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The 432 Oct 25, 2000

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 VOLUME FOURTEEN ISSUE THREE
In this issue:     :       :
25 OKTOBER 2000
s      In Me mon am!
/ Power Struggles!
and so much more
Kinky Teeth!
*«M»
"Good advice is a doubtful remedy, but of little danger since it is so rarely followed."
Carl Jung
Vancouver Renamed
'Trudeauville'
Chretien finds a solution all Eastern Canadians can be happy with.
(AP) Trudeauville, BC
Jean Chretien and His election-bound
Liberals have cleared what some
believed would be a major hurdle in
their upcoming race against the four anemic opposition parties: How to give a large
and excessive tribute to the recently
deceased former Liberal Prime Minister,
Pierre Elliot Trudeau, but not upset anybody in the Eastern, predominantly Liberal-voting, ridings?
The Liberals came with their decision during Parliamentary deliberations early yesterday moming. Renaming Vancouver, the
largest city west of Ottawa, in honour of the
late Prime Minister.
Many Easterners had been unhappy about
removing the name of Logan from the
mountain, but had no such qualms about
Captain George Vancouver, as he never
had anything at all to do with anything outside of the Pacific.
Chretien made an official statement in
Parliament yesterday.
'With the renaming of the mountain, some
Easterners got upset. We don't want to
upset any Easterners, so we found a compromise that can work for anybody who
might vote for us.
'Who's gonna be pissed off now? The
Hawaiians? Hah. Ooh, the Hawaiians are
mad at me. What are they gonna do about
it? Throw a mango? They're all the way in
the Pacific Ocean. And they probably vote
NDP or some other two-bit, hick-in-the-
hole party."
Despite the perceived and inevitable
protest from the residents of the City of
Vancouver, the federal government has
started making plans, preparing the city for
the name change due to take place in a
year's time.
Already a statue has been commissioned
of Trudeau to tower at seventy feet tall on
the current site of the Vancouver Art
Gallery. The current working design has
Trudeau giving the patented 'Salmon Arm
Salute', the single digit greeting that represented the warmest and most personal
connection Trudeau held with the province
of British Co^mbia. The statue is expected
to cost more than $2 million and take 18
months to construct.
Chretien then gave the floor to Canadian
tourism minister Francois Geault. "We felt
that the city of Vancouver needed a boost
in the form of a serious landmark. I mean,
really, what do they have? A couple of thirty story spinning towers and a giant marsh-
mallow? What the hell? Compared to Calgary's Dinosaurs, Toronto's Space needle,
Montreal's strip joints, Vancouver's got
nothing.
"And that 'Supernatural B.C.' crap?
Nobody wants to come across the Pacific
Ocean to see featureless expanses of
unprocessed 2x4's. No, a towering obsidian
statue of Trudeau in downtown Vancouver
is what we really need to boost tourism in
BC."
In response to Parliament's announcement, British Columbia Premier Ujjal
Dosanj met the press outside the Victoria
Legislature after the announcement. After
cursing the three hour time differential, he
finally got to the point. "If the Feds think
they can just come in and take BC's Vancouver, then we'll just have to find another
one for ourselves. We'll see if Washington
will trade us theirs straight up for Fort St.
John. After all, what is their Vancouver
good for? Confusing cartographers and
small American schoolchildren? It is
important that we fight for this name of
Vancouver, for if Jean Chretien has his
way, nothing is safe!"
Public opinion in the renaming of BC's
largest city has been, surprisingly, in
favour of the name change. "My parents
came over to Canada from Cuba in the late
70's, and they were just in time for the War
Measures Act!" exclaimed Brett Jimenez,
3rd year UBC International Relations student. "They were just in time for the dictatorial disregard for human rights in a large
country over the actions in Montreal. They
always said it felt just like home."
Due to the supremacy of Parliament over
the provinces, political scientists say, the
provinces cannot stop the federal government. Even the Supreme Court of Canada,
backed by tradition, legislation and the
power of case law, has declared itself powerless in the face of the almighty Liberal
Government. The Federal Liberals, armed
with this knowledge, have barged forward
with their election plans and their control
oyer the country.
"And you know, with this wonder glorification system for former great Liberal
Prime Ministers, I can't wait to die myself.
Just think of it: the newly named most
populous province.... Jeantario."
At this point, the journalists present
enjoyed hearty laugh, which only intensified as Chretien insisted he was serious,
but died abruptly as Chretien snapped his
fingers, releasing nerve gas into the crowd.
Child Found Dead in
Pumpkin Patch!
(Reuters)
Local farmer Maurice Dotchkey stumbled upon a grisly scene in his pumpkin patch early Wednesday morning:
the body of a young boy who had apparently frozen to death.
The boy, whose name has not been
released, was found clutching a threadbare
blanket, but wearing only a thin shirt and
shorts.
"These parts get mighty cold around October. That poor lad should have known better than to come around here without adequate protection from the elements. I told
him every year 'You're going to catch your
death of cold out here young man, chasing
after things that don't exist', but did he listen? Great Pumpkin indeed, my Aunt
Sally!"
It appears that the boy had been coming to
the same pumpkin patch, year after year, in
search of this mysterious Great Pumpkin.
"He was always going on and on about
that stupid Great Pumpkin of his" declared
the dead youth's tearful sister. "Like some
kind of silly pumpkin-headed man would
fly out and deliver toys and presents to
boys and girls everywhere. That blockhead."
Neighbors describe the boy as "gentle",
with a charming off-beat manner. However, he had previously been seen talking to
small birds and even a local beagle.
"It's obvious that the child was suffering
from some kind of mental trauma. These
symptoms - appearing to have conversations with animals, the creation of elaborate wish-fulfillment fantasy schemes - are
obviously the result of a repressed psyche,"
said forensic psychologist Ruth Edermore.
"It maybe environmental. I mean come on,
if you lived in a place that looks like it still
belongs in the Fifties, so carefully sheltered
from almost all evidence of the modern era,
well, it can't be healthy, can it?"
Meanwhile, the town remains in mourning, as preparations are being made for the
boy's funeral. Page Two
THE FOUR THIRTY TWO
25 Oktober 2000
Gimme Shelter!
Volume Fourteen
Issue Four
25 Oktober 2000
Evil Mastermind
Jay Garcia
jgarcia@interchange.ubc.ca
Number One
Andy Martin
Henchmen
Breeonne Baxter
Amanda Seymour
Ben Warrington
Printed by
College Printers, Vancouver, BC
Minions
Breeonne Baxter
Jay Garcia
Jo Krack
Grace Lam
Andy Martin
mYk
Ajay Puri
Kat Scotton
Reka Sztopa
Ben Warrington
Chris White-DeVries
Various Elections Hacks
Web Sites
http://www.ams.ubc.ca/sus/
http://seercom.com/sus/432/
Legal Information
The 432 is brought into being by
the sheer force of will of the Editor,
the Assistant Editor, and four bags
of quality, quality China White.
Nyah! If you want some, come out
and play! First time's always free!
The Academy would also like to
thank Candia Taverna, without
whom this issue would not be possible. Fer God's sake, it's the building
with the ramp next to the honkin'
huge tree!
All views expressed in this issue
are strictly those of the individual
writers, and as such are not the
responsibility of The 432, The Science Undergraduate Society, or the
''acuity of Science. Writers and cartoonists are encouraged to submit
their material to The 432. Submissions must meet the requirements
of making the editor chuckle thrice,
and contain the author's name and
contact information.
Number Three was the one who
built the ramp, and then there was
Seventeen who knocked it down
just as Twenty-Three was about to
jump it on his skateboard, the
damn hommie. Get a damn haircut.
Chris White-DeVries
Hiding in Montana
Is all of UBC on crack or is it just me?
Sometimes I really do wonder if the
UBC delivery vans which speed by and
almost kill me actually serve any purpose,
or if they're just off to Brock Hall to give the
ever-so-pleasant employees their latest fix.
Ask any student who has ever had to
endure the excruciating agony of picking
up a form from the crack victims, or of asking a simple question, and they're sure to
go off on some ranting tangent about how
stupid these people are!
Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't
enjoy the humour in the fact that not one of
these people seem to have the slightest clue
about anything, but COME ON! I have
come to the conclusion that UBC is the
most inefficient place on earth!
Last year I went to the housing office to
pick up application forms for both summer
and fall housing. The man at the fall housing counter promptly handed me the
wrong form (there were two), and it took
him a good ten seconds to realize this. I, of
course, can understand his confusion, seeing as his entire job description seems to be
differentiating which form is for returning
students (blue) and which is for new students (white). When I asked for a summer
housing application, he happily told me to
take a few steps to my right to the summer
housing counter. I did so (as did he to his
left), and the same man greeted me at that
counter and asked how he could help me;
apparently he had a little too much of that
crack in between counters and completely
lost all of his little memory... I guess differentiating between those two forms can be
really trying).
If you want another example of UBCs
complete waste of resources (i.e. your
money), look back to last year. Do you
remember that hole in between 99 Chairs
and Koerner Library? If not, you must be
blind, it was there all year! I challenge anyone to come forward who ever saw any
form of work being done there. I specify
work because I frequently saw UBC's crack
team (pardon the pun) on site, of course
they were eating lunch at the time. Usually
lunch was eaten in a few of their strategically placed vehicles (i.e. smack dab in the
middle of everyone's way on the sidewalk,
because the hole wasn't already a big
enough pain in the ass), although if it was a
nice day they sometimes ate in the hole; at
least it got some use. My personal favourite
though was the day they filled in the hole,
only to dig the whole thing back up again
the next day. We should have expected
this... I mean, where would the poor service
workers eat lunch without a big hole to
park beside? Not possibly on the grassy
median between Bio Sciences and Scarfe...
oops, wait, that was dug up too! I wonder
what that was used for.
Of course, if you want to get a rise out of
any student who has ever lived in res, just
mention the word "caf' and watch them try
to gross you out with their "most disgusting
caf story ever" (don't even get me started
on my run-ins with Vanier's gourmet creations). I do realize that UBC is unionized,
but do we really need to pay the caf ladies
$25 an hour to scoop up slop and give us
cheerful comments like: "You want some of
'dis sexy boy?" My mom always tells me
that eating well is essential to staying
healthy and maintaining a positive learning environment (can anyone guess why I
chose to go to school far far away from my
house?). Maybe plummeting marks in first
year isn't due to excessive alcohol consumption and partying, but is somehow
linked to the fact that all of Totem and
Vanier is living off of second-hand pond-
scum which is kept from oozing off the heat
lamp counters by all the hair the caf ladies
seem to enjoy adding to the meals (someone really should tell them that hairnets
are NOT a fashion accessory and really
should cover at least 30% of your hair).
And of course, as they're quick to tell you,
the ham soup of the evening is completely
unrelated to the ham-kebobs, ham &
pineapple pizza, ham casserole, and ham
rolls of the previous four nights.
Another thing, it's a darn good thing that
all the service workers went on strike for
three minutes last year to get more money.
My goodness, it's so hard to own two
BMWs on a caf-lady salary. These people
should be happy to work for our great
school, where they can earn upwards of
fourty dollars an hour to cause as much
inconvenience to students as possible.
In closing, always remember these five
things: 1) If a UBC service worker says
they'll be there tomorrow, they'll be there
the day you move out to fix your heater that
blows cold air; 2) Hubbards and Magdas
never have enough antacid in supply, so
plan ahead; 3) No, two hours in between
your classes is not enough time to pay your
tuition (note that the tuition office doesn't
accept cash or credit, so plan ahead, it may
save you a few hours); 4) If the caf is closed
(past the exceptionally late hour of 7PM)
you can always find a nice hole to eat in;
and 5) If you desperately need a crack fix,
just contact the registrars office, they
always keep a little extra on hand!
Contrary to popular opinion, what they
are serving in the Vanier cafeteria isn't
ham. You don't think your roommate
really moved back home to Saskatoon, do
you?
-ed.
Changing of the Guard
Bree Baxter
f***!   imheNutHaus
Jay Garcia
Finally in Pow-her
On a clear Oktober day, nigh upon
two weeks ago, Bree Baxter, SUS
Director of Publications and 432
Editress, was laying out the paper for publication of Issue 3 when she completely lost
her mind, tearing up sunny sofa cushions
and screaming about shellfish, those damn
bottom-feeders. It took six SUS hacks and
three shots of morphine to calm her
enough for removal from the room. As a
result, she has "resigned" from the SUS
executive tribe. There is now a new editor,
one not scared by the horrible inhumanity
put upon the position. Jay Garcia, affectionately known as Sugar Daddy to his
friends and parole officer, is your new ant
master. Worship, and obey.
Bree now spends her time in the White
Building, making arts and crafts and decorating the walls with her own blood.
No TV and no beer make Bree
something something...
-ed
hey chewbacca
hey you! fuzzy! yeah you! wookie!
you need a shave! arrg!
UJlilUJ.5irFE5T.rET
UJUJUJ.5LlJGEV.Cntn
ujkuuj.pupDnLmE.cnm
UJUJUJ.DkE5EL5UJEETkE5.CDin
UJUJUJ.PEnnV-FRCFBE.COkn
kJJkJJUJ.nEFLLlFECDinkCS.CDin
Tjhe King is dead, long live the King. Or
words to that effect. Vsee, folks, what
we have here is a slight shift in the
power structure of this fine piece of journalistic satire. About a year ago (give or
take a few months), our much-heralded
Bree Baxter, publications goddess, took
over the reigns of the 432 from interim editor emeritus John "Chuck" Hallett. She
then spent the intervening time between
that moment and this as one half of the
Estrogen Editorial Bookend for this campus' newspapers (the other being the
redoubtable Ms. Karen Benson). Now if
this were even a halfway misogynistic rant
- and I'm looking at you, Mr. Martin - then
the rest of this paragraph, nay, this very
editorial, would have some rather biting
comparisons to women drivers, women
politicians, or women professional golfers.
But that would be unfair, and entirely
untruthful. Bree brought a touch of class to
this otherwise foul-mouthed and overly-
exuberant rag and managed to reign in the
excesses of many of its heavier-handed
writers (current lowly scrivener of this
piece inclusive). Good show, Bree!
However, and perhaps somewhat unwisely, she has decided to hand over editorial
control of this paper to myself. As I often
misapprehend the meaning of the word
"tact", I'd like to take this opportunity to
fire a warning shot across the bow of the
ship of state (if you'll let me mangle the
metaphor beyond breakage).
The 432 is humor, people, with a focus on
satire. The abridged OED - as I'm too
damn lazy to get up off this marvelously
comfortable editor's chair to grab the
unabridged copy, which is, by itself, capable of caving in the skulls of a few rats from
its sheer weight - defines satire as the use
of sarcasm, irony or wit in exposing abuses
or follies.
Abuses? Follies? On this campus? Never. I
mean, far be it for this paper to report that
the editor of this paper's Esteemed Opposition has been caught in a compromising
position with a hamster, a roll of duct tape,
and dressed in nothing but a leopard-print
bikini (which, by the way, looked absolutely darling on you, Owen).
That is not to say that The 432 will suddenly become nothing but a bastion of dry
wit and refined humour; I mean, we're
keeping Andy on staff fer chrissakes! We're
still going to host the Dead Pool, the Hockey Pool, and actual news-type items from
the bizarre and exciting world that is
YOUR Undergraduate Student Society. But
look for a few changes in the design and
content of this paper in the months to
come.
If you want any input on how this grand
experiment in editorial extravagance turns
out, then come and work on the paper.
Don't be one of those whining little bastards who says "the paper isn't funny anymore!". If you've got something funny, or
have a penchant for graphic design, or even
want to learn what the hell it is we do every
other week (aside from getting high on
spray-glue fumes), then come on by to
CHEM B160. I'll be in the office every day
sometime after 4:30. Write for the paper!
Earn fame, fortune, the respect of your
peers. Well, one out of three ain't bad.
But I digress... 25 Oktober 2000
THE FOUR THIRTY TWO
Page Three
He Ain't Talkin' Bout Cars, Now
Ben Warrington
___S__\_,  Crazy Bible Thumper
W Imt* ,	
Hallowe'en. This time of year puts
me in mind of the modern day
Frankensteins that are beginning
to pop out of genetics laboratories everyday. I am talking, of course, about genetically modified foods. Like the monster in
the novel, people seem to have great fears
about what they do not understand. It is
not irrational to be concerned about these
new foods, but let's not be paranoid, okay?
Admittedly, current techniques are a bit
random and haphazard, but very few scientists say, "I have no idea what I just made,
but I am going to release it into the wild
now." Everything goes through years of
testing before being sold, and most specimens are destroyed. No geneticist wants to
be the first to cause a serious health or
environmental problem, let alone face the
lawsuits and loss of profits that would surely ensue from such an occurrence. It is true
that government regulations and controls
could be a lot more stringent, but currently
at least, the science is new enough that the
geneticists are actually as interested in the
science as the money, and are therefore
careful about want they are producing.
Take genetically modified canola. People
are in horrors that their fries might have
been cooked in oil squeezed out of GM
canola. First of all, there is no way to tell,
anyway; there is no protein in the oil. All of
the fibrous parts have to be cleaned out, or
the oil will spoil quickly. More importantly,
what the hell do you think canola is anyway? It is not a natural crop; it is modified
rapeseed. The process was different, but
the goal and the result were the same. It
was just as random and haphazard as well.
In fact, almost no food is "natural" per se.
Anybody know why an eggplant is called an
eggplant? Anybody? Originally, in nature,
the fruit of the eggplant was small, white,
and egg-shaped-hence "eggplant." It doesn't look like that now, does it? Through
selective breeding, it has become a large,
funny-shaped, purple lump. To me, that is
a much larger and scarier change than
swapping out a random gene.
I saw a special on genetically modified
foods on CBC television a few months back.
The reporters interviewed random people
in order to get the "view on the street," as it
were. One woman said (paraphrased),
"There are huge protests in Europe, so
there must be something to be concerned
about."
What?
This is exactly the kind of thing that I am
complaining about. Just because a bunch
of idiots are getting together and complaining does not mean that there is something
wrong. Can no one think for himself anymore? Does everyone have to be a fanatic
on one end of the spectrum or the other?
Rather than just going along with one
crowd or another, perhaps people could
find out what the issue is first. Of course,
this is never going to happen. There is a
long history of this sort of behaviour; people are sheep. They would follow the herd
off a cliff [sorry about mixing metaphors].
Take another modern day horror: nuclear
power. This issue has been around somewhat longer, so it is easier to see the "fallout." Nuclear weapons caused the deaths of
thousands of people in Hiroshima and
Nagasaki. This is exactly the purpose for
which they were developed. The results
were a horrific loss of life, but it showed of
what the weapons were capable, and they
have never been used again. If they had
been developed in peacetime, there wouldn't have been as good of feel for their true
nature, and their first use may well have
resulted in the type of nuclear holocaust
predicted during the cold war years. Without the development of nuclear explosions,
there would be no nuclear power. Most
people do not think that nuclear power is a
very good thing, but even with the occasional accident, I would attest that the
environmental and health risks are far less
than those caused by the soot put out by
coal burning power plants which is the only
alternative in many parts of the world
including much of Canada. The accident at
Chernobyl, again, was horrific, but it was
caused by poor safety performance and a
comedy of errors, albeit a dark comedy.
The carbon rods that regulate the reaction
were pulled out of the reactor rather than
dropped in when the reaction started to get
out of hand for Christ's sake. The lasting
damage from such events is not as bad as
made out to be, either. People are living
around Chernobyl again, admittedly with
uncertain health effects. Hiroshima and
Nagasaki are again thriving cities with
apparently little or no increase in the cancer rate. In fact, certain places in the world
have higher natural radiation levels than
the residual in either of these cities. It is
only the unfortunate people exposed to the
initial blast that suffered serious long-term
health effects. It is not to say that these
people are unimportant, and that future
incidents should not be avoided, but the
average human being faces far greater
health risks from smog.
Finally, without splitting the atom, there
would be no such thing as sub-atomic
physics. This means that a great deal of the
new cheap electronics that rely on subatomic processes couldn't have been developed: no cell phones, palm pilots, or other
electronic gizmos that everyone seems to
love. At the very least these devices might
exist, but they would never be cheap
enough for the general population.
So, what does this rant about nuclear
power have to do with genetically engineered food? With any new science, there
are certain to be risks. Likely, someone will
screw up and there will be an accident.
That does not mean that the science is
"evil" and should be stopped at all costs.
Great benefits could come out of it, many
of which will be unforeseeable. Rather than
trying to stop the genetic modification of
food, we should pursue the science-care-
fully. All we can do is to attempt to foresee
the risks and minimize them while reaping
the benefits that these foods will allow.
Bring on the GM food. Let's all play God.
I disagree. You only get to play God if
you're in the biological sciences. While it
may be fun to smash particles together
and form strangelets that may ultimately
devour every form of matter in existence,
real God-like behaviour can be found in
creating a vast, super-human race of
beings who call you Master, and with
whom you shall conquer the world! And
they will also fetch you your slippers.
Ain't that cool?
-ed
Someone To Watch Over Me
^tt,   Jay Garcia
Q >*U Z>  Not just paranoid
The problem these days is that there's
way too much unfocused rage. I
mean, just yesterday, some crazed
soccer mom — hopped up on caffeine and
adrenaline due to having to ferry her festering brood around town in her soccer
mom SUV — tried very hard to run my poor
little Civic off the road. While this is normally not an uncommon occurrence (being
merely the vehicular interpretation of Dar-
winistic selection), this was on South West
Marine Drive. One curvy lane. One hundred and thirty kilometers and hour.
It's only a wonder that neither my tires
nor Crazy Soccer Mom's head didn't
explode. She finally blew past me when we
hit the highway, flying her middle digit like
a victory flag out of her drivers-side window. Some role-model; no doubt her malodorous offspring will someday turn into
something noisome, like a tax adjuster, or a
political campaigner.
All that rage could have been channeled to
better ends. Crazy Soccer Mom could
instead be campaigning against these
unreasonably high gas prices. 77.9 cents a
liter? It's like pouring Kool-Aid down my
gas tank, though without the black,
caramel smoke belching out of my exhaust
pipe. My car eats better than I do, though it
only does get fed but once every ten to
twelve days. And with global warming, the
after-effects of El Nino, and the preponder
ance of butterflies in the rainforest, our
weather is more chaotic than ever. Which
implies, by and large, that we might have a
really cold and wet winter. Gas bills will
skyrocket. People will riot, and cars will be
overturned, though not without having
their tanks siphoned out first.
Personally, I blame Europe. Gas prices
were always ruinously high back in the Old
Countries, and they were likely more than
peeved at the lands of eternal fossil fuel
consumption that North America had
become.
I mean, if you really think about it, you can,
see the corellation. In Europe, more people
ride bikes or take some alternate mode of
transportation other than a car. This may
have to do with the lousy state of many
roads (Autobahn notwithstanding), but
that's what you get when you lay out your
city's road plan on the old trailways set by
wandering livestock. For a more immediate example, check out Boston, or any of
the New England states. Regardless, an
interesting coincidence can also be seen in
the linear correlation between the rise in
gas prices and the sudden preponderance
of those mincing little silver scooters,
which, not surprisingly, also originated in
Europe.
I think that what this continent needs is
someone to look up to. The limp-wristed
politicians in power bluster and bluff to
improve their Q ratings, ordering bombings on munitions factories / foreign
embassies in order to prop up their press.
Or if you're a Canadian politician, by sending out Peacekeeping forces to get their
asses whupped in foreign countries, whereas all Johnny Public wants is cheep beer,
Hockey Night in Canada, and a warm place
to sleep.
It's no wonder then that people have
resorted to civil disobedience to get their
point across. Bill Gates got a pie in his face;
trust a hard-core capitalist to be a trendsetter. Good ol' Chretien and the somewhat
frightening Mr. Day themselves got gunned
down by various confectionary products.
It's only a matter of time before someone
develops a gun that fires a croissant loaf
with lethal velocities.
"Chef of Chicanery, your buns are mine!"
Or so said the Tick. That's really what we
need down here. A superhero to look up to.
Someone surreal. We're tired of abject and
soul-crushing normality. We need to see
someone make bold, if occasionally ill-considered decisions. Come to think of it, this
mentality can be the only thing that can
explain why both Regan and Crazy Maggie
Thatcher ended up in power.
This doesn't bode well for the future;
we've been riding a wave of cresting mediocrity and peace for the last decade or so,
ignoring, of course, those minor brush fires
like Sarajevo, Kosovo, or the devastation in
Africa. For those of us in the developed
world, we have nothing more to fear than
mediocrity and boredom; what a terrible
cross to bear, and what suffering must we
endure under these burdens.
In a fit of pique, I can envision voters casting their ballot for people like Crazy Maggie; Stockwell Day, here's your chance in
the sun!
If form follows function, then, we can
expect a return to eighties fashion: we've
seen the sixties and seventies raped for
their style and fashion sense; why not the
eighties? Bring back the mullet! The
padded shoulders! The gold lame!
It's way too late to bring back Heroin; I
never thought I'd be a junkie because heroin is so passe, to quote from the Dandy
Warhols.
This modern age has so much better drugs
anyway, guaranteed to burn your neural
circuitry and provide a blissfull, mind-
numbing sense of euphoria, followed
immediately by a sense of worthlessness,
paranoia, heightened reflexes and homicidal speed. Is it any wonder the military
helped develop half this stuff?
By coincidence, all the major players in
the upcoming elections have stated that
they would make significant contributions
to their respective militaries.
You do the math; an increased military,
supporting a wider plethora of drugs that
turn teenagers into even more effective
killing machines (aside, of course, from
sticking them behind the wheel of a car),
which results in armed insurrection, riots,
and widespread destruction, forcing the
governments to go to a state of "civil emergency".
And nothing drives down the price of oil
like a good war.
So the next time you see a Crazed Soccer
Mom bearing down on you in her gas-guzzling SUV, for the love of God, and for the
freedom and peace of our nation, get the
Can you draw? At all? Any better than this?
Draw for the Page Four
THE FOUR THIRTY TWO
25 Oktober 2000
Scary Ramblings Version 7.5.11
mYk
awwwbjyeah.org
On Moving
we found a place! yay! though an impressive twist of fate on november first we shall
be moving... wait for it... very very near
benny's on broadway. i used to spend
insane amounts of time at benny's, once i
stayed there all night with a friend, back
when it was 24 hours, it was insane, the
opera guy was there singing at the top of
his lungs, he'd introduce the operas differently each time, but they would always be
the same song, around 5:00am these people came in with their dog. they had apparently been down on the beach and had
been caught in the torrential rainstorm
that started around 3:00am. their dog had
also been sprayed by a skunk, they ordered
3 bowls of tomato soup to pour over the
dog. that was a weird night, i'm not sure if
we hallucinated that incident or not. i miss
those nights, maybe one time ill walk into
benny's and it will be as cool as it once was.
i doubt it though, i'm not nearly as cool as i
once was.
On Lucidity
my lack of it comes from the fact that i did
not get a hell of a lot of sleep last night, or
any other night this week, while all you
suckers were writing your midterms, i was
worrying about a film studies essay that is
worth 25% of a 6 credit course, all you art
sies will scoff at that of course, but for me it
was a big deal, i also handed it in 8 days
late. doh. wandering around campus in an
insane sleep deprived state is neat, i wandered into sus and explained to corrie and
kat and jay that all sounds were of the same
volume and that i no longer had the ability
to filter out sounds that were not coming
from the people that i was talking to. when
i started to have major problems understanding human language i had some coffee and it was all good.
On Coffee
there's a new girl working at the coffee
shop i go to every day that i'm working and
not at ubc. she's a lot cuter than the scary
guy that used to work there, eeek! scary!!
the coffee people must be frightened of me.
i always walk in there when i'm crazy from
coffee withdrawal and probably way, way
too loud.
On SUS
well last meeting we approved all the new
elected department reps and appointed
everyone that didn't bother to actually run
or get elected by their department, it was
cool to have some unfamiliar faces and
some fresh blood, we need fresh energy, i
think it's funny that dan, who has never
taken a geography course, will never take a
geography course is now the geography rep
to sus. well, whatever, it's tough being the
student government for a faculty like this
in a school like this, in other news, the sus
retreat is coming up.. . fun drunken times
up at the ams lodge, woo! oh wait, i don't
drink, fun times watching other people
vomit on themselves! woo! no, i'm sure it'll
be awesome, hopefully i'll get to drive
someone else's car on the way up and hopefully i won't crash and die on good old
highway 99.
On Awbjyeah
awwwwbjyeah. say it with me one time,
awwbjyeah.
On Technology
aw man, just hooked myself up with some
remote hosting for my web bulletin board,
no more pentium-90 running off of adsl for
me - this new server is a linux box with a
dual P3-700 or something like that with 18
terrabytes of memory., ok, maybe not that
much, but it's elite anyway, i haven't tried
setting things up yet, so i don't know if the
net latency from here Oklahoma will be
really bad and i'll have to find a friend with
ph4t bandwidth and keep using my P90. oh
boy! oh boyoboy! i can hardly wait to start
playing with it.
On Food
i promised myself i'd start cooking real
food, but so far it's been nothing more than
good intentions, i'm still stuck in the "heat
up some pasta" or "make bean medley" or
"canned soup - yum!!" paradigm, one day
maybe i'll say something besides "takes 20-
25 minutes to prepare??!! i can't wait that
long! i'm hungry now!" when i look at a
recipe from a book.
On linux vs. microsoft
chix'll only be digin'ya if yer runnin' linux,
yo. (slap ma'fro! -ed) but, more specifically, microsoft has started running anti-linux
ads in europe! we've got them on the run,
kids! it's great - the ad is a two-page spread
in a magazine and has a few penguins with
different animal heads, the caption says
something like "don't run linux because it
might mutate! instead, run windows 2000,
an operating system that you have to pay
for, and will make you smell like rotting
kentucky fried chicken grease and will
cause your balls to fall off." ok, maybe it
doesn't say exactly that, but it is pretty
funny, mutation? mutation? isn't mutation
what organisms do to adapt to new surroundings and new stimuli? isn't that sort
of like when there's a new security hole
found in your operating system, it's
patched and distributed in 3 hours?
instead of waiting 6 months for nt service
pack 2384a? that's the point of linux, you
silly impotent microsoft weenies! (hi, jeff.)
On the 432
well bree quit director of pub and the editor of the 432. this paper is now brought to
you by the letter jay. several good things
come out of this, the least important of
which is that you will never, ever, again
hear me claim that i am "boning the editor
of the 432." no offense jay, you're really
cute and all, but you're just not my type.
love always,
myk
ps, please send your hatemail and outlook
2000 email viruses to myk432@hush-
mail.com.
Next Deadline: November 1st, 2000
On your knees, rebel SCUM!
All articles and cartoons welcome. Must make the editor laugh at least thrice, contain your full
contact information, and be longer than 700 words.
Write about the loss of democracy among the squirrels. Or not. Just write
All contributions must be made by 4:32pm, November 1st. Email to jgarcia@interchange.ubc.ca
we need you! I
Are you interested in a career in politics?
Do you have an interest in all things paper?
Can you spare an hour every Thursday between
1:30 to 2:30?
If so, then you're way pverqualified! Join the
few, the proud, the vociferous members of the
Sci en ce Executive!
Pirector of
Some of the responsibilities include attending
council and executivemeetings and being in
charge of SUS publications (you will MOT have
tobe editor of the 432 or paradigm. These
publications already have editors). If you're
interested, contact Reka Sztopa:
rsztopa@interchange.ubc.ea
Science 5wag!
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BrTTFsT83n^i-'r*tJ?i. i ftiJt*ff ■   ■ Page Six
THE FOUR THIRTY TWO
25 Oktober 2000
fee
h
QI&S
rom
he-
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Good evening, gentle readers. Tonight, I bring
you a pair of haunting and terrifying tale that
shall chill you to your very bones! Our first tale
is a chilly lesson that, no matter where you go,
so do the monsters....
Since this is the Halloween issue, I
decided that a make-your-neck-hair-
stand-up scary story would be fitting.
I thought long and hard to come up with
something really gruesome, but I couldn't.
Oh sure, there were the usual UBC horror
stories — four midterms in one day,
hideously long assignments due soon that
have not been started, extreme student
budgets supplemented by panhandling...
but these are all non-fatal.
Much as we groan and protest that we're
going to "die", that we are so, so "dead", we
remain alive, even if we fail a course or two.
So I was really
stuck for ideas,
"j I was even going
to  resort to  a
scary     squirrel
story, since those
militant little buggers  are  surprisingly  hostile   and
seem to be organizing...
But then, a Halloween story unfolded
right in front of me, in
the SUB conversation
pit, of all places.
Amongst the stinky, sagging couches, full of
innocent, peaceful students reading and chatting, was a monster so hideous, so gruesome, that I tremble when recalling its
form. It was... A JOCK!
Not one of the jocks that has brain cells,
that is big and muscular and plays sports
THINGS THAT GO B^WP
but wouldn't hurt a fly. Oh no. This was an
old skool jock, over six feet tall and muscular, requisite army crewcut and all, with a
dull, animal look in his eyes. Normally one
would pass such a specimen and try to suppress a shudder, and that would be the end
of it, but on this day, I witnessed the beast's
full ferocity as if I were in the front row at a
National Geographic bear-baiting expedition.
It began with a cell phone. A ringing cell
phone. The cell phone is another scary element to this tale, because for some reason
people insist on having really annoying
songs instead of a normal ring. If I ever got
a cell phone, I'd want to record my voice
onto it so instead of ringing it would yell,
"Hey! You! Answer me!" But I digress...
The cell phone was ringing, but no one
picked it up, although everyone looked
around trying to figure out whose it was.
The ringing stopped, and life returned to
normal. I struck up a "don't-you-hate-
those-annoying-things" conversation with
a long-haired guy reading next to me, then
we both went back to reading.
Dee-do-dee-dee-do, dee-dee-dee, doo-
doo-doo... the cell phone struck again!
Again no one picked it up and its annoying
tune reverberated in the SUB. The guy next
to me, in a humourous (myk-like) tone,
yells "Get the fucking phone!" And all of a
sudden, in the horrid dead silence that follows, we realize whose cell phone it was. It
was... THE JOCK'S!!!
The Jock turned his pinhead around,
working his rippling neck muscles. His
bear eyes look on to the poor guy next to
me. "It's muh GIRLFRIEND'S
phone," he growls, as if that
makes its ring less annoying (Jock logic, go
fig.) "I'm watchin' it fer her. So could ya
CALM DOWN, buddy?" (as if the skinny
myk-like guy next to me had been about to
pick a fight!) Cowed, since we are not six
feet or muscular, let alone both, Myk-clone
and I settle back into our books. If this
were a normal story, instead of a Halloween one, the Jock would have been a
normal guy, and it would have ended there.
But no. This is the really, really scary part.
Apparently Jock was wired like a dinosaur,
in that it took a long time for his "My manhood has been challenged" feelings to travel from manhood region to brain. So about
twenty minutes later, he's in a frothing
angry mess, and stalks stiffly towards our
couch. I can see his hands shaking, anger
waiting to explode. And he's a lot taller
than he was when sitting down-
He stands in front of Myk-clone, and
demands, "Tell me to get the phone again!"
(Huh?) Myk-clone asks why. "Just do it,
tell me! Tell me to get the phone again!
Tell... me... to... get... the... phone!" Jock
has trouble with sentence variation, but
he's plowing on like a trooper, as Myk-
clone avoids eye contact and mumbles.
"Cuz what I hate... what really makes me
MAD... is when a little POINDEXTER tells
ME to get the phone! Cuz I'm watchin' it fer
muh GIRLFRIEND!" Now it becomes
clearer. Jock has decided that Myk-clone's
comment was aimed directly and personally at him, rather than in the general direction of the annoying cell phone. Jock has
mulled this over, and equated it to an intel-
BY JOKRACK
lectual attack
of some kind
— apparently
he has something against
smart people, and
has obviously identified himself as a Jock, not a Brain, with the
honourable duty of showing that brawn triumphs over brain.
Jock's leaps of logic were Olympic, and
severly disturbing. He then tried to get
Myk-clone to go fight him outside in the
rain. Myk-clone is apologizing, but Jock
want blood. Jock no want understand situation, JOCK NO LIKE WORDS!! It was terrifying... Sheer muscle and testosterone,
without basic common sense or at least
anger management skills. Myk-clone
escaped because Jock couldn't get him to
fight, but the next "intellect" may not be so
lucky. And if you're reading this and
haven't had to look any words up, you qualify as an "intellect" to Jock, so watch out!
Apparently, expressing your opinions may
lead to a bloody nose rather than a debate.
If you think this story wasn't too scary,
think for a moment: what do you think
Jock will end up doing in life? If he doesn't
get stranded at the "Bouncer" or "Pro-
Football" stage, he may very well move up
to "Army" or "Police." He may actually be
ARMED. This is a very, very scary thought.
So please Jock, if you're out there (though
I doubt you'd pick up a SUS paper), take
some anger management courses. Learn
conflict resolution that doesn't involve
fists. Try to get in touch with your inner
brain cells. Because frankly, we need our
nerds. They come in handy, and they're
usually quite nice, and they don't beat us
up. Brain drain: it doesn't have to be literal.
Tuesday is Halloween. Or as evil old people know it,
Razor Apple Day!
-Norm MacDonald
m?
This next story is a tragic tale of loss, pain, and
the insidious changes that happen to a person
when they let their own glorfied technology get
the better of them. I call it...
Going along with this issue's spooky
Halloween theme, I want to discuss
with you a hair-raising phenomenon that has landed in an arcade near you.
(That fact that they even allowed some psy-
c'io like me to be printed on the paper is
scary enough!) Perhaps you're an "Arcade
person" perhaps you're not. But it doesn't
matter because I'm sure most of you have
heard or seen someone you know engaged
in this despicable act. (No, you perverts,
I'm not referring to sex.) It has hit Vancouver like a virus, spreading contagiously to
all intelligent (and non-intelligent) life
forms. Is it a deadly plague? No, it certainly isn't. Is it our beloved Prime Minister,
Jean Chretien getting yet another fact lift
in as many days? Close, but not quite. Is
it...Superman? NO, you dope! What I'm
OANCE DANCE DOOW!
talking about is (drum roll) the Dance
Dance Revolution Machine, a.k.a. DDR.
Just walk into the Sub arcade for example
and see for yourself. You will find not one,
but TWO of these outrageous machines
where people are oddly amused by four
arrows. I have had the opportunity of interviewing one the regular patrons of this
DDR machine while he was stomping
madly on the machine platform. (G = me,
U = Unnamed Patron)
G: Sir, why do you like this...um...game so
much?
U: (Heaving Breathing)...Wuddya mean
why I like it?! It's an awesome game, man!
Saturday nights, no where ta go, just hanging at my dorm, watching the game, having
a bud...and then I hop on this  |3V   <3rl?AC?T?   V^W
machine, and I can imagine
I'm dancing with lotsa hot naked girls!
G: Uh...sir, if "dancing" with a machine
would give you such kicks, you would have
to be extremely desperate to drool over this
stationary dead machine.
U: Ha, ha...what are you trying to get at?
No, really, seriously, what ARE you trying
to get at??????
Well folks, I rest my case. (Don't know
about you, but I think he is an Arties...) So
be forewarned. Beware of the DDR
machine!! (By the way, play only if you feel
like making a fool out of yourself in front to
other students when trying to hit those
darn arrows on beat!) 25 Oktober 2000
THE FOUR THIRTY TWO
Page Seven
A Life Less Ordinary
Vox Populii
Breeonne Baxter
r&J^g Standing Straighter
Somebody shoot the high school guidance councilor who sent me to UBC.
Who thought this would be a good
idea? I wanted to be a fairy princess when I
was a little girl. Looking back, it's still the
best idea I have had in about 21 years.
Languishing in my fifth year, I have taken
the gauntlet of the courses. I took the math
class. I passed first year stuff. Then there
was that unfortunate incident in second
year where Math 200 and I met, talked,
then when I turned around to get my
cheque book, it stabbed me in the back
with a sharp and pointy integral. 20%, my
ass.
Microbiology and everything to do with
cells, small or large, is bad to me and my
tiny brain. Small is bad. It's so much easier
to deal with large community interactions
such as ecology. If I can't see it, I don't care.
When I was in third year, I fell for the "you
should take computer science because it's
good for you and your career in the evolving technology world!" propaganda shoveled at us by our Faculty Administration,
and tried to take Comp Sci 124. Granted, I
didn't try very hard, but that was because I
couldn't be bothered to care. Just as I
bombed on French because it wasn't a language that was English, computer science
Scheme (as in a Scheme to weed all but the
most nerdy pale scoliosis-like keener-assed
computer geeks out of the program) was
out of the woods for me. I remember I
wrote a nice little poem on a tree for Patrice
to mark. 26%, my ass.
My continued success in the field of political science in the Faculty of Arts has led
me to believe that I should not really be in
science, although it does look better when I
apply for that $ioo,ooo/year job in the
field of writing sarcastic articles for the student press. It's a pleasant way to pass the
time.although quite useless in a real world,
barring entering the charming world of
federal politics (although as a woman who
won't either listen to the religious misogy-
nistic ranting of the middle class white
males from Alberta or the 20-year old
bitching about 'we need the progressive
technology of the Vic 20!', I'm a bit out of
the loop).
When they first introduced the microchip,
an engineer asked "But what will they use it
for?"
I'm getting sick of this university thing.
I'm moving at the end of this month to a
really nice place in the veterans apartment
block down by Benny's, so I'll be off this
damn campus for a change. A real life?
What's that? If I manage to pass the classes I'm in this year, and if I have enough
credits to pass (I'm not really sure right
now, as I've yet to see an advisor; I guess
I'm just scared to actually see how much
longer I'm in for) I can actually get on with
my life. Will I be able to get a job with my
life science degree? And my simple HTML
and Photoshop skills? If I want to work at a
porn site, sure. Yeah, that would look great
on the resume and for the parents. "Hey
Daddy! Guess where I'm working??"
Granted, having four midterms on four
days, two on one day, in a row, on physics
and chemistry, has soured me on the concept of the skool. I just want to sit back,
relax, have that fifth of tequila and a lime in
my hand, and pretend that nothing of
responsibility is going on. Group project?
Who cares? Rent payment? Whatever. My
brother needs a kidney? Get back to me in
a week, I'm having some Bree time.
My brother, my sweet little 19 year old
brother, was on the second episode of Dark
Angel. He was one of the 'hordes' that the
genetically mutated chick was oogling. Erg.
That's just wrong. He's my little brother.
He shouldn't be viewed as a sex object, a
piece of meat, by the entire population of
North America. I'm scared.
No responsibility, no more exams, no
cares. I'm going home to make dinner and
see how long it takes for the neighbours to
complain about the noise.
But Breeonne, you're still going to show
up on production nights to help out/with
the paper, right? I mean, how else am I
supposed to reign in Andy when he starts
foaming at the mouth and ranting about
women and fishing boats? And who's
going to help me demolish all that Candia
Taverna goodness that gets ordered to
feed the creative flames of this paper?
Come back, Breeonne! Come back!
-ed
Social Coordinator
Katharine Scotton
Thanks go to everyone for coming out
to Oktoberfest. It was lots of fun, the
bands sounded great and the bzzr
didn't run out. An extra special, huge
thanks to all my amazing volunteers, without whom I could not have pulled off the
event.
For more drunken fun, join us for Nothing
Ever Happens in November on November
3rd in the Partyroom, 4:00 - 8:00 PM. We
may have a band. May. We'll see.
So I suppose that some of you have
heard about the new liquor policy. It
stinks. I'm not pleased with it. So I will let
you all know now that events in the SUB
Partyroomhosted by your ever-loving, ever
rockin' Science Undergrad Society will
always have alcohol, even if the posters
don't say so.
Party on!
Let me emphasize that point. Always.
Have. Alcohol. It's not just a statement,
it's a way of life.
-ed
Editor
Jay Garcia
Howdy kids. It's just like old days,
back in when I had Reka's job and
my name used to grace this particularly unread section of the paper. How
many of you out there actually pay attention to the executive blurbs? Do you even
care? Well, for those of you wide awake and
bored, here's a special contest. If you can
either: compose really awful free verse
poetry incorporating the name of the last
six editors of the paper (myself not inclusive), or bring me a copy of the University's
new Alcohol Policy, signed by at least one
person who directly worked on the formation of said policy, I'll give you a Science
Coffee Mug or a DVD of your choice (total
value before tax less than $20). Leave me
your submissions at CHEM B160; first
applicant wins it all!
External VP
Ajay Puri
Hey there sexy science students!
Your porn king doing his report-
Not much new has happened with
me or with External VP. Just note that the
Science Week Committee will be meeting
October 24th, therefore my report in the
next issue will be pretty extensive! Watch
out for that, and Keep Watching Porn!
Ajay is neither into porn, nor is he a
king. He does have an extensive collection
of fuzzy tea cozies, though.
-ed
Internal Vice-Prez
Reka Sztopa
Hi Everyone, AHHHHHHHHH!
What a crazy couple of weeks this
has been. But luckily it will soon be
over. I hope that all of your midterms went
well and that you are about to move into
relaxation mode again soon.
Science Elections for year and department
reps went really well. I estimate that about
500 people voted which is not too bad.
Almost quorum.
Almost.
The results of the elections have been
summarized somewhere in this issue so
read up on your new department reps!
FYC is planning a HUGE game of Capture
the Flag in the Endowment lands on
November is"1. If you would like more
details or would like to register please
email us at sus_fyc@hotmail.com.
What to look forward too. SUS is moving
out of the Chem building by the end of this
month so we hope that you will come visit
our new home in Hennings 102. We will be
hosting an open house probably in November so stay tuned.
Also, I am hoping to get a page in the next
issue of the 432 with the name and contact
information for all of the executive, year
reps, department reps and club reps on
council so you know who they are and can
get a hold of them if necessary. Have a
great couple of weeks,
-Reka
1 .The policy doesn't cover the alcohol in Chemistry labs. They keep most of their alcohol in those metal
yellow cupboards. And that blindness thing only happens to people who can't hold their methanol.
Might I suggest the x99 Isopropyl?
2. Officially, the University is just fine with pot. Toke, baby, toke.
3. Switch your beer preference to Labatt Wildcat. You'll never want more than one an hour.
4. Switch your race to Asian. Having no alcohol-dehydrogenase makes every beer count.
5. Officially, the AMS has no policy on Heroin...
6. What the fuck do you think the thermos was invented for anyway?
7. Choose slow drinking games such as 'Scwartz, (just Scwartz)', 'Kenny Dies' and 'Spot the funny
Underground Article".
8. Officially, the AMS has no policy on Crystal Meth.,.
9. Give blood right before a bzzr garden. About 4-5 pints should do it.
10. Find incriminating photos of certain AMS Executives doing horizontal mambo. What you do with
these photographs is, of course, your own business,
11. Hang around the Pit a Wednesday night and leave your drink at the table while you dance. After
someone slips rohypnol into your beer, you won't need another beer.
12. The urine of diabetics contains a high concentration of alcohol. 'Nuff said.
Please note that the 432 does not endorse or condone any of the above methods, but if you get those photos, forward us a copy. Page Eight
THE FOUR THIRTY TWO
25 Oktober 2000
Fade to Greyscale
j. Andy Martin
Comfortably Hung
C'est Halloween. Time of scary spectres, scary old ladies giving out
apples with razorblades in them, and
ugly little kids coming around to try to beg
away my precious, precious candy using
cute little costumes. Hey, if I didn't give
any to the starving hobo on the corner of
Robson and Howe, what makes you think
you deserve it, you pampered little brat?
Hallowe'en is a time to celebrate, and
exploit other people's fears. People fear
scary things, that's why they're defined as
'scary'. Yet people are dumb and seem to
react to fear with a certain ill-advised
curiosity. Show any other organism on
earth something they're scared of and they
go running in the other direction. This fascination with things we fear is kind of a
short circuit around modern society to
instil some sense of natural selection in the
human population.
One of the top things people fear is the
inevitable end: Death. But lately, there has
been a trend towards not fearing death.
And it's not only found in the extreme
sporters or the clergy, it's found among the
normal, non-cliff jumping, non-altar boy
sodomizing population.
A lot of people I meet claim that they
aren't afraid of death. This is an erroneous
position to take, mostly due to the fact that
death is pretty fucking scary. There is nothing not scary about death. It is to be feared
beyond all else. In fact, just about everything else that people develop odd and
inexplicable fears to can be laughed off,
death can't be laughed off... because you're
dead.
Many people believe that death is a natural passing from this life to another. Not for
me it ain't. To me, death means not living
anymore. It means no more life, no more
love, no more adventure, no more sex, no
more beer, no more liquid nitrogen, no
more grenade launchers, no more fun.
Some people believe in reincarnation. If
there is a life after death, I hope it is reincarnation. Everything else would just be
boring. But I don't want another life, I like
this life just like it is. I don't wanna be
rolling the chromosomal dice as to my next
body. Knowing my luck I'll be reborn as
some ugly, stupid and utterly charmless oaf
whose only joy in life will be when he/she
goes to a two-bit psychic and learns that in
a former life, he/she was world-famous
Andy Martin, smiter of some sort of infidels.
People think that death is their ultimate
passage into paradise. However, if you're
one of the 99.9% of the population that sin,
that ain't guaranteed. Hell is all but a sure
thing for most of us. And hell is really, really scary. And what is heaven supposed to
be? A never-ending Sunday service, nonstop praising of the Lord. Heaven is really,
really scary.
And then, there are the atheists. They
believe that when you die that's it, your
conscience ceases to exist, gradually fading
away as your brain rots after death. They
believe that the conscience thought process
is merely a bunch of synaptic reactions, a
whole bunch of selective keytone-alcohol
electron displacements. And that when we
die, our conscience ceases to exist. That's
so unbelievably scary, I can't even fathom
it. I lie awake sometimes and wonder about
what it'll be like...to just not exist. Then I
fantasize about two girls I saw that day,
dressed in tight saran wrap doing things
that would cause people to write me many,
many nasty letters if I printed them here.
Then everything's right with the world and
I go to sleep.
Of course, all this discussion about life
after death is altogether disregarding the
fact that the act of death itself will more
than likely hurt a lot.
Let us review the ways I almost died in the
past year. I almost fell off a boat into the
Bering Sea. I almost had my wrist ripped
open by an errant fish hook. I saw John
Hallett naked. I almost fractured my skull
slipping on pavement. Any vehicle I was in
could have been turned into a fiery, twisted
wreck if just one sparkplug fell loose. I
walked into an Irish pub whistling 'God
Save the Queen'. I told my girlfriend that
'Okay, okay! You look fat already!' You tell
me that any of these deaths would be painless. And you gotta wait another sixty years
or so for just a chance at passing away
quietly in your sleep. And even then, what
guarantee will is there that it won't be painless? Every cell in your body still has to die
from asphyxiation...that probably has to
hurt somehow.
And don't even get me started on what
they do to your body after you die (mostly
because it isn't funny at all). I'll just remind
you that it's really, really scary. If you really need to know, just ask your local mortician, they'll be happy for the living human
contact. And studies show that the majority of morticians are necrophiliacs. Ew.
But at least we don't live in ancient Egypt.
What kind of freak priest came up with the
idea that removing all the organs with
razor sharp hooks and storing them in pots
by the salty dehydrated corpse would be a
good idea anyways? They took the brain
out through the nose. The nose, for the love
of Ra! And how did the Egyptians picture
the afterlife? As toiling in the same damn
rice fields, having the same damn crocodiles eat your baby, fighting off the same
malaria and being ruled by the same rich
teenage brat, who is now a god because it
was his birthright. Talk about the widening
social gap between rich and poor.
Of course, the Greeks had an even more
screwed up view of the afterlife. It didn't
matter how good you were, when you died
you went to dark and dreary Hades by
default. And if you were really bad, or just
did something completely innocent that
displeased Zeus, you got some eternally
frustrating punishment, like eternally writing a math final that you didn't study for.
"Okay students, look through your booklets. Make sure you have all 12,985,748
pages, including your cover page and two
pages of scrap paper at the back. You will
be given 3492076849000002 hours, or so,
to complete all the questions. You will be
given a fifteen minute and a five minute
warning before the end of the test. No
bathroom breaks. When you are finished
the last question, please hand it in to
receive the next section of your test. And
please ignore Cerebrus as he walks along
the rows, he'll never take more than one
limb at a time."
And lastly, the Zen Bhudists, main proponents of the whole re-incarnation thingy
and their weird view of the final afterlife.
The final, ultimate goal of all your lives is to
lead good, karma-ful lives, work your way
up the evolutionary chain, and reach the
state of Nirvana. Nirvana being where you
are assimilated into the great holy light. So
you've worked and sacrificed all the way for
thousands of years, all the way from
cephalopod and you finally reach the final
goal and...wow...a part of a light. Thanks.
Nope, as far as I'm concerned, it's living all
the way for me.
Being a longtime friend of Mr. Martin's,
as well as his editor, I was greatly pained
to have to restrict his creative freedom.
But I had to put my foot down when I
told him "No more than four, count 'em,
four swear words, racial slurs, or myso-
genistic comments per article!" I'm glad
to see that he rose to the challenge
admirably, once we managed to get
enough Prozac down his throat.
-ed
Science
Undergrad Society
Council Elections
GENERAL OFFICER
BIOLOGY REP
MATH & STATS REP
Janel Casey
Paul Dhillon
Jason Chuang
Jaisun Garcha
Scarlett Yim
CHEMISTRY REP
MICROBIOLOGY REP
Jo McFetridge
Sameer Wahid
Tommy Gerschman
FIRST YEAR REP
COMPUTER SCIENCE REP
PHARMACOLOGY & PHYSIOLOGY REP
May Tee
Mike White
Julia Haber
Juliana Lam
GENERAL SCIENCE REP
PHYSICS & ASTRONOMY REP
COORDINATED SCIENCE RIP
Adam Wright
Ben Warrington
Christopher Weston
GEOGRAPHY REP
PSYCHOLOGY REP
SCIENCE ONE REP
. Dan Anderson
Natasha Szucs
Theresa Liao
EARTH & OCEAN SCIENCES REP
These are the           "^J^J^^U^
people you Ve                     [     [
BIOCHEMISTRY REP
Kristin Lyons
voted for to                     #         ^      ,
represent you            StWrWi  Of WC
both to Science          *£-***** v* vr rv*
Jason Elliott
j
INTEGRATED SCIENCE REP
Councit and to            #                       *»
your faculty, if          IMSt Ob WAAll
Corisande Baldwin
you want toget a      *«*•«' •vjmm*'
hold of them,               *         %         1
JSKUSST   fractmtkeraf."

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