
he is only allowed to ask one
question of one guard, how
can he figure out which door
to take?
Densa question: Same guy,'
same doors, only this time,
one of the guards is congeni-
tally insane, while the other is
irretrievably stupid. If he is
allowed to ask an infinite
number of questions of both
guards, what are the chances
that he will just skip the whole
thing and open both doors
himself?
Mensa answer: That's actually a very good question. I
thought I knew the answer,
but the nincompoop person
who told me the puzzle said
that I was wrong and refused
to give me the right answer. It
apparently wouldn't be "challenging" if he did. I tried to
explain to the man that I had
been challenged enough for
one lifetime, but he wouldn't
listen.
Densa answer: I tried to
think of a witty response, but
I'm fresh out of wit, I'm afraid.
Try me again in about three
weeks.
Annual UBC Science Undergraduate Society
4r Paper Sale
^ i.ooseleaf, 3-hole punched, ruler, margin!
Okay, here's some Math 100:
SUS: 500 sheets for only $1.50
Bookstore: 200 sheets for $2.25
You save $3.85 on a pack of 500!
Bargain available only in SUS Office, CHEM 160
While supplies last! (All profits donated to charity)
11   C ">tlc  Slid IT":
Rebate   appl i<_
ileaclli nc:
Nov 22
No lure appl icari< mswill  !"><.   ataiiuil The Drawers of SUS
Sarah's Skivvies
Sarah Thornton
*-ph.
ere's so much going on!
The Teaching Excellence
award program is underway
again, so get your nominations
in for your outstanding profs.
We now have an almost full
council, and there's hardly
enough seats in the council
chamber. At a rather hectic
meeting on October 22, we
appointed people to 7
year/department rep positions,
so now only Geography, Geology, and Math don't have
department reps. Then, on the
23rd, we had a Faculty of Science meeting, and approved
the establishment of a Chair
for Biodiversity and a bunch of
changes to the core Science
curriculum. Come into the
office to read the full packet of
changes, but the gist is as follows:
Back in Sept 92, the Faculty
decided to recommend to
departments to create 3 credit
(rather than 6 credit) first year
courses. This would allow
greater flexibility for both students and departments. As a
result, there have been some
major changes. Physics 110,
115 and 120 have been deleted, and in their places have
been put the 3 credits courses
Phys 100, 101,102, 121, and
122. Phys 100 is for students
who don't have Physics 12, and
Phys 101 and 102 correspond
to the old 115 (121 and 122
are the old 120). Therefore,
now there are some changes in
other department requirements. Biology requires Phys
101 (which has a pre-req of
Phys 100) only, so students
coming in to UBC with Phys
12 will only have to take 3
credits of Physics. Chemistry
requires 6 credits of Physics at
100 or 200 level. Etc... Major
changes that won't affect any of
us. Oh well. There have also
been some changes in major
and honours programs for later
years. Nothing too drastic
though. There's a new First
year course in Earth and Ocean
Sciences, which might be fun.
What else is going on? Well,
we are down to one computer
in the office right now. The
"baby mac" (as we affectionately refer to it), otherwise known
as the Mac SE, had a rather
fatal harddrive crash. So we are
looking into fixing it and/or
purchasing a new Centris. The
money is a question, but its for
the use of all students,
AMS Briefs
soooo	
Sales is off and running,
with our new Sales manager,
Graeme Kennedy, and his
extremely helpful staff- Terence Lai as bookkeeper and
Jesse, Amy and Tessa as staff!
There's lots of neat clothes and
hats and teddy-bears. Jackets
will be available after Christmas, so come give your orders
sometime before the end of the
month.
Our exec meetings have
been moved to a slightly more
humane hour, 6 pm on Tuesdays, and council still meets on
Thurs at 1:30. My office hours
are M/F at 2:30 and Wat
9:30. I'm often around other
times too. So you've no excuse
for not getting your concerns
heard. We're always around.
 Laurie's Lingurie
Laurie Yee
In the world of SUS I find
that... joy of all joys, I only
have 3 council seats remaining
to be filled. You wouldn't
believe how strange it is to get
to the point where things like
i "having quorum" thrill you to
Syour toes.  Strange and such is
life. You could be a winner of
one my last and "going fast"
council seats you must be in
either Math, Geology or
Geography. Come out and
introduce yourself to me, say
'hi', or just make fun of me
like everyone else here. I seem
to be the office klutz.
For the new First Year
Committee, a sort of Pizza
Garden is being planned for
mid-November. One free slice
of pizza and pop for frosh, and
for everyone else cheap pizza!
So keep an eye out for those
posters and come pig (oink)
out. If you have any ideas for
non-BEvERage activities leaire
a note for Wendy Chui (the
chair of the committee) in the
FYC box in SUS. All suggestions will be welcome (we will
not laugh, we will not
laugh...).
Academics Committee is
again running the Teaching
Excellence Award. Get your
form in for your favoutite
prof. Forms are available in
Chem 160 (SUS) and this
issue of The 432. Deadlines
for nominations is November
19, 1993. That means: get
those forms into SUS by Nov
19th.
Oh, yeah, come out and
help us with Science Week.
Call Steve Coleman (Ex-VP).
Steve Coleman
All those interested in running for AMS Exec next
January - better start organizing your slate now, because
you're not going to win otherwise. Of course, I'll be running
on a slate with the intent to
lose. Some quick background:
at the AMS council meeting
on 20 Oct, council passed
revised elections guidelines.
The one of the original intents
of the guidelines was to limit
the financial advantage of
"slates" when running in the
AMS exec elections. There was
a clause that indicated that all
campaign materials with a candidate's name and picture on it
would count towards that candidate's total expenses (i.e. not
1/5 of the cost of the poster if
5 people were on it, but the
whole cost). However, when
the revised guidelines came
before council, certain exec
members (who have sat on
slates in the past, and are planning to again) managed to
'railroad' council into removing that clause. Ryan and I
therefore brought the matter
back before council on 3 Nov,
and unfortunately didn't manage to re-install that clause, but
did manage to wake-up some
of the members. But I'll shut
up about that topic now,
because I've already irritated
most of the people I know
with it already. Even so, if
you'd like to see me gripe and
complain, come down to SUS
and lend my your ear for a few
hours. Days. Weeks. Years.
Lifetimes. Inspite of the disappointing result of the election
guidlines issue, I think we
made it fairly clear to the AMS
exec that council is paying
attention and that we will not
blindly vote in favour of
motions along with the exec
like a flock of sheep.
Next topic - the Student
Leadership Conference. SLC
will be over by the time this
issue is out, but some attendees will still be feeling the
effects. SLC is an annual conference held at the AMS
Whistler Lodge, intended for
prospective 'student leaders'.
This year, topics include the
ever-popular "Perfect Portraits
of Leaders", the hold-on-to-
your-chair intensity of "Leadership: What is it?" and my
personal favourite "Leadership
and the proper use of Beer in
the Hot Tub and Sauna." This
last topic is scheduled during
and after the CiTR dance. It's
always refreshing to be reassured that our student leaders
know that you shouldn't pour
beer on the hot rocks. Confer
ences like this are one of the
great reasons to be a part of
student councils.
Safety on campus was discussed at the last meeting, with
the bike path along Tenth and
lighting on campus as major
areas of concern. Everyone at
council was in agreement (for
once) that something must be
done. What that something is
was not clear: should we write
letters or take more direct
action or what? Got any suggestions or comments, come
talk to me about it. Even if I
can't help you out, hopefully I
can direct you to someone who
knows more about the issue
than I.
Comments from the SUS
members who sit on AMS
council:
Ryan - I don't care. I'm having an anxiety attack.
Morie - Go away. I'm sick.
Steve - Go away. I'm sick.
Keith - No, there's no meeting tonight. It's next week. I'm
sure of it.
Blair (proxy for Keith) -
What a load of crap. I've lost
faith in them completely.
Next issue - more exciting
news from the world of the
AMS (tentatively titled. 'More
of the Same Crap.')
Treasurer s Trunks
Jason S Holmes
Okay, I lied. I got totally
smashed at the wine &
cheese. I had a stressful week.
Now I have that out of my
system (along with the bottle
of wine and the rather copious
:imount of beer I drank), I
shall get down to business.
To all those clubs who submitted a budget to me on time
(joy!), thank-you very much
for your cooperation. Hisssss!
to those clubs which submitted budgets late or incomplete.
Oh, I should mention that any
Sicience club that has a v-ball
team must lose to the SUS
SlUgS (the team I play/lose
on) or receive a penalty cut in
your funding. We will not
stand to suffer another humiliating defeat like we did against
MicroBi (somewhere along the
lines of 14-2, 14-4 for them).
I may be a lousy volleyball
player, but I am a damn good
curmudgeon!
On a great, fanfare-like
note, we received our funding
fiom der AMS! Happy, happy,
joy, joy! (Now there's something you don't see me say
everyday.) This means that
SUS is actually able to operate
outside of an operating deficit,
which also means that I save
money because I don't have to
buy as many Rolaids as I once
did. Now all I have to worry
about is that our SoCo (or ExVP for that matter) doesn't
invite the entire EUS to our
next beer garden for free. Our
next beer garden (as you probably have read many times
now, but I submitted my article first, at 12:49 am Tuesday
morning), is at 4:32pm
Wednesday the 1 Oth of
November. And guess what,
you've got the next day off so
you don't have to worry about
going to class with a hangover. Whoopee! M\aybe we'll
call it the "I Can't Remember .
the Night Before" beer garden.
Nah. Too long.
Just a reminder to the members of the Budget Committee
(i.e. BPP), there will NOT be
a meeting at 12:30 on the 11th
ofNovember.
 Circvs Scientificvs
Delwin Yung
Congratulations, Science! We
won the most Sports points in
Day of the Longboat, and made
the event a great success with a
total of 23 teams registered.
Science led the pack with 1640
points, followed by Engineering
at 1132, Gage with 993, and
Totem with 978.
Even more amazing, we had
a Science team in the top three
of each category. The Total
Hydraulic Head Men's team
took 3rd, the Women's team
Yowkalhumps placed 2nd and
in first plac» in the CoRec division - the LLAMAS.
This brings overall Sports
Point Totals as ofNovember
3rd, 1993 to:
Men: Science 2294, Engineering 1577, Medicine 1358
Women: Science 1373,
Totem 1132, Medicine 1053
Finally, avoid being on a
waiting list! Register your sport
team with Intermurals early!
Registration dates start November 15th and go to January 7th. The Moooon Buggyyyyyyy.
Roger
WATTS
T
oday was a very sad day.
Today, I had to say goodbye
an old friend. That's right. I
had to get rid of the Moon
Buggy.
Hey! Stop giggling. This is a
very tender issue for me. The
Moon Buggy was one of our
family's all-time greatest possessions. (Except for that black
velvet rhinestone-and-cubic-
zirconia-inlaid painting of
Elvis that glows in the dark
that we got on Home Shopping Network. We'll never let
go of that.)
Allow me to explain. When
I was very wee (small for all
you non-Scots), I had the
greatest toy of all time. Anyone
who remembers those old six-
wheeled Fisher-Price All-Terrain Explorers, raise your
hand.
For those of you who raised
your hand... pick the newspa
per up. For those who didn't...
these were little vehicles about
two feet long and about 15
inches high. You could ride
them, and they had four-wheel
steering, a ringing gear shift, a
"squeak" horn button, a little
compartment in the front to
hold two itty-bitty little guys,
and a trunk just big enough to
hold a sandwich. (Sound
familiar? It should. Honda
bought the design from Fisher-Price in '78, put a little
engine in it, and called it the
Civic.)
My grandad bought me this
thing when I was two years
old, brand spanking new, for a
grand total of $15-98 (obviously before the advent of the
GST). And I rode that thing
night and day all over the
house. Everyone in the place
feared for their toes (we pioneered steel-toed slippers), and
the carpet had more tire tracks
in it than a raccoon on the 1-5.
I'm not ashamed to say that I
was still playing with that
thing well into age six or
seven, partially just so my sister couldn't play with it, but
mostly because my dad
wouldn't let me drive the Civic
yet, even if I knew the car better than he did.
(I think it was because I had
accustomed myself to flying
down the driveway on my car
without the capacity - or the
perceived necessity - to use any
brakes, and seemed to think I
could do just as well with the
Civic. I guess Dad was right to
hold me back. That brake
thing is still something I've
never quite grasped.)
But, all good things must
end; I eventually had to relinquish the helm to my sister. I
think the final telltale signs
were that when I would sit on
the seat, my knees ended up
higher than my head and the
whole car groaned and creaked
like it was in some really serious agony.
So my sister played with it
for the next five years, and I
busied myself mainly with
hockey cards, Star Wars figures
and pushing my sister down
the driveway on the Explorer
(all three of which I've since
misplaced, except my sister).
By the end of her tenure as
Grand Supreme Hell-Pilot, the
Moon Buggy, as it had become
known, was about due for its
million-mile servicing; the seat
had cracked, the wheels were
wobbly, the paint was peeling
off in sheets, and the steering
was making a really interesting
noise.
Dad's Civic, interestingly
enough, was in about the same
condition, and by then it
didn't have any brakes either.
But you think that was the
end of the Moon Buggy? Hah.
That was only halftime! (It
was, however, the end of the
Civic.) By this time, my mum's
sister had a son, and so he
became the proud new owner
of the sacred vehicle. Over the
next decade, he and his little
sister rode the thing clear
through the Eighties and into
the Nineties. They kinda
roughed it up and drew all
over it (obvoiusly didn't know
a quality piece of engineering
when they saw one), but they
did have a car phone installed
in'91.
But alas, when my cousin
Brooke decided it just wasn't
her cup of tea, the end of the
road was nigh. Truth to tell,
she was never too fond of the
thing, but I can't really say I
blamed her; by the time she
got a hold of it, it looked like a
cross between a train wreck
and a graffiti competition,
with a dash of mud thrown
neatly on top. After having
•   •
served twenty years on the
road and travelled roughly
from here to Mars and back
three or four times, the old
Moon Buggy was put out to
pasture.
It sat vitrually forgotten in
my grandad's workshed for
two years. Last week he and I
were cleaning it out, and it was
one of the bits that got
cleaned. As I pulled it out, I
felt a strange mix of nostalgia, s
sadness, and utter disgust -
nostalgia for the good times,
sadness for the end of them,
and disgust for the gooey
remains of a large slug on the
steering wheel, that was now
oozing out between my
clenched fingers in rather
unsightly gobs.
And so, in a solemn and private moment, I quietly said
goodbye to the Moon Buggy,
placed it on the pavement and
sent it on its way.
Its obituary in the newspaper read:
78 Honda Civic. Missing
engine. Some paint damage.
$200 obo.'
Hah. The poor sucker who
bought it never knew the difference.
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