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The 432 Jan 22, 1992

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Array "All the Brews
That's Fit to Drinf
*<--
Clip & Save Opportunity! Good lor a free beer at
the Cheeze ilyou can identify the misspelled word!
The Newspaper For Science Students.        Version 5.06 X 22 Jan '92
Bush Chunders, Puts
Face in Japanese PM's lap
Patrick Redding
Editor
In what might be described
as the most telling media
display of his presidential
career, U.S. President George
Bush set the tone for the rest of
US-Japanese trade relations by
burying his face in the lap of
the Japanese Prime Minister
during a state banquet, after
swooning and vomiting
profusely. White House
spokespersons quickly labelled
the incident as "the effect of a
very severe stomach flu," but
the message being sent to the
trade negotiators in Tokyo was
clear: America was ready to
go down on its trading partners
to overcome protectionist
practices. It is as yet unclear
whether or not the gesture had
the desired ingratiating effect
with the Japanese government,
but it certainly raises an
intriguing point. Griventhat
Canada and the U.S. enjoy the
richest international commerce
of any two nations, to what
extent will our neighbor to the
south be willing to "put out" to
INGREDIENTS:
OVER 95% OF CONTENTS
CONSIST OF SODIUM
HYPOCHLORITE, GRAPHITE,
POLYMERIZED HYDROCARBONS, AND TREES. LESS
THAN 5% CONSIST OF LUS
CANONS (PAGE 2), HARRY TIC,
3 LINES FREE, JFK
CONSPIRACY THEORIES (PAGE
3), ANGRY DUCK, THE
DISFUNCTI0NALS(PAGE4),
LEONA ADAMS ON MULE PISS,
RABIES (PAGE 5), SCIENCE
WEEK SCHEDULE (PAGE 6-7),
MORGAN BURKE ON REAL
PISS (PAGE 8), DIK MILLER
(PAGE 9), WATTS ON 1992,
REASONS FOR PACIFIC I
ENGINEERING SUPERIORITY
(PAGE-10), MUNDANE DUMB-
STER (PAGE 11). PLEASE CONSULT THE UBYSSEY BEFORE
READING SO YOU DON'T MISS
ANY ARTICLES BY DISGRUNTLED FORMER 432 WRITERS.
■68030
maintain good economic
relations? Certainly, if the
Free Trade Agreement is any
indicator, Canada can look
forward to more years of
getdngfist-fucked.
It has been suggested that
the puking attack that preceded
President Bush's dinnertime
act of fellatio may have been
entirely unrelated, perhaps the
result of broccoli being
accidently slipped into the
tempura. A flurry of
speculation erupted over a
forty second video sequence
shot in the Imperial Hall just
following Bush's collapse
which allegedly shows frantic
secret service agents
scrambling to recover a
number of small packets that
were apparently emitted along
with the President's stomach
contents. Spokesman Marlin
Fitzwater refused to comment
on the plastic baggies, or offer
any explanation as to why the
entire volume of vomit was
recovered and flown back to
Washington before Japanese
officials or palace cleaning
staff had a chance to examine
it. The presence of the baggies
is cause for some concern,
since it is a standard practice
of heroin smugglers to
swallow packets containing;
their contraband, to elude
airport luggage checks and
drug-sniffing dogs.
President Bush himself lias
been largely silent about the
entire affair, other than to
dismiss opponents' claims Chat
his Pacific "Rim" Tour was a
complete failure. Said Bush,
"Hey, there was a lot of
information exchanged. The
Japanese negotiators have
finally laid it all out on the
table for us, and I see a big
potential for further growth,"
Ubyssey's flippant
attack devastates 432
"Paddy's lost his smile", says 432 chiefs girlfriend
Canadian University Press
In a move as unprecedented
as it is astounding, the Ubyssey
staff has expressed criticism of
the 432's sense of humour, and
overall lack of discretion.
A Christmas wish list, published in the 29 Nov issue of
the Ubyssey, flippantly
expressed a longing for the
return of the 432*s old sense of
humour.
The repercussions of the
remark on the 432 staff have
been severe.
"I think the Ubyssey's
remark was a completely
unprofessional 'pot shot'. I
would expect better of the seasoned journalists they have on
staff," said Roger Watts, one of
the 432's contributing editors.
Aaron Drake, past editor-in-
chief of the 432 and current
contributing editor, has spent
the last seven weeks in isolation in the BC Interior.
"He took the part about the
432's 'old sense of humour'
pretty hard, because he knows
it's referring to the 432 of the
past two years," said Watts.
"The Ubyssey's attack was
only peripherally related to
him, but he still feels he's
somewhat responsible."
Drake left town two weeks
after the Ubyssey's comment
was published. "All he said was
that he was going to go do
some soul searching," reported
Derek K. "Dik" Miller, another
432 staffer.
Other 432 staff members
were much more vocal in their
denouncement of the attack:
"The Ubyssey is lecturing us
about humour?! I'm sorry, but I
fucking well find that hard to
take. It's like those inflatable
sheep you get on Granville
Street, y'know, totally unnatural!" declared an anonymous
432 staffer, known only by the
moniker Harry Tic.
432 writers Mike Hamilton,
Jaret Clay, and Clement Fung
were briefly in police custody
in mid-December for attempting to steal a case of simulated
vanilla extract from an East
side corner store.
For solace, present Editor-in-
Chief Patrick Redding has
turned to B'teronism, a religion
based on Zen Buddhism, and a
number of American Indian rituals. The newspaper is having
difficulty rebuilding itself as
Redding has been known to
fade into vision quests in the
middle of sentences. Redding's
girlfriend, Judy Haranghy, is
rumoured to be seeking counselling.
"It's strange. He just sits
there looking at the wall all the
time now. If I want to get any
...uh... reaction from him, I
have to play "Laotian Snuff
tapes on the VCR. The only
thing he's done in the last
twelve days was drilling a
smoke-hole into the bathroom
ceiling," said Haranghy.
"Paddy's lost his smile."
When asked how they felt
about the psychological damage wrought by their off-the-
cuff remark, the Ubyssey had
little to say: "Did that (remark)
get in? I thought we'd edited it
out. Oh, well," said Chung
Wong of the Ubyssey.
Plans for reconstruction of
the 'old sense of humour' are
underway. All 432 writers are
attending a seminar series on
the proper use of capitals,
which includes readings from
the works of Douglas Adams
and Dave Barry.
Redding emerged from his
paregoric-induced trance long
enough to comment: "The
Ubyssey must always remember that white sheep go over
the hill twice in one day."  X
V   D»v'»d   sovk9 The Four Thirty-Two   Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92
Liis Canons
<&?1 Patrick
WM REDDING
ml
Is there, in fact, anything in
a name?
I don't mean the surname;
of course being born into the
world with the last name
Kennedy or Rockefeller will
have lasting repercussions for
any child, so long as there continue to be living adults within
those same families, acting
along the same motives as
their predecessors. In that
respect, we in the twentieth
century still adhere to a particularly archaic notion that a
person can inherit their life's
station, kind of like royalty.
Also, the same JudeoChristian
brainwashing that has had a
stranglehold on Western society for the last couple of millennia requires that we burden
the offspring with the sins
and/or virtues of the forefather/mothers), especially
when the family name keeps
reappearing in the papers.
This undeniably leads one to
conclude that there is something in a name—namely—
historical baggage.
Since we don't get to choose
our parents, we ought to count
our blessings if we find ourselves born into nice, mundane, utterly unknown lineage.
Sure, maybe my parents
weren't atom spies or anything
thrilling, but I love them all the
same. For one thing, they
were dependable enough for
me to entrust them with the job
of finding decent first and middle names, that would look
equally good on the door of
some executive office suite or
embroidered on pair of Texaco
overalls. Thankfully, my parents did not suffer from the
onerous form of narcissism
that provokes some young
fathers and mothers to inflict
that first critical indignity on
their newborn: a name picked
out of a book published sometime after 1971 in the San
Francisco Bay Area by regular
contributors to the Whole
Earth Catalog. These soft-
cover books, printed on hemp
paper, compiled large lists of
esoteric handles under revealing titles like: Names For
Your New Little Person.
Nascent Earth Identity: A
Directory of Multicultural
Given Names. Great Names
Out Of People's Liberation.
Who's Who in Nouveau Film
and The Audabon Society's
Guide To Birds. A whole generation of my (and presumably
your) contemporaries were
emotionally mutilated as a
result of being named after
Che Gueverra, or an Oak tree,
or in the worst scenario, both.
This suffering is made all
the more tragic by the questionable motives of the responsible parties. Sure, lean
understand the ideological
desire to honor the memory of
some especially sentimental
figure of your era, like Martin
Luther King Jr., or Nikita
Kruschev, or Donovan; but too
Often the decision to name the
kid 'Potiphar' or 'Rita-
Metermaid' stemmed from the
barefoot parents' neurotic fear
of becoming just like their
folks: straight lackeys of the
Establishment. Well, I hate to
be the one to break the news,
but these free-thinking denim
sprites eventually discovered
that money could be fun too,
got haircuts and MBAs (not
necessarily in that order) and
became just like their folks.
Except that their kids had been
named after Sumerian sun-
gods, and in true Sun-God
fashion, were becoming sullen
and disenchanted with multi-
mortgage existence. So said
love-children, of all creed,
gender and astrological sign,
dyed their hair black and
antagonized their now complacent parents with vague hints
of designer drug use and
impending suicide (by skateboard). The pretentious fools
got exactly what they
deserved.
You'd think that parents
would have learned by now.
You'd guess that with the
bleak outlook for the preservation of most families in North
America, the worldly-wise
yuppies with their renewed
need to 'cocoon' would refrain
from indulging in self-aggrandizing at the expense of then-
own flesh and blood. But
no...they have merely ascended
to a more insipid plane of silliness. Watch out, newlyweds.
You think you know your
spouse now, just because the
sex is good. But a few years
down the road, when you start
shopping for baby intercoms
and self-rocking cribs, you
may discover that deep inside
your soul-mate lurks the black
heart of a little-league parent,
who wants the vicarious glory
of a son named Emperor
Leopold. That's first name
'Emperor', second name
'Leopold'. That's what it boils
down to. The whimsical
sprout-names like 'Ocean' and
'Eva Guerilla' have indeed
gone the way of gypsy busses
and lava lamps. Unfortunately,
that vacuum has been quickly
filled by a pathological infatuation not unlike the search for
the True Names of God: the
irrational hope that just the
right combination of Celtic,
Arabic and Navajo proper
nouns will unlock some reservoir of Excellence (these peo
ple always spell it with a capital 'E' as though it's some supplement you can buy at the
bulk health food store if you
show up on the right day),
ensuring that their child
embarks on the fast track from
Montessori daycare to Harvard
Law School, having declared
its major by age six.
Okay, now I have to fess up.
I probably never in a million
years would have thought to
talk about this minor cultural
aberration, were it not for the
fact that my dear sister has just
given birth to her first larvae, a
six-and-a-half pound boy. My
sister is a good eleven years
older than me. She happens to
be a doctor, and her husband
happens to be a lawyer. They
live in Seattle in a nice university neighborhood, with their
dog and answering machine(s).
After much deliberation during
the course of her pregnancy,
my sister and her husband
decided that if it was a boy (as
indicated by ultrasound test),
he should be named..Devon.
Look, I don't have any problem with the name Devon.
Why a nice Jewish couple
would settle upon an unquestionably Celtic name for their
firstborn eludes me somewhat.
My dad hit the nail on the head
when he announced that he
would proceed to refer to the
boy as 'DEE-von'(as in "Yo,
Dee-von! Wha's happnin'
man?!"), prompting my sister
and brother-in-law to modify
the name to be Devin, with an
'i'. My mother, always the
consummate diplomat, offered
the alternate pronunciation
'Dee-vine!' which I don't
believe was met with much
zeal, since my sister was never
a big fan of obese transvestite
film stars.
Well now that it is on the
birth certificate, and it's official, our family will just have
to get accustomed to Devin
Emannuel Edrich-Kronenberg,
or D.E.E.K. for short. In a
way, it's lucky for the little
guy that he's got a weird Uncle
Pat to show him the ropes at
acting like a child. It's also
lucky that I have a keen sense
for the kinds of cruel nicknames he's bound to earn in
his early school days. If I can
give him enough advance
warning, then with his mother's patience and his father's
talent for rhetoric, he'll persevere through the years of being
called "DEEK the Geek."
Eventually, my nephew will be
old enough that I can start
teaching him moves out of the
Special Forces Bayonet
Manual, and I think the teasing
will stop in good measure. In
the meantime, I'll have to
resist the urge to call him
Pugsley.  X
THE    MOTHER
OF    ALL
CONTESTS
An official 432 T-Shirt, bearing the
"...This Is Your Brain On Arts." design,
goes to the dedicated reader who sends in
the Most Offensive Advertisement Idea
to fill this space.
Entries will be judged for their overall
shock value and Grginality* as well as
quality of presentation!
The Winning Offensive Ad will be
reproduced in the next issue; if you don*t
want your name reproduced, please say
so with your submission.
Entries can be dropped off at the S.U.S.
Office at Chem Rra 160.
in
X
13%"
BIOCHEMISTRY. PHARMACftLCXff
PHYSIOLOGY CLUB
FRIDAY, JANUARY^
SUB PARTYROOM 4:30-7:30™.
A dejected Thod skulks away after his
fully detailed schematic for the first nuclear
fusion plant loses to Krog's "The Wheel". Version 5.06 )t 22 Jan '92   The Four Thirty-Two
Lord Who Art In Heaven,
Hello! What's Your Name?
Harry Tic
Columnist
In the beginning, God created the Universe, and as I
showed in my first article, the
Almighty Dolt did an incredibly crappy job. Then, as my
second article explained, the
Supreme Goof created life, and
managed to screw that up as
well. Finally, as I shall now
reveal, God created religion.
Need I say more?
How do I know God gave us
religion? Elementary!
Imagine for a second that
you're God (if you have trouble doing this, then start with
something easier, like Donald
Trump). You've just created
Everything That Is and done a
really bad job of it. Then suddenly, and when I say suddenly in connection with God I
mean like over thousands and
millions of years (Why do people think God is so wise and
wonderful because he does
things over several millennia?
Face it, the guy is just slow).
Anyway, you realize that there
are all these humans running
around who might someday
figure out just how much of a
stupid lazy goof you really are.
Already they're developing
languages, and complaining
about how rotten life is, what
with dysentery, starvation, and
their mother getting gored by a
mastodon. You've got to do
something quick, before they
evolve superpowers and come
looking for you! You have to
confuse them, distract them,
Patrick Redding
Editor-in-Chief and Executive Scapegoat
/
EDITORIAL
Assistant to the Editor-in-Chief Ryan McCuaig
Contributing Editors Morgan Burke, Jaret Clay,
Aaron Drake, Clement Fung, Mike Hamilton,
Derek Miller, Glovanna Vassone, Roger Watts
Columnists Loona Adams, Tim Carter,
Alan Douglas, Patrick Lum, Harry Tic,
Editorial Manager Oppie
X
ART    and   DESIGN
Design Director Ryan McCuaig
Contributing Artists Mike Ewert, Mike Goshko,
Patrick Redding, David Sovka, Roger Watts
Director of Photography Peter Siempelkamp
X
PRODUCTION
Desktop Production Claude and Wile E.
Printer CollegePrinters, Ltd. Vancouver
Distributor Armies of the Night, Inc.
Title Assignment Supervisor Ryan McCuaig
President/Big Enchilada, Science
Undergraduate Society Glovanna Vassone
7Jinuiry1Wt,VmlsnS.0i
Thg 432 it publiihad biweekly by the Science Undergraduate Safety of
UBC, Somewhere clow to Main Mail and University Blvd. We gerwafly
make cute het> out of our mail, aspeaeJIyltie politically correct tlutt, to
dont bottler sending any. H you have a beet, talkto Pat Hell probably ask
you to hold on to hit writt to he can show you the neat Aikido move he
Itamed Ian night There cwentjy exists some debet as Is whether
pubiicab'ont use this spape to spread subliminal messages, but you can
rest assured tiatwa wouldn't do something like that Wall just come right
out and toll you that reading tie Ubytsey ml compel youlo go buy a VW
van and perform This Land is Your Land' at bra-burnings across the
count/y. Not a pleasant fate, it rt?
get them fighting amongst
themselves. Hurry, there's no
time to think, another millennium just shot past! Do something, anything!! And so God
created religion.
At first God just scared people, giving them omens and
signs and stuff. People were
confused, witch-doctors and
shamans abounded, and the
earth was alive with spirits.
Gradually, more organized
forms of worship were created,
centered around deities,
priests, and ritualistic sacrifice
(I never did understand sacrifices. You worship the creator
by snuffing one of his creations! Isn't that like honoring
a writer by burning one of his
books?)
God however was still going
nuts with the old omens. He
was still trying to confuse us
and He was doing a great job.
The poor priests who had to try
and interpret all these signs
were forced conclude that
there must be many different
gods at work. Thus polytheism was born, the great
mythologies of Babylon,
Egypt, Greece, Scandinavia,
Central America and countless
other places were the direct
result of God going ape-shit
with signs. Finally, after a
thousand years or so, God realized that this wasn't working
out (didn't I say He was
slow?). The poytheisms were
too chaotic, too disruptive;
people were starting to get
tired of them. Monotheisms
like Egyptian sun worship
were starting to appear. God
had to find some way gaining
control of our religious beliefs.
So suddenly and dramatically
He changed His tactics.
It was perhaps as early as
1500 B.C. that God clued into
the idea of using prophets to
spread religion. All God had
to do was divinely inspire
some susceptible loony, throw
in some miracles, and let
human nature take its course.
In this way God was able to
profoundly influence our
development, with one goal in
mind: to keep us from complaining. All the major reli
gions of the world are dedicated to this task. Their methods
may vary, but they are all trying to sell a view of the
Universe that keeps us from
saying "Hey this place sucks
and it's all God's fault!" In
other words, religions are
God's ad campaigns!
All the scriptures, the
prayers, the beliefs, the rituals,
they are all just a part of huge,
complex, self-perpetuating
series of advertisements, and
the prophets were little more
than celebrity spokespersons.
To argue a point of religious
doctrine is as idiotic as fighting over whether Coke is "It"
or "the Real Thing". To say
that the Messiah was Jesus and
not Mohammed is as meaningless as saying that Paula Abdul
is the true representative of
Diet Coke, not Elton John. Is
Bill Cosby really the Son of
the Great Jello Pudding-Pop in
the sky? Who knows? Who
cares?
Just like TV ads, religion
identifies or even creates problems, such as human suffering,
death, the evil in the world,
eternal damnation, or the endless cycle or reincarnation
(Can you say "static cling"). It
blames these problems not on
God, but on some evil force
like the Devil, or on us and our
sins or desires ("Trying to quit
smoking?"). It plays on our
fears, and insecurities ("Some
days I just don't feel fresh").
It floods us with jingles and
catchy slogans such as hymns,
prayers, chants, and scriptural
quotations ("Ah ha! Ah ha!").
It gives us a philosophy ("Just
doit") and tells us how we
should live ("a part of a well
balanced diet"). And finally
religion promises to give us
just what we need, be it salvation, eternal life, enlightenment, or Nirvana ("With no
bad aftertaste").
Yeah, this God character has
really been jerking us around.
In my next article I'll look
more closely at some of His
more successful ad campaigns
and continue nailing His
supreme to the wall.  )(
THE    TOP    TEN
LESSER-KNOWN
JFK'
ASSASSINATION
CONSPIRACY
THEORIES
Tim Carter, Alan Douglas & Aaron Drake
Saucer Aliens
10 The National Enquirer was
thinking of its future.
9   The second gunman was a
camouflaged elf (the Grassy
Gnome Theory).
8 Kennedy was just the patsy in an
elaborate plot to kill Lee Harvey
Oswald.
7   The assassination was orchestrated
by mastermind Lloyd Bentsen in
order to beat Dan Quayle in the
1988 Vice-Presidential debate.
6   Oswald did it to impress Jody
Foster's mother.
5 A hunter mistook him for a deer.
4 Oswald fired in self-defense,
3 J. Edgar Hoover lost a bet.
2 Bobby to Jack: "Tag, you're it!"
L They were all exit wounds.
The 432 has decided to offer to
you, our faithful reader, a new
service. Beginning THIS
VERY ISSUE (note the Drake
capitals, the mark of authenticity), we are prepared to offer
YOU, totally free, 3 printed
lines, for whatever you feel the
comatose masses who read this
rag should know. If you've got
something to sell, any impending hormonal deadlines, or
whatever, submit it to The 432,
in Chem 160. January 24 is the
deadline for any messages for
next issue. We reserve the
right to edit for brevity and
other stuff.
UBC ProLife-Prochoice Mudwrestling
Tourney. SUB Ballroom, 9:30pm, Jan
23. Tickets $5 at Ticketmaster.
Sweaty necrophiliac seeks Julia Child
type for brief lustful encounter.
Gold's Gym Membership for sale. Call
Gio at 822-4235.
Apology: To blonde dancing at Pit last
weekend, I'm sorry I used the line "Ooh,
take me home & try me out, babe."
Lost: One small invertebrate. Black w/
legs. Please return to theTouchy-Feely
Tank at the Biological Sciences Display.
Science merchandise is STILL for sale.
Come on down to Chem 160! We've got
great sweaters & financing options.. .not!
Crew-cutted individual seeks Storm The
Wall participants to participate in deviant
sexual animalistic rituals. Call Jon in SUS.
Case of Lucky wanted for 1st Cariboo.
Lost: Blackcomb Instructor's Jacket &
Wallet in the midst of drunken haze. Keep
wallet, return jacket to address on ID.
Bzzr Gardeners Club requests the presence of all members Friday afternoons at
4:30 in the Conversation Pit, SUB
Fri 24 Jan Drinking Opportunities: Microbi
Home-Brew Contest, BPP Bzzr Garden,
SUS Science Week Party at SUB Ballrm.
Saturday Jan 18, Chris's 20th Birthday.
Give a gift to a tall, staggering redhead
sometme next week.
Bespectacled individual seeks dart players for SUS Dart Ladder. Talk to Jon in
SUS.
Wanted: PMR (Single male) seeks short,
small-framed Oriental female for companionship. Leave message at SUS.
PH seeks good steak.
Talk to Jon in SUS. He's lonely. The Four Thirty-Two   Version 5.06 X 22 Jan '92
The Grinch Had a Point
Christmas has come and gone,
and once again, I am experiencing the Post-Christmas
Letdown Syndrome (PCLS).
The days of GI Joe Antitank
Missile Launchers are behind
me now. The days of neato
gifts are over. Then again, the
days of Gifts From Santa That
Are Really Toys Made By Dad
In The Basement are past me.
I am now out of the Toy years,
and into the Ware years. For
Christmas, I got Software,
Dishware, Hardware and
Underware.
These days, I have to be content with commandeering toys
away from the neighbour's
children, Tammy and David,
who come over on Christmas
day. Unfortunately, Christmas
is too quickly becoming
Politically Correct, and the
only toys they bring over are
Happy To Be Me Dolls, and
GUoel, the Special Forces
Accountant, who is equipped
with a Secret Service Pocket
Protector.
On the other hand, there were
two gifts that I just drooled
over. The first was a Nerf
Bow and Arrow Set. It shot
out foam arrows, and after
careful examination, I determined that if you shaved the
front of the arrow to a point,
you could easily take out an
eye. This is the entire point of
getting violent Christmas toys:
having your mother worry that
a) you will put out someone's
eye b) you will grow up to be
Charles Manson c) your father
will commandeer the toys and
spend the rest of Christmas
playing Cowboys and Indians.
The second gift that David got
was a Nintendo hand-held
arcade game, with various cartridges that included Tetris,
Super Mario Brothers, etc.
"We never had toys like that
when I was your age," I told
David. "When I was young
we only had Pong. And we
loved it. We didn't need no
removable cartridges." David
ignored me and continued to
the second level.
"Space Invaders." I muttered.
"Now there was a game. None
of this 'jump over the sissy-
boy barrels.' Why, you had to
shoot down an entire enemy
attacking force."
Kids these days. I'm telling
you. No appreciation for the
finer things of life.
Things that I still have not
got for Christmas.
X Julia Roberts.
X Official Trekkie
Membership, Button, ID Card,
and CD soundtrack, for which
I am Very Grateful.
X World Peace and Goodwill
Towards Man, which I could
hopefully trade in for Canucks
Season Tickets.
Things that I did get for
Christmas. Again.
/ One of those handheld dexterity games, where you are
supposed to roll steel ball bearings around until they fall into
little holes, but instead you end
up smashing it into a frustrated
pulp with your Cup of
Christmas Cheer.
X Hungover.
That last gift, by the way has
turned into a Christmas
Tradition, as a result of another
Christmas Tradition: The
Christmas Eve Party. Having
been away from home for the
past six years, I know no one
at these get-togethers, and I
usually relegate myself to the
kitchen and perform experiments to try and figure out
exactly what the heck the Nog
part of Egg Nog is. Usually
these experiments involve
Southern Comfort, after ten or
twenty experiments, I had concluded that the word Nog has
very little to do with the drink,
but instead was perhaps the
only thing I could audibly mutter.
Another Christmas Tradition is
a game that my dad and I like
to play, called Who Has The
Wrongest Opinion, which is
quickly followed by the Who
Has The Loudest Opinion, and
is usually ended by Who Has
The Rottenest Son. If you're
at all interested, my mother
usually wins the first game
with her AIDS Is A
Government Conspiracy
hypothesis, According to my
mother's sources, HIV was
created by the US Army as a
bioweapon. If the USSR ever
invaded Europe, NATO would
simply parachute thousands of
prostitutes to the front lines,
infecting Soviet soldiers with
AIDS, thereby rendering the
entire Russian army useless in
ten or twelve years.
This is what Christmas is all
about: Tradition. For me, the
real spirit of Christmas can be
found in my tradition of hoping that if I go to the bank
machine at 3 AM, the computer will be tired and give me
money that I don't have in my
account.
Our neighbours have included
us in on one of their family
Christmas Traditions. They
come over every Christmas
Eve, and have "one of Santa's
Elves" lay Christmas pajamas
for the children on the
doorstep. The "elf' (I'll bet
you never guess who they
asked to accept the honour of
being this year's Christmas elf)
must drop the presents on the
doormat, ring the bell, and
scoot out of sight before the
youngsters open the door.
Sound easy? This year, the
Christmas Elf had a little too
much Christmas Cheer. In his
haste to run out of sight, this
year's Christmas Elf tripped
over a car. What it was doing
lurking in the driveway, I don't
know.
These were the same neighbours, by the way, who came
over for Christmas Dinner, and
were introduced to a brand
new Christmas Tradition: The
Tradition of Oppie Sitting
Under The Christmas Table
And Emitting Christmas
Aromas. Dessert was served
in the kitchen.   X
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1 (AW^oM. Version 5.06 j( 22 Jan '92   The Four Thirty-Two
Streams of Consciousness...
"Hmm ... now, when they said his left kidney,
do you suppose they meant his left or my left?"
3
proudly presents
the annual
Car Rally/B##r
Garden/Dart
Tournament
4-10
b##r garden
&mt 10
ear rally
6-9
dart tournament
Leona Adams
Has this ever happened to
you: you're reading something, and when you get to the
end, you realize that you have
missed an essential detail? Of
course it has. You're in university. At any rate, over the
holidays I was glancing over
my dad's copy of LIFE 1991:
The Year in Pictures, and I
came upon the last sentence in
a blurb about a picture taken
during the Gulf War: "Alaniz
was one of thirty-five
Americans killed by friendly
fire." So naturally I had to go
back to the beginning of the
paragraph, because never in
my almost two decades of
existence have I contemplated
shooting someone with an Uzi
as a mark of affection, and I
was curious to learn the mind
set behind it so I could learn to
recognize the mental state and
avoid making friends with anyone in it. The second read was
rather uneventful, however, so
I decided to stick with what
had first come to my mind, a
shoot-each-other-then-go-out-
for-a-bzzr mentality. I could
even picture the commercial:
"I met Ed in the third grade,
and we've been doing stuff
together ever since. Even
now, though we both have jobs
at the mill and families to look
out for, we still find time on
weekends to go up to the
mountains for some friendly
fire with the guys. Then we go
out for a bzzr. But not just any
bzzr. After a long day avoiding gunfire from guys who
have known us our whole
lives, we need a manly bzzr to
annihilate our manly thirst.
We need Spike's, brewed just
right to hit the spot so to
speak. (In the background, we
see Ed get shot) Don't just
quench your thirst, spike it"
Speaking of bzzr, am I missing something? Recently, I
spoke to a friend of mine, a
veteran in the field:
"What does bzzr taste like?"
I asked in my inquisitive-five-
year-old voice.
"Actually, it tastes pretty
rude."
"Why do you drink it then?"
"It's an acquired taste," he
said in his I-think-this-conver-
sation-is-over voice.
Call me naive, but if something's going to make me do
the technicolour yawn, it had
better taste pretty darned good
on the way down.
Nevertheless, there are a good
number of people who like
BEvERages, so I assume that
either a fair percentage of the
population is masochistic or
the joys of inebriation far outweigh the woes of parting with
one's last meal/brain
cells/Uver/paycheck. Which
leads me to another question:
why dealcoholized
BEvERages? If the point of
drinking bzzr is to get a 'buzz',
why would someone drink
something 'buzzless' that
tastes just as awful? Tome,
that would be about as bright
as drinking de-ascorbic-acidized grapefruit juice. The only
fun you can have with dealcoholized bzzr is giving it to people who think it's the real
thing, watching them act
stupid for a while, and then
telling them that they're not
really drunk.
I think the thing that entertains me the most about bzzr is
the ads and their distinct hostility towards reality. I was
catching up on some TV when
La Commercial came on, talking about how to make La
BEvERage. (My French prof
is probably flipping out right
now.) Still having some useless information left in my
brain from cramming for my
Microbiology Christmas exam,
I was curious to see how much
details La Voice would go
into. Surprisingly enough, he
never mentioned the bacteria.
Right between "La Barley"
and "La Hops" he should be
mentioning "La
Saccharomyces Cerevisiae".
So, for the benefit of La
BEvERage company, I have
rewritten La Commercial:
"You make La BEvERage in
the comfort of your own home.
All you need is La Wet Barley,
La Active Bacterial Culture,
and La Hops for that who-
peed-in-my-cornflakes flavor.
But if you do, I'll become La
Welfare Bum, so you'd better
buy La Bzzr, because La Bzzr
is La Brand X."
I'm probably being too critical of that one ad. I mean, it's
a great improvement from the
ads with La Girl, as I like to
call them. The girl is never the
same, yet La Voice never
seems to have any trouble
catching her interest. It usually goes something this: "So I
was at La Blowout listening to
La Bore when suddenly I spotted La Scantily-clad-for-no-
apparent-reason Bombshell.
She started towards me, carrying two bzzrs. When she came
over, I said, 'Nice pair',
because La BEvERages were
La Brand X."
Why can't there ever be ads
with La Guy for a change?
Something like this would be
okay, with La Female Voice,
of course: "When we got
stranded up at Whistler, we
thought we were in for a long,
boring night. When we found
Amelia Earhart, things got a
little more interesting. Then,
the Swedish Bikini Rescue
Team showed up, and things
got a little more interesting.
Then, we found the case of
Spike's and things really started to get interesting. (Cut to
shot of muscular guy in bikini
dancing with Earhart.)
Spike's. Put a little excitement
into your life.
Hey, maybe I should drop
all this keener academic nonsense and just go into advertising... X
RABIES
Dear Editors
I wish to express my
extreme dismay over the
recent increase in page
number within the 432
newspaper. In the past, I
have always brought the
latest issue of the 432 into
my classes with me
because the time it takes
me to read through eight
pages is roughly the same
amount of time before I
have to flip the tape over
that 1 use to record my
professor's lectures.
Last issue, you
switched to twelve pages,
and I lost track of the time
during the fifty-minutes,
causing me to lose fifteen
minutes of detailed
explanation of union-
busting techniques. That
material was covered on
the final, and I was
unprepared; consequently,
I only barely passed it.
You should give more
careful thought to the
possible consequences of
your format changes,
since the careers of some
UBC students depend on
the dependability of their
environment and this
includes reading material
like the 432.
Well, anyway, I like
your newspaper for its
humor, but please switch
it back to the original
eight pages.
Confused in Commerce €
The Four Thirty-Two   Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92
I
j
NHS    V^NNNC
8:30
9:30
10:30
11:30
12:30
1:30
2:30
3:30
4:30
Evening
SCIENCE WEEK
Monday
Tuesday
pi
iti
■I
i
Displays
S.U.B.
Concourse
DlSPI AYS
SUB
S.U.S
Open House
Chem 160
Displays
S.U.B.
Concourse
DlSI'l AYS
SUB
Chemistry Magic Show
Math Club
intergal
Tourney
Math Annex
Room 1102
mmmmmmm^mtm'mm^^^t'ttmmmmmm'mmtm't'mm
6:00 Computer Science Car
Rally Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92   The Four Thirty-Two
7
/\
^^^^^M
Displays
S.U.B.
Concourse
DlSPI AYS
SUB
S.U.S
Open House
Chem 1160
Physsoc Paper Airplane Contest
S.U.B. Auditorium
Gyotaku
S.U.B. 207/9
7:00 Computer Science Bxxr
Thursday
Physsoc Bxxr Garden
iliiiiii
S.U.S
Open House
Chem 160
•*<-^^»^-«w*-»**»i»«
************
MicroBi Home
Brew
4:00-8:00
S.U.B. 207/9
BPP Bxxr Garden
iiiiiiiii2piiiii
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BBSSE™™™™™" is f 8
The Four Thirty-Two   Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92
Water Sports
Morgan
BURKE
Face it, the excretion of bodily wastes is a dull activity. If
it wasn't necessary to prevent
us from exploding embarrassingly, some of us would never
do it at all. The profusion of
graffiti in public toilets and
stupid magazines in private
ones is testimony to the fact
that boredom is the primary
occupational hazard of shitters
and pissers worldwide. It must
be agreed that reading and
writing are noble activities
optimally suited to pot-sitters,
but what of those members of
population who excrete on
their feet, so to speak?
Most men cannot write graffiti while they urinate, since
their hand are otherwise occupied controlling their thrashing
willy and trying maintain some
degree of accuracy, without
splashing any tell-tale drops on
their pant legs. Those who
attempt to read graffiti or even
worse, magazines, usually end
up hosing down the floor, or
the guy next to them at the urinal, as their aim drifts erratically. Obviously, men require
an alternative form of intellectual nourishment as they walk
the dog.
The proprietor of a campground I once stayed at recognized this problem. In
response, he built a latrine
(actually it was a pit in the
ground) whose primary accoutrement was a central pole,
gradated in feet. It wasn't necessary to provide instructions.
From the edge of the pit, it was
possible to hit the four foot
marker regularly, but five
feet—well that was near
impossible for thirteen-year-
old bladder. Not that I didn't
try. I drank a lot of water that
weekend. Urination was never
so much fun. The best technique involved tensing the
abdomen to increase your
bladder pressure, and then flipping the ol' member up with a
hearty pelvic thrust.
Such games do not translate
well to the home or the public
restroom. A possible adaptation for home use is to test
one's bladder pressure by finding the maximum distance one
can stand from the toilet and
still reach the bowl, but this is
potentially messy. In the confines of a private bathroom or
toilet stall, a better measure of
forcefulness is destructive
capacity. A high-pressure
urine stream can decimate a
wad of wet toilet paper in seconds, if done right. If you are
using a toilet whose bowl happens to be clean, tear off some
paper and toss it in. Cigarette
butts and other solid wastes are
also fun to disintegrate. If
you're truly bored, experiment.
Try blowing apart raw eggs,
rotten fruit, or live insects.
The best place to find
insects for such a purpose is
the family dog. Fleas are not
only undesirable and deserving
of death, but since they are difficult to kill except by drowning, most fleas end up in the
toilet after being caught anyway. Lastly it should be pointed out that killing a flea with
one's urine stream is more
ecologically sound than with
powders and flea collars.
Rural residents can take
these games one step further,
by besieging ant or termite
nests. The little guys always
get so mad when this happens,
and they all come running outside to find out what is going
on. That's when you nail
them. The extensive empirical
studies I conducted while
growing up in the West
Kootenays indicated a remarkably high resilience of insect
communities to such abuse,
along with an equally high fun
quotient Once you've mastered the appropriate tactics,
you can move on to wasp and
homet nests.
Rural urinators can also
experiment with the ever popular game of snow-writing.
Personally, I've found that
snow-printing is much more
challenging, since it requires
the regular interruption of
one's stream between letters
and strokes. Creative individuals may want to experiment
with snow-painting, although
it is a rare picture that doesn't
come out looking like a sickly
form of abstract impressionism. City dwellers and those
without access to pristine
fields of show can simulate
snow writing by filling the toilet bowl with froth (requires a
hearty stream and urine of the
correct consistency), and then
writing in the bubbles. Having
trouble making good froth?
Try adding a drop of dish soap.
In closing I will mention the
holy grail of urine games, the
great unsolved "last theorem"
of urination: passing water
with an erection. The essential
problem, of course, is that the
stream goes the wrong way.
Numerous theorists have
attempted to solve this tricky
problem, but experimentation
has shown that their solutions
are awkward at best. The trivial solution, affectionately
known as the "member-bender", fails completely due to
pain and a kinked urethra, the
famous "bend over at the
waist" solution, although popular, is not completely satisfactory, due to its physical
demands and silly appearance.
Although these problems can
partially be resolved by sitting
down, this practice is widely
perceived as cheating. The
dramatic "Hail Mary" solution
involves no bending or twisting, but necessitates that one
calculate the precise parabolic
trajectory that the stream will
take, and then position oneself
the appropriate distance from
the bowl. While theoretically
elegant, this solution has been
shown to be inaccurate in practice. X
SCIENC1
BflLLTt.OQi
FRIDAY, JANl
SUBBA1
8:00
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TICKET
AVAII
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j^rot^ Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92   The Four Thirty-Two
Dik Miller, Campus Enforcer
SWEEK
m BLItz
JARY 24, 1992
,LROOM
pm
\
RACES
LZES
fCING
SIFREE
ABLE
OFFICE
1 160)
Derek K.
MILLER
Little did Roy Iknow that his next step
into the lab would be his last...
I was perched atop the concrete slab of the Civil and
Mechanical Engineering
Building, peering down
through my Dik Miller™ high-
power binoculars/bottle openers/juggling batons at the tiny
wooden structure known inexplicably as "The Cheeze
Factory." I was looking for
suspicious activity, and I was
there to prevent it.
That's right. I'm Dik Miller,
Engineering Political
Correctness Enforcer. Look,
it's a job, okay?
I noticed a young man walking toward the Cheeze from
Main Mall. He was wearing a
red jacket and carrying a backpack slung over his right
shoulder. He approached the
building and opened the door.
From inside, a young woman,
also red-jacketed, greeted him
and let him inside. The door
closed.
I put down the Dik Miller™
binoculars/botde openers/juggling batons and rushed off to
the Dean of Applied Science's
office.
XXX
"I have something," I said
when I arrived at the office of
my supervisor. "Do I ever have
something."
"Really?" she said. "That
was fast. What is it?"
"Well, I was watching the
Cheeze Factory from the top of
this building, and I watched
one of the students go inside."
I paused dramatically.
"They've got women in there."
She stared at me blankly.
I raised my eyebrows to
emphasize the point.
"Women."
She pursed her lips. "There
are quite a few female students
in Engineering, you know."
"You're kidding," I said
incredulously.
"I'm not kidding," she
replied.
"But last week, you said that
there was an entrenched, systematic hatred of women by
Engineering students!"
"Well, not by the women."
"So this is no big surprise."
"No. We do register these
women into courses, after all."
She leaned forward. "Get back
to work, and only come back
here if you find something
really good."
I sighed.
XXX
Two hours later, I was back
on top of the Civil and
Mechanical Engineering
Building, this time looking
through my Dik Miller™ high-
power
telescope/quarterstaff/poster
packing tube at the main door
of the Cheeze Factory. I could
see movement inside, but it
was too dark (and the windows
were too dirty) for me to figure
out what it was. I was also getting cold.
An Engineering student
emerged from the building
beneath me and headed for the
Cheeze. I quickly hatched a
plan.
Dropping my
telescope/quarterstaff/poster
packing tube, I bounded along
the roof. I would intercept this
student, purloin her jacket, and
enter the Cheeze pretending to
be a Engineer. It was perfect.
All I had to do was get to her
before she reached the door.
There was only one way to do
that.
I took a running leap and
jumped off the roof.
XXX
When I regained consciousness, I was hanging upside
down in a bush. A quick self-
inspection indicated that I
hadn't broken anything (except
my Dik Miller™ Mickey
Mouse Rolex). The student
was nowhere to be seen. I put
my feet on the proper end on
my body (the bottom end) and
walked out of the bush. It was
now quite dark, but light and
noise were still streaming out
from the windows and doors of
the Cheeze Factory. I had to
get inside to find out what was
going on.
"Excuse me, sir, can I help
you?" asked a voice from
behind me.
I spun on my heel to see yet
another student facing me.
"Sorry?"
"You were standing there,
staring at the Cheeze, and
mumbling something about a
'damn bush.' I thought I might
be able to give you a hand."
I looked at him. "No, but
you could loan me your jacket."
"My Engineering jacket? No
way!"
"You leave me no choice,
then," I said. With skilful use
of tai-jitsu (a martial art I perfected, combining the flowing
grace of tai chi with the bone-
crushing insanity of jiujitsu,
and causing ultimate confusion
in its victims, who are unused
to being subdued by something
that looks like a good morning
stretch) I had him unconscious,
tossed around back of the
Cheeze Factory, and stripped
off his jacket, which I now
wore.
I walked in the front door
and into the middle of a loud
and yeasty-smelling party. I
watched as a man walked up to
the bar.
"Gimme a dark beer," he
said.
Sidling up beside him, I
thought to strike up a conversation. "Shouldn't that be 'beer
of colour?'"I asked.
He looked back at me.
"What?"
'"Beer of colour' instead of
'dark beer,'" I elaborated.
"Coloured beer?" he asked.
He was obviously somewhat
sauced.
"No, no," I explained. "Beer
of colour!"
He was still perplexed. "I
don't get it."
I was about to go in when
the door burst open and the
student from whom I had borrowed the jacket rushed in, followed by some others.
"There!" he shouted, pointing at me. "That's the guy!"
They rushed toward me.
"Wait," I protested. "You
can't do anything. I'm Dik
Mi—"
XXX
When I regained consciousness, I was lying on a couch in
the Dean of Applied Science's
office. My supervisor was
standing over me.
"I think he's awake now,"
she said.
"Urgh," I said.
"Just what the hell did you
think you were doing?" she
asked me.
"Urgh," I said.
"Well?" she prodded.
"My head hurts," I said.
"I would expect that, after
you were beaten up by fifteen
Engineers. What were you
doing?"
"I was trying to ...urgh...
infiltrate their organization to
find out what kinds of politically incorrect activities were
going on."
"By stealing someone's
jacket?"
"Look, sometimes a guy's
gotta do what a guy's gotta
do."
"Which includes stealing?"
"Urgh," I said. "I found out
something else."
She put her hands on her
hips. "And what was that?"
I motioned for her to come
closer. She leaned over, and I
whispered in her ear. "They
drink beer in there."
She straightened up and
looked at me.
"Beer," I said again for
emphasis.
She sighed, exasperated, and
walked out of the room. On
her way, she turned back.
"When you're feeling better,
get back to work, and get some
real work done for a change,
okay?"
Another case closed for Dik
Miller, Engineering Political
Correctness Enforcer.
"Urgh," I said.  X 10
The Four Thirty-Two   Version 5.06 X 22 Jan V2
Organized Grime
Predictions for 1992
Well, folks, here we are in
1992, and things are every bit
as dismal as they were before,
only now they're probably
more expensive. But you may
be asking yourself, "Will
things improve? Will they get
worse? What important things
are going to happen and to
whom?" Actually, chances are
these questions have never
once crossed your mind, but I
was fortunate enough to have
had a chat with the great
Swami Inhalf Withabreadknife
last week, and he had some
amazing predictions about the
year to come.
RW: Thanks very much for
taking the time to chat with
us today, Swami.
SWAMI: Yeah, sure. Where's
the $301 was promised over
the phone?
RW: Check should reach you
sometime next week.
SWAM: grumblegrumble-
cursegrumble
RW: So, what can we look forward to in 1992?
SWAMI: Well, the world is in
for some serious upheaval.
For starters, the Soviet
Union will collapse, and the
republics that make it up
will...
RW:Uh, Swami...
SWAMI: What?
RW: That already happened.
SWAMI: It did?
"From the Mouths of Babes.. "
Top high school physics students bare their brains
Someone Unidentified
Probably from Physsoc
Each year, UBC sponsors The
Physics Olympiad, which is a
competition between high
school physics teams. Teams
are given a written exam to
return to UBC before the
Olympiad begins. Some of the
questions may beyond their
level of knowledge, and their
answers sometimes go astray.
Here are some sample
questions and actual answers
given by some students:
Question 1. "If the speed of
light were to double during the
night, by how much would the
time of sunrise be changed?"
The answer given is "no
change." Explain why you
agree or disagree. If you
agree, what should the correct
answer be?
X The effect of this doubling
would be hotter weather...more
skin cancer, and sunburns, and
since we could see things
better, our reaction time would
be better.
X.-.it makes no difference to
us how old the rays are when
they reach us.
/...night and day depends
upon the orbit of the moon.
X Either way, the speed of the
earth would be quadrupled and
the time would be quartered.
We would not notice,
however...
X I don't think that this would
change the sun's rising,
though. Everything would
change such as clocks (if there
was change) so one wouldn't
notice a difference (probably)
anyway. Or something like
that.
X The only way there could
be no change is if we were
travelling at the speed of light.
X If the speed of light changes
(or doubles) everything else
stands still (therefore time
would stand still). Since time
stands still, there would be no
change in the time of sunrise.
I conclude, therefore, that
changing the speed of light is
impossible.
Question 2. "You are given
three similarly shaped rods of
metal. One is a piece of soft
iron, one is apiece of brass,
and one is a permanent
magnet. How can you
determine with your eyes
closed and without altering the
bars, which is which?
X Supply some iron, cobalt,
nickel, or gadolinium.
X Since it says that the iron is
made from soft iron, it will be
possible to break it with your
hands.
X ...grope around until you
find a plug in the wall. Stick
one of the two bars in the
plug...
X You can try bashing the
other rod just to make sure
you're right.
X To differentiate between the
two remaining ones, hold each
up to a refrigerator.
X When you have the two that
attract, take one and hit it on
the edge of the table. Feel to
see if there is a dent.
X After the brass bar has been
identified, the iron bar and the
magnet must be discerned. To
do this, the person must hold
both bars in different hands for
a prolonged period of time,
and sweat profusely...the
person must smell both his
hands. Which hand smells
irony contained the iron bar.
X I would drop all three bars.
The bar that would make the
recognizable "clang" would be
the brass.
X ...now give one bar a good
whump on the floor...
Question 3. If room
temperature superconductivity
is ever achieved, what novel
application can you think of?
X It would be a fun lab
experiment for students to do.
X Household particle
accelerators for extra fast
microwave ovens and burglar
deterrents.
X ...floating cities...
X ...street lamps in the
countryside...
X Novel applications that I
can think of are nuclear fusion
of light weighted atoms that
may provide us with more
powerful molecules.
X Turbines could be made
more efficient—in fact,
extremely more efficient.
Turbines...could be made
infinitely more efficient that
the old ones.
X Being fairly well read, I
can't think of too many novel
uses of room temperature
superconductors.
X Massive amounts of
electricity could be produced
at cheaper costs. Monopolies
like BC Hydro would be
crushed.
X The power in
superconductors is in their
ability to combat friction.
X Superconductors would
allow all battery operated
devices to become solar-
powered.
X ...a more fluid road hockey
game...
X Superconductor and magnet
bumpers.
X REALLY good electric
fences.
X A superconducting bowling
alley... (Novel doesn't mean
useful.)
X
RW: Couple of weeks back.
SWAMI: Oh... oh yeah, right
Geez, y'know, I thought
that sounded kinda familiar.
Sorry.
RW: Uh, no problem... anything else on the global
scale?
SWAMI: Oh, certainly. There
will be a presidential election in the USA...
RW: Oh, gee whiz, REALLY
? What a shock.
SWAMI: Hey, no need for sarcasm. ..
RW: Well, of course there's
gonna be an election!!
That's not a prediction,
everybody knows that!
There's gonna be one in
1996 too, and another one
in the year 2000!
SWAMI: Really? Hey, man,
you're good at this. Ever
consider this line of work?
RW: (groan) What else? No,
wait, lemme guess... the
Olympics, right?
SWAMI: Wow, you are
good... yeah, that too.
Summer and winter, no
less.
RW: Uh huh... any idea who's
going to win any of the
events?
SWAM: Um... well, the vibes
are somewhat unclear on
that... you'll have to get
back to me on that one.
RW: Yeah, sure. Maybe we'll
just skip the world stage for
now... what about the
entertainment world?
SWAM: 1992 will see a lot of
successes and failures for
many people. Virtual
unknowns will become stars
and international celebrities
will fall from grace.
RW: That's it!?
SWAM: Well, that about covers all the bases, really.
What else is there?
RW: Well... don't you see any
particular events happening
to any particular people?
SWAMI: Oh, a few, I guess...
Elizabeth Taylor will get
divorced again and write a
book about it, Arnold
Schwarzenegger will separate from his wife and have
a sex-change operation,
Julia Roberts will marry
Donald Trump in a fit of
drunken passion in one of
those instant wedding
chapels just off the Strip in
Vegas, thinking he still has
money, and Magic Johnson
will sadly reveal that he is
actually not HIV-positive,
but that he simply faked it
so he'd be able to get a few
extra tax concessions and
become a folk hero
overnight. Also, Jay Leno
will lose the Tonight Show
job when it is revealed that
The Wonder Years' Fred
Savage is his illegitimate
son whom he sold for $100
in 1975, a secret investigation by Geraldo Rivera will
prove that Michael and
Janet Jackson are actually
the same person, and, yes,
Bob Hope will finally die
when a boom crane falls on
him during his annual
Christmas special.
RW: I see. And how did you
arrive at all this?
SWAM: Tea leaves. Plus, I
read the Enquirer.
RW: Ah. Anything else you
might like to add to this
stunning forecast for the
year?
SWAM: Not really... are you
sure about the Soviet
Union?
RW: Quite.
SWAM: Hmph. Well, I suppose that's about all she
wrote, then. I'd just like to
say hi to my mom in
Toledo.
RW: Yeah, whatever. Thanks
again, Swami. Go buy yourself a life, OK?
SWAM: I've enjoyed it.  X
s&-
What the ... Hey! This is hot dog relish!
What the hell happened to the sewage
treatment culture I was testing?! Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92   The Four Thirty-Two
ii
MUNDANE
DUMBSTER
Patrick turn
Third-Year Rep
Students aren't the only
ones asking questions about
the fundamental structure of
the B.Sc. program, which was
established several decades
ago. By request of the Dean's
office, a Curriculum Renewal
and Review Committee was
struck last summer to recommend changes to be made to
the B.Sc. program.
Since that time, the CR&RC
has made a draft of changes
intended to meet the needs of
today's students: decreased
program prerequisites, less
structured Major programs,
and in general, more opportunity for variety in any given
program. Keep in mind that
the main purpose of these
changes is to provide students
with more options for choosing core courses and electives.
This process involves reducing
the number of required courses
for any Major program in 2nd,
3rd and 4th years.
You can decide for yourself
whether or not this goal will be
attained with the current proposal:
1) That the total required credits in any 2nd year Major
program not exceed 21.
2) That the total required credits in 3rd and 4th years
combined in any Major not
exceed 36.
3) That all Major students be
required to take a min i-
mum of 24 credits outside
the Faculty of Science:; of
these, at least 6 credits of
English, another 12 credits
of Arts, and 6 credits in
any non-science faculty.
4) Of the remaining 15 elective credits in years 2-4, no
more than 6 may be uiken
in the field of the major,
and the remaining 9 to be
either Arts or Science electives.
5) That the number of
required upper-level credits
for the B.Sc. degree be
increased from 42 to 48,
with a minimum of 30
credits of 300/400 level
Science courses.
The purpose of having a
lowly student on the committee is to provide some soil of
feedback, so any comments or
suggestions would be welcome. Try posting your comments on the bulletin board in
Chem 160 (SUS) with my
name on it.
Stay tuned for proposed
changes to the first year curriculum in the next issue.  X
Alan M. Soshyet
AMS Briefs
The AMS
Executive Awards
As the AMS Executive's
term draws to a close, it seems
reasonable to award a ream of
fictional gifts to the Execs for a
job well done.
Jason "Piggyback
Plebiscite" Brett gets one-hundred yes votes for use in the referendum of his choice. He also
gets the latest Garth Brooks
album; C & W is the next big
thing, you know,
Shawn "Doh!" Tagseth gets
a complimentary membership in
the beer gardeners' club so he
can continue his work after his
term ends.
Kelly "Glenn Close"
Guggisberg gets an academy
award for feigning interest in
more issues than I can count.
She also gets one thousand free
loitipops with a purchase of an
acre of Florida swampland.
Martin "Duke's" ErtI gets
one thin slice of pizza, just one
measly slice. Is there anything
wrong with that? Of course it
conforms to building code.
Ranjit "Timely" Bharaj
gets an extra week so she can
get ihe budget accepted more
than a month before the end of
her (and the budget's) term.
Tim "Smile** lo gets a nicer
couch for his office and a
recently acquired keg of beer.
All on the up and up, of course.
Charles "Silent Sam"
Redden gets a blank book so he
can write down what he really
thinks about everyone instead of
keeping it all inside.
X
Derek K. Miller
c i r c v s
SCIENTIFICVS
Alright, you've just eaten
40 pounds of turkey, 13
pounds of stuffing, 84 pounds
of mashed potatoes, 37 boxes
of chocolates and a partridge
in a pear tree. This not being
enough punishment in and of
itself, you made 56 resolutions
on New Year's Eve, of which
only 2 survived; one of those
is to exercise more and the
only reason you haven't blown
it is because 1992 still has
eleven and a half months left
in it. Intramurals has prepared
for this unfortunate state,
starting off 1992 with the
Resolution Run at 12:30 on
Tuesday, January the 14th and
Friday, January the 17th. Too
Much Too Fast, you say?
Well then hopefully you got a
few friends together for the
Broomball Bash on the
14th...Okay, I know, these are
events which involve extreme
effort, but I haven't given up
on those pot bellies yet.
Drop-in volleyball is every
Tuesday night at 6:30 at
Osbourne Gym, and every
Wednesday at 7:30 there's
drop-in badminton at the
same location. Now it you
consider yourself "too good"
for drop-in badminton, then
the Pan Am Badminton
Tournament is Saturday,
January 25th with all levels of
play welcome. As well,
Sunday the 26th boasis the
Great Plans Squash
Tournament from 10:00am-
4:00pm as well as the SUB
6'/5'8" Basketball
Tournament from 10:30am-
7:30pm.
So none of this tickles; your
fancy? How about the Girouse
Mountain Ski Challenge
from 9:00pm-Midnight on
Thursday, January 30th: night
skiing at its best. Registration
is open now and closes on
January 28th. Budget a
problem? Intramurals offers 4
different fees:   the minimum
of $25 gets you a race t-shirt,
$35 adds a lift ticket, $40 loses
the lift ticket, but adds dinner
and $50 gets the whole shot.
Now that you have
something to start you off, I'll
finish with something to build
up to: The UBC Triathalon
and Uuathalon; Saturday,
March 7th. Registration forms
are already being accepted,
with packages being given to
the first 100 (there are 70 left
as of this writing), including a
one-of-a-kind Cathy Hudon
limited edition t-shirt, as well
as a hi-liter, Maxell tape, etc.
Two courses are available for
the Triathalon; a regular
course with 800m swim, 23
km cycle, 7 km run and a
short course of 400m swim,
11km cycle, and 4km run.
Prices for students range from
$25-$45 for the Triathalon,
and $20-$40 for the
Duathalon.
There it is. Be prepared for
another great semester of
Intramurals!
P.S. Foreshadowing: The
Storm is Coming!!   X
Board of Governors
I'm a little late with this.
The last meeting of the UBC
Board of Governors was on
November 21,1991. But, you
know, there were exams after
that. Of course, I didn't have
any exams, being in Creative
Writing and all, so that doesn't
give me much of an excuse.
Anyway, a month and a half
after the fact, this is what the
evil overlords of the University
(me included) were up to:
We talked about the issue
of Maclean's magazine which
ranked 46 Canadian universities for their Arts and Science
curricula. As likely happened
at most universities (except
perhaps at McGill, which came
out on top), the President's
reaction was that the idea of
discussing universities in a
national magazine is a good
one, but that the implementation of the survey was deeply
flawed. (UBC came in #7, after
McGill, Queen's, Mount
Allison, U of T, McMaster,
and Acadia, and well before
SFU and UVic, which were
#23 and #24, respectively - and
were not too pleased about it.)
If you haven't seen the issue,
it's worth checking out, flaws
and all.
If you're in Comp Sci,
Electrical Engineering, or anything else that deals with computers a lot, you'll probably be
pleased to know that the new
Centre for Integrated
Computer Systems Research
(CICSR - pronounced like
"Caesar") building has gone
out to tender. Watch for digging, noise, and construction
crews on coffee breaks
between the CEME building
and the Pulp and Paper Centre
out by B-lot. Speaking of B-
lot, the preliminary planning
for new student housing at the
south end of Main Mall (where
the front two B-lots are now) is
underway. Look for completion long after most of you
have graduated, if you're not
like me and spend seven years
here. The controversial waste
disposal incinerator has to go
through a lot more public hearings before the GVRD will
approve it. (The old one no
longer meets environmental
regulations.)
Interestingly enough, both
the Board and the Senate (at
the instigation of Orvin Lau,
student senator) unanimously
passed similar motions opposing the new 3% "guarantee
fee" imposed by the feds on
Canada Student Loans. (Note
that the University has no
problem opposing fees it does
not impose. It's a step, at
least.) Those loans - along with
University loans, bursaries,
and scholarships, B.C. student
loans, graduate fellowships,
and campus student employment and work study - gave
students some $82.6 million
last year. The employment (at
the library, Bookstore, etc.)
and work study alone made up
about $30 million of that total.
And the Canada Employment
Centre on campus, which
closed in September, will be
replaced by a University-run
facility in the new Brock Hall
building by this coming
September.
Plans for a new, powerful
Ombudsoffice are slowly
crawling along, with the 16-
page terms of reference - composed by student senator and
former ombudsperson Carole
Forsythe with the help of Vice-
President K.D. Srivastava and
Dr. Cherry of Senate -
approved at the Board meeting.
(Un)fortunately (depending on
how you look at it) the recent
AMS referendum to levy a fee
to pay the AMS's share of the
cost of that office failed, so it
may take longer to organize
than previously thought. Dr.
Srivastava (known universally
simply as "K.D.") was also
reappointed for a six-year term
to his position as VP of
Student and Academic
Services.
K.D. is also involved in
the ongoing clash between the
Administration and the AMS
over management of the
Aquatic Centre. The Board
meeting saw AMS executives
Jason Brett and Martin Ertl
give a well-received presentation on their side of the argument, and it seems that the
Administration (ie. Strangway
and K.D.) is finally bending a
bit. A memo I wrote the Board
outlining some of the concerns
you students have brought to
me during the past few months
was also responded to (in writing!). It dealt with topics ranging from Bookstore pricing
policies to bike racks.
As usual, if you want to
know more about any of the
stuff I've mentioned (or have
neglected to), if you want to
bring up something that bugs
you about UBC, or if you want
to find out about what the
Board will be up to in the next
little while (such as tuition fee
increases), you can contact me
or Wendy King, student BoG
reps, in SUB room 262 (top
floor, northwest corner), phone
822-6101, or you can call me
at home (anytime; there's a
machine) at 439-9465. If
you're really technically
inclined, I can be faxed at 822-
9019 or 434-5092. And to
those of you who raised questions with me and to whom I
haven't responded, I apologize; I'll try to phone you with
answers in the next few weeks.
Both Wendy and I are running again for the student
Board representative positions
in the upcoming elections, but
I will refrain from propagandizing here. I'll just say that
the free lunches during Board
meetings and all the Christmas
parties were very good. Thanks
for reading.  X 12
The Four Thirty-Two   Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92
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