UBC Publications

UBC Publications

UBC Publications

The 432 Jan 13, 1999

Item Metadata

Download

Media
the432-1.0000560.pdf
Metadata
JSON: the432-1.0000560.json
JSON-LD: the432-1.0000560-ld.json
RDF/XML (Pretty): the432-1.0000560-rdf.xml
RDF/JSON: the432-1.0000560-rdf.json
Turtle: the432-1.0000560-turtle.txt
N-Triples: the432-1.0000560-rdf-ntriples.txt
Original Record: the432-1.0000560-source.json
Full Text
the432-1.0000560-fulltext.txt
Citation
the432-1.0000560.ris

Full Text

 VOLUME   12   ISSUE   07  •  01.13.99
Teesisy,JaManM3
CiTR Suspected
Doomsday Cult
Sensitive RCMP documents which
describe details of a current investigation of the campus radio station CiTR
were delivered to the Ubyssey's SUB office
early monday morning.
The document reveals the details of an
elaborate scheme already underway which
will cause the deaths of millioris of "innocent" people in an attempt to bring the
second coming of Christ at the beginning of
the new millenium.
The report also shows that while RCMP
have known about the plot for some time,
they have been unable to press charges
because the evidence they possess has all
been gathered by illegal methods including unauthorized wire taps, a mole placed
in the CiTR staff, and trained squirrels
with cybernetic recording chips.
"The wire taps have proven essential in this
investigation, although we are somewhat
disapointed with the squirrels. So far the
only recordings we have retrieved are a
series of high pitched squeaks interspersed
with an occasional cracking noise." said the
report.
QMJflSbyDu
The entire staff of the makeshift radio station are implicated in the far reaching
plot. While a "ring leader" is not directly named, the report refers to an outside consortium known as the Ring of Three. Ryan Marshall, Scott Moreshita and Daniel
Arbour have all vehemenently denied any allegations that they are in fact the three
members of this tripartite pact of evil.
"What are you talking about? Get out of my office you freak." said an obviously agitated and disturbed Marshall when confronted with the allegation. Just minutes later
Moreshita went to the bathroom. Daniel Arbour was seen to sneeze no less than four
times within that half hour.
While the evil minds behind the plot have not
been directly named, the 480 page report provides
great detail into the intracacies of the Doomsday
plot. The plot entails using the CiTR
radio station to broadcast hypnotic
noises which will turn the inhabitants
Gray into mindless zombie workers.
will construct low-earth orbit
"EEEeeeaaah, go
ship eediiiieeeeey.
Lizard queen?"
- ""Nardwar": perrenial CiTR DJ
of Point
These workers
nuclear powered laser satelites. Once the network
of terrawatt lasers are in place, the
earth will be "cleansed" of all cities.
"We are especially concerned with the
Ring of Three's plan to broadcast Kenny G for twenty four hours a day." stated the
report.
Rishell Rae, CiTR "News" director could not be reached for comment by press time.
However, several sources have listed her recent behaviour as "extremely odd," and
"bordering on psychotic." Not known for her stability, Ms. Rae is listed in the report
as being "dangerous to herself and those around her."
The 432 was denied access to
this report for several days, but
managed to gain access by bribing key squirrels with a case of
imported peanut butter.
Even more shocking is the
Ubyssey's refusal to provide the
public with this vital information. The report was delivered to
the Ubyssey office sometime
between 11:30 pm. friday and
6:00 am monday moring, and
yet not a word of it appears in
the tuesday, Jan. 12th issue of the
Ubyssey.
"Look, I've had enough of your
hare-brained ideas" said editor of
the Ubyssey Sarah Galashan,
"and besides, do you really think
a plot to use the CiTR fan base to
create slaves would ever work?
How useful is an army of six
slaves."
Staff Sargeaunt Mike Koulash of
the university detachment
refused to either confirm or deny
the existence of the report, the
Ring of Three, or a tattoo of
Buhdda on his left buttock.
ncan
pe**i You* Tftee
Tragic Beginning to
Arts Week
1
COMMERCE STUDENTS GET
RESSOURCepUL- HIPINQ OLD
CHRISTMNS TOS AND KM-
NTAIMIM6 ANAL KETeNTWJ
Friday, Jaeiaiy 11
[MHiiiiWiKi^r
Local rescue forces have been called into
action after a first year Arts student wandered off from the AUS Beer Garden last
Friday. Paul Kelven, 19 years old, has not
been heard from since seen heading South
from Buchanan A Block last Friday.
"We decided to try to find this 'Cairn' that
everybody was talking about," said Julie
Termon, 18, who was with him when he
wandered off. We headed off South down
Main Mall, but became separated soon
after when I took a wrong turn and ended
up in the Biology building courtyard,
which is where they found me last night.
"Ms. Ternon was severely dehydrated and
hysterical when we found her," Cnst. Doug
Trousdale explained, "She had wandered
in, but got lost and was unable to find her
way out again. She'll be okay though, we
gave her some Reece's Pieces and a book of
William Wordsworth poems to settle her
down. A two day battle versus the elements of the U.B.C. campus is no easy task
for these frosh. But if her state is any indication, Kelven's situation could be real
trouble
"It's the standard situation. Arts kids looking for something new, some excitement.
But they don't realize the danger of leaving
the marked boundaries of the Arts areas.
Straying from these safe areas can result in
situations such as this. They just never
think it'll happen to them."
Kelven, 19, has been missing for three
days now. He is described as 5'10", with
short, dirty blonde hair. He was last seen
wearing a yellow parka, blue jeans and an
obscenely large backpack.
First Year Arts undergraduates are again
warned that it is dangerous to stray South
of the Scarfe Building and to always tell a
TA where you're going and when you'll be
back.
If it is absolutely necessary to go to that
part of campus, Joel Peterson, Director of
Safewalk, reccomends that you either take
the security bus or wait for the heavily
armed Walkers to arrive and escort you to
safety. mm*tm&Km.WBm8f&m»
page Iwo
The
432
1.13.98
Radioactive School Girls from Mars
Was Marie Curie cool or what.
She was the first woman who
was really recognized in science, she discovered radioactivity and
Radium, she won the Nobel Prize and
she had several affairs with lab technicians. She had more cajones than any
man in. sciences at the time. She lived
with passion and fervour and wasn't
afraid to give the establishment a good
kick swift kick to the groin every once
and a while.
If she did have any faults, it was probably her fashion sense. Sure black dresses
have their place, but wearing the same
smock day in and day out just gets down
right sad. Then there was that brief period when people thought radiation was
great for everything. From burning out
tumours to rejuvenating the blood,
Radium was great for what ails ya, that is
until the leukemia sets in.
But is leukemia really that bad of a way
to go? Sure its cancer which is inherently slow and painful, but at least its one of
the fast cancers. Sure its not as good as
say a brain tumour in the pleasure center, but at least its not testicular cancer,
or liver cancer, or lung cancer.
And hey, cancer is a manly way to die.
You know you've got it, you know its
going to kill you, but you fight on till
the bitter the end. Nothing quite like an
impossible struggle to up your macho
quotient a couple of notches.
Look at John Wayne, the Duke. Got
lung cancer, so they cut out his entire
left lung. He kept making movies, he
kept smoking, he kept riding his horse,
he kept making love to his wife, and he
died a legend.
I suppose the least manly cancer to die
from would be breast cancer. Well I suppose it would be even fruitier to die of
ovarian or cervical cancer, but that's not
really anatomically possible, but with
today's modern medical miracles, anything is possible.
That is the reason I spend as little time
as possibly in or near the hospital. Young
doctors are just itching to try out new
procedures on "patients". I went to the
doctor because I had an ear infection
and he wanted to remove my colon as a
preventative measure against a rectal
prolapse. While I agreed that I certainly
did not want to be the proud owner of
an inverted rectum, I certainly didn't see
the necessity of removing a large portion
of my large intestine to prevent a next to
impossible event from occurring.
Besides, I like my colon.
Doctors really haven't changed much
since the middle ages. They have flashier
tools and use bigger words, but they're
still quacks waiting to suck out your
blood with leeches. The leeches just
have fancy new names like Dialysis, or
Magnetic Resonance Imaging, or stealing the patient's money when he's
hopped up on the funny gas.
Don't try and tell me that chosing to
spend all of your time picking at other
peoples scabs, running tests on feces and
urine, and generally poking around in
gross areas of diseased people doesn't
require a little bit of degenerated gray
matter. It takes a very sick sort of individual to become member of the medical
profession.
And these are the people we allow to
control the distribution of prescription
drugs. The sickest part of the whole the
scam is that the bastards who run the
college of physicians actually have us
believing that being a doctor is a reputable profession.
I have to admit that doctors do have a
place in society. Someone has to set broken bones, but do they deserve the adoration and respect they receive? Should
people listen to them as if they were oracles bestowing the wisdom of the
ancients? Should we take our clothes off
for these strangers so willingly?
In fact, I think the decade of the
nineties has made a new mark in the
quickness with which the average person will remove their clothing. I've
never really had a problem removing my
clothes, but now it seems just about anybody is willing to bare some flesh. Might
be a good thing, might be a bad thing.
Venice Beach, California: good idea.
Shady Acres Trailer Park, Surrey: bad
idea.
I suppose the nineties could be known
for worse things, like the decade of the
Gulf Wars, or the decade of Asian economic growth and collapse, or the
decade of Hepatitis B, or the decade of
the Gap*111 , or the decade of Spice, or
the decade of Zen-transcendentalist-
post-neomorphic-existentialism.
So what are we going to do differently
for the new millenium? Are we going to
become a species returning to the joy of
nudism and free love, or are we going to
tune down, dress up, and wind up?
When its all said and done, nothmg
much is going to change. People will still
be people, Moz will still push the limits
of human stupidity, and the vast majority of people will still be covering themselves up most of the time because they
are too scared to try something new.
Hey, maybe big black dresses will even
come back in style.
Jake was completely naked when he wrote
this article. What do you think of that? -ed
LEGAL AGE OF CONSENT IN CANADA: FOURTEEN.
It is the year of our lord nineteen hundred ninety-nine. We know this
because we have just gone through
two weeks of drunken debauchery and
gluttonous indulgence, peppered with
moments of clarity during which we
ponder the consequences of another
year's actions. That, and the fact that
each of us has heard that goddamned
Prince song fifty-six times since
Christmas.
For some, the break was a time to relax,
enjoy the world, and spend some precious moments with family. For others,
it was a time when the whole world
laughed at their pitiful existence, and
they had to spend barely finite amounts
of time with their kin.
For myself, the Christmas break was a
period of learning. Recently I have discovered the three Fundamental Truths of
the Universe. One: When alcohol and
liquid nitrogen are combined, bad
things will happen. Regardless of what
the other ingredients in the equation
are, be they a naked-to-the-waist John
Hallett, fluorescent lightbulbs, or even
surgical tubing, it is very bad.
Editorial
Two: Shakespeare can be damn erotic.
Three: Everybody must suffer. The
degree to which you must suffer is
directly related to how happy you are at
any given time.
My first mistake was when I became
pleased that my exams were over on
December 11th.
There I was, staring in the face of over
three weeks of fuck-all to do, smug as
can be, when I got the call. My mother
invited me up for Christmas. She lives in
Kamloops, about an hour out of town,
way out in the boondocks. Being a good
son, I decided that the five hour trip was
the least I could do so that my mom
could see me over Christmas.
Not looking forward to the Greyhound
trip, I was happy when my brother
offered to give me a ride up. That was my
seccond mistake. Perhaps it was a psychic warning, or maybe it was the gods
of fate writing the foreshadowing into
the story of my life with their celestial
pens, but while I was waiting for my
brother to pick me up, I decided to
watch The Great Escape.
Four hours later, I had a beautiful stripper, Storm, sitting on my lap, asking me
to do all sorts of ungodly things to her
body. I noticed a wet spot slowly spreading across my knee, when Storm asked
me to remove her top, as it was starting
to chafe. Dimly I became aware of a baby
crying somewhere in the distance.
I could amost hear the needle scraping
across the vinyl soundtrack of my dream
as I came crashing back to Earth. Reality
hit me in waves. The first thing I noticed
was the cries of Soleil, my niece. —I had
no part in the naming of her and do not
condone the punishment of small children by giving them silly names— As I
continued to look around, I remembered
where I was. I was in my brother's Blazer.
In the front seat were my brother and
my sister in-law. Behind me, snoozing
peacefully atop the baggage and blankets, was my brother's dog Skeena. In the
back seat was Soleil in her car-seat,
myself, and my brother's 1301b dog,
Storm. She was sprawled across the back
seat, with her head oozing out a steady
stream of drool onto my knee.
I sized up my surroundings. By the distinct smell of cattle shit, I realized that
we were in the fine burg of Chilliwack.
Impossibly, despite the fact that we had
been on the road for several hours, we
were not even half-way there. Resigning
myself to another four hours of inpri-
sionment, I tried to move my leg and
wished that I had brought with me a
baseball.
Ninety-six hours later, —as if time as we
all understand it can quantify how long
I existed in a two room cabin with 4
dogs, 2 cats, a baby, my brother and his
wife, and my mother and her
boyfriend— we all piled back into the
Blazer for the long trip back down to
Vancouver. I arrived home nine and a
half hours later.
This story is a good example of truth
number three, and all of us have stories
that are infinitely worse. Each of us suffers every day, and there's nothing that
you can do about it.
Take for instance the upcoming AMS
elections. All this week there are resume-
stuffing, bullshit-spouting, super-keen-
and-super-nice candidates running
arround plastering their posters all over
the campus. Just the other day I saw a
blind person walking through the SUB,
and a candidate, I think it was Rian
Marshul, had carefully taped a "Vote for
Me!" poster on her back.
Now I know that there are some very
good candidates out there, ones with
years of political background, yet don't
plant to be a typical "politician". There
are candidates out there that want what
you want, will fight for what you want,
and will drink to what you want.
Vote for them.
t of the
iety,|publish«2d
ission on
■ein lire strictly
*writj#rs jgd not
ience?6l|lferad
Society.
Writers and cartoonists from all faculties
are encouraged to submit material to 77ie
432.
The 432 is copyrighted by The Science
Undergraduate Society of UBC and may
not be reproduced in whole or in part
without express written consent. Sexual
favours may or may not be required. No
muskrats will be permitted to enter. And
now for ten s«x>nds of sex.
Etftor-in-Chle!
i8B1M&8P tO Vote!
Grain Temple
drtemple@inferchg.ubc.ca
<>«" itsfullofstars@penis.com
Assistant Editor
Jate Gray
smeghead @ penis.com
Cartoonist
D. ivlyies M&Hugii
Contributors
Andy Martin
Jay Saraia
jennfiarty
JakeSray
Mm
Br-mmm Baiter
0. Pilules PJcHlfSl! 1.13.98
The
432
page
th
ree
Jenn Gardy aka "The Colonel"
1188
Jenn
So one of my New Year's Resolutions
is to make a lot of money by getting
famous. Yeah I know it happened
two years ago when those naked photos
of me surfaced in Playboy, but I miss the
fame, the fortune, and the cocaine so
I'm gonna try again.
I've been watching a lot of MuchMusic
lately and I've figured out that the way
to get rich these days is either to manage
or be in some act that appeals to twelve-
year old girls. I've noticed that a small
effeminate looking boy called Aaron
Carter has been doing quite well, so I've
come up with a plan to capitalize on his
image.
First I have to trap John Hallett. Once
accomplished, he will be outfitted with a
blond wig, oversized snowboarding
clothes, and a B.C. I.D identifying him
as Aaaaaaaaaron Tarter, age 8. He needs
a past, so we give him a story about
being left outside a bar in an empty
Pampers box as a baby, wearing nothing
but a sock. Taken in by street performers, he was raised as a mime, busking
outside hospitals for the mentally ill
until the age of five. Disillusioned with
the transient life of a poorly-paid hobo
in whiteface, he ran away to a small
commune of folk singers near the
Alberta border. He spent his days as the
commune's chief eunuch, while at
nights he fled to the big city lights of
Red Deer, where, at the age, of 7, he was
arrested for running a three card monte
stand and counterfeiting Canadian Tire
money.
Next we record some songs and release
one every month, with an accompanying video. The first album is
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaron
Tarter In 'da hood" and takes an edgy
look at life as a an 8-year old. "My
Smack Dealer Got Detention And I've
Got The Afterschool Shakes", "Officer, I
Could Have Sworn She Was At Least 6",
and "Wet Beds and Wet Dreams" all go
to number one.
Next we team up for some celebrity
duets for the "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaron
Tarter And Friendz" direct-to-video
release. Aaaaaaron's duet with Jordan
Knight, ex of New Kids On the Block,
"Kid, You're Gonna End Up Just Like Me
In About A Year" proves to be a hit, and
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaron goes on the road.
Playing his first gig at a Miami
Racetrack amidst allegations of not writing his songs and not singing any of
them, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrron puts on
an amazing show, with $60,000,000,000
worth of pyrotechnics, 57 costume
changes, and 4,326 occasions where his
voice broke mid-song. The tour continues and becomes the top-grossing concert tour of 1999, surpassing even the
Elton John "Clap If You Like Taking It
Up the Arse Too" tour.
Unfortunately the fame, fortune, and
hordes of 4 year old girls all comes to a
halt when Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaron is tragically killed at age 8 and a half. While at
school, he felt that celebrities didn't
have to obey the crossing guard, and
stepped out into the road against the
light, only to be struck by a passing
semi, the driver of which was said to
have looked down, noticed that the
famed Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaron
Tarter was caught under his wheels, and
reversed back and forth over him several
times. All that was left of Aaaaaaaaaaron
was a few strands of blond hair and a few
rocks of crack that had been in his pocket.
Sales of Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaron
Tarter commemorative merchandise
would shoot up, and make me, the manager, very very wealthy. Even though all
of this hasn't happened yet, I have created a small line of merchandise which
you can purchase now, which will make
it even more valuable after his death.
You can choose from: The A.T. pencil
case, the A.T. bed sheet collection, the
A.T. lunchbox, the A.T. crack pipe, the
A.T. 1999 Miata, the A.T. line of free-
range poultry, the A.T vibrator, the A.T
waxing kit, and the A.T Dream House.
Please send all cheques payable to Miss
Jenn's Swiss Bank Account, #4325366.
An interresting note, the number of words
in each article is significant, -ed
WILL SHOOT THE TELEREG LADY.
Even More Horroscopes
Aries: March 21
-April 19: Wow.
Second semester
already. Are you
prepared for that
statistical analysis course?
Take heed of this golden
creed. Half of analysis is anal.
And the only thing worse
than being analytical is being
anal retentive.
Taurus: April 20 -
May 20: You! You
with the cell
phone and the
pager and the
Adidas tear-away pants and
the baseball hat on backwards!
Yes you! Come over here and
let me put your head in this
vise whilst I explain to you the
obvious fallacies of being a
lemming, a sheep, a slave to
contemporary fashion...
, t fe. Gemini: May 21 -
*f   V§ June 20: You are
one year closer to
the year 2000,
and one year closer to being erased from the
system. The Man is still out to
get you. As soon as he gets the
chance, he will let loose his
Hounds of Hell straight into
your living room. You've seen
The Net? Men in Black?
Nothing compared to what
will happen to you.
M£\     Cancer: June 21
*551     -July 22: As the
famous   physicist Marie Curie
once said,
Cancer bites. Some kinds,
such as colon cancer, are NOT
funny! (You in the back, stop
laughing) However, if you
have some strange variety of
larynx cancer, and there is
huge thing growing out of
your neck, ready to take over
the world.... hell, THAT'S
funny.
Leo: July 23 -
August 22: Repeat
after me: The four
food groups are
NOT alcohol, caffeine, nicotine and sugar.
They are in fact snakes, snails,
puppy dogs and tails. No,
wait. That's the chemical composition of my last date.
Forgive me, I was having an
acid flashback. But does that
make me sugar and spice and
everything nice?
Virgo: August 23 -
September   22:   I
told you not to
sleep with your TA.
Did it help your
grades? No. Did it help your
self esteem? No, Did it help
your complexion? Yes. But sex
with anyone can do that. Next
time, use more discretion.
4l(4:
.^"W^ Libra:
-*&z*\/*&i*" September 23  -
October 22: You
know what
<5fr would solve that
hangover? Have you ever
heard of a tiny concept called
prevention? It's when you
take steps to forestall the bad
stuff from happening before it
happens. This is why god
invented condoms. An ounce
of prophylactic is so much
easier to handle than 9 lb. 6 oz
of baby.
aSSb V Scorpio:  October
m^A 23   -   November
21: Ah, the scorpion. A scrappy
desert creature of
the night. Does this describe
you? Should it? Night is the
time when all those hideous
creatures come out to play,
such as the Artsie from the
Black Lagoon, and those giant
ants from South Campus. If
you plan on finding these
creatures, take along a slow
runner. They tend to be eaten
first.
Capricorn:
December 22 -
January 19: I have
only one thing to
say to you. There is
no gravity. The earth sucks.
You should kill yourself.
A Sagittarius:
November 22 -
*- December 21:
To mangle a
saying from
Jim Samuels, a
lover lasts only the length of
the relationship, but a vindictive EX-lover lasts your whole
life. If you really think about
it, you'll not sleep with the
crazy bitch down the hall,
even if she does have a nice
rack.
Aquarius:    January
20   -   February   18:
Time to go on a trip
to the theater. I hear
Hamlet is in town.
"To be or not to be, that is the
question." Almost as good was
the question, Was Shakespeare
gay, or was he merely a trans-
vestite hermaphrodite upon
which Cartman's mother was
modeled?
Pisces: February 19 - March
^m\J[ 20: So you failed
** P<^ that math class. I
•Vj£_      really hate to say I
/^^^V   told you so, but I
j0^\._JF   did tell you  so.
Now you want to
head on over to Arts 2000 and
ask to talk to an Arts advisor.
Just a hint, some arts departments are closer to science
than to arts.  For example,
Psychology is really a science.
Political Science has the word
"Science" in the title. Basket
Weaving... no, that's still Arts. page four
The
432
1.13.98
Six Rants for the Price of One!
<
Moz
seKmtgma
Some things about this world
make you think, some make
you wonder, and some just
make you ask what the hell? So in
the spirit of the third I present the
following.
Why do hockey commentators
insist on drawing on the screen? It
seems that in every game now some
idiot is going over a replay circling
every flicking thing that moves, and
the screen ends up looking like a
three year old drew all over it with a
magic marker. The next thing you
now you'll be watching a replay
when all of a sudden the camera
zooms in on some guy picking his
nose and..."Hold it there Jim, roll it
back...back....that's it stop. You see
that guy in the crowd with his finger
up his nose (circles some idiot with
his finger shoved 3/4 up his nostril)?
Now let it go a bit...freeze 'er right
there (circles startled nose-picker).
You see right here he noticed that he
was on camera. As you can see
when we roll the tape that in his
haste to jerk his finger out of his
nose he flung his ring onto the ice,
which is why there was a wedding
ring on the ice when the pee wee
team from Iceland scored on the
Canucks to make it 15-0".
Umbrella's are the stupidest looking
things in the world.   Whenever it
rains, all of UBC looks like a walking
mushroom field. Nevertheless I can
understand why people use umbrellas when it's raining, but why do so
many people use 'em when there is
at most 10 drops per square km.
These morons must somehow think
that the rest of us enjoy having our
faces stabbed with those stupid
things. Or perhaps they think looking like a mushroom will attract
mythical woodland folk to come
and dance on their heads. I'll tell
you what the next person who
shoves one those blasted things in
my eye is going to find me dancing
on their face.
Why does UBC spend so much time
and money on it's grass? Every time
a leaf falls from a tree some guy
comes running in with a rake or
whatever to pick it up, but why?
Does UBC figure that students actually care about the leaves? Sure the
thin layer of picturesque grass covering the quicksand like mud may
attract some flakes, but there must
be a cheaper and more efficient way
to attract fine arts students to UBC.
How come a campus, which has an
annual budget in the 100 million
range has a registration system as
useless as telreg? In the three hours
of the day that the telreg system
does work it goes so damn slowly
that it makes carrier pigeons and
even Canada Post look good. I half
suspect that the whole system is run
by a computer from the 50's which
fills the whole center room of Main
Labyrinth... I mean Library. The stupid thing probably requires punch
cards and somebody to turn a crank
to make it run, which would explain
why a computer is unavailable on
certain hours every day. I mean
damn the thing takes more breaks
than union labor. However, the
most plausible explanation is that
the folks at Brock Hall are using the
system to host a huge 24 hour a day
Quake II tournament, with the two
losers handling the 200 or so students who survive the starvation,
boredom and the trial by fire of the
lines to pay their tuition fees.
Why don't profs hole punch their
handouts? Nowadays you can buy
paper which has been pre-punched
for something like 10 cents more per
500 pages, but the profs seem
unwilling to ask the University to
fork over the stupid dime. So we get
handed out those pieces of paper
which you can't put into your
binder. So you cram the paper into
your backpack somewhere beside
the 4 month old tuna sandwich.
Although this does provide a new
growth medium to whatever has
been growing on that tuna sandwich, it doesn't do you a heck of a
lot of good. For some reason the
papers which are stored this way,
and subsequently eaten by that
weird fungus on the sandwich, are
never the useless handouts that tell
you about the course, the profs life
history, or the number of people
killed via paper cuts by the profs
handouts last year. Instead you lose
the one handout which tells you
everything necessary for the course:
the midterm dates, the marking
scheme, and the phone number of
the cute redhead in the third row.
Of course if I wasn't so damn lazy I
could hole punch the paper my self,
but I'd rather just bitch and whine
about it.
How come some piece of junk can
sit in my closet for years doing nothing but gather dust, but the moment
I throw the stupid thing out I all of a
sudden discover that I need it for
one stupid reason or another. The
bloody Egyptians could have stored
a stupid rock in my room 3000 years
ago and for 3000 years that rock sat
there it would be totally useless, but
if it got tossed somehow I would
need it for something as soon as the
garbage truck picked it up.
Why won't somebody pay me to sit
on my ass? I don't like this work for
a living concept. I'd much rather
somebody would give me a 100
grand a year to do whatever the fuck
I wanted, but since nobody seems to
jump at the opportunity I'm stuck
here learning how long 4 more
years are.
Wow. I suppose that writing for the
432 is theraputic for some, -ed
7$0
lb BeComi A
CCKETftuWQWei
CONTEST
[DyHr^ Stance itgkl
irtfcfW#f6f\ #
N3
€
"Penis" V1CMa<
Opening Ceremony • 12:30 • SUB Concourse
Five Days of Cheesey Movies Begins • 13:00 • Chem B160
Free Coffee and Donuts Ior Science Students • 8:30 - 4:30 • Buch A207
f m
EMISTRY
IIITY Sl<
iACIC
'•t '3
■ {, ■-. * 'H-
800$
■<;-. '•-7* •" ~ 9 ft % ,>• <-s ■. $ '*j #"  " 11
Eat the Dean • 12:30 - 13:30 • Wesbrook 100
BPP Trike Race • 12:30 - 13:30 • SUB Courtyard
Pre-Med Crutch Race • 12:30 - 13:30 • SUB Courtyard
Computer Programming Reiay Race • 12:30 - 13:30•SUB 207
Computer Science Car Rally • 16:30 - 21:30 • Chem B160
st^lf
«   & ff'"
m tNueeiNi
ptfif?
liiMfe.
*i. ,2 ~% ;■■
Chemistry Magic Show •
Psycm Club Commiapility Show • '
2:30- 13:30 • Chem B150
ONVERSATION Pit
Rocket Building Competition • 12:30 -13:30 • MacKinnes Field
Gold Panning • 12:00 - 14:00 • SUB Plaza
Microbrew Contest • 12:30 ■ 13:30 • Wesbrook 100
BPP Trike Race • 12:30 -13:30 • SUB Courtyard
Pre-Med Crut<h Race • 12:30 - 13:30 • SUB Courtyard
Computer Programming Relay Race • 12:30 -13:30 • SUB 207
n r~^   nfinrtn^^n, 19:00 ■ 24:00 • SUB Partyroom
all week
OPEN HOUSE MOVIES
10:00 ■ 17:00* CHEM B160
CLUB DISPLAYS
10:30 -14:30 • SUB CONCOURSE
SCAVANGER HUNT
10:30 -14:30 • SUB CONCOURSE
CRAB RACING
11:00 • 14:00 • SUB CONCOURSE
CALAMARI YOUR WAY
11:00 • 14:00 • SUB CONCOURSE
LIQUID NITROGEN YOGURT
11:00* 14:00* SUB CONCOURSE
SCIENCE WEEK SPONSERED BY: page six
The
432
1.13.98
National Postnasal Drip
J'ust in case you were wondering,
Conrad Black is not the anti-Christ.
Case in point? The National Post,
e all new and improved Globe & Mail.
The paper we can get for free in an
undisclosed location on campus. Oh, it's
damn good. Where else can you read the
headline, "Pollution blamed for transsexual sea creatures: Oceans assaulted"?
Or, in the same issue, a short 'n' sweet
transgendered glossary. Apparently a
transvestite is someone who is erotically
aroused by wearing the clothes of the
opposite sex. The example given? "See
accountants who wear frilly underwear
under their suits (look for panty lines)."
No, I could not have made that up even
if I tried. The above articles really did
appear in the coast to coast newspaper.
I mean, a sense of humor just isn't
allowed! And it's working. We have
agreed that while there is not much of
news-worthiness, it is a rather caustic
People are still on the planet.
People are still dying. There dying
in all sorts of different ways.
People are dying from Malaria because
their colons take a few days off causing
explosive and bloody diarrhea. People
are dying from ALS formerly known as
Lou Gehrig's disease. They die because
certain portions of the Limbic System
of the brain degenerates wreaking
havoc with muscle control and movement until the person eventually
wastes away to a living skeleton reminiscent of victims of Auschwitz. People
are dying every day in bloody car accidents when their ribs get collapsed into
their lungs causing them to drown on
their own blood. People are dying from
cancer of every tissue in the body
which can be diagnosed and the person dead three weeks later. People are
dying of AIDS where the bodies
immune system is the target of a virus
which leaves the person susceptible to
even the most innocous of infections.
People are dying of Hepatitis B, a virus
one hundred times more infectious
than AIDS and considerably more virulent in time until death. People are
dying in gang conflicts in south central
Los Angeles. People are dying from
massive hemmorhoid explosions
because the itching and burning are
just to much. People are dying from
multiple-antibiotic resistent nosocomial infections. People are dying from
heart disease because their arteries
have been choked shut by the buildup
of decades of overconsumption of fat
and cholesterol. People are dying from
liver failure due to years and years of
chronic drinking. People are dying
from Lung Cancer from the years of
chain smoking.
These people could very well be on
your dead pool list. So keep looking in
the obituaries and make sure you email
Dr. Death at Smeghead@penis.com
with your death and your source of the
info on said death.
read.
That long section above was a lead-in to
my main point. The sentence previous
to this one was simply a filler line. The
article I will be referring to was in the
National Post a few months ago. I'll get
back to my point. I love Canadian politics. In elementary school, most of us got
the notion that polities was dry and boring. Well, it's not. Recently, a 5th grade
teacher in Ontario was trying to teach
her class about, you guessed it, politics.
They didn't care. So what does she do?
Packs them up for a little field trip to
visit the House of Commons in our
nation's capital. And surprise, surprise,
watching a bunch of grown men and
women acting like psychopathic jackasses caught the kids attention. They
now display a rabid interest in politics.
Gee, who woulda thunk it?
Shall we examine what some of our
elected officials have been up to? (I'm
taking these examples from the National
Post, in an article written by Paul Wells.
I'm not plagiarizing so please don't kick
me out of UBC)
Feb. 4, 1998. Darrel Stinson, of la partie
Reform, wondered if a Liberal MP had
the "gonads" to fight him, after he was
called a racist. This same Darrel Stinson
called Jean Charest a "fat little, chubby
little sucker." Sticks and Stones, hon...
Feb. 1997. Liberal Doug Young, listening to a question from Reformer
Deborah Grey on 'pork barreling', mutters into an open microphone: "Well,
there's more than a slab of bacon talking
over there." Proves once again that stupidity follows no party line.
Nov. 1997. Bloc Quebecois Gilles
Duceppe and Michel Bellehumeur are
kicked out simultaneously for calling
Sheila Copps a liar. For a bunch of separatists, they sure stuck together on that
one.
Sept. 1996. Reform's Grant Hill makes
fun of Health minister Diane Marleau's
high pitched voice; calls her a "two-by-
four". Having learned his lesson, he
apologizes and gets to stay.
Various occasions, 1985-1987. The
Sheila Copps chronicles. The young MP
calls Prime Minister Brian Mulroney a
"liar." He complains about "the braying
of the member from Hamilton East." Joe
Clark shouts, "Send her back to kindergarten." Burlington MP Bill Kempling
calls her a "God-damn ignorant bitch."
Oct. 1987. Tory Dan McKenzie shoves
Liberal John Nunziata hard, twice, from
behind during a late night debate: Later
he denies he was drunk. Perhaps the first
noted occurrence of MP'ing under the
influence that decade.
Oct. 1985. During a debate on the BC
salmon fishery, New Democrat Jim
Fulton asks Erik Neilsen, the deputy
prime minister, "Why should it be illegal
to posses salmon?" With that comment,
Mr. Fulton hauls a dead, bloody salmon
on a rope from behind his desk, crosses
the floor of the House, and slaps said
dead, bloody salmon onto Mr.
Mulroney's desk. As Mr. Mulroney is on
vacation in the Bahamas, the only one
sorry in the incident is the salmon.
And people wonder why I'm taking poli
sci...
Christian Scientists Unite!
<c
\ssvu,,
Jaj
Garcia
Writing for a paper, even one as
lax in its deadlines as The 432,
brings with it a whole load of
associated difficulties. Like trying to
find a topic to write about when all you
can think about is the past holiday season, its associated Visa, Mastercard and
AMEX bills, and the impending arrival
of large, black suited men with colorful
Italian names at your front door looking
to extract the balance of those late card
payments from your hide. Then there
are times when the season just gives you
your subject matter, freely and easily, a
gift from the gods against writer's block,
as it were.
So it's the new year, and you're slowly
getting back into the swing of things.
Maybe you've had a restful and easy holiday season, basking in the warmth of
family and close friends, going skiing at
any of this provinces many mountains,
and enjoying the rare Vancouver
Christmas snowfall. In which case, I say
"Fie unto thee, and may the malicious
little demons responsible for lost socks,
misplaced car keys and stubbed toes take
you to their low-rent district of hell."
Why this Grinch-like expression of anti-
Christmas sentiment, you ask? Well, I
find the holiday season to be especially
ironic. Here we have a universal proclamation of peace on earth, good will to
all men pitted against the blinding reality of vapid consumerism, hollow sentiment and a general fog of low-level blanket nastiness emanating from harried
and distraught people forced to endure
the trappings of a heavily ritualized season.
Nothing engenders ill-will faster than
having to spend time with relatives you
moved away from to avoid, and for good
reason. Personally, I'm surprised that
there aren't more cutlery-related assaults
during the Christmas season, especially
over Christmas dinner. I'm sure it would
be extremely satisfying to light into your
annoying Aunt Selma with the motorized turkey knife. Or maybe you could
settle for just stabbing your whiny
cousin Bette in the back of the hand
with your fork. Such behaviour, however, can only lead to increased familial
tension, so you're forced to shelve your
homicidal tendencies and seethe quietly
as you are asked inane questions over
and over again.
Christmas is also the time of year that
you see informal Catholics emerge out
of the woodwork, showing up at midnight mass and causing the place to
resemble a Japanese subway at rush
hour. Here's a lesson to you kids: do not
try to pick up any good-looking girls you
meet at church. I think the church
frowns upon that. Then again,
I think that the church frowns
upon a whole lot of things,
with the exception of frowning
itself.
I bring this up because that's
another thing about the past
season that bugs me.
Christmas couples. You know
who you are, you nose-rubbing,
woolen-mitted-hand in
woolen-mitted-hand, tenderly
gazing into each other's eyes
freaks. It's bad enough that I
have to put up with your type
during the regular season. But,
fer the love of Christ, could you
people get with the programme
and at least act mean and ill-
tempered like everybody else?
It'd make the rest of us feel a bit
better about our miserable lives,
really it would.
Maybe it's the dark and the
cold that really gets me down
during this season. Well, that
and the hordes of ferocious
Christmas shoppers who clog
the malls. Cholesterol in the
seasonal arteries, as it were.
What I need is to get away
from it all. Spend a few days
lounging on a sandy beach
somewhere, infinite blue tropical sky above merging into the
emerald-green sea in the distance. Yeah, that's the ticket.
Maybe get some scantily-
dressed waitress to serve me
absurdly large margaritas decorated with little pink parasols.
Instead, here I am, stuck in the
third week of the first term,
spending my nights in the
library and my days asleep in
class. On the plus side, most of
my lecture halls are hot enough that if I
trucked in a few metric tonnes of sand
and hired some scantily clad cabana girls
to serve me drinks, I could lounge my
life away and still work towards graduation.
Sounds like a plan. Well, here's to the
new year; To lounging in overly hot
places, babes in bikinis, and drunken
debauchery. Ah, hell. One out of three
ain't bad.
radium
i^
■i
t mane curie
WARNING: MAY CAUSE BALDNESS, BURNS, NAUSEA,
RECTAL BLEEDING, MOTION SICKNESS, EUPHORIA, SCURVY,
LEUKEMIA, ZOMBIFICATION, HAIRY PALMS OR PINK EYE. 1.13.98
The
432
pqg
ie seven
The Drawers of SUS™
President W
e just held an election in the
Science Undergraduate Society for
the vacant position of Internal Vice
President. Drumroll please... Our new VPis
_      _ „       none other than Andy Martin, you can see his mug below.
JOhll ■ Oilf HI6I* andy narrowly beat out seventeen other applicants for the
position who included: Jay Garcia, Aaron Adamack, Colin
McDermott, Michael Jackson, and the late great Lady Di.
After hours of grueling debate and minutes of naked pandemonium, Henry Wong,
our Science Council secretary, proclaimed Andy the victor. So now we have Andy to
thank if Quebec decides to sepparate.
On a completely unrelated topic, as the President of this fine society, I would like to
announce that I got an A- in my Biology 418 class, which means that I
have earned the final merrit badge neccessary to earn my Eagle
Scout status. I will be holding knot-tying semenars in SUS
throughout term 2, so drop by and sign-up.
Kathryn Murray
H
i Everyone!    I hope that
you   all   enjoyed   your
holidays.
External Veep
■o
Jake Gray
/
Of SUS....
"had to shoot one
of my own men
.today.    Pierre
tried to desert. He had lost three brothers, his
uncle, his neighbour, his best friend,  six
cousins, and his dog spot during this offensive. He simply lost faith in the first consul.
The  war  goes  badly.  We're  miles  from
Moscow, but neither side has moved for days.
We simply keep blowing each other to bits.
Our supply lines have thinned to a trickle and
the weather keeps getting colder. Jacque's foot
turned blue last night. I will have to cut it off
when the morning comes. I'm not looking forward to sawing through the bone with my bay-
onnet while he screams and writhes in agony.
Our ranks our better conditioned, better armed, and
better trained than the Russians, but there are just to
many of them. For every ten we shoot, twenty more take
their place. Like lemmings they just keep coming. I fear we
shall soon have to retreat or be frozen until spring. & 10? $
Pierre was but a boy three monthes ago when he arived at our division. Full of youthful vigour, the desire for glory, and a nose the size of
Corsica. The nose got shot off in the first battle.
When the supply lines finally stopped we expected orders to retreat, but they never
came. I could not blame Pierre for his cowardess, because sometimes it takes more
courage to change than to freeze to death.
Christmas holidays. I
know that I did. And now, just in time to prevent the winter blahs from setting in,
I'm proud to present to you Science Week 99! The best, the biggest, the brightest
demonstration of pride that this campus has every seen. This year there are many
new events, some old favorites and a few surprises. The Science Week committee has
been working very hard to make sure that everything is in order so that you can have
a good time. There are things for all ages and all IQ levels so even non science-students can participate.
There are a variety of charity events going on during science week that I
would like to let you know about. There is a food drive as part of
science week. Each club table is going to be supplied with a box
for collecting food and there will be one at the sales table so
that if you'd like to participate and don't belong to a
club you can still contribute. There is also going to be
l^dfc a coin drive all week with all proceeds going towards
■f ■_ mmk Wk ■mimifc mMm sml^ the Purchase of books and toys for Children's hos-
I II fi 111 illHf Cm S w& pital. Many of the events that are running during
^*-^ Science week are going to have some if not all of
the entry fee going towards charity and in
some events cans of food will be accepted in
lieu of money. There will also be a certain limited supply of FREE BZZR tokens for those
who attend the science week dance and bring
2 cans of food for the food bank.
Other than that, I hope to see you all out
there or I'll send the squirrels out to get you.
>*"^4-
%
111! mmm
ihnkII
Ar
r
Aarne Hamalainen
nd fFs the
new   year,
..with a brand-spankin' new sports season in
the offering. SUS has, count 'em not one, but two intramurals teams, one for tier 3 volleyball, and the other for
Ultimate. The Bandicoots have a long and excellent tradition of
participation in intramural sports, so if you wamt to be a part of this
proud undergraduate tradition, come on down to the Science Undergraduate Society
office, basement of Chemistry, room B150 and talk to either Aarne (I'm the short
quiet guy with the glassses and the Ted Bundy expression) or Craig (he's the stocky
bald guy with the stunned look on his face). No ability required, though some level
of enthusiasm and athleticism would be nice. On a personal note, for God's sake,
remember: Spandex: it's a privilege, not a right.
PR011LKS0FAN     ^ftWBffft^^Jfrfl^ft^B^^BWt
SUS's brand new
Internal Vice President
Hear these amazing student testimmials:
"Andy was there whei I needed bin the most"
"What a guy! He can open a beer battle with his meatusr
"Wow! Anybody who can autofellate must be able to
help run a government"
Meet Andy and all the other great execs at
ii
in
Frnrtsiv. January 29th
Andy Martin
Vital Statistics:
Age:
27
Gender.
Mate
Height:
•T
Weight
21II6S
Eyes:
Brawn
Hair:
Brawn
Tattoss/
Scars:
r tattM ef irenMan aver left
breast
Aliases:
Tern "Happy Pappy" Menree
Alexander Cummins*
Isaac Hayes
Sandy Martin
Harvey Herman
Wesley R.McMurray
F.M.ErwinRemmel
Turn-ons:
Magnum .44 Magic Markers
Red Velvet Underwear
Furbles
Sw&ss
Styrafoam Peanuts
African Desert Landscapes
Turn-offs:
1996 Telephene Bonks
Criminal Cede ef Canada
Albanian Midgets
Staple Guns
Kaikelesu
Gen. GeerneS. Fatten page eight
The
432
1.13.98
Cumming of a Millenia
Andy
Martin
Crappy New Year to you all. And if
I hear the words 'Party like it's
1999' one more time, I'm going to
fly off the hook and form my own mile-
nium cult. Now, they really know how
to party like it's 1999. Millenium parties'
for the. rest of the 'normal' population
will be just another rave or big house
party, with the number 2000 on shiney,
five dollar banners thumb-tacked to all
the walls. Milenium cults, they have the
right idea. Nothing says I'm ringing in a
new age like a heavy schedule of drugs
and orgies all in the name of the polka-
dot lord in the final year before we all
hold hands as Jimmy prepares
"Spacemooses', White Russians with a
little cinammon and lead paint substituted for milk. Yeah, that'll get Jesus off
his cloud and get him down here posthaste in order to release the four horsemen and end humanity. Now that's an
extreme party!.
There's been a stiff increase of wierd
behaviour over the past few days. ,Psyco-
christians arrested before thay can start
abloodbath in the streets of Jerusalem,
Miss Jenn planning to join a convent,
and the bookstore is giving me an almost
decend rate on returned textbooks.
There's a lot of weird shit out there, and
it's getting weirder. It used to be just a
jungle out there, now the jungle looks a
hell of a lot safer (and fun).
People are seriously disturbed, it's just
showing up a lot better recently. Maybe
we just didn't have time to develop our
special psycosii while fighting off ravenous wolves that hounded our ancestors
every moment of their harsh, dreary,
traffic pylon-less lives.
Nothing shows the depth of our mental disturbance better than what we're
putting up front. Titles of everything
and anything just don't make any sense
anymore.
Exactly how will I endure my 'Death
by Chcoolate'? What kind of sick visual
did this person have while they were
thinking this title up? This person is
seriously disturbed, linking dessert with
some sort of horrible end. How could
one die by chocolate? They were probably envision forced engorgement until
the stomach bursts, spilling leathal gastric juices over the internal organs, causing massive internal hemoraging and
necrosis and eventually death. Or they
may have though external damage.
Throwing me into a huge vat of boiling
chocolate. You know the liquid, yet
slightly squishy-firm red center of those
chocolate covered 'cherry blossoms'?
They do some wonder ful things with
artificial flavouring these days.
But then, it could be something a little
faster and less related to some sort of
Temple of Doom-like sacrifice. Caving
in my skull with a huge Oh Henry, messing up their nice tile floor (wonder why
they don't have carpet?). Or maybe a
cutting wound, disembowlment by a
really, really well sharpened tootsie roll,
spilling my intestines on the nice clean
tile. Or, is there a level by the Maitre D's
podium. And the second I step on the
little 'X' of masking tape, the D hits the
lever, and a 16 ton chocolate Santa
comes down, crushing me into a mass of
red and redder. What a weirdo.
Microsoft. If any company is going to
form the government of the next millenia, it's the computer nerds from the
company that everyone hates, yet everyone buys from. Microsoft's titles are
pretty normal, though I personally think
it should be called Microsoft Words, the
only weird one is XL, what is that supposed to mean? The weirdest title is that
of Microsoft itself. It makes sense in
computer-terms- microchip - software.
But I think it's more suiting as a likely
describtion of Bill Gates' private parts.
A little chain of sewing stores, Fanny's
Fabrics, is the next source of puzzlement
in my world. Is there an actual person
out there named 'Fanny'? Is (s)he a boy
or girl? Either way, I bet they got beat up
a lot in school. Either that or the owner
of the chain is some demented ass freak.
Of course, it's not just the titles that
seem weird. Take 'Trix' for example. A
freakishly large mutant rabbit is so
obsessed with eating some kids cereal.
But what do rabbits eat most of the
time? Their own feces. That's right, a
rabbit will crap, turn around, stick it's
nose in this new feature in the landscape, think 'Mmmmmm...warm" and
chow down. So what is this saying
exactly? On the same note, Coke seems
to be obsessed with Polar bears drinking
Coke, carrying bottles of it with them all
over the artic. And what do polar bears
wash down with their cafine-free classic?
Freshly-killed seal and artic fox with a
side disk of asshole tourist who wanted
an intimate shot of the magnificent
beast. It makes sense, the shit tastes like
malted battery acid, so it makes sense.
Then there's the Army and Navy.
When I hear this name, I think of Army
Surplus. I was leafing throught the
paper a week ago and came upon an
Army & Navy ad. I though: "Oh boy,
explosives at Boxing Day prices! My supply of plastics is getting a little low."
Instead, The next caption screams:
"White Sale". I envision a store with
ailes with names such as "Anti-Aircraft"
and "Not Legal in Iraq", instead, Paisley's on special this week .
Speaking of violence, I'm in that fabulous phase in my life where killing all
those around me seems to be the best
and most easily obtainable and satisfying solution to the problem. Combine
the recieving of first term marks while
starting a second term that will be inter
laced with lovingly putting together a
150 page thesis and applications to a
whole zitload of grad schools. And all
everybody else can talk about is what
they want me to do for them, what
they'll "have me do" for them. Jolly
good fun all this. The next time I'm
asked how my day was, it's smashy time
and I ain't gonna spare the spare ribs.
Quick shameless-mindless-and-opvidus-
ly-self-promoting-space-filler:
Note: MY pop machine is now the only
one on campus that distributes the old
Lemon Nestea. None of that 'Cool' shit
that the bastards of the food service,
connected and controlled by the AMS
who also control that doomsday cult
CiTR.
Anally speaking, Andy is possibly the
most brillant person on the UBC campus.
When it comes to actual rational thought,
Andy is currently tied with the flapper
valve on the toilet in the fourth floor mens
bathroom in Scarfe for being the most
inept.
When Andy was born, his mother pushed
the doctor out of the way so she could
spank him first.
When Andy wakes up in the morning, he
begins his day with a forty-two minute
long session of screaming quickly followed
by four peach yogurt enemas. This ensures
he will have a proper day ofdairyness.
Before he showers, he must spend at least
fortyfive minutes bathing in his specially
constucted Nair TM chamber. Following
the post depillatory bath, and a brief spray
down, he is force fed his four pound lard
loaf before being dressed by the six orderlies which inhabit his house.
Thankfully, he doesn't live near any
hotels.
lets party like its 1999- Asst'd Ed
Scots punk from one of the only bands ever to have been BANNED FROM THE SUB..
SBDEISB1 BSBI
BIBBS BIB QSBBSEI
tix: $7.50, no minors
buy tix at the science
sales table, sub
with guests speedbump   concourse, jan 25-29
BUS SBOEfflBSflS BHi® HfflSOHTC BSSSS
6 drunk Scotsmen, 18 kegs of BZZR, and a big, stinky
haggis. If you remember the night at all, you'll remember
it forever.

Cite

Citation Scheme:

        

Citations by CSL (citeproc-js)

Usage Statistics

Share

Embed

Customize your widget with the following options, then copy and paste the code below into the HTML of your page to embed this item in your website.
                        
                            <div id="ubcOpenCollectionsWidgetDisplay">
                            <script id="ubcOpenCollectionsWidget"
                            src="{[{embed.src}]}"
                            data-item="{[{embed.item}]}"
                            data-collection="{[{embed.collection}]}"
                            data-metadata="{[{embed.showMetadata}]}"
                            data-width="{[{embed.width}]}"
                            async >
                            </script>
                            </div>
                        
                    
IIIF logo Our image viewer uses the IIIF 2.0 standard. To load this item in other compatible viewers, use this url:
https://iiif.library.ubc.ca/presentation/cdm.the432.1-0000560/manifest

Comment

Related Items