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The 432 Mar 14, 1994

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 CONTEST: Correctly identify; the picture in this stereogram, and you could win a cool 432 t-shirt!
Deadline for bringing entries to CHEM 160 is Friday, 1$ Maijch. One entry per customer, please.
SCIENCE
UBC
Events
Women In Science
"The Balance"
Dr. Carol Pollock
Thursday, March M
Anjius Koom 31 ("> 12:30
'Women in Medicine"
Tuesday, March 15
I NSC 6(K«> 12:30
•
"i'ta.slic Surgery"
Dr. Richard Warren
Tuesday, March 22
l;NSC6(K«> 12:30
•
Year I-nd IJBCJ
I riday, March 25
International House'
4:00 - 9:00 pm
•
I rosh Orientation Guides
Needed Aug - Sept
Call Grant ("'228-4933
•
Science One Public Slide
Presentation
Dr. lee Gass 1
(iiid Perception
Thursday, March I
1:00 pm
Bit; SUS Hz/r Garden
Ingredients
this issue includes tons
using it. Burn additional
various combustible
stuffs with it. Stuff it in
stuff, and when you're
done with it, stuff in a
stuff gets changed into
other stuff.
Plus even more stuff.
UBC METEOROLOGISTS
PROBE CHILLY CLIMATE
Raccoon Underworld harbours "prime suspects"
Kevin Phillips Bong
Roving Correspondent
Recently-occurring events at
the University of British
Columbia have incited the university's premier atmospheric
scientists to probe the phenomenon known as "chilly climate" at UBC.
Incredibly, the investigation
has centred not only around
understanding the nature of
the problem itself, but also
around pinpointing its causes,
for which there are already several suspects.
The phenomenon, described
by most faculty, staff and students as "a feeling of insecurity, paranoia and cold toes" has
been rigorously investigated by
a team of meteorologists headed up by the eminent Nobel
laureate, Dr. Ariel Satellite.
According to Dr. Satellite,
one of the factors prompting
the investigation was "a
noticed pattern of atmospheric
anomalies that seemed to center around the campus. That,
and the fact that local pizza
joints began refusing to deliver
out here after sunset. We knew
then that we had a crisis on
our hands."
The scientist went on to
explain: "We first needed to
prove that the chilly climate
indeed existed. Our first clue
about this was the suspicious
buildup of fog that seemed to
periodically occur on campus.
This in itself was not significant, but what was unusual
was the fact that the fog just
seemed to stop dead right at
Blanca Street, and go no further. This was our first hint of
a localized chilly climate at
UBC."
Further investigation among
persons on campus has conclusively shown that the chilly climate is affecting people's lives.
"The fog is a particular nuisance; people keep walking
around and bumping into
things, and then run screaming
,thinking they've been attacked
or knocked down, when really
,they've just run into a telephone pole or something," said
Dr. Satellite.
As for the cause of this phenomenon, Satellite ruled out
any possibility of a more global
environmental concern being
the culprit. "This is a very
localized concern. You don't
see a climate of this sort anywhere else in the Fraser
SCIENCE ATHLETES
CONTINUE TO "WHUP
SOME REALLY, REALLY
SERIOUS BUTT!"
With a stunning 5-0 win last Thursday, the Science Div-
1 hockey team stands poised to finish the season
undefeated; its, record is currently 5-0-1. Past thrashings have included a 7-1 upset of the Fiji Islanders, and another
7-1 thriller over the AUS' Zamboni Zars (sic).
Such exploits are but examples of Science's supremacy in
Intramurals this year. As of January 26, Science women held
down the top spot with 3 078 points (followed by Totem Park
with 2 327), and the Science men dominated with 7 953 points
(followed by the 'geers with 5 033).
Upcoming is the ever-popular Storm the Wall, in which Science
■ is expected to extend its already comfortable margin well into
the range of legend.
Congrats to all Science students who've contributed.
To everyone we've crushed, all gloating aside, remember that
it's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game.
Even so, you can kiss your collective ass goodbye.
Valley... except, maybe, in
some parts of Surrey."
The cause of this effect
seems to be, in the eyes of
researchers, the underworld
crime ring known as the
Raccoon Connection. This on-
campus group has a lengthy
history of trouble with residents and authorities alike, and
a reputation for "unsavory student encounters."
It is believed that the
masked bandits are using the
UBC steam tunnels to release
massive amounts of humidity
into the Point Grey air, causing
the fog. Once this is achieved,
the raccoons then use the fog
as cover to carry out their reign
of terror, most likely, according
to Satellite, "intimidating and
disorienting their victims, and
causing them to drop their bag
lunches and flee the scene."
Plans to combat he problem
have already been introduced.
UBC Food Services is proposing
"sting raids" on their palatial
pleasure dens, often disguised
as ordinary dumpsters. From
there, the culprits would be
taken into custody and
"promptly made into a nice
lasagna, maybe even some
chowder."
ELECTION
RESULTS
Total ballots cast: 225 of
4585 eligible voters (4.9%)
President
Ryan McCuaig
170 YES, 23 NO, 32 SPOIL
External Vice President
Laurie Yee
164 YES, 25 NO, 35 SPOIL
Internal Vice President
Jesse Burnett
147 YES, 41 NO, 36 SPOIL
Director of Finance
Lynn van Rhijn
155 YES, 33 NO, 37 SPOIL
Social Coordinator
John Hallet
139 YES, 47 NO, 38 SPOIL
Director of Publications
Blair McDonald
161 YES,26 NO, 35 SPOIL
Secretary
Anna-Maria Carvalho
160 YES,29 NO, 36 SPOIL
Director of Sports
Jamieson Chan-Clark 82
Bella Carvalho 116
Spoils 30
Public Relations Officer
Tracy MacKinnon 128
Tessa Moon 87
Spoils 13
fit
r-        rs   t
I
"So... boss was kinda mad, huh?' Random Acts of Chocolate.
'" "X
DISCLAIMER!!!
When you can't remember
the last time you had more
than four consecutive hours
of sleep, you develop all
sorts of different sides of
your personality. For example, I have discovered a
newfound distaste for cohesion. Proceed at your own
risk.
As you will probably be
able to determine
from the tone of my
article, my life for the past
couple of weeks has been a
series of naps interrupted by
longish periods of wakefulness and, usually, work. My
friends have already managed to determine this, and
have used this knowledge to
their advantage. They have
discovered that it is incredibly easy to get things out of
me, such as the use of the
Evil Intersection (my new
pet name for my computer)
by bribing me with caffeine.
So far, over the past two
weeks, I have been treated
to three chocolate chip
cookies, one Blue Chip
Chunky's Choice, and one
box of chocolates. Granted,
some of these were just random acts of chocolate, and
one was a therapeutic agent
in lieu of alcohol used to
help me recover from my
lost lab report. None of
these, however, were particular helpful in my conquest
of the UBC Duathlon (just
for the record, the duathlon
is running and cycling. The
biathlon is skiing and shooting, another brilliant combination of sports). Yes, if you
were one of those lifeless
schmucks hanging around
near the end of the race,
you may have seen me finally straggle in. To those of
you, and you know who
you are, who seem to take
some perverted pleasure in
photographic assault of
helpless people, I want negatives! DO YOU HEAR ME?
NEGATIVES!
Not that my life has been
a photojournalistic treat as
of late. My most recent
tabloid-ready episode was
"DISK EATS LAB: Student
Recovering from Shock". For
those of you who are not in
any of my classes, allow me
to replay this happy event
for you. As I tell you this,
try to keep in mind that all
of these events happened
following 12 hours of continuous work. First and second mistakes: I foolishly
decided to save my 13-page
lab on disk and leave my
application before printing.
When I returned from my
five-minute break, I discovered, much to my chagrin,
that my file consisted of
gobbledygook, including
hollow squares and y's with
* accents. Apparently, my
disk was "damaged" beyond
the point of being helped by
Norton Utilities' Disk
ADAMS
Doctor. Met with this difficulty, I informed my T.A. of
my predicament, went
home, and promptly fell
asleep. For thirteen hours.
The next morning, I spent
about an hour arguing with
various facets of UBC
Computing Services. (For
the record, this is one of the
worst misnomers in current
usage.) The last person I
spoke to there informed me
that my disk sounded "really screwed up" and that my
file was probably "toast". As
my last resort, I turned to
the all-knowing Editor, who
hooked me up with his even
more-knowing roommate,
who managed to recover all
of my Methods and Results
sections, and about a quarter each of my Introduction
and Discussion.
You would have thought
that, by now, I would have
fled the concept of procrastination yelping, but it's
hard to teach an old dog
new tricks. For those of you
who are feeling munificent
(ask Blair: I didn't know
what it meant either), it's
not too late to pick up
something for my birthday.
I am somewhat wary of the
fact that I found 2 less than
flattering photos of myself
roaming around SUS on production night, but I'm trying to cut back on my paranoid hours. Personally, I
shall be celebrating by
attending my big brother's
concert on Friday. Come on,
like you didn't know that
Bryan was my step-brother.
Where the heck have you
guys been? I just don't like
to make a big deal of it.
That's why we have seats in
the nosebleed section.
For those of you currently
refinancing the national
debt by being gullible
enough to actually buy into
what I was saying, the real
reason why my Adams tickets stink is because
Ticketmaster sucks. Allow
me to give you a brief summary of the events leading
up to my acquisition of useless tickets:
Friday, 9:00 p.m.:
Decision made to
attempt to bombard
Ticketmaster. Acquire
credit card number of
friend, who assures
Leona that this is all
that will be needed,
since he has never had
to give his expiry date
when ordering tickets.
Friend asks Leona to
destroy credit card
number immediately
after ticket acquisition.
Saturday, 9:29 a.m.
Leona starts phoning.
Saturday, 9:30 a.m.:
Tickets go on sale.
Saturday, 9:40 a.m.:
Leona gets through to
Ticketmaster guy. Just
as Ticketmaster guy is
verifying whether the
closest seats on the floor
are in the 16th row, the
phone line is discon- "
nected.
Saturday, 9:42 a.m.:
Leona fumes briefly
before resuming her
quest for tickets, come
hell, high water, or finger cramps.
Saturday, 9:50 a.m.:
Leona gets through
again and pretends to
be a 22-year-old male.
Tries to make up expiry
date. Tries desperately
to remember phone
number of friend,
whose phone number
had wisely been programmed into a) my
phone and b) my little
portable computer doohickey whose batteries
are dead. This observation has been supported
by previous work
(Kennedy 1994). Leona
nonetheless acquires
tickets and burns credit
card number to satisfy
pyromaniac fetish.
Saturday, 9:55 a.m.:
Leona learns that friend
has also acquired tickets. Friend's credit card
will not support acquisition of 12 tickets.
Friend panics. Friend
calls Ticketmaster to
cancel second set of
tickets.
Saturday, later:
1. Second concert
announced. Leona is
given mission to
acquire better tickets.
Friend dictates credit
card number to Leona
again, along with expiry
date and phone number.
2. After again ambushing and impersonating,
Leona discovers that she
has been given the
wrong credit card number. Two minor problems: a) friend had left
for work and b) tickets
about to be acquired
Were in 6th row on
floor. Aaargh.
However, as I have said
whenever people ask what
my time was like for the
Duathlon, it's participation
that counts.
Available now In
SUS CHEM 160
Call for Mentors
The Faculty of Science is now accepting applications
for the 1994/95 Mentor Program. Science students
entering their second, third, or final year are eligible
to participate as mentors to first year students. If
you wish to apply application forms are in this paper
or at the Dean of Science Office in the Biological
Sciences Building. For more information call 822-
9012.
Science students entering
their graduation year
Applications for the Senior Undergraduate Mentor
Program are now being accepted at the Dean of
Science Office. Graduating students will be
mentored by Science Alumni and working
professionals from outside UBC in a one to one
mentor relationship. Applications are available
in this paper and at the Dean of Science Office.
For more information call 822-9012.
?
S
Ss°§1r Volume 7, Ntrmber 11
14 March W4
Ryan McCuaig
Soort to be Csveftftfawn.
Graeme Kennedy
Blair McDonald
Roger Waits
About to stage a coup.
Contributors
■■!■   '1  )) w ■■■■
Leona. Adams, Steve
Coleman, Kevan
Dettlebath,jfohn
if Only Slightly
Demented") Hallett,
Graeme Kennedy, Ryan
McCnaig, Blair
McDonald, Derek K.
Miller, Jamie Morris,
Sarah Thornton, Lynn
van Rhijn, Laurie Yee,
Delwfe Yung and Roger
Watts*
Layout
«*WlsfltllllllltllllllHllltHHMIIIIItMttltl*t>Hfc
Graeme Kennedy, Ryan
McCuaig, Blair
MtcDonaJd
Plstrlfautfrm
■*sH-1hS¥-*S!***s-p^—**—w*,u«—Spm
Keebler's Elves local 34
■Mtttln^
CoJtege Printers,
Vancouver, BC
life 432 is published
twice a month by the
Science Undergraduate
Society of UBC Our
fiditoriaI/hang*out place
is located in the basement of the Chem
Building, where you
can find any number of
us overdosing on greasy
Sasamat pizza>
We always welcome
people just dropping by
with proof-read,
humourous/sarcastic
articles that are no
longer than 500 words
in length. Drop oif a
computer dtsfe (most
formats acceptable)
with your ssory saved
o^ it aad include a
ha*d<^yincasewe
decide to w$ ycm itsk
to download strange
humour from Internet
We'd like to make a
standard disclaimer
here, so now we're protected fiEom lawsuits
from angry readers*
having rotten' tomaloes
thrown at as, or having
the wsshtfOOrns upstairs
flood and 4rc>ws us all,
Thanks, &s ?a fox ow
final, absolutely incredible yeat-end issue some*
tisjeih a couple tf
I
Mcdonald
mi.
Thursday
"ve finally figured out that
life is a matter of perspective. You think your life is
bad... there's someone else out
there who's suffering at least
ten times as much.There's also
a corollary to my first theorem:
if you think your day was
strange beyond belief, you can put money on the fact that it
can and will be worse for someone else.
Case in point: I figured last Thursday was weird. I had a
few small problems dealing with reality, but that's par for
the course where I'm concerned. So what if I accidentally put
a metal pie plate into the microwave? We put out the fire
before anything important ignited. So what if I managed to
trip over every curb between Totem Park and the Chemistry
Building. It's just another normal day when you compare it
to what I just heard.
The Thursday from hell started out normally enough.
Persons A and B were visiting Person C, making a desperate
attempt to convince C to take his Thermodynamics homework along to the beach. C tried desperately to stay home,
but B (his girlfriend) forced him along.
Now, you may not think anything is out of order. But the
beach in question was out near Stanley Park, it was the middle of January, and the temperature was hovering just under
5 degrees C. Persons A and B, obviously under the influence
of some mind-altering substance, were utterly convinced it
was a fine summer day, and decided to venture forth into
the dead of winter wearing only light summer clothing.
Now, I've got to sympathize with Person C in this case. I
know what it's like to have a girlfriend who shamelessly
manipulates. So, imagine if you will, Person C, trying to get
critical work done, yet still dragged out into the freezing
winds and water underneath the Lions Gate.
Person C somehow survived, despite the loss of his Physics
textbook to the elements. But his ordeal was not over.
Person C, using all the talent learned from watching every
James Bond movie in creation, managed to elude Persons A
and B somewhere downtown, and returned to the safety of
his own home.
Persons A and B were right behind him, armed with a
Cuisinart, a bushel of strawberries, and a gallon of Tequila.
They forced their way in, intent on making strawberry mar-
garitas and getting completely wasted to fight off the
hypothermia acquired during their early morning outing.
But Person B wasn't well versed in Cuisinart operation.
She managed to load the strawberries into the container easily enough, but somehow forgot to replace the lid before
flicking the switch to puree.
Physics reentered the story at this point, as centripetal
forces flung the strawberries to every corner of the kitchen.
Strawberries everywhere. On the ceiling. Behind the stove. In
other words, the entire room was neatly covered with a thin
film of strawberry residue.
At this point, Persons A and Ii finally realized their presence was not especially welcomed by Person C, and made a
rapid exit, leaving Person C with ten kilograms of sticky fruit
to clean off every surface of his kitchen in addition to studying for his all-important Physics midterm
And I thought my day was strange.
But I can sleep easy knowing a few basic facts that prevent
me ever having a Thursday like Person C.
a) I hate Physics. Math. Any subject that involves more
adding or subtracting less than five numbers at a single
time. You see, I'm one of those complete idiots who
needs a HP calculator to balance a checkbook.
b) I hate strawberries. In fact, I'm not a big fruit fan, after I
was subjected to one too many stories about bananas
and force vectors.
c) I don't know anyone named Person A, B or C, although I
have often wondered what kind of sadistic parents
would subject a kid to that l;ind of torture.
d) I realized a long, long time ago that Cuisinart designed a
line of blenders with no other purpose than to tempt me
into losing a finger or three. I vowed last year I'd never
use a blender ever again.
So I think I'm safe. For a few more minutes, anyways.
s;
KENNEDY
Full of...
ometimes the most ordinary things, when taken in |
a certain way, may sound
absolutely bizarre. For example:
if I wrote that my sister was
"...afraid that a snowmobile
may crash into the electric toilet", you just might have to
read it twice. Nevertheless, she is losing sleep over this
potential catastrophe.
My sister lives in Bumblefuck BC, a region known as 100
Mile. There is no plumbing, so she has an outhouse. Late
one hot August night, she almost passed out from the fumes,
and decided there had to be a better way. One small investment later, and she had a brand new, electric toilet installed
in her cabin. This amazing gadget was composed entirely of
fibreglass, and was designed as a sort of indoor composter.
Not only ecologically sound, it provided her with the convenience of indoor plumbing. It leaked immediately. Green.
Through the bathroom wall and into the adjoining bedroom.
This is where I start to have fun at my sister's expense.
One of the motivations for its removal was the smell of compost. There were gas tubes which led outside, but these provided no relief as they only moved the center of odour radiation about two feet north. Not enough to clear any part of
the house, or the yard, which made eating unpleasant. A
serious dispute had developed between the inhabitants and
this eco-throne. Both parties were now working against each
other. One of them had to go.
The eco-throne knew it was outmaneuvered, and
employed its only strategy: wait for the moment of the move
and then go on the "offensive". As my sister and her
boyfriend were dragging the quarter ton of—er—"material"
and fiberglass out of the doorway in the bathroom, the eco-
throne released enough volume through a few new cracks to
make them reconsider, but to no avail. They merely staggered about for a few minutes until they remembered who
they were and what they were doing, and got right back to
the challenge of dragging this monument as far away from
their noses as possible.
An afternoon of dragging brought them about a hundred
feet from the edge of the yard, and somewhere in the eight
acres of lot that they rent, which, according to sis, was still
"...not far enough." Now that the place is buried in a foot of
snow there is a real danger that some snowmobiler will
unwittingly bash his brains out on frozen fertilizer. Bad way
to go, especially if you aren't found until spring thaw.
Come to think of it, is there a good way to go? This
reminds me of a friend who once stated the obvious.
"Sheldon," he said to me, obviously mistaking me for someone else, "Sheldon, why is it that whenever I get a flat, it's at
the worst possible time?" I thought the answer was pretty
self-evident: what's a good time to get a flat? If you're driving, you're either going somewhere, or getting away from
something. Making an unscheduled stop to spin out and
point nose-down in a ditch is more than just inconvenient.
More for some than others. And this got me to thinking: flat
tires are especially bad if you don't have a spare. Which I
don't.
I don't know the origin of the term 'jury-rigged', but if
you look the term up in the dictionary, you'll see a diagram
of my car. The fact that I have no gas cap: only a dishrag
stuffed in the fill-tube adds that happy-go-lucky, fly-by-the-
seat-of-my-pants, crash-and-bum-because-you-drive-a-
Molotov-cocktail feeling to any outing. There just couldn't
be a good time for me to blow a flat on the Highway 99
Southbound at 130 klicks with nothing visible in the
rearview mirror except the grille of a semi, with the driver's
eyes a-bulging. And to die on the way to waterslides: that's
the worst. Now, dying on the way to the dentist...
(Here's an addendum. After writing the above, my faithful
Pony had the first real mechanical problem of its life. On my
way to UBC, while changing gears, I lost the clutch. It was
spectacular. Passersby would have seen a driver suddenly
vanish as he slid below the window, and under the dash
when all the tension in his clutch was released. I managed to
claw my way back into the seat, and putted over to the curb,
where I promptly stalled. Walked to the gas station, called a
tow truck, and forked over about $10 per block towed.)
This space for Graeme'&personal use only.
Thank you tot your cooperation. Campus Wars: The
Return of the Alumni.
When we last left our
heroes, they were
about to be mercilessly tanked by Axel the Hutt:
Luke:   Axel! This is your last
chance. Free us or die!
Axel:   Shaddap! HOW DO
WE FIND HIM!?
Geers: GUILTYIUU
Just before Luke is thrown
in, he gives a signal to HP. HP
then fires a beer into Luke's
waiting hand. Luke holds up
the beer and waves it menacingly at the Geers.
Luke: Look, guys! Free
beer! C'mon... come
get it...
The Geers all rush forward
in a mindless, passionate frenzy. Luke steps deftly aside and
all the Geers plunge into the
frigid waters. Drum Solo kicks
Graver Fett in the ass and he
falls into the tanking pond,
screaming like a woman.
Leah, still partially naked,
(Well, mostly. Hey, if there are
any kids reading this, skip
ahead to the bit with Vader
and Editor. Okay, she was
completely and utterly buck
naked. And on a horse. I
mean, that is what the Lady
Godiva ride was all about. A
naked woman on a horse) and
on a horse tramples, Axel into
the dust. Thus, (Hey, you
aren't allowed back here.
What do you think you are
doing. Hey, get off me, you
cow. Help! Help! Mphmmph!)
ending this disgusting practice
once and for all and earning
freedom for women everywhere
from the heels of their male
oppressors. PhmPHt! (sound of
duct tape ripping off flesh)
AHHHHhhhhh! Thus, allowing Leah to escape the barge
with HP and HY50. In the
ensuing chaos, the heroes flee.
Luke:   I'll catch up with
you guys later. I have
an old friend to meet.
Solo: Thanks kid. Now I owe
you one.
Back at SUB, the Editor's
shuttle arrives and is greeted
by Vader.
Editor: Arise, my friend. You
have done well. And
now I sense you wish
to continue your
search for the young
Luke. Patience. In time
he will seek you out. I
have foreseen it.
Vader: Foreseen it, how?
Editor: I have my sources.
(Hi, the author here. I
just want to lay to rest
any rumors that I am
getting winning lotto
numbers pom the Editor
in exchange for plot
information. Uhh, hold
on... 23,14, IS? Ah,
good. Now, he has this
sister, see... Ill get back
to you. There is no truth
whatsoever to this.) And
DETTLEBACH
now I have a special
assignment for you...
A few minutes later...
Editor: Now just hold still
Vader. I'm almost
done. There. How's
that?
Vader: Mmmmph.
Yubsemdlpshut.
Editor: What's that? Oh,
never mind. Here, (ripping sound followed by a
lot of screaming and
yelling) Oh, you're such
a baby, Vader. It'll
make a great front
cover. EveryoneTl be in
stitches. HA! I kill me!
Vader: (holding lips in agony
and applying several
pounds of Chap-Stick)
You kill you? The line
forms to the left,
bucko. Take a number.
Meanwhile, Luke arrives at
McGill, the home of the
Alumni Master Yertl. Then
Luke discovers that Yertl is on
death's bed after consuming
an ungodly amount of alcohol.
Yertl:   That face you make.
Look I so bad to your
eyes?
Luke:   No, of course not.
Yertl:   Yes I do, yes I do.
When 900 beers you
have drunk, look as
good you will not.
Luke:   I came back to finish
my training.
Yertl:   No more training do
you require. Already
know you that which
you need.
Luke:   Then I am an
Alumni.
Yertl:   Noooo! You must
complete your finals.
You must face Vader
again. Did so hot
against him in the
midterm, you did not.
Luke:   Is Art Vader my
father?
Yertl:   Look out, I'm going
to spew.
Luke:   (wiping face) I must
know. Is this your kidney?
Yertl:   Your father he is.
Told you did he?
Unexpected this is, and
unfortunate.
Luke:   Unfortunate that I
know the truth?
Yertl:   Noooo. Unfortunate
that I puked up my
other kidney this
morning, (collapses in
heap) Luke, ulp, do not
underestimate the editor or suffer your
father's fate will you.
Luke, urgh, when gone
am I, last of the
Alumni will you be.
Luke, barrgh, the Force
is strong in your family. There is another
Warm....
Ralphhhhhhhhllll
With a final bilious gasp,
Yertl chokes to death on his
own vomit, much as Jimi
Hendrix did. As Luke looks on,
Yertl's body slowly fades from
sight, much in the way Jimi
Hendrix did not. Outside
Yertl's dwelling Luke bumps
into a familiar face.
Dobie: Yertl will be always
be with you, (looks at
front of Luke's shirt) or
at least his kidney will.,
Luke: Bill, you told me
Vader betrayed and
murdered my father.
Dobie: So I did. Must've
been a campaign
promise. Look, when
Vader turned to the Art
side, the intelligent
man that was your
father, ceased to exist.
When I first met
Arthur, he was already
a great student, but I
was amazed at how
strong he was in the
force. I took it upon
myself to train him. I
thought I could be as
good as Yertl. I was
wrong.
Luke: I can't do it. I can't
kill my own father.
Freud: But then you'd have
your mother all to
yourself. (Oops, how did
this get out? Back! Back
into subconscious muck
where you belong.)
Dobie: Then the Editor has
already won. You were
our last hope.
Luke:   Yertl spoke of another. A Ralph or someone.
Dobie:,What? Oh, Yertl was
talking about your
twin sister Leah.
Luke:   Uhoh!
Dobie: What's the matter?
Luke:   Bill, how much do
you know about genetics?
Back in CHEM 160, plans
for the final assault are underway.
The future of the
Alumni Knights rests
entirely in the hands of
our hero, a slightly befuddled young man named
Luke. Will he succeed in
his quest to destroy the
Editor? Will he ever say
anything intelligent
enough to impress chicks?
Coming soon: the very
last episode of Campus
Wars. Look for it in the
year-end issue of The 432 -
hitting a local newsstand
sometime soon!
Unrelated Bone
Marrow Registry
Information Seminar
I.R.C. (Wood 2)
2194 Health Sciences Mall
North of Hospital
Thursday, March 17,
1994
6:00 pm - 7:00 pm
"One hour of your life may
give years of life to someone
else "
+
The Canadian
Red Cross Society
Kappa Sigma
FINAL EXAM REVIEW
If you would like some help studying for your finals, then these
courses are perfect for you!
The following review courses are available:
Biology 101/102/801
Chemistry 110/120/830
Math 100/101/140/141
Physics 110/US
Classes will begin in April and will be approximately eight
hours in length. The review session will be split up over two
days, and will cover all the material you will need to know for
your final exam.
The cost is only $20.00 per course
So, please don't hesitate, and give us a call today at:
STRAIGHT A's Tutorial Services
221-1007
Your Future Is Our Top Priority
When you call, don't forget to ask how you
can get the courses for free!!! Sane.Yet
Shaking.
Dik Miller,
lm,perialist Infiltrator.
John Hallett
Desperately Seeking a Byline
The verdict has come down. I'm deeply disturbed. While
this may not come as a particularly large surprise to
everyone else, it has managed to amaze me... at least in
a very small way. (I had always suspected the solidity of my
mental competence; the fact that my high school counselor
strongly recommended that I submit to a psychiatric evaluation before being nominated as valedictorian was a strong
case for my doubts. However, I haive never actually had a professional in the field of mental eccentricity place me in a category of persons described as being "outside [of] our space of
interlocution; he wouldn't have a stand in the space where
the rest of us are. We would see this [person] as pathological.")
Did you hear that? Pathological... I could take it if this guy
had met me. Then he would have some basis upon which to
call me such a thing, but he is simply stereotyping an entire
section of society (myself and those like me—well, okay...just
me). What did I ever do to this person? (Hey, don't count that
damn incident with the nitroglycerin capsules and his pet
poodle, Belle. It never happened. In fact, I was on vacation
when it wasn't happening.)
To argue the case for my sanity, I submit the fact that the
twitching has reduced significantly ever since the electro-convulsive therapy began a month ago. This has not only had the
effect of improving my driving ever so much, but has had the
additional side result of making conversation with me more
pleasurable. One drawback has been that I no longer can
make money part time at the hardware store mixing paint
while the mechanical shaker's out of order.
Boy, that brings back memories. I remember putting a six
pack into one of those shaker things before going to my
friend's place for last year's Stanley Cup playoffs. You shoulda
seen the look on his face just after he said "beer me." I think
he was mildly amused, but he chose to act casual and express
his pent-up glee by attempting to prematurely end my existence with the twelve-gauge that was conveniently at hand.
The resulting melee convinced several of my other friends
that the individual pursuing me with such homicidal vigour
was not, in fact, amused by the preceding events. But I know
better. Deep down inside, he was thought it was pretty funny.
This little anecdote only goes to show that I am completely sane and competent to hold positions of power if I should
ever have an opportunity to do
so. My point, in case you
missed it, is that any sane
person can seem criminally
insane at a given time if he is
under a certain amount of
undue mental strain.
Extrapolating from this, we
come to the conclusion that
if a person were to... say...
act criminally insane constantly, as I do, he could
defend his sanity by citing
the example above while
claiming that they were
. under undue mental strain
constantly.
Now, where does this
undue mental strain come
from? In the example above,
it came from having cold,
cheap Lucky Lager sprayed
all over one's face as opposed
to poured swiftly down one's
expectantly gaping maw. In
my case in real life, the mental strain comes from a variety of sources, including but
not limited to: making tough
executive decisions in The
International Congress of
Graemes, failing classes at
random, getting hit by a
stray raindrop, and thinking
too hard.
So, in conclusion, I think
that I'm sane and everyone
who thinks otherwise is
obviously either controlled
by aliens or completely
insane. I have my reasons for
being sane and that's
enough.
g"^ o there I was, being
'W held underground in a
k-J secret ex-Soviet spy
bunker, deep beneath the
farthest nether regions of B-
L:>t, with a thickly-accented
threat of execution still
hanging over my head.
It had been one of those
days.
"So, you try to infiltrate
o;ir installation," the head
Russian was saying, "then
confuse us with stories of
dissolution of USSR., then
sing pigdog capitalist
anthems like 'Louie Louie'
to attempt to subdue us.
Now we kill you."
"I was only singing 'Louie
Louie' to see if I could figure
out the words before I die," I
said.
"What?! You not know
words to 'Louie Louie'?!"
"No, do you?" I asked.
"Of course! KGB spies
obtained secret lyrics to
'Louie Louie' decades ago. It
was great intelligence coup
of 1964!"
"What are they?"
He laughed. "I never
think I would tell bourgeois
rock-and-rolling imperialist
swineherder words to his
own hedonistic song..."
With that, he cleared his
throat and raised his hands
to direct the remainder of
the spies/guards in a rousing
chorus.
"A-Louie Lou-way,
whoah-oh, I say now me
AnOdefaljema
Site's out BPP Prez
And &<rti paid the b% bwb
Tfr sit around and yell
At th<? rust of us sehiautirt
SJwfii $o photogeuk'
There never \& a doubt
U you take h.w pHtur<!
She'll smtle, not pout
So vhert you need a. friend
L&mz U th<? best
And of course we ait know,
I 'cr saUa beats the test
She knows word* of wisdom
And she never get* slut k
Mk !l lead thn small poem,
Am.' e\cl«ii'rt<rYf>u all suck!"
So what'* the ot -aslon?
Why no's tfUsody?
Loana's birthday's Ihz sixteenth,
$0 now yo«'v« btcn tokil
pay Birthday to Leona,
from att her Mends
2±m
MILLER
gotta go, ya ya ya ya ya
ya..."
Meanwhile, I was struggling behind my back to
reach my carefully-concealed Dik Miller™ handcuff
pick/chestnut slicer/book
binder.
"A fine little girl, she wait
for me, me catch a ship far
across the sea..." they sang.
They were getting into the
music, swaying back and
forth and locking arms.
"...Me sail that ship all
alone, me never think
gonna make it home. A-
Louie Lou-way..."
I had reached the
pick/slicer/binder, and was
skillfully using it to unlock
my handcuffs. The leg irons
might be another matter,
since my Dik Miller™ leg
iron pick/walnut
screw/watch winder was in
my other pants. But the
device I did have would
probably do, if I had time to
use it.
"All night and day me sail
the sea, me think of girl
communistically..."
"Wait a minute!" I shouted. "Isn't that, 'me think of
girl constantly'?"
Unperturbed (and not
hearing me in their revelry),
they continued. "...On the
ship, my cream cheese
eclair, with extra dose of big
grizzly bear."
Some of the men were
looking puzzled at their
leader. "Wait!" one called. "I
think we have words
wrong."
They stopped suddenly.
The leader glared. "What?!
KGB secret spy mission discovered words were, 'cream
cheese eclair' and 'big grizzly bear'."
"I thought words were,
'bees with hair' and 'with
those plastic deck chairs'."
"How about. 'On the
ship, me dream she there,
me smell the rose in her
hair'?" I piped in weakly.
They didn't even hear me.
With shouts of "Eclair!" and
"Deck chair!" they were at
each other's throats, and
soon enough a full-fledged
brawl was underway. I took
the opportunity to release
my wrists and legs, get up,
skirt past the melee, and run
down the corridor to the
right. I had no idea where I
was headed, but it was probably better than the "Louie
Louie" fight.
About twenty metres
down the corridor, I heard
the fighting subside/and
then a lot of swearing in
Russian. Soon enough, the
sound of clomping,
Ukrainian-made jackboots
was echoing behind me.
Stopping, I reached into
the heel of my shoe and
brought out my Dik Miller™
smoke bomb/bath
bead/steelie marble, cracked
it open, and lobbed it back
down the hall. I ran ahead,
to hear coughing and choking behind. I turned to see
the smoke quickly filling the
corridor, and smiled.
I didn't have time to turn
back before I ran headlong
into the barrel-like chest of
a large man in a Parking and
Security Services uniform.
"Boy, am i glad to see-" I
began.
"That's where you are!
You've been out of you post
in B-Lot for several hours
now, and the University has
lost almost three dollars in
parking revenue because of
it. This is going on your permanent record, Miller."
"Look, uh," I stammered,
"there's no time to explain,
but there's a bunch of
Russian spies after me
and..."
"That has got to be the
lamest excuse I've ever
heard in my entire life," the
PASS guy chuckled. "Let's
go."
I only had time to mutter
"Er" before I noticed the
stun grenade being thrown
along the hallway toward
us. I made a break for it.
When I regained consciousness, I was propped up
against a desk in the Parking
and Security offices. The
Patrol guy whom I had
bumped into was looking at
me warily.
"What happened?" I
asked.
"Stun grenade," he said.
"Fortunately, I've been
spending a lot of my
Wednesdays in the Pit Pub,
and heavy-duty shock vibrations don't seem to affect
me anymore."
"What about the
Russians?"
"They have some serious
parking fines, and since
they lacked hard currency,
we've put them to work
sorting back issues of The
Ubyssey in Main Library."
I shivered to think of
such a horrible fate.
Amnesty International
would probably never hear
about it.
"Well then," I declared
vaguely.
Another case closed for
Dik Miller, Parking
Attendant. The Drawers of SUS.
Sarah's Skivvies
Lynn's Lades
Sarah Thornton
J. w
is is my penultimate article for The 432 as president.
Wow. I am overwhelmed. But what to say? What to
write about?
Elections
As you can see, the 1994 SUS exec elections are over and
gone. We have a new complement of execs, some returning,
some new. Next year there'll be 3 execs in second year, 3 in
third year, and 3 in fourth. Also, there'll be 4 Biology students, 1 Chem/Biol student, 2 Comp Sci students, a Biopsych
student, and a General Sci student. There'll be 6 females, and
3 males. Any more statistics you want? I could work out the
height/weight ratio of them all, but that would probably be
getting much too personal. If you really want to know, I'm
sure the new execs would be happy to oblige. Come in and
pester them sometime! They are all ready to begin their
terms—and all with 4.9% of the students voting!
Class Act
Class Act is ongoing until the 15th of March. If anyone is
interested in helping out, we'll need your help for a while
longer. At the end of the campaign, there'll be a party with
the all the big wigs at Cecil Green.
Annual General Meeting
And the wonderful AGM. Thanks to all of you who came
out. And tough luck for those of you who missed it. That's
your loss. We had a lot of fun. The new exec were introduced, exec awards were given, and lots of food, coffee, and
punch was consumed by all. Congratulations are in order for
Dr PG Harrison, of Biology, who received the Teaching
Excellence Award this year.
Constitutional Changes
As I wrote in last paper, we're planning some rather substantial changes to the representative positions on council. We'd
like to place more emphasis on the department reps, and
encourage more general involvement. Please see a council
member if you are concerned about the SUS structure.
I sometimes wonder if anyone ever reads this section of
the paper anymore. I know I always have, but I may just be
unusual (I also read every flyer and junk magazine that
enters my home). I'm willing to admit that sometimes these
articles are boring, but every now and then I do try to make
them interesting. I just hope some of you out there appreciate the effort. Thanks for your time.:)
AMS Briefs _^___^___
Steve (Ed) Coleman
Lynn van Rhijn
So, here it is, the unofficial, unaudited, unsolicited, incomprehensible and not-quite-balanced-
to-the-penny financial statement for the Science
Undergraduate Society. I
guess I should explain why
it looks like a few of the
expenses are over-budget
and also why we have
expenses but nothing budgeted for them.
When the 93/94 budget
was prepared, it was not
cross-referenced to the
accounts we have on the
general account. This
means we were spending
money without having any
place to debit it from. I
believe what happened was
that special projects covered
a lot of expenses (see
sundry). Then again, other
things were budgeted for
(eg. late sport rebates) and
this was not used.
Both Sports and
Publications started the fiscal year off in the hole and
unfortunately, the amount
budgeted to them did not
cover that shortfall. As well,
since the summer mailout of
The Guide was not originally
budgeted for in
Publications, that sent the
balances out of the window.
The photocopier expenses
are going to be over, but it is
actually less than last year.
Considering how much it is
used and the fact we are
Senate Shorts
REVENUE
Actual to Date
Budget 93/94
Prior Fiscal
3669.87
3669.87
Pop Machine
1944.50
2000.00
Photocopier
1414.40
2300.00
Student Fees
45244.00
45000.00
Total Revenue
52272.77
52969.87
EXPENSES
Telephone
529.56
720.00
Office Supplies
588.33
950.00
Sundry
958.59
100.00
Pop machine
2048.69
2200.00
Photocopier
2903.39
2700.00
Academics
190.44
750.00
Academic Ent.
571.26
400.00
Club Grants
4572.00
5250.00
Election Exp.
194.82
800.00
Social (net)
3001.51
3500.00
Science Week
2960.04
3800.00
Sports
11073.51
10000.00
Publications
13888.88
8000.00
Photocopying
614.40
0.00
Open House
481.28
0.00
Computing
668.39
100.00
Special Projects
251.24
5000.00
Late Rebates
0.00
1053.01
AMS Repayment
0.00
5000.00
Public Relations
50.84
432.00
Total Expenses
45547.17
50755.01
Net Surplus
6725.60
2241.86  "
charged for usage, we are
not doing too bad.
The bonus for the day is
that although we had budgeted for an AMS loan
repayment, that was actually taken care of. Wahoo.
Other than that, there is not
much else to say other than
we are going to end the year
in a balanced state (perhaps
not mentally, but that's
beside the point). Now,
some people may be getting
their knickers in a knot
about how haphazard this
financial statement is.
However, all I can say is that
it is a lot better that my personal banking account and
coming from a previous
banker, that's saying a lot.
Chris Woods
The next AMS meeting is this Wednesday at 6:30 in the
council chambers of SUB. On the agenda will be a SUS
attempt to grab a $750 travel grant for a science student to go to Benin, Africa for a few months during the summer. Wish I could join her.
Also up is the long-awaited AMS budget for the fiscal year
93/94. Yup, 93-94. To be passed just two weeks before the
end of the 93-94 fiscal year. I may not know much about
budgets, but shouldn't we budget before the money is spent?
At least the 94-95 budget will be up at the meeting after that.
Great, I have to go to two more meetings in my term and
both involve going over budgets line by line for four hours.
All welcome!
You may have heard info in the news about the proposed
international students quota increase to 15%. Along with
this goes an incredible increase in fees so that the new international students could be faced with a $25,000 tuition fee.
Due to pressures from the public, the media, and (watch the
ego swell) the AMS council, it might not pass through BoG.
Another problem is the potential increase in fees for grad
students who take longer than the allotted time to complete
their graduate degree. An additional $1000 per year could be
charged to philosophy students taking ten years to complete
their PhD instead of the suggested two years. Council debated this issue for an hour, even though everyone agreed on
the stand that we were generally opposed to it. Typical. Ever
seen a student want to pay more for an education?
Also at the next meeting, Council will be choosing a company to help the struggling Organizational Review committee along. We'll rubber-stamp a bunch of appointments, too.
As for me, I still have three fish, my plants are dying, I've
got a thesis due soon, I've messed up my knee again in the
triathlon last weekend, and I haven't slept because of Pink
Floyd. You got a problem with the twenty minutes I spent
on this article? Too bad. Where's my coffee?
Senate meets this Wednesday, for a nice long March meeting. On the agenda are a proposal to establish a Senate Ways and Means Committee to help other committees do
their business, communicate with the population at large and keep everyone informed
of what Senate is doing. The report on action taken in cases of teaching evaluated at less
than satisfactory will be presented. There were 19 professors or lecturers out of a total of over
300, whose teaching was evaluated, by students, as unsatisfactory. (Versus Arts where there
were 8 reports out of 530.) They are from nine of the eleven departments (Zoology and
Oceanography had perfect results.) and actions have already been taken. One has been reassigned, and half of the rest will not be returning. The professors or lecturers, who are remaining have been instructed to take teaching workshops, or are being monitored.
We will review the President's plan for full cost international students, which will see an
increase in foreign students
to 15% with the balance of
the increase paying the full
cost of their education.
Progress reports on The Liu
Center, St John's College,
and the report from the
University Librarian, will
also be presented.
By the way, I am still
working on Reading Week.
This will probably spill over
into next year...
Money? Fame? Power? Okay, just money.
Last Chance
Sports Rebate application deadline:
Mar. 21 st Forms available in SUS
(Chem 160)
FREE GRUBS!!!
Sports Awards Banquet, Mar 30th
Applications also available in SUS
(Chem 160)
STORM THE WALL registration deadline Mar. 18th The Activity Page.
JFK Assassination Conspiracy Theory #217: "Shamu, the Presidential Killer Whale?
Can you spot JFK's killer's
distinctive markings?
1
In its investigation of the death of
JFK, the Warren Commission curiously failed to fully investigate the series
of puddles discovered leading away
from Deeley Plaza. November 23,
1963, it may be recalled, was a sunny
day in Dallas.
No one ever looked in the local
bodies of water. The fact that Dallas is
landlocked may have even worked in the
cunning killer's favour in eluding local
authorities.
The US government is, however, far
from innocent. There is documentary
proof that J Edgar Hoover frequently
attended Orlando Sea World in the
months preceding the assassination,
often carrying large manila envelopes
and buckets of herring. (These visits,
in fact, continue until today. After all,
we all know J Edgar Hoover is not really dead.)
(composite sketch)
SiWmWDMS
MARCH   2   5
C H E
1   6   0   •432-8
3 0
&m& g^scas
Gratuitous Celtic Filler.
ARE YOU GETTING OFF SCOT-FREE iN YOUR
CHOICE OF LECTURE-TIME LITERATURE?
McCUAIG
Mcdonald
WATTS
KENNEDY
ark when the night is falling
Hear! hear the pipes are calling,
Loudly and proudly calling,
Down thro' the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping,
Now feel the blood a-leaping,
High as the spirits of the old Highland men.
Chorus:
Towering in gallant fame,
Scotland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever,
Scotland the brave.
igh in the misty Highlands,
Out by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat
Beneath Scottish skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines from fair maiden's
eyes.
(chorus)
f
We  THINK  NOT.
ar off in sunlit places,
Sad are the Scottish faces,
Yearning to feel the kiss
Of sweet Scottish rain.
Where tropic skies are beaming,
Love sets the heart a-dreaming,
Longing and dreaming for the homeland again
(chorus). There's One Born Every Minute...
Everybody knows the old
saying "a fool and his
money are soon parted."
This is a classic encapsulation of social Darwinism at
work, and is probably best
exemplified by the enduring success of things like
swindling, gambling, or the
Home Shopping Network.
While I've managed to keep
the swindlers at bay and the
TV on CNN, I must admit
that I've put in my time at
the gambling table. No
more than the average guy,
though; I play cards with
buddies every now and
then, and occasionally I'll
get all optimistic and buy a
6/49 ticket. Nothing too
extravagant; I haven't
blown down to Reno for
the weekend and squandered my tuition money, or
bet on basketball games I
was playing in and quit the
sport to try taking up baseball and avoid scandal...
nothing like that.
Anyway, for all the bad
press that gambling seems
to be getting lately, it's really amazing how easy it's
becoming to do it around
here these days. For starts,
we have the proposed
Mirage casino resort to be
built down in Coal
Harbour, of which I'm sure
everyone is by now painfully aware. Personally, I don't
think this is such a bad
thing; the Las Vegas-based
Mirage Group is pledging to
invest up to a billion dollars
in the area, the resort will
generate a ton in annual
tourist revenues for the
local economy, and the
Thunderbirds football team
will be able to make some
money on the side working
for "Accounts Receivable",
talking clients into promptly tidying up those overdue
balances.
This entire project has
come under considerable
criticism, its detractors
claiming that is presence
will encourage irresponsible
gambling, increase crime
and otherwise undermine
Vancouver's social fabric.
But if you ask me, these
people are jumping the gun
a little. Let's face it; this
thing isn't even a hole in
the ground yet. If people
are so worried about big
IQ
WATTS
business engendering gambling addictions amongst
the general public, they
oughta get out to a Canucks
game now and then.
Allow me to explain...
another little betting medium with which I'm sure
you're familiar is the Sports
Action program. This racket
works by predicting certain
statistical outcomes of particular games (i.e. scores,
shots on goal, etc.), and by
asking the would-be gambler to bet on whether the
actual score will come in
over or under that mark. It
must make a fair bit of
money for its operators; it
was almost enough for
Ontario Premier Bob Rae to
send the NBA, who opposes
gambling on its games, up
the "river looking for another expansion city (make
that province) to set up their
Shaq, so to speak.
Luckily for Bob, he recognized at the last minute
that the jobs, benefits and
revenues that the team
would generate for the
Toronto area were worth
more than any lottery revenues. He subsequently
agreed to drop the NBA
from his Pro-Line program,
thus clearing the way for
the franchise to proceed,
and also thus sparing himself from a rather messy
death at the hands of several hundred thousand
incensed Torontonians.
(Vancouver, incidentally,
has made the same concession for dropping B-ball
from Sports Action.
Harcourt may be unpopular, but he at least knows
when not to push the issue
with the public.)
The reason I bring this up
is that while the NBA is particularly sensitive about
people betting on its events,
the NHL actually seems to
be encouraging it. About a
week ago, my buddy Dave
and I went to catch the
'Nucks game against the
Florida Panthers. We
weren't three steps in the
Coliseum door when we
were each then handed free
Sports Action tickets for the
upcoming game, as a promotional offer.
My mind briefly began to
deliberate on the ethical
validity of encouraging
16,000 people to start a new
gambling habit. That
thought, however, was
rather promptly pre-empted
by Oooo... if I win, that
twelve free bucks! Woo hoo!
So off we happily went to
our seats, visions dancing in
our heads of writing off the
night's parking and hot dog
costs.
The idea was that for a $2
ticket (in theory, anyway),
one had to predict if the
total shots on goal at the
end of each period, as well
as the total for the game,
would be over or under the
preset limits on the ticket.
Naturally, because we were
given pre-dispensed tickets,
those predictions were
already made for us on the
ticket; if all four turned out
right, we won $12.
As you can well guess, I
already had a complaint
about the system. If we
were being required to
make four predictions, each
with a probability of success
of 50%, simple statistics will
tell you that the odds of
getting all four right are 1
in 16. So, if one were to pay
$2 to play, one would
expect a winning return of
$32, right? It's a scam, I tell
ya! At least the casinos pay
straight odds...
The other problem I had
with my ticket came upon
further calculation of exactly what I needed each period to win. At the end of the
first, the total between the
two teams had to be 19
shots or over. The second
period had to have 17 or
under; the third, 18 or
under; and the game total
had to be 59 or over.
Now, do the math here...
that means that even if we
got exactly the maximum of
17 and 18 for the last two
periods, we'd need at least
24 in the first period to win..
Yeah, sure... and Michael
Jordan's gonna make the
Black Hawks next year and
win the scoring title blindfolded.
As you can see, I was left
a little disillusioned by the
whole process. Needless to
say, I didn't win; the shot
total after twenty minutes
was 21, which mathematically put me out of con
tention. For a while, it
looked like I was going to
get a reprieve when the
score was 1-1 and headed
for overtime (and more
shots), when Robert Dirk
got the gate for hooking
late in the third, and
Florida scored the power-
play winner with 40 seconds to go. What a gyp.
Free parking and hot dogs,
a dream dashed by the
cursed stick of Scott
Mellanby. Anyhoo, I'm
pretty much done bitching
about it. What the hey, it
didn't cost me anything to
play... but it certainly was
interesting to see the two
poles of the gambling
debate do their work last
week.  .
Which leaves us with the
burning questions: Will the
Mirage get built? Probably.
Will thousands of innocent
hockey fans get hopelessly
hooked on Sports Action?
Probably not. But one thing
you can be sure of is that
gambling, as a pastime and
an industry, will persist and
thrive, as there will always
be people out there willing
to separate the fool from his
money. Right now, that's
the safest bet in town.
The Keener Korner:
The Dean o' Science Honours List.
6ra<faate<i last year       Currently in 4tfe year    Ciarottly J*s Srdyear
Jennifer E Andersons
JKcnaeth Todd Reed
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M A R C H   2   5   »  C H E M   I   6   0   •  4   : 3 2 - 8   : 3 0

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