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The 432 Mar 13, 1995

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03C Archives Serial
Predicting the end of
the world since 1987
UBC Science Faculty sold to
an American!
"It's the biggest thing since Sony!"
Gord van McOlundsky and Irving Washington
Roving Correspondents
In a surprise news conference last week, Arthur
Griffiths, local science magnate, announced the "redistribution'' of controlling Interests in many of Vancouver's
professional science organiza-
-»^0nsv%B©5clehcerFhe ---■-■—
buyer: reclusive multi-millionaire John McCaw. But who is
John McCaw? In a rare public
appearance, he attended
Thursday afternoon's SUS
AGM, although he has been
unavailable to the press since
the announcement of his
acquisitions. While sources
close to McCaw are also
unavailable for comment,77ie
432 was able to reach some
people who claim to have
known McCaw from before
he became one of America's
richest men.
"John was always such a
quiet boy," said Mrs. Johnson,
McCaw's kindergarten
teacher. "He would sit in the
corner for hours, colouring lit
tle pieces of green paper. He
was always happy; the only
time I ever saw Johnny cry,
was on Picture Day. He
wouldn't let the photographer
near him. I guess it's because
of his terrible disfigurement.
You know: the hook."
Next to come forward was
The Amazing Preskin, of the
Amazing Preskin's Centre for
Paranormal Research. Preskin
claims to have channeled the
memories of a decreased associate of McCaw's. In a seance
held for the benefit of The
432, the Amazing Preskin
New Particle Discovered!
Irving Washington      	
Raving Correspondent
In breaking news today,
physicists at the KAON
research center have
announced the discovery of a
new particle, suspected for
decades but only observed for
the first time yesterday.
The particles were first proposed during late allnighters
in the '50s. Scientists working
on the first particle accelerators would work long shifts in
underground bunkers. In such
an enclosed space, odours
would concentrate and
became detectable. A particularly foul smell went
untraced, and the search for a
new particle had begun.
"It's the most offensive particle known. It's created when
stench and anti-stench collide, and annihilate one
another. The products of such
a collision are e.m. emissions
such as infrared radiation and
hard radiation in the forms of
gamma rays and the newly
discovered 'phartons'."
Originally difficult to locate,
the pharticles are of uniquely
biological manufacture. The
only place you are likely to
find anti-stench is in a special
quantum-designated digestive
enzyme. Other complications
to the detection are the wave-
particle duality, and the qualitative nature of registering
Dr. P.U; Deltit explains:
"The wave-particle duality
can be observed in any livin-
groom. Particularly after
Mexican or turkey meals.
While it is true that the dissipation follows the familiar
inverse-square law, it is not
unlikely for two or more individuals to be simultaneously
emitting, seriously confusing
wave patterns and therefore
local distribution of energy.
What you observe at this time
is that some detectors are in
domains of constructive interference . These persons
promptly wrinkle their noses
or experience watering of the
eyes. Some even salivate.
Eeew. Meanwhile, others are
oblivious to the emissions
because they are in nodes."
Speculators believe that the
particles are not exactly natural to the geosphere.
"They came from space,"
explains Deltit, "From aliens.
No, really. There's no other
explanation. Just think of the
power contained in just a tiny
burst! We're talkin' transgalac-
tic transportation at superlu-
minous velocities. You know,
blue flames."
Plans are to develop a
weapon, as soon as the US
Department of Defense can
determine whether or not
such a weapon would violate
international agreements
restricting gas weaponry.
contacted Helmut the Large, a
Visigoth chieftain from the
second century AD. Said
Helmiit of McCaw:
"Ya, I remember Johann. He
could sack a city like no vone
else I ever knew. He vas dere
when ve took Rome, and let
me tell you, that man was a
vizard with a siege engine!
Even vit that vooden leg of
his. Vere did you say he is
now? Vancouver? Any big
vails I should know about?"
According to McCaw's secretary, the new owner of UBC
Science has been out of town,
despite a rash of McCaw
sightings throughout the city.
To date, McCaw has been
spotted in seventeen different
locations over the last three
days, including the Burnaby
Save-On-Foods, a small privately-owned gas station near
Mission and five trailer parks
just outside Aldergrove.
Ed, the owner Of Phil's Gas,
describes the meeting:
"Y'see, I knew it was that
McCaw feller from the second
he stepped outta that dang
big vee-hicle. Saw his photo
on the news, y'see, but I never
thought I'd meet dat guy in
person. Sure seemed polite
'nuff, although y'd think a
multi-billionaire could tip
more than two bits for gettin'
his oil checked. Ah, guess if s
that glass eye of his makes
him all nervous or some-
When asked via electronic
mail about plans for the
future of UBC Science,
McCaw's reply came back
with only one word:
The future of UBC Science
is obviously unclear.
"Ready?" T   H
F   0   II   R
T   W   0
Monday, March 13, 1995
Volume 8 Number 12
Monday, March 13, 1995
Blair McDonald
Leona Adams, EMs Arnold, Jay Garcia,
John Hallett, Graeme Kennedy, Andrea
"Just call me Jake" Klassen, Tracy
The 432 is the official publication of the
Science Undergraduate Society of UBC.
Opinions expressed herein are those of
the individual contributors, especially if
they express support for those &%*(% in
Arts. By the way, all rights reserved, The
432, 1995, so God help those Arts guys
if they copy ArtsBoy™'s picture.
Graeme Kennedy
MacKinnon, Blair McDonald, Michelle
Mcleod, Glen Stokes, Lynn van Rhijn,
Roger Watts, Matt Wiggin, Elaine Wong
Roger Watts, John Hallett
Old age.
FOR THE FIRST time in my life, I
finally feel old. Usually, I've been
the youngest in my group of friends,
but by now, I've gotten over all the
major coming-of-age events.
I've got my driver's license. I
can go into bars without fear
of the bouncer. In fact, I can
sit back and enjoy a fine glass
of the bitters without feeling
completely out of place.
And I can finally enjoy making fun of the unlucky frosh
who aren't of age.
But I'm feeling old, and thaf s a new
feeling for me.
If s due to a few reasons.
First, my twentieth birthday is rapidly approaching. The big 2-0. Sigh.
Now, before everyone who's 23 and
over out there start to mock me, try to
remember what you felt like. I'm willing to bet that just about everyone
went through this stage in life at one
time or another.
Second, I'm now wearing a pair of
gunmetal steel glasses. I think they
make me look like a slightly stupid
Now, I've got to share the reason
why I'm wearing a new pair o'specs,
and apologies in advance to y'all
who're getting sick and tired about
hearing about my girlfriend, Elana.
Elana's standing on a chair, trying to
put something up on a shelf.
Somehow, and don't ask me how, she
manages to fall out of a wide, steel
bodied chair. It's a chair that could
easily support a battleship.
Me, being the sensitive gentleman I
am, rush to try and catch her before
her head cracks against the floor. I
manage to grab her, but in thanks for
my act of heroism, she elbows me in
the face!
My frames shatter into three or four
pieces, and my right side lens gets
firmly planted into the side of my eye.
For those of you who don't know,
my lenses were crafted by the same
kind folks who polished the lenses for
the Hubble, with comparable size and
It would be fair to say that a lens of
that nature leaves quite an interesting
mark in the side of one's face..
So now I'm blind, and in possession
of a really cool facial discolouratipn.
Elana's fit of hysteria shortly thereafter did absolutely nothing to
improve my sense of humour.
I never realized exactly how much I
rely on my glasses until I had to spend
a day groping my way around my
place. I could read, if you call holding
a newspaper up in front of one's nose
reading. I could do my homework, if
my prof was exceptionally
skilled in translating complete and utter garbage into
Trying to focus on the multiple blurs around me also
Rlair overloaded my brain, rather
McDonald sp"'y
It happened in a public
place, too. I was sitting in White Spot,
morosely chewing whatever food the
waitress threw down in front of me. I
certainly couldn't see what it was.
Suddenly a burst of white light shattered my brain, and left me with a
splitting head thumper.
Luckily, I had a copy of my current
prescription, and LensCrafters
promised me new glasses "within the
And now I can see. $
I can see that I'm still old.
It's quite a shock to sit here, and
realize that I can now count my
involvement with this wonderful rag
in years. And realize that I still have
years to go before I can escape to the
relative ease of composing 20 page
term papers every three months,
instead of a 800 word article every two
I'll take the term paper any day,
folks. Writing this stuff... well, let's
just say 111 be slowing down a bit next
year. No more trying to get a paper
out every two weeks, always on the
Monday. I'm gonna take it a bit easier.
I'm gonna take a vacation from time
to time.
I just thank whatever higher powers
exist, usually on a daily basis, that my
hair isn't turning gray or falling out.
At least not yet. My granddad's been
bald since he was 20, so it's entirely
possible that I'll wake up on the morning of the 18th with a big pile of hair
on my pillow and none on my head.
It would be as if all the follicles got
together when I wasn't watching and
agreed on a good time to pull up the
stakes and make a run for it.
I must admit, that particular scenario's been visiting ray nightmares
on a fairly regular-basis over the last
few weeks.
So, if I walk into class on the 20th
wearing a toque, and if s not 20 below,
you'll know exactly what happened
on my 20th birthday.
Upcoming Events at the
PreMed Society
March 14 - Lecture by Dr. Steinbox
March 21 - Do it youself brain
surgery, hosted by Dr. H. Frankenstein
March 28 - Interview Church Chat
featuring Carolynn and her buddies
from Med I
12:30 in Biol 2449
W^ Publications      *
•Personal homepages
•Business advertising
•Composition and storage services.
•Free updates • No transfer charges
Businesses/'Organizations SlO/mth
Students: $5/mth
store of up to 1MB of your creation.
http://www.xmission.com/~seer Monday, March 13,1995
THE       FOUR       THIRTY
NAMC <?N£ Rco6eM//x6 otUAUTV
fdtor'j Note: Although yes, the Arts County Fair can be a lot ol lun, th& cartoon shouldn't be Interpreted as official support lor the Fair or any activities ol the Arts Undergrad Society. In fact, we think C ten probably accepted a bribe to draw this b It ol advertising, and we're
considering pressing charges. And Just for the sake of balance, we'll be sure to bash Arts twice as much as normal to compensate.
Grasping at straws.
Lwith an interesting dilemma: I
increasingly desire
to keep writing,
but the proverbial
well has gone dry.
A variety of reasons have been
suggested as to
why this is, everything from a waste of
creative energies venting on my fellow
man (sorry (you know who you are))
to old age to my friends becoming
more boring. Coke-induced central
neuropathy has even been suggested,
but I'd rather not discuss it until a settlement has been resolved.
Not to say that you'd be able to tell
if there were any environment-related
brain damage anyway. My brain is
just a tad quirky. It has recently been
brought to my attention that I read
things strangely. I don't think it fafls
under the current categorization of
dyslexia, but considering that the
word simply means "bad reading", I
imagine Kathie Lee Gifford's autobiography could be encompassed by such
a loose definition. Anyhow, I don't
know whether it's related to the number of words which my brain perceives
at any given time, but suffice it to say,
kaka has been known to occur. Last
month, during Eating Disorder
Awareness Week, I ran across a poster
which I thought said: "You too can be
thin." What an odd poster to display,
thought I, especially considering that I
had just seen a poster advertising a
slide presentation on body image.
Upon re-reading the poster, I found
that the heading actually read: "You
can be too thin." Kinda puts a whole
different spin on the matter.
Another quirk I've noticed since last
year as I was doing my undergrad thesis, and I'm trying somewhat successfully to keep a secret from my current
supervisor. My brain has a certain saturation point of information intake.
When this threshold is reached, it
wires down to my ears and says "OK,
thaf s it. You can keep listening if you
want, but I'm not writing it down."
This situation has the irritating habit
of presenting itself as I am trying to
take notes in a lecture or receiving critical instructions or, often worse, directions. If I notice in time, usually I try
to get the person to take a break
briefly. If you've ever noticed that I
tend to interrupt at seemingly inopportune times, this might clear things
up. Sometimes, in lectures, I fight the
desire to tune out. Unfortunately,
neurotransmitters are then released,
putting me to sleep.
My brain also thrives on its uniqueness. While other people tend to
improve with practice, I tend to come
out of the gate, guns blazing, and get
about a 100 metres or so before falling
flat on my face. Take bowling, for
example. A couple weeks ago, I went
5-pin bowling with some friends. The
first game, I got 160, someone else got
about 120, and the others were under
a hundred. The second game, two
were in the 120s, one was at about 90,
and I was about 60. I think I may
have seen too many Sprite commercials (Dance to the beat of your own
drummer! Be non-conformist! (Look
like an idiot!) Drink Sprite!)
There are occasions when my brain
will respond to the call of reason. Last
week, for example, as I was walking
back from lunch, I ran into Tom
Arnold. Not Robin Williams, who has
been seen by everyone else in the
Lower Mainland except me, or someone else for whom I have respect) for
example, but Tom Arnold. There was
this small corner of my brain which
said, "Wow! He's famous! Go talk to
him!!" And I probably would have listened, too, were it not for the angel
perched on my other shoulder. She
said, "Leona, we have watched a fair
percentage of the episodes of
"Roseanne". We have seen about ten
minutes each of each of this man's sitcoms. We have watched hirnin "True
Lies". Did you enjoy that?"
"Well, no," I answered sheepishly.
"Do you like this man?"
"Do you have any respect for him at
all as a human being?"
"Then don't talk to him."
"But he's famous."
About this time, my conscience gave
up and went for coffee.
Just when I'm getting down on
myself, I think about other people,
and I don't feel so bad. In my lab,
there is another grad student from
Tanzania who's about 3 inches shorter
and about 50 pounds lighter than I.
For some reason, certain people who
work in our building have this irritating habit of referring to me by her
name, and vice versa. The only thing
we have in common is our hairstyle
and the colour of our skin. It's
strange, at least I think so: if I can keep
identical twins straight, I think they
should be able to tell the difference
between people as different as... well,
the old Oprah and the new Oprah.
On the subject of race, I always find
it interesting when people use expressions like, "I ran into this girl like you
the other day." Girl like me? Five-
foot-six? Master's student? Marginally
attracted to Brad Pitt (hey, I'm not following the trend, I liked him way back
before the Legends of the What-have-
you)? So, upon pressing them, you
get expressions like African-Canadian.
Listen. If F.W. DeKlerk immigrated
here, he'd be African-Canadian. I, on
the other hand, am just black. As
those of you I've managed to corner
and expound upon already know, I
think political correctness is a load of
... hooie. I'd rather have the evil I
know than the evil I don't any day of
the week. Why do you think I'm still
living on campus? THE        FOUR        THIRTY-TWO
Monday, March 13, 1995
John gets really bitter.
WAS SITTING IN SUS, plucking the
eyes out of a still kicking squirrel,
when some one
came up to me
and asked me if I
were bitter about
something. I
don't like to be
Ten   minutes
later, I was sitting
John       in SUS, plucking
Hallett *!I^e5M0Ut Gf a
still kicking curious bastard, when a nice man with
yellow strips on his legs came up and
didn't ask me if I were bitter about
I'm not going to tell you what happened because I am rather terribly
embarrassed about the whole incident,
especially the man with the rubber
gloves. I will, however, give you a
clue: I'm writing this with chalk
because They think pencils are too
Life sucks. It really does. No matter
how many good things happen to you
in your life, there will always be an
equal number of completely rotten
things just waiting around the corner
to ruin your day... week... month...
year... oh, what the heck... life.
"Why am I so bitter?" you ask. Let
me explain: <WARNING: What is
about to follow is a personal theory of
1. Opposite of green-blue
3. Located at the end of the rainbow
4. Opposite of green-yellow
7. Lights out
11. The colour of limes
13. A lucky...
15. Opposite of 7
17. Castle in the homeland
18. The colour of olives
20. Skinhead rocker
22. Reason so many Irish immigrants
came to Canada
2. Lucky little person
5. Kiss it for luck
6. Colour of the forest
8. Colour of the army
9. Colour of the ocean
10. Colour of a sweet spice
12. The homeland
14.... the Irish (saving)
16. The only beer to drink
19. French
And the theme is:
St Patrick's Day
John's. We've never published anything this bizarre before and frankly,
don't know what to expect>
John's Theory on Bad Luck
1) Misery is finite.
Translation: There is only so much
shit to go around.
2) Everyone can expect a certain
level of woe based upon assumption 1.
Translation: All this shit is roughly
spread around even.
3) There exists a standard deviation
from the normal amount of depression one must endure.
Translation: Everybody gets about
the same amount of shit.
If a person should take more than
their share of bad luck, the rest of the
world will benefit as a whole because
(by #1 and #2) the finite amount of
misery has been depleted by more
than a single person's average share
Translation: Since I take so much
shit, there's less shit for you to deal
This puts a silver lining on bad luck,
and should theoretically make the
world a better place. Unless, of course,
some unnamed person has been taking
way more than their fair load of shit
for a long time. Then this nice
thought becomes a little... empty. I
have come to the conclusion that I,
being the black hole of misery I am,
have allowed more than one mass
murderer to roam the streets free due
to astonishingly good luck. In fact, I
think this adequately explains New
What to do about this problem?
Well, I could just off myself and do
the world (well, at least lower
Manhattan) a great favour... nahhh-
hh. I've been dealt enough shit in my
life to justify taking me and rest of my
shit to over one hundred years of age
just so my minions of death can roam
the surface of the Earth distributing
payback for all the shit the world's
seen fit to generously lather upon me.
Then again... I might not wind up
taking more than my share after all.
Maybe I just have to live a really rotten decade or two in order to wallow
in luxury the rest of my life. If that's
the case, I'll be reaching the top of the
hill at about 21.
So, if my luck doesn't turn around,
I'll know what level of hell I get to put
the world through for the rest of my
life. If my luck does turn around, the
world is safe and ITl be sending The
432 postcards from Tahiti for the
explicit purpose of taunting all of you.
I just love being in charge of something this big.
Just so you know, I fully intend to
show favourtism in the distribution of
my wrath. I'll start accepting bribes
Crossword II:
The Crossword Returns Monday, March 13,1995
THE       FOUR       T
I   R   T   V
My first time.
You never forget your first time. I
remember mine. I didn't want to
do it, but she was irresistable.
It was difficult, but got easier. And
then it was over. I guess I was a bit
young, but what the heck? Made me
feel superior to my friends for years.
Nothing like experience.
She showed me diagrams to help
me improve. She told me about the
shaft, about control and
acceleration. Eventually I
became quite the little
expert. I had to get past the
'turning on' part, but once
that bridge was crossed it was
all downhill. It was the timing that was off: push, twist,
pump. Then release before
you shoot forward too fast, or worse:
flood the chamber! I never got it
right. I'm just glad there was ho
Naturally, I had to keep this a
secret. My mother would have
blown a gasket if she ever found out
about my little 'after school project'.
Mothers can be so protective. I
remember her warning me about the
fast ones. That's how I learned about
protecting myself. (If I don't nobody
else will) I'm religious about it,
ties^rtethe fact that I hate the feeling of being confined: restricted. The
price you pay for peace of mind.
My dad taught me the down and
dirty stuff. All that uncomfortable
fidgiting, looking at the shoes, giggling. Dad was a mess.
"Lubrication, son. That's the key.
Always make sure you've got
enough. You know how to check to
see if there's enough, don't you
son?" I said I did. I didn't. She
showed me how. She told me about
which lubricants were best for my
needs. She told me about friction.
She told me about taking it slow.
Watching what I was doing. Using
mirrors. What to do if you've had an
accident, or if you smell something
suspicious. Or that if you get drowsy
that you should stop get out and go
for a walk, rather than risk falling
asleep at the helm.
I remember seeing my first in a
magazine. (Centerfold!) I had the
picture up in my locker at school,
salivating at it every day. Now was
my chance to live my dream. My
chance to be a man.
"Can I go all the way,
now?" I asked. "Yes," she
answered, "you can drive
me home."
Seriously, though.
Learning to drive is a real
chore. I have spent many a
relationship trying to teach
my respective other to drive. I have
cultivated respect for driving instructors.
I recall a particularly challenging
young lady. She was a little scatterbrained to begin with, and I probably shouldn't have been too confident but there we were in the Cap
College parking lot. Not a car in
sight. Except ours. Duh.
We practiced inching forward for
an hour or so (much to the
detrement of one clutch), and I figured she was ready to try actual
acceleration. Sipping on my super-
big-gulp, I directed her to 'step on
Okay, so now we were nose down
in a ditch. I'm covered in pop and
more than a little cheezed. I ask her
sit on the rear bumper to try to
weigh down the back wheel and get
traction to back out. In the back of
my mind I guess I thought about
what could happen if I accelerated
too quickly with a woman on the
hatchback, but I didn't really believe
it would work. It was nice while it
March 20
Last issue!
To all Science Clubs:
Blurbs for the Guide '95 are
now being accepted
Eye Test.
Draw an arrow to the correct shape.
Review of the UBC Library
A committee chaired by Lynn Smith, Dean
of the Faculty of Law, has been established to
conduct a review of the UBC Library system.
The last review of the Library was conducted
in 1988. The committees terms of references
• To examine the operation of the
University Library and its role in support of the University's mission
• To comment on the accountability and
the overall effectiveness of the Library's
staff and its organizational structure
• To identify the Library's strengths, and
also any opportunities which the
Committee perceives for improving its
programs, its relationships with both
internal and external organizations, and
for better utilizations of the financial
and other resources assigned to the
• To examine the Library's strategic plans
for dealing with technology, space, collections, access, services, and staff.
The committee will welcome written submissions from individuals or groups.
Submissions should be received no later than
April 14, 1995 and should be addressed to:
Byron Hender
Secretary, Library Review Committee
Office of the Vice President, Student & Academic Services
124-6328 Memorial Road
Vancouver BCV6T1Z1
fax 822-8194 e-mail hender<^unikg,ubc.ca THE       FOUR       THIRTY-TWO
Monday, March 13, 1995
The New Campus Heroes t
r ■
Major Strengths:
Able to recite ancient German epic poetry from memory.
Capable of flipping a gadzillion burgers in the blink of an eye.
Smokes anything, but doesn't inhale.
Overcomes logical winking with his brute stupidity.
Major Weaknesses:
Actually dumber than toast. Can be easily duped into falling
for any villain's evil plot.
Lack of opposable thumbs makes handling tools difficult.
Battle Cry:
Alter Ego:
None. ArtsBoy™, along
with the rest of the Arts™ clan
can easily be recogonized in a
Current Mission:
To prolong graduation as
long as possible, by stacking his
transcript full of first year Arts
courses. Expected to complete
mis mission by 2003, or later if
job prospects do not improve.
1 r
.J L
Major Strengths:
Willing to sacrifice its personal freedom to save the nesting sites
of the Amazonian white-footed pygmy goat
Nutritious and filling.
Can smell a logger from 200 paces.
Contains a fun prize in every box!
Major Weaknesses:
Various hair dyes are reducing its average intelligence,
if soaked, will turn into a mound of goo.
General lack of knowledge to back up its poorly-conceived, eco-
Communist dogma.
Battle Cry:
"Save the...<insert anything here>!
Alter Ego:
Greenpeace organizers or
UVic students.
Current Mission:
To infiltrate major student
governments across Canada,
spreading chaos by making
wholesale changes and firing
Major Strengths:
Can adopt a resolution to form a committee to investigate the
possibility of drafting an policy for any circumstance.
Speaks a completely unintelligible tongue, useful for secret com
Dagger at the ready, and Teflon™ armour surgically inserted in
the dorsal region.
Major Weaknesses:
Thinks the rest of the population supports his/her policies when
actually the vast majority doesn't realize elPrez™ even exists.
Incapable of action without a notarized copy of all current rules
and regulations.
Battle Cry:
"To the Empire!"
Alter Ego:
Unknown. Trust no one.
Current Mission:
To infiltrate
major student governments across Canada,
spreading chaos by
making wholesale
changes and firing
Major Strengths:
Can calculate the exact rate of acceleration of a falling body
heading directly for ScienceGeek™'s head.
Carries a pocket calculation powerful enough to control the
entire US military-industrial complex.
Immune to most organic solvents.
Major Weaknesses:
Freezes solid in presence of opposite sex.
Totally blind without appropriate corrective lenses.
Confuses easily by references to literature, poetry, languages, or
anything else not directly related to British humour.
Battle Cry:
"Pi to the e!"
Alter Ego:
It could be you.
Current Mission:
To study, study,
study and complete an
double Honours
degree in the least
time possible.
J    U
Clip and save these valuable trading cards! Atso available: the SUB Action Adventure Set
(comes with moveable action figures!)
Next week: The Villains. Set of four includes The Dean, and the Real World! Monday, March 13,1995
THE        FOUR       THIRTY-TWO
Predictions of the Future.
The 1970s
The 1980s
Body piercing
a sunny day in
June, 1974
j becomes popular
Ren and Stimpy hit *Pr h'
the airwaves
The 432 Great Armageddon™.
During the renovations at Scarfe, workers stumbled across a leather bound
book sealed into the old foundations. Amazingly enough, the book appears
to contain Nostradamus' lost predictions covering the imminent apocalypse.
1) And the day shall arrive when we will see the coincidence of the shoes of
platform with the hair of the shag. And that this will be considered attractive.
And all shall suffer thus.
2) And that all fashions will happen simultaneously-together-at-the-same-
time-concurrently-equitemporally. Like. And all of mankind shall be confused
by it.
3) And that a time will come when all styles of the retro will coincide with the
styles themselves, and this is the first sign of the Apolcalypse.
4) And that the second sign of the Apocalypse shall be riders upon pale horses
numbering four. First shall come the horse of Music, ridden by the George Boy.
Second, the horse of Fashion, ridden by Len. E. Kravitus. Next, the horse of
Taste, directed by the Olive Stone, and finally shall come the horse of Literature,
commanded by King Stephen.
5) And the third sign shall be the arrival of the Beast. It shall be known by the
number which it bears upon its flanks, that number being four hundred and
thirty-two. Produced by alchemists, it is truly profane. Flee for your lives when
you see this evil, and believe not what the Beast sayeth, for it will suck you into
its web of lies.
6) Oh, by the way, Graeme, your keys are under your sofa cushion.
7) The Canucks in'94.
The 60s was the Decade Thought Forgot.
The 70s was the Decade Taste Forgot.
The 80s was the Decade Talent Forgot.
The 90s was the Decade 111 Try To Forget.
Last week I witnessed K-Tel selling The Best Of The Eighties, this album
included an endless supply of hits produced in this decade, and I was appalled
to recognize the vast majority. I was more embarassed to have known the
words. I was mostly embarassed to have picked up the phone.
Arming the talent hosted on this CD were Duran Duran, The Fixx, and other
favourites from my youth. Why, I thought, it seemed like only yesterday.
Wait a minute, it was yesterday. We're only five years into the decade and the
last decade has become a classic? When did the 70s stop being the good old
days? When did this happen? How did this happen? Did this happen?
There's the trick! The 70s are still retro, coinciding with the 80s! Observe:
1940        1950      1960
1980       1990
This is an unprecedented disaster. We can forsee a scenario developing in
which all retro styles will coincide, leaving no room for new fashion, and in
which there is no distinction between current taste and retro. We can expect it
to evolve in certain identifiable localities first. New York is such a location.
Observe the behaviour of people in this city and you see what the coincidence
of styles heralds:the end of civilization as we know it.
Now, on the other hand, that's what they said about the Thompson Twins.
The problem is further complicated at the point of conversion (calculated to
take place next month or so) by the fact that time will invert. Beyond this point,
fashion will begin as a retro-style, and then become the fashion later. Bizarre.
The 432 Psychic Connection presents the following horoscopes for the
ARIES (March 21 - April 19). You will buy a lottery ticket and get the
numbers 11 and 21 correct. You will run over your neighbour's cat and
blame it on a FedEx courier van.
TAURUS (April 20 - May 20). Love waits at the corner of Hastings and
, Eraser, tell her "Guido" sent you and you'll save $50. You will put your
back out for some mysterious reason that I can't quite isolate.
GEMINI (May 21 - June 21). You don't want to know. Trust me. I'll
say just this: avoid things with an overall pointy motif.
CANCER (June 22 -July 22). Your mother will call at 11:05pm, so
arrange to be out of the room to avoid explaining where your loan payments are. You will find a lump during your daily self-examination.
LEO (July 23 - August 22). The probation officer won't buy the story
about the alien abduction. Try saying you we're under hynosys instead,
it will buy you valuable time that can be used to stab him (a Gemini) to
death and flee to Panama.
VIRGO (August 23 - September 22). You will both excel and fail utterly in academia today. To make it sporting, I won't tell you which subjects.
LIBRA (September 23 - October 23). I forsee you meeting with some
one about six feet tall, possibly less. I can't make out what you're talking
about or even if you're talking at all. However, there is a spatula
involved, I think.
SCORPIO (October 24 - November 21). You will have a bad hair day.
Don't fight it or you will make it worse and miss math. Two parts aren't
so bad, anyway. Fashion-wise, you're setting major trends today, too bad
if s all belittled by your hair.
SAGITTARIUS (November 22 - December 21). Your sexual prowess is
at an all-time high, unfortunately, you must endure it alone. Go to the
pharmacy, buy a tub of vaseline, and spend some quality time at home
with Dan Rather.
CAPRICORN (December 22 -January 19). Your messiah complex
flares up and you spend the majority of the afternoon wandering around
downtown slapping people on the forehead saying "I release you from
this bondage."
AQUARIUS (January 20 - February 18). You will wake up, go to class,
take notes, come home and go to sleep. In fact, this day will be pretty
much like all of your previous ones: boring. You'd be better off to kill
yourself now.
PISCES (February 19 - March 20). I'm too tired for this prediction
stuff. How about: "Things are looking up." I'm going home. T   IE       F   0   11       THIRTY-TWO
Monday, March 13, 1995
The Meaning of Jay's Existence.
It's always 'round
Lthis time of year
when I wonder
/—•"'• ♦ >"\ why I'm still in
vS i*A l) Science. Usually
this is because,
most nights, you
normally can find
me hunched over
a text book into
the wee hours of the morning, eyes
red and bleary, with far too much caffeine in me, pondering how in the
hell you calculate a parametric curve,
all the while muttering about just how
many neutrinos can dance on the
head of a pin — or is that how many
pins can dance on the head of ah
By the time I get to this stage my
mind has congealed so much that it
has the constituency of cold oatmeal
(the Quaker Oats kind, not the
Superstore generic choice variety. If
my mind ever turned into generic
choice oatmeal it would be running
out my ears). When I'm postive that I
can no longer absorb any kind of drivel concerning Riemann sums, and
indices of refraction, it's probably
about the right time for me to turn to
study my arts subjects.
Arts, Now, there's a sore point. As
Kevan Dettlebach once put it, the arts
side is "faster, easier, less hours per
week and no labs." The thought of no
labs should set any science student (or
at least any science student in Physics
102) salivating. Faster? Easier? You
bloody well bet. Time for a quick
December 20th, 1994. The day of
my Anthropology final, held in the far
boondocks of Osbourne gym. It was a
drizzly day (like when isn't it a drizzly
day in Vancouver?) and I was halfway
to the gym when the skies opened up.
A deluge of biblical proportions, or at
least of biblical proportions as depicted by the immortal Cecil B. DeMil,
soaked me completely from head to
toe, forcing me to take my final in an
incredibly damp state.
What has this got to do with arts?
With the exception of Anthropology,
most arts students had finished their
exams weeks before. The Arts One program, of which two friends of mine
are participants, is particularly guilty
of this, as most of them had been
done by the seventh of that month.
To all of you, I offer a friendly raspber-
Now, you're wondering, isn't
Anthropology an Arts subject, and
didn't arts students get drenched
along with you? Nay, I declare, nay!
Courses such as anthropology fulfill
the humanities requirement of any
science degree, so a large majority of
the people who take such classes are
actually science students! Ha!
So why am I in science anyway?
Why do I put up with hydrochloric
add stains on my shirts, or high-voltage electrocution, or long lectures in
large rooms with really bad overhead
lighting, or really loud stereo systems
blaring out a weird fusion of country
music and techno?
(Sorry. That last one doesn't have a
lot to do with Science. It's just one of
my many pet peeves.)
But I honestly don't know why I'm
in Science. Maybe it's got something
to do with my fascination of bright
flashes and loud explosions. Maybe
it's because I hope to make my mark,
by making the world a better place
through sdence.Or maybe it's because,
in grades 11 and 12 I took far more
sdence courses than arts courses, and
am therefore stuck in this track for the
rest of my life.
Ah, well.  As Dettlebach also said:
"Once you start down the Arts path,
forever will it dominate your resume."
At least I won't be a waiter for the rest
of my life.
(Ed. Well, this article clinches it This
paper has obviously undergone a generational shift, and die young fellers are taking over. Ya see, when Jay starts to quote
Kevan... well thats the true indication
we're all getting old and gray. Sigh. I can't
believe I'm one of the old guys now. Why,
1 remember da day I walked into the
office, young, naive arid ready to help...)
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Bountiful Chili and Beverages, Free-Flowing Psychedelic Fun, Major Groovin'
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More Misinformation Coming Soon... Monday, March 13,1995
The Statistics of Being Weird.
Elaine Wong
Do you ever get people telling you
that you're weird? I'm not really
weird, or course. It's just that everyone in my department isn't exactly in
line with the norm. I'm a statistics
major. <sounds of boos and gasps from
the audience> No, stats, does not
belong in Commerce, and yes, it is a
department of science.
Unfortunately, all of my Arts-type
friends constantly tell me I'm the
strangest person they have ever met.
Of course, they've never met other
stats people. Let me give you some
It's a dark and stormy night. Our
heroine, Elaine, is sitting in the stats
lab, at about 9pm one night. The air is
Who's smarter -
me or my fish?
Michelle McLeod
It's the same thing every night. I
come home from school. My cat
Luna is sitting on the counter. I tell
her to get down. She doesn't. When I
finally give up in disgust, then she
jumps down. She goes to the refrigerator. I go to the refrigerator. She sits so
close to the door that when I open it
her face makes an imprint . She
careens over to her food dish and
manages to land right under the food
as it falls into her dish, leading to two
hours of cleaning(her, not me) until
every bit of Kal-Can is out of her ears.
She eats. I eat. We study.
The ritual has gone on five days a
week, oh, say, fifty weeks a year, for a
few years. That's roughly a thousand
times. Is it too much to ask that some
day she would greet me at the door,
and then wait by her dish for, oh, 16
seconds or so???
One day, after the one thousandth
and one round, I took a long look at
my cat. I was going off to school. She
was going off to nap. I was already
frantic about a million details for the
day. She had been staring into a void
for a half an hour. "You know, Luna,"
I said, "You are dther really smart or
really stupid." What is it that they say
about humans having the inane ability to state the obvious? I checked.
Yup. Human.
I decided to find out whether the
house cat is really the aloof, mysterious being that I always perceive it to
be, or whether it is just some fur covered mobile meat loaf that has become
that perfert sycophant.
When asked "How smart is a cat?",
animal behaviorist Catrina
Herringbone, cat expert at the
Washington headquarters of the
Humane Society said "A cat is very
good at being a cat. Does it better than
anyone else." 'Nuff said. To put it simply, if you asked your cat to play
chess, it would look pretty stupid, but
if it asked you to climb a tree, leap
into a rain gutter, and catch a sparrow
in mid-flight, you wouldn't look so
swift yoursdf.
We have to realize, though, that we,
with our three pound brain and 100
trillion neurons are trying to figure
out a critter with a two ounce, 10 billion neuron brain. Even if Luna grew
to my size, she'd still only have one
third of a human's brain size. Probably
just enough to wonder why I pee in
her water bowl.
"On a cerebral chart, a cat falls
between a gerbil and a marmoset,"
one neurologist says, "aside from that,
I can't tell you how smart he is."
Don'cha just love science? Come to
think of it, that's probably where the
brain size of most of our politidans
lies. Try and get a research grant for
that investigation.
Although many people don't believe
it can be done, there are cats who can
be taught tricks. The problem is attention span. When they reach the end of
theirs they will inevitably look up at
you with that look which effectively
means "Screw you, buddy, I'm going
over there to stare into space for a
while. Wake me if you see one of
those little fuzzy moving things. Then
we'll talk."
When I come home tonight, Luna
will probably sit on the kitchen
counter, face plant the fridge, and be
the target for pet food warfare. But
she's only a cat.
I taught Luna to play chess. I
showed my friend.
"See," I said, "Now I can beat an
entire spedes."
"Yeah," he said "but it's not fair if
they lick the pieces!"
Anybody got an extra rook?
thick with tension - you could cut it
with a knife. The room is silent. I was
struggling through yet another pointless stats lab, when <pause for dramatic effect>...
...the guy next to me began singing
silly commercial jingles. "Oscar Meyer
Wieners..." Constantly. Over and over
and over. And when I say singling, I
don't mean humming. I mean opera-
style, breaking into song, loud.
Unfortunately, Mr Wiener wasn't
quite as irritating as the guy two terminals away, busy doing calculations
with S-Plus and snorting out Beavis
and Butthead imitations. "Snort.
Snort. It sucks. Snort."
Hey, I don't have anything against
Beavis and Butthead. It's not perhaps
the most intellectually simulating
show I've ever seen, but hey... I've got
a soft spot for things with the average
intdligence of a moss-covered stump.
Now, if this wasn't bad enough,
some *A&)%$ across the room was
playing with the volume and pitch of
the beeping thing on the computer.
Beep. Beeeep. Beep. Bee-eep. Beep. The
silly jackass then moved onto his rendition of "Stars and Stripes Forever."
Remember, this was all fairly typical
for a night in the lab. At least the tap-
dancing panda bear decided to stay at
A few minutes later, while everyone
was continuing their various performances, and I was beginning to consider demonstrating the artistry of a
mass killing, a heart-pierdng scream
shattered the air. It came from the
women's washrooms, and thoughts of
trouble flashed across my mind. Mr.
Wiener stopped his singing for about
30 seconds to nudge me to go find
out what happened.
I pushed open the door, to find a
girl wailing and screaming. As, I
rushed to her side, she screamed "I
dropped my homework in the toilet",
presumably in Cantonese, since thaf s
what she translated in to English a
few seconds later.
While someone else hdped her fish
paper out of the toilet bowl, I
returned to the lab to report the good
news to the rest of the room.
Everyone burst into laughter. "How
could she do that" asked one person
"What was she doing, studying while
standing over the toilet?!?"
Good point, I thought, as I started
to hum along to the general merriment.
"...food, folks and fun..." Caught.
I'm not weird. I'm not. I'm not.
I'm just a normal statistics major.
Same difference, you ask?
AMS Tutoring Sendees is offering free drop-in
tutoring in 1st. year subjects:
English (composition)
SUB Room 205
6 to 10 pni
3 to 5 pni
1 to 5 pni
Shuswap Lounge
lue 7 to 10 pm
Thu 7 to 10 pm
Sun        7 to 10 pm
For more information call 822-8724 or drop by the
AMS Tutoring Office in SUB 249D.
UBC Student Government
AMS Tutoring is an education project of the Alma
Milter Society and is partially funded by the Teaching and Learning Enhancement Fund of UBC. 10
Monday, March 13, 1995
Pablo's Fish.
SINCE the begin-
Pning of all time,
humanity has
searched for love.
Perhaps it's the
perhaps it's the
need to nurture
and care for some-
Wiggill thing. If I ponder
^& this any further,
I'm gonna get all philosophical, so I'll
go on now. Whatever the reasons,
people need to love and feel loved,
and while many look for this with
other people, others choose instead to
own pets. Take for example, the fish.
I'm not talking about fish in general,
I'm talking about the fish that
"Pablo," (a close friend whose name has
been changed to protect his anonymity,)
has bought over the past year. About
six months back, Pablo dedded his life
was lacking something; intimate relationships. This left two options: find a
girlfriend, or buy a pet.
Eventually, the fish won out. This
was due to a number of fartors. First of
all, fish are much easier to come by. If
you want a fish, all you have to do is
take the bus to the nearest pet store,
say "I want that one," and the owner
of the pet store scoops it up with a
net, throws it in a plastic bag, and you
take your new friend home to your
aquarium, where you can enjoy
countless hours together. Acquiring a
girlfriend is not quite so simple.
Unless you're much more wealthy
than I (or Pablo,) you can't buy a girlfriend. And even if you do, if she's
with you for your money, she's just
waiting for you to die so she'll get it
Now in the conversation department, the two have different pros and
cons. In general, fish don't have a
whole lot to say, and more often than
not, you end up carrying the whole
conversation yourself. This can be
good or bad, depending on how long
winded you are. A definite pro is that
a fish will never tear out your vocal
chords for saying something stupid.
Even if you own a school of piranhas,
and happen to stick your face into the
tank after telling them you hate them,
I can assure you that your need for
plastic surgery has nothing to do with
their feeling hurt.
Unless you're a real weirdo, the
physical side of the relationship is
much better with a human than with
a fish. It's really quite difficult to get a
fish to kiss you, much less with the
passion one can exped from a human
(um, or so I've heard.) And anyone
planning to go to bed with a fish can
forget about it. Unless you have one of
those rare breeds that can breathe air,
your "partner" will just flop around in
the sheets for about 2 minutes before
dramatically expiring.
It's too easy to forget that sex isn't
the only asped of a relationship however, and the fish certainly do come
up big in some other areas. If you're
looking for a low maintenance companion, then the fish is an ideal
choice. Not only are they finandally
cheaper ($3.50 every three months or
so on food, compared to who knows
how much,) they demand far less of
your time. A fish doesn't mind if you
go away for a week and leave it at
home, so long as you put one of those
little white "food for a week" things in
the bottom of the tank.
Finally, jf your relationship with
your fish becomes stale, you can
always flush 'em. There's plenty more
where that one came from.
In hindsight, if s a pretty good thing
that Pablo chose to have a caring relationship with a fish over a person.
Now you must be easy on Pablo when
you judge him; he's a mechanical
engineer, and the last time he took
any schooling in biology was in grade
10 when it was still part of "sdence."
What I'm saying here is that Pablo's
on his fourth set of fish now. He's had
to live through the loss of eight loved
ones; it's probably just as well that
he's hot in a position that would
require taking care of a real person
when they're sick. Someone once said
"love is where you find it," - for some
it's to be found in a kiss, for others, it's
in the aquarium...
Disclaimer: I wrote this article with a
fever of 102, and was assisted by assorted
drugs. If anything seems strange or
insane, please take into account that at
one point, I was convinced mat me meaning of life was written in the paint on my
ceiling, but it was too small to read.
For a Good Time,
Call Your Dentist
Elvis Arnold
WHEN MOST people think about having thdr wisdom teeth removed, they
think only of the truly horrendous pain involved. Now, I've had mine
removed and I think that everyone should be made aware of just how much fun
it actually is.
Let me put this into perspective, a year ago I went to my new dentist for a full
diagnostic. Among other things, he suggested that my wisdom teeth should be
removed. As I'm such a trusting kind of guy, I went along with the idea despite
all the horror stories I'd heard. The fun began immediately; they took X-raysxrf
my jaw. I've never laughed so hard in a medical facility in my life! My lower
right wisdom tooth was literally going the wrong way. Instead of growing up
like all the other nice little teeth, it was trying to grow forward! I think that all
my laughing upset the dental technidans, perhaps in the same sort of way that
zookeepers might be upset to find all the monkeys lounging around in
bathrobes and flossing their teeth (it could happen, you know!).
Anyway, next thing on the list was to dedde how best to avoid all this pain
that everyone expects. Dedsions, dedsions: general anaesthetic, local anaesthetic, or a general sedative. I didn't like the first option at all. Male pride/stupidity tells me "it's only pain, what are you so worried about?" Also, being
asleep in the presence of people widding knives and drills bothers me. The second option was out because, in contradiction with my previously mentioned
motive, being wide awake in the presence of people wielding knives and drills
bothers me. I chose the third option. Do you know what they mean when they
say "general sedative"? They mean vallum, lots of injerted valium! I thought
that this was a pretty neat idea.
So the big day arrives and I'm a bit nervous. The first thing they do is put a
heart-rate monitor on my thumb. This was a nice, calming gesture, especially
the way they quickly said that it was "just in case". Oddly enough, I was fairly
nervous and yet this little machine says my heart-rate is in the low 60s....
hmmmm. I probably should have paid more attention to that but that's when
the valium arrived. Having never been injected with anything of the like
before, I found this to be a fascinating procedure. I mentioned this often
throughout the surgery and I think that that bothered them as well. They asked
me to count backwards from a hundred to see just how conscious I was. I only
got about thirty decimal places into my recitation of pi before I just had to comment on the fascinating ceiling tiles
above me and the interesting bit of
furniture that I was lounging on. I
believe that this is when I started to
hear the pleasant little whine of small
power tools.
Well, the actual removal of teeth
was extremdy exdting in a quiet, contemplative fashion. It didn't hurt
(much) and I said things like
"Interesting", "Fine" and "This is really interesting" a lot. Just a short three
hours later, it was over and I was bdng
encouraged to get up and go for a
quick jog around the block - no, not
really. At this point, I would have
been thrilled to take the bus home but
wiser (and less drugged) heads prevailed and my roommate drove me
Overall, I can say that I learned two
things from having my teeth removed.
First, it's all fun and games until the
valium wears off, then there's a significant amount of pain involved.
Second, I should be more polite to the
next wild-eyed, blood-drooling maniac
I meet on public transit. After all, he
might have just had his wisdom teeth
removed. Monday, March 13,1995
THE       FOUR       THIRTY-   TWO
The Mundane Dumpsten
— ——  Financial Statements
Tracy MacKinnon
AMS Report
Coundl meeting of 1 March 1995: When I received the council agenda, it
looked like the meeting would be short. A deception. People were appointed to the University, Finance and External Commissions, as well as the appointments of the at-large members of the Code and Polides Advisory Committee.
Tamara Bourne is the new Ombudsperson, and Josh Bender is the assistant to
the President. Our own Lynn van Rhijn (SUS Diredor of Finance) was appointed as Vice Chair of the Finance Commission. Council passed a motion sending
the Nominating committee in its entirety back to re-interview the applicants for
SAC, since the fist interview team couldn't reach consensus. As a result, we had
to appoint three new members to Nominating committee to ensure that we had
enough people for the interview team. Tim Lo, the former Diredor of
Administration, was appointed to the Aquatic Center Management Committee
as a community representative. Joe Cheng, the SAC secretary, was appointed as
a signing officer for the Sodety. LOTS and LOTS of appointments!
A formal motion was passed to ensure that if the AUS lost money on the
upcoming Arts County Fair the Arts fees for next year would be applied to cover
any debts incurred. The AMS has to do this every year because a couple of years
ago the Arts County Fair lost about $40 000, and the Arts representatives on
Student Council argued that applying next years fees to the debt would be an
unfair burden to future Arts students. Hence, this motion goes through every
year as a precaution.
And maybe at this point you thought that nothing that occurs at AMS
Coundl meetings is relevant to you...the Gallery Lounge's place in the new SUB
was discussed. In the SUB renovations plans, there is no Gallery Lounge. This is
because it is said to not make enough money per square foot for a commercial
operation, but many council members argued that the Gallery Lounge served as
a unique place for sodal gatherings and was important for students regardless of
whether it made as large a profit as some of our other commercial businesses. It
does, however, provide close to $ 100 000 in student wages per year and while
most people I know might not have utilized Speakeasy, or Volunteer Services
and Orientations, most have grabbed a beer at the Gillery Lounge. This matter
was referred to AMS Commerdal Services Planning Group and it will be report-
^edback to cotmdlwithinthe month.""
Ijusthadarevdation...thiswUlbemylastAMSreport. In the future, Anna
Carvalho will be forced to make boring reports that nobody reads (but rest
assured Anna, thatl'll read the AMS report so you'll have a least one devoted
See you all In Chem 160. I'll be the one looking relaxed on the couch. No
more six hour AMS meetings for me. I might even start poking fun at the AMS
reports in this paper (sorry Anna, but to make fun of them I'll still have to read
them). Signing off...
Lynn van Rhijn
Finance Stuff
Well, here it is, after all this time - the long awaited, much anticipated and
unleaked SUS Financial Statment. The rumors that this particular government was unable to balance the 94-95 budget are totally true, however, it may
be of some comfort that a deficit was avoided (not that I couldn't do it if I wanted). If it seems that a few of the figures are, how do I say it, mildly squewed, do
not be concerned, they are supposed to be like that. I really do have an answer
to explain all of this. Honest.
All in all, the spending of SUS is on track, but for a few minor exceptions. I
still have money coming in and rest assured, I will be spending more money. -
All that remains is the presentation of next year's budget. That will be the total
and sole responsibilty of the new D of F, Deanna Braaksma (congrats, by the
way!), who will be taking over the position March 16th. At that time, I will be
making my escape, break for it, transition over to the AMS as their new Vice-
Chair, Finance Commission. It was my desire to move into a postion where I,
can roll in actual bills instead of the painfull coins that fill my Scrooge McDuck
swimming pool right now. Ouch.
So it is time for me to say farwell, it's been a blast, and don't worry Blair, I'll
be available for your constant verbal abuse at SUB 258. See you there!!!
year to date
prior fiscal
misc revenue
photocopier revenue
 -j..       pop revenue-  	
total revenue
office supplies
misc expenses
photocopier expense
open house expense
public relations
elections expense
club grants
special projects
pop machine exp.
acad. entertain.
social - net
first year committee
sus spOrts
sus publications
the guide
martin fruaendorf
expenses total
net surplus,"~
-.,- *■     ~    •     ''••■
w                 * ^                    .*
^fc   :*" 12
T   H   I   R   T   Y   -   T   W   0
Monday, March 13, 1995
The Art of
Brewing Stories.
The only thing better than killing
two birds with one stone is killing
a whole flock of 'em in one go. I mean
this figurativdy, of course; I
am in fart a big fan of actual
birds, and wouldn't want
enraged members of the
Audubon Society showing
up oh my doorstep demanding my non-feathered head
on a flaming brochette.
For example, one might
say to oneself :
1) The weather has been chilly lately. Jesus Murphy, is it cold in here.
2) It's the end of the school year. I
have little money.
3) I sure wish I could get rid of all of
this massive pile of Labatt's Blue boxes
in the basement, to say nothing of all
these matches...
And thus is born the Cozy Warm
Fire, solving everything. (Of course,
there are always alternative solutions,
such as the Cozy Warm Job On A Boat
To Tahiti or the Cozy Warm Bank
Robbery, but the former seemed the
least likely to involve either a change
of address or intervention from the
authorities. Mind you, that does
depend greatly on the size of the fire
one builds.)
Sadly, there aren't many ideas in
this world that can solve several problems at once. They used to think that
the Ford Pinto was one such
epiphany, but it too went the way of
8-track tapes^ supply-side economics
and the entire concept of the Bee Gees
altogether. However, one has endured
that answers these difficult problems:
1) The weather is getting warmer.
Soon I will require a cold, refreshing
2) It's the end of the school year. I
have little money.
3) Labatt's Blue tastes like week-old
bilge water. Yecch.
Enter the magic of homebrewing.
Believe it or not, making your own
beer is really easy to do. The hard part
is trying to figure out exactly how
someone cooked up the idea in the
first place. Think about this for a
minute... about 3000 years ago, local
clever guy Mr. Alpha says, "Hey, this
grain stuff is hard to eat, and kinda
boring in the morning without milk
or Yoplait on top... however, if I grind,
it up before I add the milk, throw in
this slimy stuff that makes it puff up,
and then bake the whole thing, it
makes great clubhouse sandwiches..."
So this guy becomes really famous as
the inventor of bread, changes his
name to Mr. Wonder and lands
numerous Greek-tragedy script deals
as a result. Down the street, his neighbor Mr. Beta says, "Oh yeah? Well, I
can take that same grain and boil it
and make soup! Pretty neat, huh?"
Needless to say, this prototypical
barley soup didn't quite catch on until
several years later, when other plants
and bits of cow were added
to spice it up a bit. So the
barley soup gets set aside
while Mr. Beta gets on with
his next great idea of devising videotapes that are
smaller and give sharper pictures than VHS.
Meanwhile, the slimy
stuff that made the bread rise finds its
way into the barley soup. It sits
around for a couple of weeks, eating
all of the natural sugars in the grain
and producing a byproduct that
would later be known as ethanol (or
"liquid courage", depending on the
circles in which one travds). And so
one day, Mr. Beta's entertaining some
friends and says, "Oh, this? this is my
new soup. Here, try a bit...," and the
rest is history.
Granted, the beermaking process
has, through various refinements,
become slightly more complex, but
the prindple remains the same.
The big thing to keep in mind is to
keep everything really clean.
Benefiting from the knowledge of
basic microbiology, we can now take
precautions to ensure that the yeast is
the only thing growing in flourishing
in your beer. Fear not for your life,
though; there are no known
pathogens that can survive in beer,
but they can actually make your beer
taste worse than Labatt's Blue, (On no
account make beer in your bathtub, as
I've heard has been done. Gawd.)
Not only is beermaking easy, it's
cheap. TO illustrate this, consider the
amount of money required to buy the
necessary equipment and enough
ingredients for your first two batches
of beer (goodjor about 12 cases). If
youmade this beer and never used the
equipment again, you would still only
have spent the same amount that
would have been required to buy 12
cases of commercially-produced beer;
that is, it pays for itself after only two
batches. After that, it gets really cheap
- about $30 for a six-case batch.
And once you get good at it, you
can make all sorts of exotic concoctions - remember, anything with sugar
in it can be turned into alcohol. This
includes fruits, honey and other goodies that can make for some truly original and thoroughly yummy beer.
So why not give it a whirl? It's a
neat thing to get into, and, well... the
rewards speak for themselves.
PS - If you happen to live in Totem
Park, Ryan MeCuaig and twill be giving
a presentation on homebrewing later mis
month. Please contact friendly Totem
advisor Craig Walker for details.
• Tracy MacKinnon
Y 203 N17 spoils 72
Internal Vice President
James Li 48
JayGarcia 52
Michelle Mcleod 44
• Ali 3ehmard 99
Orin Del Vecchio 24
spoils 25
Director of Sports
• Hareeta Lai
Y166 N 26 spoils 80
Director of Publications
Y 205 N17 spoils 10
Director of Finance
• Deanna 3raaksma 190
Selena r3illesberger 56
Public Relations Officer
Guy Davis 71
• Anna Carvalho 151
spoils 70
External Vice President
•L3ella Carvalho 163
Ali Sadeghi 100
spoils 29
Executive Secretary
• Tessa Moon 119
Dianna Kyles 95
Fahreen Dossa 41
spoils 37
Social Coordinator
• Matt Wiggin 153
Donatella Ciampi 69
spoils 70
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