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UBC Publications

The 432 Oct 3, 1994

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Array Pick me up!
Pick me up!
,/£C Archives Serial
Science flections
start til is Wednesday
Oct 05 - Oct 07
CS A Bzzr Garden
Buchanan Lounge
l-'ridav, October 07
starts at n:00pm
PreMed Lecture
BioSci 2449
Tiiesdav, October 4
at 12:/>0pm
GenSci Lecture
BioSci 2449
Thursday, October 6
Octoberlest '94
October 14
SUB Ballroom
starts at 8:00pm
More writers!
More cartoonists!
More! More!
If you wanna volunteer,
drop by CULM 160
No hockey. ■
No more baseball.
Maybe hy should try
holding out for
more monev from
first kicks at the can
from some eager
beaver columnists.
Pathetic pleading for
your votes by prospective Council members.
Pathetic stuff, in general. Plus a ream of
tutoring ads. Messages
from two or three
execs. Other stuff.
Warning : Radioactive.
Roster Announced!
Local fan quoted, "Whadda mean, they drafted carnivores? What a
great ideal Even more violence for the sport!"
Kilgore Trout
Roaming Correspondent
In a recent press conference, Arthur Griffiths
announced the Vancouver
Grizzlies' starting lineup for
the 1995/96 season. In an
unorthodox, but not surprising move, Griffiths
announced that the entire
team would be comprised of
members of the species Ursus
The 500 pound carnivores
were added for the following
reason, according to VP
Basketball Operations Stu .
"Sure, the defense presented by a bunch of police officers would have been great,
but what we were looking for
was a team that could go out
and play very offensively, and
we just felt that Grizzlies are
better suited to that style of
Further clarifying, Jackson
said, "We felt it was really
important that we keep as
much Canadian talent as possible on the team. A couple of
Kodiaks tried out, but their
range is strictly within the
U.S., so we cut them the first
day. We were hoping to draft
a polar bear, but they were all
a little too overweight. We
were lucky enough to pick up
Bobo, a performer with the
Ringling brothers circus.
We're hoping he'll bring some
experience to the team.
Other than that, they're piret-
ty much all rookies, picked up
fresh out of the woods."
As a team, the Grizzlies
have had to step away from
many of the more conventional facilities of a basketball
team. For example, the team
is planning on building a
huge pool for the team to
bathe in after practice, rather
than the more conventional
showers. This was for two
reasons: the first, that many
of the players said that they
felt much more comfortable
bathing in a setting much
more like a lake. Extra
durable filters have been
added to prevent the excess
hair from clogging the drains.
Also, the bears much prefer
dead salmon to Gatorade, the
sport drink that most teams
give to athletes at practice and
game days.
The coaching staff has
encountered some unique
training problems with this
Said Jackson, "We really
had to start with the basics
with this team. The first thing
we worked on was teaching
the team to stand on their
hind legs. We tried one practice with all the team on four
legs, but we found that they
had a lot of trouble dribbling,
passing and shooting. The
coaching staff all agreed that
these skills are pretty much
essential for any ball team, so
we basically concentrated on
stance for the first three weeks
of training camp. We're also
been holding a lot of jumping
practices. Although they're
tall, bears don't have a lot of
vertical, owing to their
extremely high mass to muscle ratio. None of them can
dunk yet, but there is one that
has gotten pretty good at the
two foot take off. I mean hey,
how much can you expect?
They're bears We're gonna
have to be a defensive team.
Asked about what he
thinks of the team's chances,
Jackson replied, "Well, we're
pretty optimistic. The starting
line sure has size. And a heck
of a lot of power. Of all the
teams in the NBA, this is the
only one that has every player
scaring the pants off Charles
Barkley." He went on to
explain that the team will certainly be the toughest in the
NBA, and that none of the
players have any reservations
about eating players on the
other team.
"This is a team in the true
sense of the word. If any one
of these guys has to take a
hunter's bullet for the good of
the team, they will, no questions asked. We're just having
some difficulties convincing
the bears that fouling out by
eating opposing players is not
one of the best choices in conflict resolution."
One of the biggest problems that the Grizzlies face in
94-95 is that the season lies in
the hibernating season for
bears. As yet, the coaching
staff has made no official
statement regarding how the
team plans to get around this.
Rumors have been circulating about moving the bears to
Antarctica during the off season, in order to induce hibernation in the summer.
Another option being examined is slipping amphetamines into their food. Asked
about the hibernation dilemma, the management would
only say that with the present
plan, "...the team is hoping
that there won't be a whole
lot of drug testing going on
during the season."
It has been suggested that
the rivalry between
Vancouver and Toronto will
be extremely fierce, despite
the fact that both teams will
be new next year. Owner
Arthur Griffiths went on
record predicting that a team
like the Grizzlies should have
no problems beating "a team
of imaginary carnivorous
dinosaurs with poorly devel
oped forearms."
In a related story, the
Grizzlies have decided to
change their uniforms, to a
singlet with a big G on the
front. Fred Manfrenjenson,
fashion manager for the team
was quoted as saying:
"We had to come up with
a way to keep the team from
overheating, what with all
that fur and all. In the end,
the best plan seemed to be to
shave the bears. We did, however, decide to leave a shirt
shaped patch on their torsos,
with a "G" shaved into the
front, and their names and
numbers shaved into the
back. Overall, it works well.
If you think a grizzly bear
looks tough with fur, you
should see one naked! The
fangs stand out a lot more,
and they sure look powerful
with no hair covering their
Marketing representatives
for the team and the National
League expect high sales
based on the fact that
Grizzlies merchandise will be
done almost exclusively in
false fur.
Editor's note: No animals
were harmed in the writing of
this article.
that Tilt-A-Whirl sure was scary,
wasn't it, boys?" Radiation Equals Vests.
Have you ever noticed
how people change
over time? You lose
a friend or two from high
school. You make a few new
ones here at UBC. Seasons
pass, etc...
Hairstyles, clothing styles,
expressions all change, and
then a few years later are
back in vogue.
I think I changed a bit
this summer as well. Most of
it was the continual exposure to frosh (like radiation,
not flashing) over the summer. In a lot of ways, the
summer was like a good
dose of chemotherapy; it
was fun, exciting and probably really good for me, but
near the end of August, I
could hardly wait to get the
hell outta Dodge and return
to my life as an "senior"
level student.
"Senior", hah! I'm still
trying to complete Math
101. Wait... that means an
entire additional term with
first years, right? Aaaaahhh!
(Note to all you frosh out
there - I'm mostly joking.
Please don't take anything I
say seriously, ok?)
Being taken seriously has
always been one of my
problems. Sure, I have a tiny
tendency to be a sarcastic,
nasty person from time to
time, but that's no reason to
get mad. Seems every time I
try to be sincere and give
someone a compliment, I
get a "Yeah, right..." It's just
not fair.
So perhaps my mental
attitude has been slightly
readjusted over the last four
months. Maybe not. I'm still
prone to massive mood
swings. It's kinda fun. I can
get up grouchy and irritable,
go through a period of
happy, bouncy fun, and get
back to being grouchy
before dinner. It certainly
keeps people of balance. Not
to steal John's act or anything - but I think the correct term is maniac depressant. Maybe it's time to visit
a doctor or something.
I've also changed my
wardrobe. You see, after a
couple of years of involvement in the AMS, my entire
collection of shirts is eleven
Orientation shirts (7 participant, 2 guides, and a couple
from 1993/94) an AMS
Council sweatshirt, and that
really cool t-shirt from the
recently failed AMS BBQ.
You could say this creates
a major fashion challenge.
So, armed with my trusty
debit card, I went forth and
bought a new collection of
I added a bunch of long-
sleeves shirts, and, my new
favourite, three vests.
Vests are very cool.
Everyone should have at
least one, as far as I'm concerned. They add that touch
of class to anybody's
And let me tell ya, I need
all the class I can get.
You see, I've given up
being a sensitive, caring guy
who happens to be hiding
in a white t-shirt and jeans.
Image is everything in this
decade of MuchMusic and
Beverly Hills 90210.
So, I'm trying a new tack
in the ongoing social quest
- being a complete idiot in
moderately decent clothing.
I think it will be far more
successful than my previous
I've also discovered the
critical key in a new image -
been seen. For me, this
involves that good ol' bzzr
gardening circuit. Most of
my friends are usually there,
so I'm always assured of seeing a friendly face or two.
It's great fun.
Friendly faces are one
thing, but how about an
identical face? During the
last circuit, I met up with a
few friends who solemnly
swore that there was an
identical looking person
also on the circuit that
evening. Poor bastard, I
thought to myself.
Apparently my friend had
embarrassed herself thinking this evil twin was me. I
couldn't get any details
from her, so the only course
of action was to find this
mysterious doppleganger.
Lo, and behold! After the
second or third bzzr, the
stranger made an appearance.
I immediately leapt to the
conclusion that my dear
friend might have a wee bit
too much alcohol coursing
through her veins. This guy
looked nothing like me.
Sure, he was wearing
glasses, blondish hair, blah,
blah. He, too appeared to be
cursed with eyes that
required the lenses from the
Hubble Telescope to fix.
Where did you think my
byline came from?
But that's where the similarities ended. Go figure. At
any rate, I couldn't get this
guy to share the embarrassing moment with me. He
obviously wasn't anything
like me, 'cause I would have
leapt at the chance to
embarrass a complete
So, in order to prevent
this from reoccuring, I had
to lay down a few simple
rules for identifying the real
I'm grouchy and I wear a
Faculty of Science Teaching Awards
The Faculty of Science will award three Teaching Awards for 1994/95 to
acknowledge outstanding contributions made in teaching in the Faculty of
Science and to promote a greater appreciation of the importance of teaching
in the Faculty of Science.
Full-time members of the Faculty of Science appointed on or before July 1,
1994 in any of the Faculty's departments are eligible to be nominated for the
awards. Nominations can be made by students, alumni or faculty.
Among the criteria taken into consideration in making the awards will be
ability to motivate students and stimulate critical thinking, sustained teaching excellence and development of innovative approaches to teaching
methodoloev and curricula.
The awards will be made on recommendation by a committee of faculty
and students appointed by the Dean of Science. Members of the committee
will attend nominees' teaching sessions and interview nominees' students as
well as review all supporting documentation.
Nominations should be made in writing to:
Committee on Teaching Awards
Dean's Office
Faculty of Science
The deadline for nominations is Monday, October '31,. 1994 for nominees
teaching first term and full term courses and Monday February 6, 1995 for
nominees teaching second term courses.
The awards will be announced and presented by the Dean of Science at the
Spring Congregation. Tffcj A Raven-haired Beauty.
Volume 8r Number 03
>■>:$ October* $$4
Blair McDonald
Graeme Kennedy
Bella Carvaifeo
John Hallett
Graeme Kennedy
Phil tAdwMt
Tracy Ma^Ktonon
BMt McDonald
Tessa Moon
Castee Price
liana Protnfclov?
Hogs* Watts,
Blair MeDamU:
National Hockey leajjjte
Players Association
College Printers of
Vancouver, BC
every second Monday
to raajot buildings cat
campus. Editorial office
(hah) Is located at the
Science Undergraduate
Society, Chemt&tty
B160* All tights
Here's the legal stuff;
"All opinions expressed
Withia v& the personal
opinions of (he Individ*
t*al writer not of the
Aim* Mater Society or
the University of British
. tfyDG'retetewsstsdin
please sat>s»t your aid-
Mac) and include a
pjQO&ead bard copy*
Hease teep your article
words, Drop yma sub-
jxjission off at CHEM
pm, alternate Mondays
between distribution.
For a detailed $tyte
shesfc or fox more safer-
nation, please contact
A funny thing happened to me on the
way to the word
processor... For those of you
who may look forward to
my biweekly column as a
source of good cheer, I'd like
to warn you off. Until
moments ago, I was in a
foul mood, and I didn't care
who knew it.
Usually, my bad temper is
a thing that can be easily
reversed. It only requires a
raven-haired, brown-eyed
cutie to precipitate a period
of positive attitudes. Brown-
eyed cuties, however, are
neither abundant nor at my
disposal, so rehabilitation is
ultimately out of my hands.
The symptoms of an
incoming storm cloud were
all there: laundry piling up
to the ceiling, then
crammed into the closet.
Excessive playing of Cleo
Lane albums. At all hours of
the night!. Using the second-
to-last square of toilet paper,
leaving my roommate with
nine square inches of wipe.
Single ply, too. I planned to
carefully measure out a teaspoon of milk and leaving
just that tiny drop in the
fridge. Oooh, I was out of
How did this start? I don't
know. How does it ever
start? I just woke up one
morning last week with an
attitude. Not a nice thing to
wake up to. Of course, it
beats waking up to Rosanne
Arnold, or just plain
Rosanne as she wants to be
called. Nevertheless, I showered with that attitude, and
the water temperature was
all wrong. I ate breakfast
with it, and the cereal was
soggy. My waffles were quite
ruined by the global threat
known as 'toast dew' and
the attitude was there to
laugh in my face. You get
the picture. "Ah," my conscience told me, "you're just
in a snit. Things aren't all
that bad: it's merely your
imagination. After all, it's
not like there's a conspiracy
out to get you by dewing
your waffles."
As you can see, my conscience is quite rational. But
fairly stupid. But my imagination felt that the above
accusation was unwarranted
and demanded an apology
from my conscience. The
disagreements between one
or another of my personality traits can drag on for
days, so I left them to work
things out on their own.
I went out and acted
I snapped at friends,
roommates, and the news
casters on TV. I scowled at
people on the SeaBus. I
returned an undercooked
burger at Red Robin. I
watched a big crow swipe a
bug out of the mouth of a
sparrow, and did nothing to
interfere. I was downright
ornery. Just when my parents were telling me that I
would never meet a nice
young girl and settle down
and have grandchildren for
them, I realized that I had to
do something to curb this
was of recalcitrance. If for
no other reason than to fool
my folks into thinking that
grandchildren were just
around the corner. I needed
Failing to have any sway
over raven-haired beauties, I
am reduced to two other
possible cures: food, and
shopping. Now, I had spend
most of the week running
around, trying to get forced
into full class sections, finding labs from cryptic campus maps, and lining up at
the bookstore to buy overpriced texts and Bic pens at
a king's ransom. My
chequing balance was considerably less than my shoe
size (and I have small feet).
So food was the only option
First, I nabbed some leftover burger patties from the
SUS BBQ. Next, I went forth
acquired myself some charcoal to cook on. Then I
pigged out on the best batch
of yum-yums I've had in
years. Bavarian smoMes,
salmon, steeeeeak! By the
end of the week, I was the
best-fed cantankerous-
mean-old-bastard you could
find anywhere. Jackie
Gleason, eat your heart out.
(with HP sauce) This cornucopia of charred delights did
nothing to assuage what
seemed to be a simple
testosterone overdose, and
just when I decided to
aCCs^t ttip fart tVsnt HrrwAm-
eyed cuties had gone
extinct, the unexpected
A raven-haired brown-
eyed cutie asked me for my
phone number.
My, the clouds look especially... fluffy today, don't
Graeme has been cursed
with a personal weirdness field
that warps the laws of reality
within a ten foot radius. You
have been warned.
<^&*«^U~ g)/?7V
Residence food.
Rate of pay is $6.00/hr
Applicants will be working the
Science Council Elections
Please see Jesse in CHEM 160
before Monday, October 3.
POLL CLERKS. Science One
A New Age in S.ports
Hang on to your seats,
folks, because I'm
about to break a fundamental law of The 432,
this article will actually be
informative. So for all of
those with queasy stomachs
and delicate sensibilities,
you better go on to the next
article. For those who are
brave (or stupid) enough to
venture on, then by all
means do so. You might
actually (gasp) learn something.
There's something about
the educational system that
really bugs me. Throughout
my education, I along with
just about every other student in the world, wondered
why I was learning the stuff
I was in school when I had
no idea when I would use it.
"Science" to me was just a
bit of useless facts and weird
equations that were independent of each other and
had nothing to do with the
world I live in. "Math" was
just another form of torture
that never made it to
Alcatraz. With my high
school graduation from one
prison to another, I resigned
myself to another four years
or so of learning useless
facts I would never use
again. I mean, Science is
Science, right? Even though
I am officially registered in
the Faculty of Science, I really have no great affinity for
the subject. You see, unlike
some lucky ones whose
strengths and weaknesses
are already well-defined, I'm
just living in limbo. I feel
like a mongrel amongst
purebreda whenever I'm
around "Science" people or
"Arts" people. I'm actually a
mixture of Arts, Commerce
and Science. Please don't
stone me! I know I've just
committed another heinous
crime by not being a science
fanatic, but hey, that's just
the way I am.
So there I was, on the
verge of crossing one of the
major thresholds of my life,
and I couldn't even decide
on the faculty I wanted to
go into, let alone any area or
major. To be honest, by this
time I wasn't even sure if I
wanted to be at UBC. What
was the point in learning
more useless facts in impersonal and formidable classrooms? I was assailed with
rumours and nightmares
about campus life (engineers
always seemed to be in most
of them) I wasn't especially
excited about venturing into
an unknown world when I
wasn't sure what I was going
to get out of it.
But then a funny thing
happened. You know that
great program over at Arts.
The one they hid from
everyone else because they
didn't want to share the
wealth? Science finally got
around to catching up with
Arts One, and created
Science One. From their
"An alternative first-year
program with an interdisciplinary method of teaching, in a
community of learners"
As you can see, I have no
life and actually read the
brochure. (Confession time,
my third sin was to seriously
consider the Arts One, but
they tried to force me to
choose between Fine Arts
and Humanities, so I
rebelled and went to
Science. At least in Science
One they stuck all three
major sciences plus math
So now I'll tell you a bit
about my first week at UBC,
made bearable because of
Science One.
On the first day of classes,
while former classmates
were busy getting lost, I
went up to the Science One
classroom (only one for all
four classes). I was then
directed to the music hall,
where I and the other 64
classmates listened to a lecture by Dr. David Suzuki.
Oust a note about Dr. Suzuki
- he's intense, inspiring,
passionate about his work,
and he swears a lot, which
really surprised me since I
faithfully followed his PBS
specials and don't recall him
saying anything offensive.)
On the second day,
instead of being stuck in
big, impersonal lecture
halls, our math class went to
ride bikes at Spanish Banks
to study calculus (points of
inflection and all that) I ask,
did you get to do that? I
think not.
On the third day, we all
went to a party at Julyet's
house. I can't seem to
remember her last name or
position, so I should be ok
printing her name.
Anonymity has its virtues.
But in Science One, the
class is so small and you see
each other day in and day
out, so you tend to develop
a certain rapport with other
classmates you normally
wouldn't get. And finding
professors and TA's is as
simple as going to the
Science One Office.
Science One is great. I
might tell you more, if I
don't get arrested for the
crimes I've committed,
beaned by an irate reader,
and if I survive those
monthly mid-terms. Until
minyee@unixg.ubc.ca is a
mythical columnist invented
by the Devilbunnies. No one
knows who minyee actually is.
It could be you.
Matt Wlggin	
In a unanimous vote by
the WVTF (World Virtual
Triathlon Federation),
Vancouver has been awarded the first ever World
Championships in the
sport, scheduled for
September, 1995. Perhaps
the biggest surprise in the
decision is that the City of
Vancouver never made an
official bid for the race.
When asked about this,
Vancouver Mayor Philip
Owen's response was cautious, "All I want to say is
some stationary with City of
Vancouver letterhead on it
went missing last month.
Any fraud would never be
supported by City Council"
When informed of the city's
victory, Owen hastily added,
"Damn. Well, I guess we
have to do it now. Can't let
Toronto have another
Virtual triathlons is a new
sport, invented after the
early success of the VR technology pioneered by the US
military in the early 1980's.
It contains the same three
events as a regular triathlon,
with the major difference
that virtual triathlons are
held completely indoors.
Competitors don a virtual
reality helmet, and then do
the equivalent legs of a regular triathlon - swimming in
a wave pool, riding stationary bikes followed with a
run on treadmills. This
ensures the VR triathlon is
as difficult as the real thing.
Still in its infancy, virtual
triathlons was invented only
8 months ago by Boone
Danielson, a Canadian
triathlete, currently president, and to date, the only
official member of the
WVTF. He claims to have
invented it because, as he
put it, "Unless it's a really
hot day in the middle of
Virtual Triathletes	
Continued on page 8
By donating to the 1994 United Way
Campaign, you'll be ftelping focal charities with a number of worthy projects.
Plus, you can get a bunch of really tool
posters, for your room or your friends.
Donations ca» ko made at the Science
Undergraduate Society, CHEM 160*
AMS Tutoring Service invites applications from undergraduate and graduate
students for part-time positions as AMS Tutors. You will work with first year
students on a drop-in basis in core subjects.
AMS Tutoring Service is an education project of the Alma Mater Society and
is partially funded by the Teaching and Learning Enhancement Fund of UBC.
• Excellent knowledge of one or more 1st. year subjects such as
Math, Physics, Economics, Chemistry, Biology, English (composition) and French.
• Good communication and interpersonal skills.
• Ability to convey subject knowledge effectively.
• Ability *o work under minimal direction.
• Previous experience helpful, but not essential.
• Registered as a UBC student for the 1994/95 academic year.
Hours of work will vary, including evenings and weekends. The wage is $9.00
per hour to a maximum of 8 hours per week. The successful applicants must
agree to work the full term, including exam periods.
Please submit resume, including a copy of your transcript and class schedule,
to Director, AMS Tutoring Service, Room 249D, Student Union Building, by
October 7, 1994. Nerd Alert! Shields up, Mr. Spock!
Carin van Zyl
Believe me when I say
that I am, despite all
that transpired, still a
devoted, adoring Trekkie. It
would take a lot to shake
the faith of this Enterprise
addict, but I can, however,
pinpoint the exact moment
when I became disillusioned
with my special species, and
it wasn't when the full-scale
model of a Romulan
Warbird dropped from the
ceiling over my bed and
smoked me in the face while
I was recovering from Pit
It all began the night I
was raving about Data in
the episode The Mask, and
those cheesy plugs for the
next Star Trek convention
came on. You can imagine
the unadulterated joy that
gripped me when they
announced that Brent
Spiner, the actor playing
Data, a.k.a. My Hero and The
Sexiest Android Alive, was to
be the star attraction. To
the immense disgust of my
friends, I was actually
moved to tears of elation (I
kid you not) by the prospect
of meeting my idol face to
tace. Concerns about articulating my adoration
between drooling and
slavering aside, I bought the
ticket the next day.
I quivered with anticipation that lovely July morning and I didn't even mind
that I had to get up early in
order to line up for a good
seat, and that the only coffee left in my spartan cupboard was decaf (and what
really is the point of that
cruel joke, coffee with no
caffeine?). I got off the 246
bus downtown and trotted
happily to the Regency
Hotel, eager to commune
with others like me, those
united by the common,
noble bond of appreciation
for sound entertainment,
creative sci-fi and great
aliens. Yea, today I would
feel like I belonged somewhere, with my penchant
for Star Fleet communicators that twitter authentically when touched, and a
burning desire to find a
respectable Bajoran nasal
prosthesis (the tacky ones
don't match the color of
your skin, or extend up too
far on your forehead, and
I'm told Bajorans find this a
major genetic defect. It's
akin to that mysterious one
that compels millions to
watch 90210 when Deep
Space Nine is on).
The first clue that this
conference was not to be
the Mecca of sophisticated,
discriminating Terrans of
taste was the silly piece of
fluff wearing a polyester
Next Generation command
uniform, with really bad
piping, and a disconcerting
gap between the bottom of
the jersey and the belt of
the pants. She was standing
in front of me, and was
spewing out this unbelievable drivel about the
Cardassians and the
Romulans having a secret
alliance, when any Trekkie
worth his salt knows that
it's the Klingons and
Romulans up to their inter-
galactic tricks. I ignored
this particular disgrace, but
it became more difficult
when the conference started
with a weird music video
tribute to Chekov, followed
by an auction where some
cheaply becostumed crazed
fan paid $200 for a tacky
denim jacket with DS9 on
the back. Really, the two
hundred smackers would
have been put to better use
toward the purchase of a
couple flats of Prozac. The
coup de grace came during
the trivia contest when 1
realized that the people I
believed to be my brethren
were, in fact, a legion of
sniveling, obsessive, shameless, tasteless techno-babble
geeks with no more dignity
and honor than the traitor-
Science? We'll get you for this, you hear? We'll get you I
100% rebates
for any team
able to win
ous Duras sisters, Lursa and
B'tor (who really should,
incidentally, look in to a
more conservative neckline.
I am as comfortable with
female anatomy as the next
guy, but we're talking formidable cleavage here).
I was speechless, and my
friends will attest to the fact
that this is indeed rare.
Atom by atom, my fierce
defense of the group I was
proud to be part of was
falling apart, and for a horrifying few minutes, I saw
Trekkies as everyone else
saw us: hopeless, genetically disadvantaged dorks with
way too much time on their
hands. I just about tossed
my Klingon hgragh cookies
when a reedy, rather
unkempt girl leapt to her
feet in a state of great agitation and corrected the not-
so-suave host on an obscure
detail involving the exact
layout of the engineering
plasma conduits of the
Enterprise. Now, I'm no slob
when it comes to meaningless Trek trivia, but this was
unreal. The only thing that
kept me from reeling and
staggering out of that conference in complete dismay
was the arrival of Mr.
Lucky for you, I don't
think I have the words to
escribe the ecstasy of seeing him up close and personal, and I wouldn't want
to debase the only good
thing about that day by
even trying. Suffice it to say
that I left the conference
delirious with delight, tempered only by the distressing realization that perhaps
my brothers and sisters of
Trekdom were not the pillars of coolness I believed
them to be.
I wish to make it quite
clear that I don't intend on
changing loyalties just yet,
and this candid article
should in no way be construed as an admission of
the commonly-held opinion
that we need a collective
lobotomy. I still plan to
champion the rights and
recognition of downtrodden
and outvoted Trekkies
everywhere. It's just that it
hadn't dawned on me that
the "where no-one has gone
before" part might have
meant the hitherto unsuspected vast wastes of nerd-
dom. In the meantime, I've
got to fix my newly
acquired working facsimile
of a tricorder I got at the
convention dealer room....
Carin may be one of those
brave souls who actually
admit in public that they love
Star Trek, even at parties and
other social events. Or she's
completely raving mad. Take
your pick. Council Elections 1994.
For Election.     No Contest.
Messages from the Candidates.
First Year (2 positions)
Susan Mao
Eloise Jillings
Warrick Yu
Alexandra Gosden
Fahreen Dossa
Selena Billesberger
Donatella Ciampi
Michelle McLeod
Natalie Kondor
Marvinne Braun
Carolynn Stevenson
General Officer (4 positions)
Talieh Shahrokhi
Gwendolin Valentic
Farshad Abasi
AH Behmard
Science One (1 position)
Guy Davis
Trity Pourbahrami
James Li
Computer Science
Jason Holmes
General Science
Dianna Kyles
Mike Papageorge
Jamieson Chan-Clark
Kamran Kheirani
Orin Del Vecchio
Tessa Moon
Social Coordinator
Dave Khan
Party!!! Now that I
have your attention, I
can tell you about
myself. My name is
Donatelli Ciampi, and
I'm running for First Year
Rep. I'm an energetic and
outgoing person so I can
definitely get the job
done. Vote for me and
your year will definitely
be one big party!
If you want a dedicated, responsible, and
highly motivated individual to represent you,
then voting for Talieh
Shahrohki for General
Officer is the best choice.
Qualifications include
University Transfer Rep
at Langara, Math and
Science Rep at the King
Edward Campus,
Executive Officer of clubs
through high school, and
I'm friendly, easygoing,
and very hardworking.
Hi. My name is
Carolynn Stevenson. I'm
running for Biology Rep.
As Biology Rep I can get
you... free pizzas delivered during lectures,
cheaper bzzr, and more
bzzr gardens. I've ahead
infiltrated the EUS, any
ideas? Revenge? Do you
want Biology Co-op,
more career speakers, a
ban on montone profs,
(whatever you can think
of) - then vote for me!
Hi, my name is Eloise
Jillings, and I'm running
for first year science rep.
Come out and vote,
(hopefully for me)
because as your rep I'm
going to try and get more
things for first years to
do without being id.
Thanks. Have a great year
I've been told that I
don't have to funny,
entertaining, or even
somewhat amusing
which is good because I
suck at that stuff. I'm
Dianna Kyles. I'm your
General Science Rep, and
didn't even have to campaign. Pretty good, huh?
Hi, we are UBC's
(A.L.I.)2 Great spirits
have always encountered
violent opposition from
mediocre minds. So go
crazy and vote for us,
because if you don't you
either die in sleep or
Well, wouldn't you
know - as yet another
SUS campaign rises to
meet your hungry eyes!
Yep, I'm running for SUS
Council 1st year rep. I
don't make promises that
I can't keep, but I can say
my ideas include fun,
your input, your involvement, your opinions, and
more fun.
So choose this lean,
mean, 1st year rep
machine and vote
Come on out and vote for the following:
□ Elvis
Q| R. Feynman
□ A. Einstein
£ Bigfoot
POLLS OPEN 11:30-2:30 The Drawers of SUS.
Important Notice!
Bella Carvalho
Yeah, right...
The Drawers of SUS is
an area of the paper
meant to inform
Science students what the
heck the SUS Council and
Executive are doing with
your ten dollars.
Unfortunately, lots of
people complain that it isn't
nearly as funny as the rest
of the paper.
It's not meant to be
funny. Finance, sports, and
the AMS just aren't subjects
you can easily amuse people
with. We've tried, trust me.
So, I'd like to hear some
suggestions from you, loyal
and intelligent reader (note
the blatant play for your ego
here). What do you want to
see? How do you want it
presented? Do you care? Let
me know, ok? Or I'll keep
on presenting the same budget over and over until you
can't take it any longer.
Director of Sports
Well, it's once again time to sign up for Day of the
Longboat, which will take place on the 21st and
22nd of October (Friday and Saturday).
Registration deadline is Wednesday, October 12th. The deadline to sign up for the clinics is Friday, October 14th and
they run from the 14th to the 16th.
Also, in case you haven't yet seen the posters, SUS is offering a 100%, yes that's 100%, rebate for the science team who
manages to win the Intramural Triple Crown! Just come in
first in all three of the special events (Arts '20, Longboat and
Storm the Wall). Last year, this prestigious title was won by
the Medicine Men (obviously not a Science team), and this
year I'm hoping Science can prove that we truly are the best
in Sports.
Other deadlines coming up in the next two weeks are:
Mad Melvin's Mountain Bike Challenge (Oct. 5) and Hash
House Harrier Mystery Run I (Oct. 19).
Also, there are some drop-in activities provided free by
Intramural Sports. Most Fridays there are noon runs,
Tuesday nights there's V-ball and B-ball and Wednesday
nights there's Badminton and Table Tennis. Something for
Bella may be one of the best Science athletes to be Director of
Sports over the last twenty years. She can run a hundred miles
without even breaking a sweat. Jump tall buildings in a single
bound, and all that super-hero stuff Says a lot about the rest of
Science, doesn't it?
Tracy MacKinnon
Public Relations Officer
Congratulations to the multitudes of students who feel
that a petty two day break in February was not
enough. It's been decided by Senate that we deserve a
full week in which to have our nervous breakdowns and
anxiety attacks. That's right, a full week in February, but
unfortunately it won't go in effect until the 1995-96 academic year.
The ninety-seven resolutions of the Committee for
Organizational Review and Planning (CORP) were passed by
AMS Council a few weeks ago. This will entail major restructuring of your Alma Mater Society. New some positions
which were previously volunteer will be remunerated. In
addition, the structures of the AMS Executive, SAC and AMS
committees Will drastically change.
The United Way Campaign is officially on. You might
have already seen the cool poster you will get with a donation to the United Way - well, you can make donations in
CHEM 160, for which you will get a poster. So come by and
support the United Way.
Finally, there will be a Student Leadership Conference in
Whistler on October 21-23, so if you want more details or if
you're interested in being sent on behalf of SUS, please come
see me.
Tracy is well-known in SUS for her incredible rages against
anyone who spells her name with a Mc rather than a Mac.
Speaking for all the Mc's out there, phhhhtttt!
SUS Budget.
Lynn van Rhijn
Director of Finance
It's amazing how many people become your friend when
you get the keys to the vault. I'm not just talking about
having cash available for general use when I'm at work,
but the whole shebang: combinations, security pass and
keys. My travel agent has actually asked if I wanted to elope
with him (providing, of course, he is allowed to take his
wife, three children and the family dog. No lie.). In the
meantime, here I sit in SUS trying to balance the books. I say
trying because I really don't have any records to reconcile
thanks to the wonderful world of technology. Those of you
dealing with the AMS business office will know what I am
talking about. The good news is that we had a carry over of
funds from fiscal '94. The following is a copy of the 94-95
budget submitted to the AMS.
1. Prior fiscal carry over is actually 6600.00
2. This constitutes the $10 each of you fork
over to us. Thanks.
3. Lost pennies
4. Three telephone lines @ $30.00/month
5. Including housekeeping supplies, etc.
6. This is where you get to eat free food on
the house.
7. Bzzr Gardens. Need I say more?
8. SUS renovations, new furniture, other
special purchases not otherwise classified.
9. Rebates for Science sports teams in intramurals.
10. The 432. 'Nuff said.
11. Misc. photocopying at the Dean's office.
12. Fundings for student leadership conferences, etc.
13. Promotion and advertising.
14. Publication of The Guide.
15. I'm not sure what this is, but if we have
it, you didn't hear if from me.
In addition to her other duties, Lynn is also responsible
for the Canadian national debt, plus the World Bank. All
of this for a person only halfway through a Bachelor's
Degree. Impressive, eh?
Budget 94/95
Prior Fiscal YearW
Student Fees(2)
Pop Machine
Budget 94/95
Office Supplies(5)
Pop Machine/Pop
Academic Entertainment
Computing/Laser Printer
Open Housed)
Elections Expenses
Club Grants
Social (net)(7)
Science Week (net)
Special Projects^)
' 200.00
Public Relations
Summer Mail-outX14)
Interfaculty Relations^5)
Martin Fruaendorf Memorial Bursary
First Year Committee Grant
Net Surplus
3,780.00 A Strange
Phil Ledwith	
And so, once again, the mighty UBC engine has come
wheezing and sputtering into life for one last (please
God, let it be the last) year for me. By now, all the
familiar hallmarks of student life have made themselves
apparent. From our new batch of first year hopefuls, still
naively trying to find their TA's office in the expectation
that he will actually be there, to the returning once again
fourth year students, still hungover from the Pit Night they
swore they would never again attend. Our lecture halls teem
with vibrant pulsing life. The cafeterias have dug into the
trash cans to gtace our plates with culinary delights.
Residence is still the same thing as living in a shoebox.
Campus cowboys still can't do much more than ticket stationary cars. And of course, that one great bond that unites
us all, that shining symbol of our beloved buerocracy, the
UBC Telereg system.
You may find this difficult to believe, but over the years I
have developed something which I can only try in these few
words to describe for this dear and blessed institution. To
begin with, I had thought that it was something of a boyhood crush; I am after all British, and in the British public
schools girls are something of a fiction that we rarely see
until "Getting outside" . The deep and sonorous yet somehow nasal tones of the male figure on Telereg that I heard
over the phone were reminiscent to my troubled mind of an
old, but much-cared for gym instructor with a bad cold.
Then I found a girlfriend and I knew that my clandestine
phone relationship was not meant to be. The angels would
never sing for us as the object of my affections informed me
for the thirty second time that all the lab sections were full
for first year chemistry. Things cooled for a while, but In
recent weeks I have felt a rekindling of this old and cherished flame, still smoldering in the depths of my memory.
It's the time we spend together that makes these moments
so precious, you see. Even my wife does not speak to me
with the same frequency, (sorry, dear) Day in, day out, hour
after hour we talk. I would not hesitate to concede that from
time to time the conversation gets a little repetitious, and I
have admittedly resorted to the occasional expletive while
attempting to explain once again the necessity of being in
the first term component of a second term course that he
refuses to deregister me from.
But I am told that we all have our little ways, and if from
time to time my unseen companion wishes to repeat the
phrase "I am sorry, you are not eligible to register in that
course" for two or three times, or even for seventeen or eighteen times, then who am I to complain? Even when I
attempt to register for a course that I know has been full
every day for the last three weeks, still I am greeted in the
same even tones. Such consistency is hard to find in our
ever-changing world. But then, by now there can be very few
of you who have not been exposed to the culinary miracle of
Pie R Squared pizza, so you will understand what I'm talking
As a final note on the subject of consistency, I would like
to take the opportunity to advise against taking a walk in the
Endowment Lands at this time of year. Summer time, without any rain is a better time for peaceful walks through the
bush. If you do go, please be careful. Take precautions. That
is, don't go without at the very least chest waders, an
umbrella, guide ropes, and several tons of sonar equipment.
The latter of these items is perhaps the most useful, as it can
be used to give advance warning of "trail bikers", who reach
rather alarming speeds while attempting to restructure the
ground into something more amphibious. If it is peace and
nature you are seeking, try the Main Library instead. There
are whole floors which have not seen a single human face in
centuries. Speaking of which, there is an urgent need building in me to complete the assignments I have due the day
after tomorrow, and so fulfill the promise I made to the
Associate Dean earlier this year. Goodbye.
And if you see my wife, tell her I'll should be home for the
weekend, would you? I've still got some courses to register
for. '
/ can't figure Phil out. He's under the mistaken impression that
Telereg is a man. A man that Phil seems to be harbouring some
affection for. Add to that mix the fact he's British, and the only
answer seems to be that Phil Needs Help. Mrs. Ledwith, if you
read this, please increase your husband's daily dose of Valium.
And consider seeking some professional help for Phil's problems.
Carlee Price
Today is Monday. But
more importantly,
today is also Laundry
Day. Laundry has become
an institution, especially for
today's student, that quite
often inspires Monday-like
fear and dread. It's like
homework. You put it off
(wouldn't life be grand if we
could put Monday on hold)
as long as possible. It's
amazing what laundry-laziness (or laundry fear in
some cases) leads us to do.
For some, the idea of having to pay for the chore is
enough to put it off. After
all, for so many delightful
years of living at home,
there was free and nearly
effortless laundry. Suddenly,
we were faced with those
horrible quarter-swallowing,
do-it-yourself machines in
residence or the local
Laundromat. It's like them
asking us to take on all the
housework. No one would
ever pay for the honor of
scrubbing toilets.
First you have to collect
the dirty clothes from the
nether regions of your
room, sort the stuff (you
only have to create one
batch of pink T-shirts to
learn the value of this skill)
and haul it to the nearest
washing facility. From this
the bathroom-sink approach
developed, which is not
only free but suitable for
emergency single-item
washings as well. So long as
you don't mind clumps of
undissolved laundry detergent in your collar (none of
us are quite as thorough as
those high-tech machines,
Hand washing is the solution for those who can't
operate a washing machine,
as well, which is the most
fundamental fear and the
largest reason for laundry-
procrastination. You've
gotta pick wash cycle, water
temperature, water level,
and then there's the whole
fabric softener vs. dryer
sheet debate. Some university courses require less
thought than this.
So why do laundry, other
than the basic hygiene question? Because there's nothing better than having fresh-
smelling, soft and fluffy
jeans/sweaters/socks to greet
you in the morning. A basket full of laundered-and-
sorted socks means you can
focus on other things
besides laundry-aversion for
at least a week. Until next
Carlee may or may not be
in Science. I can never remember anything except that she
took first-year Biology.
And Gold C Books
at Prices so low, we're
not allowed to
advertise them!
Science Undergrad
ARE COMING! The clocks!
Will they
ever st
Jay Garcia
UBC has an inordinate
number of identical,
white-faced, black
handed clocks. I first began
to notice this fact as I stood
in line this summer, waiting
for an audience with He
Who Might Be Helpful, one
of the many faculty advisors
from whom I was seeking to
cull favour. As I languished
in that hallway under the
enervating yellow light
(more on that some other
time), I heard the strangest
grinding above me. It was
an annoyingly reedy "click",
immediately followed by a
heftier "ka-chunk!". The
clock, I muttered to myself
(an unfortunate habit which
remains uncured despite
many, many whacks to the
head by various acquaintances throughout the
years). I studiously tried to
ignore it, instead focusing
my attention on my moving
and heart-rending speech
which would no doubt win
the sympathy of He Who
Might Be Helpful. But the
noise of the clock was incessant and could not be
ignored. Each ominous
click and ka-thunk would
reverberate through the
hall, reminding all those
trapped within that the
minutes were slipping by,
that time, and, indeed, life
was passing us by. Minute
by minute, the noise ground
into me, and I found myself
having difficulty in concentrating. Needless to say, I
was so vexed by this that
the delivery of my speech
was far from exemplary, and
the reaction of He Who
Might Be Helpful was not
the one I had expected (and
decidedly unhelpful, though
I've been told by others that
have survived similar
ordeals that was to be
expected). Another time,
some few weeks later, after
classes had begun for the
fall, I found myself in the
cavernous expanse that is
Hebb Theatre taking Physics
101. The lecture, like so
many that I had attended
(and like many that I will
still be taking, long after the
government has decided to
recall my student loan for
surpassing the National
Debt, long after my parents
have stopped nagging me to
quit churning out this infernal drivel at all hours of the
night) was academian in the
extreme; that is to say,
somewhat dry and informative and extremely disorienting. It was in this frame
of mind that I experienced
my second revelation as I
•      •
stepped out into the lobby.
As other students brushed
their way past me, out into
the bright sunshine, the
clocks above each door were
quietly, busily, rushing forward through time, their
minute hands sweeping past
the black, obscure numerals
in quick arcs, a motion
resembling that of somewhat laggard airplane propellers, while the hour hand
steadily incremented, until
finally, they both came to
rest at the four o'clock position. And it was noon at
that time. These two revelations, taken together,
prompted me to take better
heed of the clocks at UBC.
I've found that many of
them, are either too fast, or
too slow, or simply not at
the right time (for some reason, the four o'clock position seems a popular one for
many an hour and minute
hand to get stuck in). I
would have dismissed the
entire process as yet another
bungle on behalf of the
Physical Plant, had it not
been for the unusual... suitability of these individual
errors with respect to their
settings. I mean, it's a terrible coincidence that the
heavy ticking of the clocks
distracts those poor souls
attending on the pleasure of
those like He Who Might Be
Helpful. It's a terrible coincidence that the disorientation of a lecture is further
heightened by the clock's
strange behaviour. In fact,
it is the most unfortunate
coincidence that these
occurrences aggravate situation which, by themselves,
might be considered
innocuous. So go ahead.
Chalk it all up to bizarre
coincidence. But I've
noticed that the clocks have
an unusual tendency (or at
least, a more than unusual
tendency) to speed up and
slow down as I pass by
them. Some of them spin
their hands so fast that they
threaten to fall off their fastenings. So I've taken steps
to insure my own safety.
My paths don't cross those
of the clocks anymore.   I'm
always on the lookout. So I
should be safe. Still, my
clock radio has been acting
kind of funny lately...
Amazingly enough, Jay has
never be late to anything in his
life. He's one of those keeners
who show up to class at least
ten minutes early and always
sits right down in front.
We're trying to get him
some help...
AMS Tutoring Service invites applications from well-qualified undergraduate and graduate
students for the part-time position of Assistant Director, AMS Tutoring Service.
AMS Tutoring Service is an education project of the Alma Mater Society and is partially
funded by the Teaching and Learning Enhancement Fund of UBC.
• Assisting in the advertising, interviewing and selection of tutors.
• Advertising tutoring sessions.
• Scheduling and supervising tutors and tutoring sessions.
• Maintaining payroll and program records.
• Organizing training workshops.
• Preparing program evaluation reports.
• Demonstrating ability to perform administrative and supervisory functions.
• Previous tutoring experience.
• Excellent communication and interpersonal skills.
• Ability to use database and word processing computer applications.
• Ability to work under minimal direction.
• Registered as a UBC student for the 1994/95 academic: year.
Hours of work will vary, including evenings and weekends. The wage is $9.73 per hour to
a maximum of 10 hours per week. The successful applicant must agree: to work the full
term, including exam periods.
Please submit resume, including a copy of your class schedule, to Director, AMS Tutoring
Service, Room 249D, Student Union Building, by October 7, 1994.
Introducing a new newsgroup, from the
creators of alt.devilbunnies...*
It's your place to post messages of a
Science-related nature and make your opinions known to SUS executive and your fellow Science students.
Check out ubc.sus for info about upcoming
events in the Science Undergrad Society.
(And maybe, just maybe, you'll find The
Electronic 432. Oooohhhi)
* just joking. No one knows who did it Vaseline.
John Hallett
Today I'd like to talk about a rather amusing topic:
Embarrassment. What's funny about embarrassment
(aside from its spelling, which is a riot in itself) is the
fact that everyone fears it like the plague, unless it happens
to someone else. I myself can't quite understand this little
quirk in human nature that allows people to instinctually
avoid the emotional equivalent of being burnt alive while at
the same time allows us to seek out and exploit any opportunity to put our dear friends through it. This fact brings an
ancient saying to mind: "Never trust a friend if you can see a
pole-axe over his shoulder." What am I trying to say, you
might ask. Just never trust anyone more than you would
trust a used car salesman. '
Now, if you ask: "Why not trust a used car salesman?" Just
look in your'driveway and you will understand. Now if you
ask: "What's wrong with my '72 Dodge with rare Ferrous Oxide
Highlights?" Just kill yourself, it'll be easier that way.
Back to embarrassment. If one is subjected to embarrassment in sufficiently large portions, I have come to the conclusion that death is preferable. Let me give you an example:
Last year during my campaign for Social Coordinator, my
PR guy gave me the idea that if I held a press conference
from the balcony of that old run-down barn on the south
side of campus, it would improve my chances. "Great idea,"
I thought.
The first problem arose less than two minutes before I
would emerge onto the balcony. I got rather nervous about
saying something stupid in front of the hordes. So I leaned
on a railing for support; it broke, I fell. The worst part is that
my shirt became entangled on the railing and didn't fall. Or
maybe the worst part was that I landed in a large pile of cow
manure, I can't decide. In order to get back up to the balcony and continue as scheduled, I took off my remaining
clothing and tied them together in order to form a rope
which I would use climb back up.
When I was almost halfway up a chicken landed on the
beam above me and began to peck at my looped clothing. In
a desperate attempt to save myself from another unfortunate
experience in the manure, I began to shout stuff like "So you
wanna peck it, eh? Come here and I'll show you how to really peck something!"
Once again, this would have been a good plan had the
press corps not heard me and come to see what all the
excitement was. I have no idea what they possibly thought I
might have been doing chasing a scared chicken up a rope in
the nude with manure smeared on me, but they thought it
was worth taking pictures of.
And that concludes my most embarrassing moment.
Unless, of course, you want to talk about what I've done to
other people, -cinsert satanic laugh hero You see, the most
important part in constructing a fatally embarrassing event
is the selection of the proper victim. In my case, this was
easy. I happened to know several easily embarrassed folk living in Totem. The next stage was the set up: All I needed was
several jugs of Vaseline, which was readily available at my
local pharmacy.
After only a slight bit of embarrassment for myself at said
pharmacy, I proceeded directly to Totem. Using my recently
created Totem Master Key, I gained access to a certain building around 2 AM and positioned my tubs o' lubricant over
top of my dear friend's bed in such a manner that even a
slight touch would cause it to tumble.
At this point I feel it necessary to provide some background information on my victim. After living in Totem for
only a short time, she had gained quite a... uh... reputation
after spending the majority of one alcohol-filled night asking
every male she came into contact with if he would rather
have watermelon jello or sex with her. 'Nuff said.
Anyway, now came the fun part. All I needed to dump
petroleum by-product all over her was a slight disturbance.
"How to create a slight disturbance?" I wondered as my gaze
drifted over a fire alarm. With that problem solved, all that
was left was to wait outside with my Polaroid 40-frame a second camera ready for some very serious memory preserving.
All I can say about it to this day is this : I've never seen such
lovely shades of red.
So, in conclusion, no matter how embarrassed some one
makes you, it will fade in time. Unless, of course, they got
pictures, in which case they'll be sure you never forget.
John Hallett is not a good role model. In fact, we're pretty sure
hell never be a model for anything, unless you want to count that
class over at SFU in Criminology.
We're doing our best to get rid of him. We've tried all the local
mental hospitals, so now we're calling all the zoos. Anyone want
a large-sized maniac? Anyone? Pleeeaaaseee?
"The Timeline to Medicine:
What to do When'
Tuesday, October 04, 1994
12:30 in BIOSCI 2449
If you haven't joined yet,
sign up in our office WOOD G30
Virtual Triathletes
Continued from page 4
July, and you're swimming
in a really warm lake, sometimes it can get sort of
umm... well, cold. I don't
like it when it's cold. I
thought to myself if I could
figure out a way to do
triathlons inside, then I
wouldn't have to go outside.
And that would be great!"
The sport got off to a
weak start June 5 of this
year when, in the first ever
virtual triathlon, all 27 contestants were electrocuted.
Says Danielson, "Who
would have thought the helmets weren't waterproof?
Thank goodness / wasn't
Unable to find a company
that manufactured waterproof helmets, he decided to
design one himself.   The
prototype was a very much
"the same as a regular helmet, with the addition of a
garbage bag sealed around
the victim... I mean... athlete's neck with duct tape."
Says Danielson, "That didn't
work too well. I tried some
modifications such as holes
in the garbage bag so the
athletes could breathe, but
in the end, I had to go out
and invent a unit with a
waterproof case."
As far as Canada's medal
chances go, Danielson is
very optimistic, mostly due
to the fact that Canada has
been the only country not
banned from competition in
the WVTF. When asked
about the bans, he said,
"Well, I did have trouble
coming up with reasons for
excluding some countries.
New Zealand was especially
tough. Eventually we had to
make a rule that countries
entirely surrounded by
water must be up to no
good. It worked out perfectly; that way we got to give
Australia the boot as well,
and they could have been
difficult to beat in the pool
component. We also had to
get rid of England, so we
made a rule that any coun
try that previously ruled an
empire was also ineligible
for competition."
The WVTF has also fomal-
ly requested that the city
build a complex especially
for the triathlon.
Blueprints for the building recently leaked from the
Office of the Mayor include
a special warmup area for
athletes, seating for 25 000,
and a large arena to house
the competitors with a large
area in the centre labelled
"Alligator Pit" that
Danielson refused to comment on. A site has not yet
been chosen, but the arena
will be named Campbell
Place, after the multinational soup company. Critics
have been quick to point
out the possible link
between the corporate sponsor and the area marked
"Alligator Pit".
According to rumour, Matt
has an extensive Wiggin collection and intends to take it
on tour sometime in early
Students of General Science Club
1 st Event
"Career Options in General Science"
Meet the Dean, talk about life
after graduation, eat food, have fun.
All students welcome.
Thursday October 06,1994
BioSci 2449 A Full Moon
Tessa Moon
Everybody knows the
Faculty of Science consists of the most unar-
guably brilliant species of
university life forms. But,
armed as we are with our
analytical minds and far-
reaching insights, we do
manage to perpetrate the
occasional blooper.
"My, for someone who's
supposed to be smart..." -
which of us has not heard
that dreaded sentence,
which reveals to all within
earshot that we have finally
allowed our intelligence to
run ahead of itself? Any student who hasn't heard it by
university age is either lying
or an Arts student.
Students from first year
biology may fondly recall a
particularly good example.
Barely finished his first
Earn extra cosh by becoming
q Physsoc tutor.
For information, or to sign up see
Bonnie Wootten at
Physsoc (HENN 307) or e-mail
(Higher level students preferred.)
■W vi
5:00 - 9:OOPM
"Meet-a-tutor" Session
Thursday, October 6
Hennings 200
12:30 - 1:30pm
(Primarily for 1st and
2nd year physics courses)
degree, trembling before the
horde of rapacious students
who really didn't want to
spend a sunny afternoon in
a biology lab, the hapless TA
had valiantly climbed onto
a tottering stool to reach a
plastic skull resting on the
top shelf of a storage closet.
He grabbed it, pulled, and
screamed as the mandibles
snapped shut on his fingers.
He gamely tried again as
soon as he confirmed that
all digits were still attached
to his hand, but each
attempt only seemed to
strengthen the skull's
resolve to stay on the shelf
and amputate his fingers.
Viciously, he grabbed a
meter stick and shoved one
end under the jawbone. Hiis
intention was obviously to
apply some leverage to the
obstinate skull, while rotating it and easing it out of
the jam with his other
hand. However, as he executed the maneuver (proving he had a good grasp of
physics as well as biology,
like all good science students), his pants — unaccustomed to the lack of tension
in his equator — dropped
gently to the floor.
The class froze for a brief
second while he stood with
his pants heaped inglorious-
ly about his sneakers, then
erupted into polite hiccups
and coughs as the TA gathered up the fragments of his
dignity and skeleton parts
which had fallen during the
fray. Nobody was quite cruel
enough to tell him that he
might have achieved his
laudable goal by simply lifting off the removable top
panel of the shelf.
And then there was the
unlucky student who discovered a bunch of ants in
her drawer of bacterial cultures. Faced with the knowledge that insecticide would
destroy her microbial subjects long before it got the
ants, she devised an ingenious plan for summarily
dispatching the invaders -
she vacuumed them up.
However, after contemplation, she realized that the
ants were probably alive and
well in the machine and still
presented a threat to her
experiment. Accordingly,
she (decided to asphyxiate
them by holding the end of
the vacuum cleaner hose
above an unlit Bunsen burner. Vacuum cleaners have
electrical motors. Electrical
motors give off sparks.
Sparks and inflammable gas
are incompatible. The vacuum cleaner exploded.
Fortunately, nobody was
injured with the exception
of the ants, who are presumed dead (but may only
be missing in action).
Then there was the student who took a sip of
microscope, immersion oil
while carefully placing a
drop of decaf Colombian on
his slide. There's a good reason why food and drink are
banned from the labs.
And the prof who absently dropped a sample bottle
into his goldfish tank, crystals and all, while lecturing
on how any contamination
could kill an organism as
delicate as the goldfish.
The foibles of science are
infrequent reminders that
scientists are as imperfect as
anyone. These little things
make sure vie don't get too
comfortable in our complacency, justified as it is.
By the way, the aforementioned TA ended up as a permanently traumatized street
artist painting pieces called
"Frog Descending Dissection
Pan," He just couldn't hack
teaching a class, I guess.
Luckily, he seems the only
serious casualty. And the
fish aire seem to be doing
Tessa is one of the few survivors of the 1993/94 Ubyssey,
which exploded spectacularly
late last year. The effect of
that trauma are yet to be fully
M7H A GU4& OF "FKeSHty
I'll THIKJ> P". 5i[2ueEiED PweWfi^NT.
SECOND JUICE.    >.   ft
ihe motion- -"■
A typical six hour Council meeting. The Wardrobe That Ate Manhatttan.
It has been brought to my
attention several times that
I own a few too many
clothes. A number of friends
and aquaintances of mine,
as well as people visiting the
house who got lost on the
way to the bathroom and
somehow ended up in the
closet, have produced rather
singular facial expressions
when confronted with my
armoire. After a few deep
breaths and a nip of brandy,
they're usually coherent
enough to voice their findings.
Nonsense, I usually
counter; everyone has their
passions, so what's the matter
with having a varied and colorful wardrobe?
Nothing, they invariably
reply. This, however, they
exclaim while pointing at
the linen leviathan before
them, is not a passion. This is
a concerted attempt to acquire
every piece of fabric in the
Western world. Gawd, there's
more cotton in here than in the
entire state of Louisiana.
What'd you do, hijack a truck
or something?
And so forth. It's funny,
actually; I never really
noticed the buildup until
people started pointing it
out to me. I've always liked
clothes (in much the same
way, I suppose, as fish 'like'
water), and I've never been
bashful about spending a
healthy portion of my savings on them. It's just
recently that I've begun to
consider my collection...
well, to put it politely, complete.
Of course, I didn't notice
this all on my own. Besides
the invaluable observations
of my colleagues which I've
mentioned above, there are
one or two other little
points which tend to really
drive it home.
There is, first of all, the
logistics involved in putting
the things somewhere. As
you know, clothes command a fair amount of closet space; they're not the
kind of thing you can stack
out back by the woodpile.
Which, I suppose, is why I
have a closet that looks like
it might have been a separate bedroom before we
moved in -1 haven't seen
too many closets with windows in them, for example.
It's nice to have that kind of
space to work with, but I
think I'll have to keep my
eye on it; I have a sneaking
suspicion that my roommates are eyeing it up to
build a bowling alley in
As telltale signs of
wretched excess go, though,
the Pacific Closetseum sort
of pales in comparison to
the rather awesome spectre
that we like to call "Mt.
Laundry," or simply "Mont
The problem with having
too many clothes is that you
get lazy. Instead of wearing
a few articles of clothing
and then promptly washing
them, you just keep on digging other things to wear
out of the closet.
Consequently, nothing gets
washed for three weeks, at
the end of which you're
faced with a pile of cloth
that more or less resembles
the North Face of the Eiger.
Naturally, the only way to
deal with this behemoth is
to find yourself a few good
sherpas, several metric tons
of Tide and launch an all-
out assault on the summit.
A skilled laundry washer can
usually establish a workable
base camp up around the
900-metre mark within a
few days, and barring accidents, the peak can be conquered from there in a matter of a couple of weeks.
The true workhorse of
this whole operation is, of
course, our washing
machine. The little trooper
never fails to deliver, and
has in fact been decorated
twice for bravery and meritorious service above and
beyond the call of duty.
Occasionally, the Maytag
man comes by to engage in
a little bit of trauma therapy, usually consisting of
playing a few surfing tunes
just to get it in the mood, or
reading the timeless, inspiring tale of The Little Tsunami
That Could. Other than that,
however, our washing
machine comes through in
the clutch better than
Michael Jordan. (Not only
that, but it's better at getting out those tough
ketchup stains, too.)
But that process is just the
half of it. Once the laundry
is actually finished, and the
dryer toddles off to the
fridge for a Gatorade break,
the mental battle begins in
earnest. Allow me to
explain: a stack of laundry
such as the one I've just
described can be expected to
include, oh, about 2.74 million white socks. The interesting part is trying to
match each sock up with its
And thus begins the great
weekly game of White Sock
Concentration, a fast-paced,
challenging game of memory and skill that's fun for the
whole... oh, who am I kidding? It's about as much fun
as a colostomy. You thought
trying to play that game
with 52 playing cards was
tough? Hah. A half hour of
this little exercise, and partial differentiation calculus
just won't be the same men
tal logjam it was before.
There's nothing worse than
picking up that one funny-
looking sock and wondering
a) you didn't just pick up
its partner two minutes ago
in Row 37 at the other end
of the room,
b) its partner isn't here at
all, but is in fact being
washed down with Gatorade
by a certain nameless disgruntled clothes dryer, or
c) this is indeed your
For all of those socks that
end up orphaned at the end,
though, take heart; they can
still serve a variety of household uses. For example, they
make excellent little white
puppets - at this point, all I
need is some fake fur and
about 70 or 80 talented puppeteers, and I think I could
put on a pretty decent production of Cats, full chorus
and all.
And so goes the continuing saga of The Wardrobe
That Ate Manhattan. Oh, by
the way... if you have any
spare moth repellent lying
around, drop it by the
office, will ya?
Roger Watts is one of the
original four Beatles. He's also
legendary for his incredible
ability to get stuff to the editor
at least two days late. The editor, being a novice, usually has
a coronary about this. It's not
actually Rog's fault.


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