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The 432 Oct 23, 1991

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Fit to Brunt      "
Version 5.03 • October 23,1991
The Newspaper for Dupes of The Secular Humanist Conspiracy
(Hubert T. Rantula)
Igor, The Millipede, was found
dead on 11 October 1991. He
was a few months old.
Igor was residing inside his
terranium located in the SUS
office for no more than a week.
Gio Vassone found the millipede
lying on his side and crumpled
up. "I tried to revive him by
sticking his head in water and
trying to get him to drink." Igor
did not react; Vassone realized it
was too late. "Neither AR or
CPR could have saved him at
thispoint." SandraMah, another
bystander, remarked, "I had a
strange feeling about his
terranium. It smelled different."
A formal investigation of
Igor's death implicates an act of
murder. Although there are no
firm leads.evidence suggests that
arival committed the crime. Igor
was preparing to audition for
SUS Mascot. Many candidate:?
knew he was a top contender.
Someone may have wanted the
part so badly that murder would
have been the only way to go,
Along with decaying spinach
leaves (Igor's normal source of
food and water), other foreign
items were found in hi;;:
terranium: flower petals and ari
"animal cracker". An autopsy
confirmed thataneurotoxin from
the petals was found in Igor's:
body. The "animal cracker" is
believed to be the killer's "calling
"He was such a good
millipede", sobs Clement Fung,
Igor's  owner  and  persona]
trainer. "Anyone who knew him
loved him. Igor wouldn't hurt
anyone. I hope they find the
bastards who did it"
Fung was clearly upset, and yet
positive. "Something good may
havecomeoutof all of this. Igor
didn't like being handled but
everyone wanted to hold him. It
really distressed him but he was
too polite to tell people
otherwise. Now, I guess, nobody
can bother him."
A special funeral service will
be held at main floor bathroom
of CHEM on 21 October 1991.
Friends and acquaintances are
welcome to attend.
An "Igor, The Millipede Trust
Fund" is being established. The
SUS welcomes all donations.
Any donations exceeding 10
cents are tax-deductable.
Igor: (Above) As he was found on the morning of the
11th; (Below) in a photo taken days before his death.
Sandra Mali
And the
Winners Are..
\jC\EtiCE r[f\\?B £/£/■
Internal VP
SUS First and Second Year
Rep. Elections were held Oct. 9-
11. As usual, voter turnout was:
dissappointing. Of the 1539
students in First Year, only 108
voted. Only 95 of the 1195
students registered in Second!
Years exercised their right.
Numbersaside, there was a
surprising amount of interest in
the elections, especially in the
First Year race. With six
candidates running for two
positions, congratulations go to
Ryan McCuaig (47 votes) and
LisaChui (41 votes). Successful
Htotu&t fto&a
- ,'^jj;ji»»i
6REEN A6£:
candidates for Second Year Rep.
were: Daniel Baker (63 votes),
Glen David (81 votes) and Jarek
Szolomicki. Congratulations to
everyone who ran, and thanks to
all the hard working poll clerks,
who kept everything fair and
Liis Canons 2
Top Gun (?!!) 2
Rabies 3
Bitch 4
Dik Miller 4
ReButtAls 5
Grimace...Duuhhh 6
Watts on Drool 6
Mundane Dumpster 7
Sports 7 Page two
The Four Thirty-Two    Version 5.03 •  October 23,1991
Liis Canons
I have every reason to look
forward to Christmas this year.
Why is that? Is it because I feel
intense love for the Spirit of
Christ, and all his Works, and
wish to honor the Ultimate Sacrifice That He Made For My
Sins? Fuck No. It's because
this year my last exam is on the
13th (oh, how I love that number), and I don't have to be back
into the grind until the 7th of
January. Hahahaha! Read 'em
and weep. Is that it? Isn't there
anything special I have planned
for the holidays? Spending time
with my loved ones; roasting
chipmunks over an open fire;
basking in my financial security
while there are old men huddled
around heating vents in
Gastown? Well I have to admit
all of those things sound pretty
swell, but no, I really don't have
any great sentimental attachment
to the month of December. It'll
be okay. I'll get some Hanuk-
kah presents. I'll go to a New
Year's party and contract Mono.
I'll take some amusement in
watching my sister geteven more
pregnant. I'll wait with baited
breath for the European economy to unify. I' 11 catch up on my
sleep in between talking my seasonally-depressed friends out of
self immolation. Oh-Boy.
Now October 31: that's the
time to rejoice. Halloween, or
Night On Samhain, as my dad
and I call it affectionately, is
easily my favorite holiday even
edging out St. Patrick's Day for
overall merriment and debauchery. I for one don't understand
why this traditional Celtic celebration is neglected by the majority of adults. Kids have it on
the ball. They're too young to
know that they're supposed to
feel suicidal on XMas, so you
have to excuse childrens' preoccupation with that consumer
blitz; buton the whole, kids know
how to enjoy Halloween for its
own sake, and they consistently
have a good time. Parents may
fret about the ever-present danger of cyanide-laced Tootsie
Rolls and razor-bladed apples,
but those not yet burdened with
maturity stride fearlessly into the
night, adorned in horrific regalia, to extort their plunder from
the hapless thralls of suburbia.
Why, I can recall my own
youthful Trick or Treat experiences. I remember the time I
ventured forth in a basic ghost
costume (one sheet, two holes,
pair of sneakers), and discovered while crossing my residential street why peripheral vision
can be a good thing. Shaken, but
otherwise unscathed by my altercation with the villainous
Buick, I decided on an impromptu costume change, and
thus learned how to assemble a
proper toga. As I was about
seven or eight at the time, the
value of the toga design was lost
on most of my neighborhood
pals, and I suffered intense ribbing for my imperial garb. "Hey
Pat-ricia, nice night-gown!!
Snort, snort." After pantomiming the appropriate response ("sit
and spin, asshole."), I also discovered the value of the sneakers. I managed to make it home
with a respectable candy haul,
so I didn't mind the shortened
Then there was the series of
ill-fated, and ill-fitting superhero
costumes, which did nothing to
improve my reputation. How is
it that these guys like Bruce
Wayne and Clark Kent can find
boots that perfectly conform to
the shape of their legs, and yet
still serve the function of boots?
I guess if you're Superman, you
don't really need to protect you
shins from anything, so Lycra
will work as well as leather; but
I figure Batman would want to
be decked out in kevlar or something with all these goons shooting at him. Let's just say I felt a
little underdressed in my long-
johns and tube socks.
Probably the most successful costume I ever put together
as a kid was my Harpo Marx
outfit, complete with oversized
raincoat, floppy hat, bicycle horn
and my real hair. That proved to
be a fairly robust disguise, since
it didn't depend on any trick
effect, and was as much a matter
of mental state as actual costume. The challenge lay in
remaining silent the entire evening.
As the years pass, I invariably find myself putting off the
whole costume thing until the
last possible minute. My devotion to Halloween compels me
to attend some kind of party each
year, but I never have enough
time to properly transform myself. In 12th grade, I went to the
Halloween Dance dressed as a
bunny, which was pretty fucking lame, although with my grey
sweat shirt and pants, yarn and
cotton tail, and ears made from
wool socks pulled over deelie-
boppers (some of you may not
know what deelie-boppers are:
they precede the invention of the
Game Boy), the overall impact
was okay (especially on my
classmates, who were seeing 6ft.
tall rabbits all over the place).
The last few years I' ve gone as a
pirate, Robin Hood, and a cyborg
cage-dancer; each time with less
preparation than the last. Forthe
last few weeks, I have been entertaining grandiose notions
about shaving my head, tatooing
UPC symbols on my chest, or
buying mirrored contact lenses.
But when it comes down to the
crunch, and I'm pacing around
my house mere hours before
some gratuitous guzzle-fest, I
think I'll return to the basics.
One sheet, two holes, a pair of
"\ ( WE'u fa
\\ A&«VE HIS
UPSIDE   DOW          )
ceCKPir y. OWE   )
but wiv^we
v>  FASTN...
\    I////M
Vampires are
corpses that require human blood
to survive. Let's
say a vampire has
to suck the blood
out of one human
being every week
to stay alive. That
victim, in turn,
becomes a vampire. In one week,
one vampire will
claim one victim.
So by the end of
the week, there
will be two vampires...
432 Submissions Guidelines
the 432 is a favorite of bleary-
eyed students bored out of their
skulls in an 8:30 lecture with
nothing but a stale sticky-bun
for solace, so the key word here
is "short attention span."
In order for an issue to be on
the stands by Monday, it has to
be delivered to the printers by
the previous Friday afternoon.
So ideally, paste-up should be
completed by Thursday. This
means thatthe first draftsof your
submissions should come in no
later than the Friday a week before a printing, so that our staff
will have rewrites completed by
the following Monday. This
gives our layout people about a
week to put together an issue for
the printers out on Terminal.
Cartoon or photo submissions
should be into us by Tuesday at
the latest, so that adequate space
can be provided.
We determine the suitability of
each submission on a case by
case basis.
If the prospect of getting
exposure for your art or writing
sends chills up and down your
spine, then you should waste no
time in submitting something to
the 432 (me). Of course, the
entire paper is run on a volunteer
basis. If you take on a specific
photo assignment for us, then of
course we will compensate you
for the cost of film and development.
It is not the policy of the 432 to
publish on speculation: if you
want to become a regular columnist, then you simply need to
submit something every issue.
Written works, unless otherwise
arranged with (me) should be no
longer than 1500 words. You
may be asked to edit and resubmit an article which (I) feel is
too long for our regular format.
The 432's main emphasis is
offbeat humor, but we also have
a mandate to inform where possible, so we welcome serious
articles too. Keep in mind that
FRI. OCT. 25 '91
4=30p.m. —11
biol 2449
All members recei've
1 free bear.'
^ Version 5.03  •  October 23,1991   The Four Thirty-Two
Page Three
The 432™
1991 The Science Undergrad Society
Version 5.03
October 23,1991
Patrick Redding
Ryan McCuaig
Patrick Redding
Charlie Cho
Jaret Clay
Aaron Drake
Clement Fung
Mark Hoenig
Mike Hamilton
Jerry Kuch
Sandra Mah
Ryan McCuaig
Derek Miller
Patrick Redding
Jeremy Reimer
Gio Vassone
Roger Watts
Morgan Burke
Mike Ewert
Patrick Redding
David; Sovka
Roger Watts
CollegePrinters Ltd.
Vancouver,  be
The Armies of
The Night,  Inc.
Greg Dunn courtesy of International Brotherhood of the Teamsters Local 464
,   EARTH   /tt,
@ 5:30, Thurs Oct 24th, Rm 308 in Geol. Sciences Bldg
Dan Walker
(Dept of Geological Sciences, UBC)
Negotiated Management Of
Subsurface Contamination
(1\ Prols. Grads, Vndergrads, and others
) Irom all faculties are welcome
\y     to come and contribute to the discussion
Questions ???????? call Bertrand @ 266-0948
Letters to the Editor should be
delivered to the SUS office at
Chem 160, or the Dean's Office.
Dearest Editor,
You think you are
so damn clever, substituting your regular narcissistic soapbox platform that you
title "Loose Canons"
with, of all things, a
...And what a cartoon it is. Only the
pus-filled, maggotlike mind of a degenerate such as yourself
could possibly think
that the image of a man
blowing his brains out
would even be remotely
funny. Oh, the gore,
the twisted sensibility that "Your Kind"
pass off as wit...
"Your Kind?" you
say. Well, I'll put it
into terms even a Science-geek turned Art-
sie-fuck like yourself can understand.
Simply put, "Your Kind"
refers to members of
that pretentious,
black-clad, nose/eye/
ear-ringed crowd who
carry themselves with
the air of self-righteous superiority usually  reserved  for
right-wing extremist
groups like the Neo-
Nazis or the Students
of Objectivism. I'm
sure you know what I'm
talking about.
"Your Kind" can
afford to be alternative because your
parents are yuppie scum
who give you everything you fucking well
want. Do you have a
job? "Well, not really. The Food Services slave job - the
one that that all my
friends have out of
dire necessity - I've
taken in order to look
cool and to buy enough
drugs to keep me stoned
through the weekend.
It helps pay for my
threads, too, the ones
that I get at the
Salvation Army... yeah,
you know, the disco
rejects that, like, we
all used to laugh at
when we were kids...
gosh, know what I mean..."
No. I don't know
what you fucking well
"Your Kind" are the
stupid pseudo-intellectuals who think that
Jack Kerouac was some
"Beat" (whatever it
might mean) guy from
the fifties who wrote
a lot of neat-o travel
books ... or who think
that the cyberpunk
world a la "Blade
Runner" is going to
come out of a bottle
full of untested experimental drugs used
in treating memory-
loss patients.
Sound bitter, do I?
Well, that would mean
that I actually care
about what you and
"Your Kind" think.
Maybee baybee you
should just slink back
to Daddy's, pop "The
Sheltering Sky" into
the VCR, crank up the
new Henry Rollins tunes
and wallow in your own
political correctness.
Because I just don't
give a fuck whatsoever!
Yours Truly,
A Concerned Reader.
PS. Umm... I'm not really sure what brought
this on. I think I just
saw one Calvin Klein
commercial too many.
By Morgan Burke
"The Age of Aquarius is here ... and boy
am I pissed!"
-Jesus "the
Dec. 29, 1999
The city i3
dark, but for
the occasional
mercury arc-
lamp, and the
pervasive red
arid blue police
...and then grief, the child of
Catharsi3. "It mU3t be ail the
vlolehce they see in the comics,"
thinks the Funk, and he wants
"    %,. to weep for the
ft A PFI ^^ futu|,e of
nHvac:.    ^ America's
*        youth... Page Four
The Four Thirty-Two     Version 5.03  •   October 23,1991
Dik Miller, Arts Faculty Advisor
A Boy And His Bitch
I adopted a dog two weeks
ago. She was given up for adoption by her previous owners, even
though she was fully housetrained, well-behaved, and generally a wonderful dog. I have
no name for her. For now she is
being called by her Interim
Name, Oppie. That is short for J.
Robert Oppenheimer, the father
of the Atomic Bomb, who had
his security clearance revoked
and was publicly shamed because of seedy dealings in the
thirties. He's one of my heroes.
Oppie, as I said, is just a
temporary name. Usually, I
simply referto her as The Crotch
Inspector (I did not get this dog
for security reasons. The worst
thing she could do to aprowler is
to nail the burglar in the crotch
with her snout. This may not
save my television, but it ensures that there will be no Prowler
Offspring to get the CD player).
The reason the old owners
gave her up for adoption was:
she snores.
I have never had a dog that
snored. I have never heard anyone snore that loud. The first
time she fell asleep in the living
room, my two cats came barrelling downstairs, alarmed, expecting the Riders of the Apocalypse
to be prancing around the
kitchen. "Relax," I tell them,
"Oppie snores." To a cat, snoring is a serious faux pas.
As a matter of fact, to a cat,
a dog is a walking faux pas. I
can't get away from the feeling
that my cats don't hate the dog.
On the contrary, they tend to
regard her in much the same way
that European career diplomats
might regard the drunk American ambassador who has just
smeared a booger on his tie.
Dogs are the Cliff Clavens
of the animal world.
My first cat, Romeo,
doesn't dislike Oppie at all. On
the contrary, he even tolerates
her presence. This stems from
the fact that Romeo's brain long
ago was siphoned out of her ears
by Cat Brain Burglars. Romeo
tends to take nothing seriously,
owing to the fact that he is a
recovering junkie. When he was
younger he had to spend some
time in the hospital. There were
many seedy cats in adjoining
cages. I'm sure he dropped acid.
I think he considers Oppie just
another flashback to be ignored.
My second cat, Sidney, has
lost it entirely. I'm considering
adding lithium to her Cat Chow.
Sidney is a real stickler for details. The fact that Oppie eats her
food lying down is something
Sidney cannot fathom. It is too
gauche. Consequently, Sidney
thinks Oppie is surely the Antichrist.
Oppie on the other hand, is
delighted that Sidney is small
enough to swallow whole. Like
High Noon, they stare each other
down in the dining room. Oppie
silendy wills Sydney to jump
down from the chair, so that
Oppie may chase her about the
house, all the while shouting
encouraging words, like BARK!
or WOOF! Sidney sits in her
chair and professes profound
displeasure that any animal with
self-respect would drool.
The entire situation is
is well trained. She has long ago
learned to understand the word
walk, and responds by dropping
everything and happily digging
her snout into my groin. The
first time it happened, I was in
the kitchen, andl said'T'm going
for a walk." I had barely said the
final consonant of "walk" when
this drooling crotch-seeking
missile had smashed into me
from behind, gouging her snout
between my legs and shattering
my prostate gland. That is never
a pleasant feeling no matter who
does it. Hence, I am forever tiptoeing around, desperately trying
not to say the W-word. As well,
I cannot even say words that are
similar to Walk, because her ears
are clogged with ear-wax.
Don'tget me wrong: Idon't
regret getting the dog. It is my
opinion that dogs are infinitely
better than cats because you can
lord over dogs. As far as I know
there is only one thing that cats
are better at than dogs: cats have
smaller farts. Dogs, on the other
hand, have farts subject to remote control. They can direct
them and the farts will hover
over you, affectionately following you about the living room
until you collapse to the floor
semi-conscious at which point
the dog will come and stab your
I cannot describe the effect of Oppiefarts. What I have
found out, however, is the other
reason why her previous owners
gave her up for adoption. The
other night, at three in the morning, from the other side of the
bedroom, Oppie emitted a
healthy aroma. It smelled so bad
that it woke me up. I am not
lying. I was having a great dream
about meeting Julia Roberts
while she was trying to decide
which bathing suit to buy, and
suddenly this smell perforated
my dream. The mind is a logical
thing: in my dream, JuliaRoberts
On the other hand, dogs
are nice to have around because
you can always blame your gas
on them.
In the meantime, the dog,
has mistaken the word Fart for
Walk, and has jabbed you in the
groin yet again, prompting the
European Diplomatic Kitty
Corps into action:
SIDNEY: Egad, Romeo!
The animal is sniffing that person's crotch!
ROMEO: NomduPlume!
C'est un petard de la poisson!
Derek K.
-\ r
My, what a pleasant day, I
thought as I strolled down Main
Mall, while all around me the
leaves on the oak trees gently
had the juices sucked out of them
by their parent trees, turned into
brown, lifeless husks that littered the ground, and had to be
raked and shovelled up by
highly-paid Physical Plant
workers. Okay, what a reasonably okay day.
1 was just passing the freshly-
painted Engineers' cairn when a
person robed entirely in black
dropped out of a nearby tree and
landed on the pavement in front
of me.
"Excuse me," she said. "Can
I ask you a question?"
/ can't believe she said that.
She's asking for it. "You just
did," I said.
"I mean, can I ask you another question after this one?"
"I don't know. Can you?"
This gal was really falling for it
There was a low grumble
from behind the black ski mask.
"I mean, may I ask you a bloody
"I don't think bodily fluids
should come into—"
"Good," he said. "Get him!"
When I regained consciousness, I was strapped to a hard,
stainless steel examining table
in an equally hard, arborite-
walled room. As far as I could
tell, there was no one else in it
with me.
I tried to lift my head to see
how I was bound, but my forehead was strapped down as well.
I felt as if I was Bruce Springsteen and my headband had just
been the site of the creation of a
small neutron star. (That means
it was heavy. Sorry, sometimes
my similes get out of hand.) Out
of the corner of my eye I saw a
door slide open (like in Star
Trek). Someone walked through
"Ah, ja, Herr Miller, I zee
vee haff you eksaktly verr vee
vant you," he said.
"Sorry? Could you take a few
of the Z's out of that sentence?"
I replied.
"Vat arr you talkink about?"
"Those Z's and K's and stuff
where they don't belong," I
"Ah, I zee! You meen my
"That's an accent?" I
laughed. "Looks more like poor
spelling to me."
"Schut him upp, Hermann,"
he said. A large, hard, stainless
steel-looking man walked up and
cuffed me on the side of the
"Ow," I said.
"Now, verr vere vee?"
I could hardly contain my
"Ow," I said.
"Ah ja. I vass goink to ask
you a few kvestions."
"You'll never get anything
out of me, you slimy kraut pig,"
I spat.
"Hermann, he kalled me ein
kraut. Kuff him, vill you?"
"Ow," I said. Perhaps this
wasn't the best way to approach
the problem.
"Zo, you are schure zat you
vill not answer ze kvestions, Hen-
"Never." I gritted my teeth.
Whatever it was this guy wanted
to know - CI A secrets, the size of
Saddam Hussein's nuclear arsenal, ho w they get the soft creamy
caramel inside the chocolaty
pockets of the Caramilk bar - he
would not get it from me.
"Hermann, fetch ze trusz
Oh great, I thought.
Several hours later, I was
close to giving in.
"Kome on, Herr Miller, it
kan't be zat hardt."
"I'll n-n-never tell you." I
was sweating profusely and
straining at my head strap. "N-n-
"I vill ask you onez morr,"
the man said coolly, grinning.
"If ay haff taken Biology 308
und309,butfailedEnglisch 100
und Masz 101, kan I schtill get
my degree?"
' I couldn't take it anymore.
The truth serum was working. I
couldn't resist. "Th-th-th-th-
th..." I stuttered, squeezing my
eyes shut and tensing every
muscle in my body.
"Yes? Yes?"
"Vat? Vat?"
"Ansver ze kvestion!"
"Th-th-that depends on what
program you're in."
"Zocial Verk."
I tried to imagine this dictatorial scumbag as a social
worker. "Bahahahahahahahaha-
hahahaha!" I laughed.
"Vat's zo funny? Neverr
mindt! Do I get my degree?"
I blinked tears from my eyes.
"Ahohaha...um...ahem...no. You
"Look, in fact, no one who
doesn'tpass English 100 can get
any degree at UBC."
"Zatissakrime! MyEnglisch
skills haff nozzink to do viss my
I smiled. "That's debatable.
In any case, Biology courses
have nothing to do with Social
Work, and I'm an Arts faculty
advisor, so piss off. Or do you
want to make an appointment?"
When I regained consciousness, I was lying on the floor,
propped up against the door of
my office in the Buchanan Building. The Head Faculty Advisor,
my supervisor, walked up.
"Miller, what are you doing
on the floor?"
"Er," I replied, "I don't
"Well, get to work!"
I stood up unsteadily and
opened the door. I wasn't sure
what to call this, but I figured I
might as well end it the usual
Another case - er, thing -
closed for Dik Miller, Faculty
Advisor. I think.
-n h
< CO
z 3
b 5
o ^
2 o
ffi <^
CD Version 5.03   •   October 23,1991    The Four Thirty-Two
Page Five
Aaron Drake
The Angry Duck's Revenge
In my last column, I talked
about TRIUMF and KAON. It
seems that I may have misled a
few individuals out there, as was
pointed out to me by a Very
Concerned Individual.
[Editor'sNote: He's using
sarcasm here. Whenever he
capitalizes something, he' s usually being sarcastic. After consultation with Aaron, we decided
that we should inform Certain
people of this. ATTENTION
I have a confession to
make. Some of the things that I
write about in my column may
be a little exaggerated. I am
forced to admit this, because I
was paid a visit the other day by
the Humour Cop. The offended
party, whom I will call Larry
(although his real name is Tom)
was incensed that I was wholly
incorrect about KAO'N's acronym.
"Aaron Drake is a dope,"
he said. "That's not the name for
KAON. I should know. I worked
there for the summer."
"REALLY?"  I  gasped,
feigning astonishment. "Are you
telling me that the acronym for
KAON is NOT 'Particle Accelerator ThatProducesKAONs?!'
My God! What have I done?!"
The truth is, KAON really
stands for KAON Facility Run
By Physicists Some Of Whom
Are Humourless Boobs.
I realize that sometimes my
humour misses the mark. I fur-
thdr realize that my columns
should contain helpful tips for
certain unnamed individuals
(whom I won't name, butifldid,
Larry(Tom) would be one of
them). Among these tips would
be (1) get a life, (2) no, areal life.
However, some serious
ethical issues are raised.
Is it right to expect some
people to understand sarcasm
when, even collectively, they
have no sense of humour? There
should be a medical term for
people who do not have a sense
of humour. I like to call them
Humourously Challenged.
After much deliberation
while on the John, I have decided that I should provide the
Humourously  Challenged an
opportunity to join in on the fun
that they would otherwise miss.
Thus, in the ground-breaking
tradition of The 432,1 have provided this column with closed
captions. The following column
contains a laugh-track so that
the Humourously Challenged
may laugh at appropriate moments and feel that they fit in.
Well! The responses to our
432 contest are pouring in! As
you may recall, contestants were
asked to name items that they
would like to see smashed together at very high velocities
(High velocities! Chuckle
Chuckle). This list would be
sent to TRIUMF's new KAON
facility (KAON, incidentally,
stands for Kolliding And
Krashing Oval ThiNg Built So
That People Who Have No Sense
Of Humour, Particularly
Larry(Tom), May Have Some
Sort Of Life (Sarcasm! I get it!
Hee Hee Hee Hee Hee Chuckle
The suggestions ran from
the very mundane to the very
profane. Most of the ones involving David Strangway cannot be reprinted (Hah Hah Hah!
Oh DARN!).
Some of the winning entries:
"Smash Geraldo and the
entire staff of the Ubyssey together. I don't know what it
would produce, but society
would benefit, I'm sure" - Billy
Joe Bob, Poultry Science 3
(Whoooooo Hoooo Hooo Hah
"Vladimir Krutov with
anything in particular, assuming
we can get him moving at all." -
Timmy Snooky Lam, Science 5
HAH HAH! Stop! No More!)
"Balloons filled with rice
pudding." - Mortimer Snerd,
Your Host Who Will Be Happy
To Serve You.(HEE
"Smash together high velocity pions and protons and
produce neutral kaons to determine valuable coupling coefficients!" -Larry (Tom), Physics 3
(YES! Yes!
HAhahahaha....wait...I don't
get it.)
"What would I like to see
smashed together by KAON?
Perhaps we could take the redneck male chauvinist attitudes
that pervade the Faculty of Science and collide them with the
hopelessly apathetic prevailing
attitude about the oppression of
womyn everywhere by White
Male Heterosexual Conspiracy,
and perhaps this collision will
result in the total annihilation of
both. Barring that, I would like
to see A MIG-21 jet, fuelled, and
fully armed with nuclear tipped
missiles smashed into a very
large building that has been filled
with nitro-glycerin. That would
be a cool collision." - Brandy,
Women's Studies. (Good one!
don'tgetthatlast one, though).
"Perhaps we could examine CP-Violation in K° decay a
little more efficiently with
KAON." - Larry(Tom), Physics
3 (What? Who is this guy?
Does he have a life?)
The esteemed Mr.
Duck, I mean Drake,
has this compulsive
need to get in the last
word ("No I don't!")
David Falk
In Rebuttal To Morgan Burke
This article is a rebuttal to
counter the inaccurate image
Morgan Burke presents of
He shows a radical view which
is held by a select minority of
creationists like those associated
with the Institute for Creation
Science. However, their views
in no way represent the majority
of creationists. Like myself, most
maintain that the universe is
between 20 000 and 200 000
years in age, unlike the 10 000
year date Mr. Burke cites.
Though, I'm sure, he doesn't
find this any more satisfactory.
But, let's get to the heart of the
matter. Burke asserts that all
creationists use misquotes and
misdefinitions in order to prove:
their point. This, while in the
same stroke of the pen he uses
rhetoric to "prove" his own case.
This sort of argumentation is
pointless. It would be of greater
profit to instead deal with some
of his concerns.
First, I am not comfortable
with using numerical probability. Not because I am unfamiliar
with it. Rather because it doesn' t
really prove anything. One can
always claim that the "long
shot"   came in.
Second, I will not dispute that
attacking evolution on the basis
of "it's only a theory" is not a
sufficient means of disproving
evolutionism. But, let's determine exactly what evolution is.
We have four options of what
evolution could be: fact, law,
theory, or hypothesis. Is evolution a fact? A fact requires that
something is asserted to be true
on the basis of direct observation. Since evolution is never
directly observed (ie. we never
see new species being fomied),
it cannot be fact. It is a law? A
law implies that a principle is
applicable in all parts of the
known universe. Since Earth
would be the only example of
evolution, it cannot be considered a law. A theory, perhaps? A
theory is a hypothesis justified
by experimentation. Nope, afraid
that we haven't yet produced
any new and improved species
in the lab. What about a hypothesis? A guess used to account for observations. It seems
that evolution is not a theory at
all, but a hypothesis.
Also, I'm sure that you know
the Second Law of Thermodynamics better than I do. The
SecondLaw states that "the only
changes that are possible for a
isolated system are those in
which the entropy of the system
either increases or remains the
same. Changes in which entropy
decreases willnothappen." [Hal-
liday & Resnick, Fundamentals
pfPhjrsjci. Wiley & Sons, 1988]
And, as you know, the universe
is the ultimate isolated system.
In which case, you should surely
know what this means when it
comes to cosmologies where the
universe always existed. If the
universe always existed, how
then do we have any energy
available today? Here's the obvious answer: the universe is not
eternal of its own nature. And
don't say that the Big Bang reversed entropy, unless you are
able to tell me how the Big Bang
did it. I'm onto that sleight-of-
hand scam.
Furthermore, Burke fails to
mention something when it came
to the argument on the formation of life. He said that".. .proteins and cells do not form as the
result of the simultaneous collision of their component atoms."
Icouldn'tagreemore. Yet, some
scientists do claim that exact
However, most claim that
amino acids were formed from
current being passed through
gases (a reversible reaction prevented in the Miller apparatus
only by forced separation in a
trap). And that the resulting
mixture of L- and D-amino acids were somehow boiled up to
form enzymes (process of which
is unknown).
Then, these enzymes apparently translated some RN A string
(origin of which is unknown
since RNA is difficult to synthesize even in a lab) of about 600
000 bases since this is the minimum number required to sustain
life functions. The problem that
enymes and RNA strands which
are all chiral specific doesn't
quite seem to matter to the evolutionist. Then, at some point,
these proteins and RNA floating
about in the primordial soup
somehow became encased in
lipids. This micelle then magically began lipid production and
somehow became a cell.
Then, somewhere in the string
of events RNA was replaced by
DNA. And, all this perpetuated
by some mysterious energy
source (production of, enzymes
to facilitate, and of which non-
phosphate chemical are all unknown). And from this and a
few hundred million years, you
supposedly get "life" in a test
tube. But, as yet, there's no real
evidence for any of this rather
nebulous explanation. [John
Horgan, "In the Beginning...".
Scientific American, 264 (2): pp.
And apart from the evidential
problem, there is the problem of
the paradox. Proteins cannot be
made without nucleic acid translation, and nucleic acids cannot
be constructed and translated
withoutproteins. Also, you need
proteins to convert suitable energy sources to drive these processes. You need the energy to
translate, assemble, and transcribe; and you need proteins to
reduce the energy sources to
usable forms. Paradoxes like
these are not allowed by reductionist theories. This makes
evolutionism more than improbable, but impossible.
And to think, we haven't even
touched on the really sticky issues such as the problem with
redshift, gaps in the fossil column, the supposed missing links,
the embarrassing findings of
genetic dating, or any of the other
nasty bugbears that lurk in the
closets of evolutionists.
Moreover, I find Mr. Burke's
treatment of the issue to be flippant and not worthy of his intellectual capacity. He obviously
has some fierce hostility towards
creationism. Though perhaps unintentionally, he has distorted
the opposing side in order to
assume the intellectual high
ground. When he presents "fundamentals of Creation Science",
it is clear that he doesn't know
what he is talking about. No such
fundamentals exist.
It is clear that Mr. Burke holds
his own religious beliefs. He, by
faith, supports evolution without question. Nor does he seem
to be interested in the facts.
Finally, it is clear that he doesn't
know much about evolutionism
beyond the mere generalities of
the hypothesis let alone creationism.
I just wish to say one
thing about this. It is
my sincere hope that
Mr. Falk's response
to Mr. Burke's article
will herald the onset
of a lengthy and arduous verbal duel
between these two
articulate gentlemen,
for the simple, base
gratification of this
paper's jadef- readership. Thank you. Page Six
The Four Thirty-Two    Version 5.03   •   October 23,1991
as   told  by
McDonald's Secret Special
Sauce Research and Development Center. Hayseed Falls,
The dull thudding of booted
feet against metal catwalks echoed throughout the cavernous
building.    In the midst of a
menacing industrial landscape
of machinery, pipes, and hoses,
clouds of colored gas seeped
from  unsealed  vents,  eerily
climbing skyward in the dim
Movicothrough the fog and
shadows,^^ smocked workmen croflffili walkwaytfyis-
pended w/alftve the.
cluttered factory floor. The
hushed tones of their conversation all but vanished against the
oppressive throbbing of the
plant's devices.
"Yeah, like I heard Dr.
Phlegmasteen saying last week,
the new..."
The workman was interrupted by his comrade's irritated
sneer. "Enough already, Will. I
just want to get off this project
and get out of this place as soon
as I can."
His voice dripping with
disgust, the other man responded: "Gimme a break,
Frank! You're not telling me
you believe the stories..."
"They aren't stories! How
do you explain it? Nodbody's
anything alive in this building
except us; ever. The guys over
in Building #17 have rats everywhere. How come the machine
plant doesn't have them? And
just last week I heard Phlegmasteen and Lamener talking about
how they don't want anyone
entering D Sector until further
notice? And what happened to
"Give it up...Bob got fired
and split."
"Oh yeah? Then how come
no one saw him around here for
weeks before the 'firing' was
announced? Hejustdisappeared.
And you hear the noises from
the labs downstairs every time
you walk by. What are they
doing to those animals anyway?"
Trying to control the shivers that rushed up his spine at the
mention of the labs, Will snapped
angrily: "Shut up! You're giving me the creeps. Let's just
finish up this last check and then
go to Manny's for some..."
Will's complaints were cut
short as the deep roar of an
enormous explosion rocked the
plant. The men were thrown
violently to the floor as alarm
klaxons sounded, and warning
lights began to flash.
"That was in Sector D!
C'mon let's go!" Frank barked,
dragging Will to his feet. The
two men turned and broke off
down the walkway at a dead run.
Arriving at the enterance to
Sector D, they found a security
guard, slumped over in a puddle
of hideous red muck.
"Oh my god." Frank's face
turned ashen as he saw the
guare's limp form.
"Oh relax, you idiot. He
just passed out over his jelly
donut! Come on!"
Moving past the guard's
unconscious body, they passed
through the gateway to Sector
D.  Alarms continued to howl
through the monstrous labyrinth
of the plant, as the sounds of
countless  running  footsteps
approached. Cautiously threading their way past a cache of
steel  drums,  all   labelled:
"WARNING:     Experimental
Meat-Like Food Substitiute—
Open Under Controlled Conditions", they came upon a huge
vatof bubbling, yellowish gruel.
Above the vat, a man hung precariously from the twisted and
mangled girders of a damaged
"Look! It's Phlegmasteen!"
Will blurted out, pointing in
"Quick! Get some rope!"
Frank intoned urgently.
"Huh? You moron...this is
For the first time aware of
the mens' arrival, Phlegmasteen's panicked voice cried out.
"Don't just stand there, you
fools...get me
With a loud snap, the remains of the gangplank gave
way, sending Phlegmasteen
plunging toward the vat beneath.
"NNOOOO!!!! The
an unholy glurping sound, Phlegmasteen splattered into the vat.
The scientist gurgled desperately, as he was slowly, mercilessly pulled beneath the surface
of the sticky mixture.
The workmen, paralyzed
with fear, were virtually unaware
as another man rushed into the
"Oh my god...that version
of the compound wasn't going
to be fit for testing on DEAD
animals for another six
To be continued...
Funny thing. I was sitting
in Chem 203 the other day when
it finally dawned on me why I
was put on this earth. That is, it
almost did. I wasn't even really
thinking about it at the time; I
was actually contemplating the
rather impressive pool of nap-
drool that had recently formed
on top of my notes. At the same
time, I was trying to piece together what the hell my prof had
been droning on about fot the
past 40 minutes. Judging by the
other bored-silly facial expressions and drool-pools scattered
about the room, I deduced that it
was nothing earth-shattering.
Then again, at least most everybody else had a clue. But then
suddenly, with no warning at all,
The Answer To All Questions
just kinda materialized out of
the blue and landed in my lap.
Congrats, Rog, it said. /
present to you your Purpose in
Life. Your Raison d'Etre.
Whaddya think? Looks good,
At the time, I didn't really
pay much attention to it; I was
more concerned with discreetly
doing away with the long gooey
line still connecting my lower
lip to my notes before anyone
noticed it was there. It was
obvious that this operation was
going to require the utmost care
and dexterity if I wanted to avoid
an awkward and sticky encouter
with either my sweatshirt or the
girl sitting beside me.
Hey you, it said again. The
tall skinny one drooling all over
everything. Forget about that
for a sec, will ya? I got the
reason for your existence here!!
Look , Watts, we're not talkin'
about some nifty new two-bit
way to shaft the Parking Authority that you're eventually gonna
forget about anyway! This is
bigger than that!
Meanwhile, the prof had
taken the lecture on to new and
unfathomable heights, and
people were starting todiscreetly
peer out of the corner of their
eyes at this idiot down the way
(Yours Truly) slobbering all over
the place. I, of course, was still
busy trying to determine the best
way to go after this beast.
There are several good ways
to effectively rid yourself of
pesky, unwanted nap-drool, and
each has its particular advantages in certain situations. A
common technique is simply
pinching off the line at your lip
and guiding it down to wherever
the rest of it landed. Unfortunately, this tends to make it fairly
obvious exactly what you were
doing, in which case you may as
well have just left it there and
kept right on going. If you're
wearing a dark shirt, and aren't
particularly opposed to a little
spittle in it, then a good remedy
is to shift about with your arms,
fold them across your chest and
scratch your chin. (A word of
caution: avoid this with short
sleeves. Tends to give you icky
smears on your forearms.) Or, if
you really don'tbloody well care
what anyone else thinks, give
the line of drool a good slap, or
for the truly bold, feign a huge
sneeze, turn to the person beside
you and say, "Hey, look at that\"
and grin wildly.
I pondered the options. The
last one was right out; I wouldn't
be able to deliver the line and
keep a straight face. As for the
subtle approach, I was wearing
my bright yellow What Are You
Looking At, Dicknose? T-shirt
that someone took a good long
stare at me, but the color was all
wrong for camouflaging drool.
Jeeeezus kid, wake up and
smell the destiny!! If the little
voice had had lungs, it would
have been screaming at the top
of them. The answer to all your
future problems is right here,
and it ain't gettin' any fresher!
never have to make a doubtful
decision again! No ethical dilemmas, no trying to figure out
what's best...you'11 know the
absolute difference between
what's right and wrong for you!
C'mon, work with me here!!!
I finally decided what the
hell, be gross and grab the sucker
off my lip, chuck it on the floor
and have done with it. By now,
several people in the vincinity
had already taken notice anyway, and the lecture was beyond
saving, so I figured I had little to
lose. With one swift motion, I
scooped the line up from the
paper past my lip and to my left,
deftly removing the entire mess
from my sight.
Unfortunately, as with most
things I do, I made one minor
oversight. You see, drool is
rather viscous stuff. Being so
impressed with myself for cleaning up the whole thing so swiftly,
I didn't really concentrate on my
follow-through. As a result,
instead of leaving my hand and
landing neatly in the corner, the
drool stuck to my palm and shot
out in a thin gooey arc over my
shoulder, the end of which landed
squarely on top of the Fudgsicle
that the guy behind me had just
opened and was preparing to eat.
The subsequent moment of
temporary shock we both experienced was just enough to let
me tune out for a split second
and hear the last words of the
little voice: Fine, to hellwithya,
you had your chance. Have a
nice, wasted life. I'mouttahere.
I heard it grumble as it faded
away: Bloodyapathetickidj've
no sympathy at all.
That was the last I ever heard
ofmy purpose in life. Butmaybe
it's just as well; if someone just
told you what it was without you
having figure it out for yourself,
I'll bet life itself wouldn't be
half the zesty barrel of laughs
that it is. So in that sense, I'm
grateful to that little pool of nap-
drool. It saved me from a boring
and uninspired existence. And
hell, look at the bright side. The
guy let me have the Fudgsicle
real cheap.
P.S.: A Godzillion thanks
to the lovely young owner of a
red Subaru (license plate TMA
812), without whose gracious
assistance I would never have
gotten the Brown Hornet jump-
started one morning a couple of
weeks ago. Cheers.
tvrert Version 5.03  •   October 23,1991    The Four Thirty-Two
Page Seven
Gio Vassone
Michael J. Hamilton
In Memoriam
Igor: October 3-October 11,
"If I had to describe Igor in one
word, it would be giving. He
was always very generous with
his time, and he was never too
busy to listen. Igor was a true
friend, and I'm going to miss
him." said Pat Redding, Publications Director of the SUS. "I
think everyone here feels the
same way."
Igor, the prospective SUS mascot, died of suspicious causes in
the late afternoon of October 11.
Said a visibly shaken Internal
VP Sandra Mah, "Igor was one
of akind." Accolades forthe late
arthropod were numerous on his
"It didn' t matter who you were:.
Entomologist, diplopodophobic,
average science student... Igor
had this way with people. He
could cross those boundaries.,
and you totally forgot that you
were talking with one of those
crawly things that people often
squish." noted Redding.
Igor's life, though cut tragically short, was nonetheless lived
to its fullest. Described by all
who knew him as an over-
achiever, he catapulted from
relative obscurity to popular
front-runner in the SUS mascot
race in less than a week.
"Igor aimed high. He achieved
what he set out to do, in every-
thing hedid." saidClemientFung,
who encouraged him to start
campaigning for the post of
Like many before him, Igor
was taken at the height of his
fame. Many expressed regrets
for the lost potential that Igor's
passing represents. The circumstances of Igor's death have left
most with a feeling of anger as
"Why would somebody do
this? It's just unbelievable that
ambition could get so out of
hand." said Dave Dyment, Director of Finance. Dyment is
referring to the RCMP's belief
that one of Igor's competitors
was responsible for his demise.
In spite of the suspicious nature
of Igor's passing, mostexpressed
hopes that Igor was in a better
"He was Buddhist, so we're
hoping he'll either make it to
Nirvana or reincarnation. We're
not sure what one step up from
millipede is, though. Maybe
we'll find him in Arts someday." said Ryan McCuaig, First
Year Rep.
Having known and loved Igor
myself, I'd like to dedicate this
passage of Dylan Thomas' to
Igor's memory:
"Some walk one foot in front of
the other, and some walk half a
million feet in front of the other
half million."
Donations can be made in
Igor's name to the Igor Memorial Fund, c/o SUS.
Funeral to take place 23 October in the main floor bathroom
of CHEM.
The AMS meeting on
October 9 was a real doozie.
Council entertained a motion to
do the hokey pokey and turn
themselves about (it was soundly
defeated). Erik Jensen, External
VP, pulled my chair out from
behind me as I was sitting down,
causing me to fall flat on my
butt. And Gary Chan, engineering representative, distributed a
memo to council members requesting permission to wipe his
ass and seeking information on
how to go about it. Personally, I
think he should have skipped
Council and gone straight to the
executive on this potentially
explosive issue.
In other business, we
Clement Fung
passed the two questions that we
intend to put to referendum on
November 4th to 8th inclusive.
The cost of this referendum will
likely be on the order of a few
thousand dollars of your money
and it is likely that it will fail
becauseitwill probably not make
quorum. It's your own fucking
fault, though, you probably
won't vote. In order for the referendum to pass, a majority of
voters must cast their ballots in
favour of the questions and the
yes votes must make up at least
10% of UBC's student population. The first condition will be
met. Because you don't intend
to vote, the second will not. If
you don't believe me, I'm taking
Senate Shorts
Senate met on 16 October 1991.
1. A motion, regarding the 3%
administration fee imposed on
Canada Student Loans by the
Departmentof Secretary of State
of Canada, was unanimously
passed. Senate will request the
Government of Canada to rescind this fee. The Chairman of
Senate will send a letter, incorporating this request, to the
Minister of Advanced Education of BC. Furthermore, Senate
will encourage BOG to take
similar actions.   (Motion pre-
How To Neu-
£as# ter Your Cat
At Home.
1. Get a good,
trusty softball mitt
and treat it with
some fresh tuna
2. Once you've got
Kitty by the head,
wrap him up in a 4
ft. strip of carpet,
with his hindquarters sticking out.
3. Carefully wind
several yards of
waxed dental floss
tightly around the
scrotum. Tie.
4. After about five
minutes, sever the
testicles with a sterilized pair of garden pruning shears.
5. Stuff the open
wound with cotton
wadding, soaked in
Betadine™. Undo
the dental floss.
In a few hours, you
can free Kitty from
the carpet-happy,
healthy and docile!
sen ted by Orving Lau; additional
presentation by Kelly Guggisberg)
2. Another motion determined
that Senate strongly urge Campus Planning and Development
to avoid renovations and reconstruction to student residences
during exam period. (Motion
presented by Julie Lahey)
3. Carol Forsythe replaces Lisa
Drummond as Senator-At-
AMS Briefs
nickel bets.
One last motion of interest is the one regarding medical
waste incineration on campus.
UBC plans to build a new incen-
erator to replace the existing one,
and we passed a motion urging
the GVRD to conduct further
public review in the matter. I
voted for the motion because I
like public review, Jensen voted
against it because the new furnace is better than the old one
and he felt it was most reasonable to get the new incinerator
on line as soon as possible. For
her part Carmen McKnight, still
doesn't know where her last
Certs went. Mmmmmmm, that
retsin was good.
Attention BioPsych and
Psych Students:
There isa Wine & Cheese Party
with the faculty @ 4:30 on Fri.
Oct 25th in the Atrium of the
Kenney bldg. All Psych students welcome!
The PreMed Society
Oct22 Sexual Medicine
Oct29 Opthamology
All lectures in Fam &
Nut Sci bldgrm 50,1230
Hello, and welcome to the
world of Science Sports! Intramurals insanity has continued at
its hugely hectic pace for the last
couple of weeks with millions
upon millions of events taking
place (Please note: such exaggerations area sign of enthusiasm, notlunacy). Sports include
the incredible Longboat Event
at Jericho! I hope we have untold zillions of science teams in
place by the time that this has
been published because as of
Wednesday the 16th (the day
that the evil, dark, grotesquely
not-nice editor wanted this report), there was only room for
about 20 more teams (Please:
For thoseof you signed up you're
in for an extremely fun time in
the cold and wet weather we've
been saving up just for this event
(As tradition has it, it rains every
year for the Longboat). So remember, one last time, Day of
the Longboat is Saturday,
October 26th!
Now for other upcoming
• Noon runs, starting
from SUB Plaza, every
Thursday and Friday
• The Mountain Bike
Event II, Oct. 24
• Pumpkin Run, Oct. 31
• Wallyball Windig I,
Nov. 2
• Racquetball Tourney I,
Nov. 2
• Bookstore 3-On-3 Basketball Tourney, Nov. 3
• Trimble's Revenge (10
K run), Nov. 7
• Invade The Dome, Nov.
Go to the Intramurals office
downstairs in the SUB for more
info, or call 822-6688.
We need Science participation in these events. As of right
now, the SUS Men are in 3rd
Place, behind the Engineers and
Grad Students; the Women are
Fourth behind Grad, Medicine
and Gage Residences.
Come on out and support
the revolution; take out all that
"informed voter stress" and
Midterm Madness on the Intramurals Program! That's what
it's there for!
Until next time...
(For those wanting your
50% Sports Rebates, they will
be available at the AMS business office by Friday, Oct. 25th.) Page Eight
The Four Thirty-Two    Version 5.03  •   October 23,1991
Brought to you by the Chemistry Society of Canada
What can you
do with a
Chem degree?
12:30 lecture
Chem D300
Department Tours
for High School
Chem D228
Chem Magic
Admision by
Come and hear Nancy
More (BSc, SFU), a quality control manager from
Labatt's, and Gordon Huie
(BSc, UBC) a chemist at
CanTest, talk about their
Volunteers Welcome
Visit the domain of those
Crazy Chemists! Memberships still available!
Sound, colors and pyrotechnics!
Admission by donation (proceeds to UNICEF).
Discount for members on
all items served;
(and Nachos).
Comeparty with Deepathe
witch and her Amazing
e support UNICEF.
UNICEF boxes will be available at all National Chemistry Week functions.
THE     EUS     PRO U D L Y     P RISEN T S     T H E     GRATE     AN N U A L
Available from AMS Box
Offis, Red Sales, EUS
Exe<s, Club Presidents,
Cheez® Pub etc.
PHONE 822-3818


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