"All the Brews That's Fit to Drinf *<-- Clip & Save Opportunity! Good lor a free beer at the Cheeze ilyou can identify the misspelled word! The Newspaper For Science Students. Version 5.06 X 22 Jan '92 Bush Chunders, Puts Face in Japanese PM's lap Patrick Redding Editor In what might be described as the most telling media display of his presidential career, U.S. President George Bush set the tone for the rest of US-Japanese trade relations by burying his face in the lap of the Japanese Prime Minister during a state banquet, after swooning and vomiting profusely. White House spokespersons quickly labelled the incident as "the effect of a very severe stomach flu," but the message being sent to the trade negotiators in Tokyo was clear: America was ready to go down on its trading partners to overcome protectionist practices. It is as yet unclear whether or not the gesture had the desired ingratiating effect with the Japanese government, but it certainly raises an intriguing point. Griventhat Canada and the U.S. enjoy the richest international commerce of any two nations, to what extent will our neighbor to the south be willing to "put out" to INGREDIENTS: OVER 95% OF CONTENTS CONSIST OF SODIUM HYPOCHLORITE, GRAPHITE, POLYMERIZED HYDROCARBONS, AND TREES. LESS THAN 5% CONSIST OF LUS CANONS (PAGE 2), HARRY TIC, 3 LINES FREE, JFK CONSPIRACY THEORIES (PAGE 3), ANGRY DUCK, THE DISFUNCTI0NALS(PAGE4), LEONA ADAMS ON MULE PISS, RABIES (PAGE 5), SCIENCE WEEK SCHEDULE (PAGE 6-7), MORGAN BURKE ON REAL PISS (PAGE 8), DIK MILLER (PAGE 9), WATTS ON 1992, REASONS FOR PACIFIC I ENGINEERING SUPERIORITY (PAGE-10), MUNDANE DUMB- STER (PAGE 11). PLEASE CONSULT THE UBYSSEY BEFORE READING SO YOU DON'T MISS ANY ARTICLES BY DISGRUNTLED FORMER 432 WRITERS. ■68030 maintain good economic relations? Certainly, if the Free Trade Agreement is any indicator, Canada can look forward to more years of getdngfist-fucked. It has been suggested that the puking attack that preceded President Bush's dinnertime act of fellatio may have been entirely unrelated, perhaps the result of broccoli being accidently slipped into the tempura. A flurry of speculation erupted over a forty second video sequence shot in the Imperial Hall just following Bush's collapse which allegedly shows frantic secret service agents scrambling to recover a number of small packets that were apparently emitted along with the President's stomach contents. Spokesman Marlin Fitzwater refused to comment on the plastic baggies, or offer any explanation as to why the entire volume of vomit was recovered and flown back to Washington before Japanese officials or palace cleaning staff had a chance to examine it. The presence of the baggies is cause for some concern, since it is a standard practice of heroin smugglers to swallow packets containing; their contraband, to elude airport luggage checks and drug-sniffing dogs. President Bush himself lias been largely silent about the entire affair, other than to dismiss opponents' claims Chat his Pacific "Rim" Tour was a complete failure. Said Bush, "Hey, there was a lot of information exchanged. The Japanese negotiators have finally laid it all out on the table for us, and I see a big potential for further growth," Ubyssey's flippant attack devastates 432 "Paddy's lost his smile", says 432 chiefs girlfriend Canadian University Press In a move as unprecedented as it is astounding, the Ubyssey staff has expressed criticism of the 432's sense of humour, and overall lack of discretion. A Christmas wish list, published in the 29 Nov issue of the Ubyssey, flippantly expressed a longing for the return of the 432*s old sense of humour. The repercussions of the remark on the 432 staff have been severe. "I think the Ubyssey's remark was a completely unprofessional 'pot shot'. I would expect better of the seasoned journalists they have on staff," said Roger Watts, one of the 432's contributing editors. Aaron Drake, past editor-in- chief of the 432 and current contributing editor, has spent the last seven weeks in isolation in the BC Interior. "He took the part about the 432's 'old sense of humour' pretty hard, because he knows it's referring to the 432 of the past two years," said Watts. "The Ubyssey's attack was only peripherally related to him, but he still feels he's somewhat responsible." Drake left town two weeks after the Ubyssey's comment was published. "All he said was that he was going to go do some soul searching," reported Derek K. "Dik" Miller, another 432 staffer. Other 432 staff members were much more vocal in their denouncement of the attack: "The Ubyssey is lecturing us about humour?! I'm sorry, but I fucking well find that hard to take. It's like those inflatable sheep you get on Granville Street, y'know, totally unnatural!" declared an anonymous 432 staffer, known only by the moniker Harry Tic. 432 writers Mike Hamilton, Jaret Clay, and Clement Fung were briefly in police custody in mid-December for attempting to steal a case of simulated vanilla extract from an East side corner store. For solace, present Editor-in- Chief Patrick Redding has turned to B'teronism, a religion based on Zen Buddhism, and a number of American Indian rituals. The newspaper is having difficulty rebuilding itself as Redding has been known to fade into vision quests in the middle of sentences. Redding's girlfriend, Judy Haranghy, is rumoured to be seeking counselling. "It's strange. He just sits there looking at the wall all the time now. If I want to get any ...uh... reaction from him, I have to play "Laotian Snuff tapes on the VCR. The only thing he's done in the last twelve days was drilling a smoke-hole into the bathroom ceiling," said Haranghy. "Paddy's lost his smile." When asked how they felt about the psychological damage wrought by their off-the- cuff remark, the Ubyssey had little to say: "Did that (remark) get in? I thought we'd edited it out. Oh, well," said Chung Wong of the Ubyssey. Plans for reconstruction of the 'old sense of humour' are underway. All 432 writers are attending a seminar series on the proper use of capitals, which includes readings from the works of Douglas Adams and Dave Barry. Redding emerged from his paregoric-induced trance long enough to comment: "The Ubyssey must always remember that white sheep go over the hill twice in one day." X V D»v'»d sovk9 The Four Thirty-Two Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92 Liis Canons <&?1 Patrick WM REDDING ml Is there, in fact, anything in a name? I don't mean the surname; of course being born into the world with the last name Kennedy or Rockefeller will have lasting repercussions for any child, so long as there continue to be living adults within those same families, acting along the same motives as their predecessors. In that respect, we in the twentieth century still adhere to a particularly archaic notion that a person can inherit their life's station, kind of like royalty. Also, the same JudeoChristian brainwashing that has had a stranglehold on Western society for the last couple of millennia requires that we burden the offspring with the sins and/or virtues of the forefather/mothers), especially when the family name keeps reappearing in the papers. This undeniably leads one to conclude that there is something in a name—namely— historical baggage. Since we don't get to choose our parents, we ought to count our blessings if we find ourselves born into nice, mundane, utterly unknown lineage. Sure, maybe my parents weren't atom spies or anything thrilling, but I love them all the same. For one thing, they were dependable enough for me to entrust them with the job of finding decent first and middle names, that would look equally good on the door of some executive office suite or embroidered on pair of Texaco overalls. Thankfully, my parents did not suffer from the onerous form of narcissism that provokes some young fathers and mothers to inflict that first critical indignity on their newborn: a name picked out of a book published sometime after 1971 in the San Francisco Bay Area by regular contributors to the Whole Earth Catalog. These soft- cover books, printed on hemp paper, compiled large lists of esoteric handles under revealing titles like: Names For Your New Little Person. Nascent Earth Identity: A Directory of Multicultural Given Names. Great Names Out Of People's Liberation. Who's Who in Nouveau Film and The Audabon Society's Guide To Birds. A whole generation of my (and presumably your) contemporaries were emotionally mutilated as a result of being named after Che Gueverra, or an Oak tree, or in the worst scenario, both. This suffering is made all the more tragic by the questionable motives of the responsible parties. Sure, lean understand the ideological desire to honor the memory of some especially sentimental figure of your era, like Martin Luther King Jr., or Nikita Kruschev, or Donovan; but too Often the decision to name the kid 'Potiphar' or 'Rita- Metermaid' stemmed from the barefoot parents' neurotic fear of becoming just like their folks: straight lackeys of the Establishment. Well, I hate to be the one to break the news, but these free-thinking denim sprites eventually discovered that money could be fun too, got haircuts and MBAs (not necessarily in that order) and became just like their folks. Except that their kids had been named after Sumerian sun- gods, and in true Sun-God fashion, were becoming sullen and disenchanted with multi- mortgage existence. So said love-children, of all creed, gender and astrological sign, dyed their hair black and antagonized their now complacent parents with vague hints of designer drug use and impending suicide (by skateboard). The pretentious fools got exactly what they deserved. You'd think that parents would have learned by now. You'd guess that with the bleak outlook for the preservation of most families in North America, the worldly-wise yuppies with their renewed need to 'cocoon' would refrain from indulging in self-aggrandizing at the expense of then- own flesh and blood. But no...they have merely ascended to a more insipid plane of silliness. Watch out, newlyweds. You think you know your spouse now, just because the sex is good. But a few years down the road, when you start shopping for baby intercoms and self-rocking cribs, you may discover that deep inside your soul-mate lurks the black heart of a little-league parent, who wants the vicarious glory of a son named Emperor Leopold. That's first name 'Emperor', second name 'Leopold'. That's what it boils down to. The whimsical sprout-names like 'Ocean' and 'Eva Guerilla' have indeed gone the way of gypsy busses and lava lamps. Unfortunately, that vacuum has been quickly filled by a pathological infatuation not unlike the search for the True Names of God: the irrational hope that just the right combination of Celtic, Arabic and Navajo proper nouns will unlock some reservoir of Excellence (these peo ple always spell it with a capital 'E' as though it's some supplement you can buy at the bulk health food store if you show up on the right day), ensuring that their child embarks on the fast track from Montessori daycare to Harvard Law School, having declared its major by age six. Okay, now I have to fess up. I probably never in a million years would have thought to talk about this minor cultural aberration, were it not for the fact that my dear sister has just given birth to her first larvae, a six-and-a-half pound boy. My sister is a good eleven years older than me. She happens to be a doctor, and her husband happens to be a lawyer. They live in Seattle in a nice university neighborhood, with their dog and answering machine(s). After much deliberation during the course of her pregnancy, my sister and her husband decided that if it was a boy (as indicated by ultrasound test), he should be named..Devon. Look, I don't have any problem with the name Devon. Why a nice Jewish couple would settle upon an unquestionably Celtic name for their firstborn eludes me somewhat. My dad hit the nail on the head when he announced that he would proceed to refer to the boy as 'DEE-von'(as in "Yo, Dee-von! Wha's happnin' man?!"), prompting my sister and brother-in-law to modify the name to be Devin, with an 'i'. My mother, always the consummate diplomat, offered the alternate pronunciation 'Dee-vine!' which I don't believe was met with much zeal, since my sister was never a big fan of obese transvestite film stars. Well now that it is on the birth certificate, and it's official, our family will just have to get accustomed to Devin Emannuel Edrich-Kronenberg, or D.E.E.K. for short. In a way, it's lucky for the little guy that he's got a weird Uncle Pat to show him the ropes at acting like a child. It's also lucky that I have a keen sense for the kinds of cruel nicknames he's bound to earn in his early school days. If I can give him enough advance warning, then with his mother's patience and his father's talent for rhetoric, he'll persevere through the years of being called "DEEK the Geek." Eventually, my nephew will be old enough that I can start teaching him moves out of the Special Forces Bayonet Manual, and I think the teasing will stop in good measure. In the meantime, I'll have to resist the urge to call him Pugsley. X THE MOTHER OF ALL CONTESTS An official 432 T-Shirt, bearing the "...This Is Your Brain On Arts." design, goes to the dedicated reader who sends in the Most Offensive Advertisement Idea to fill this space. Entries will be judged for their overall shock value and Grginality* as well as quality of presentation! The Winning Offensive Ad will be reproduced in the next issue; if you don*t want your name reproduced, please say so with your submission. Entries can be dropped off at the S.U.S. Office at Chem Rra 160. in X 13%" BIOCHEMISTRY. PHARMACftLCXff PHYSIOLOGY CLUB FRIDAY, JANUARY^ SUB PARTYROOM 4:30-7:30™. A dejected Thod skulks away after his fully detailed schematic for the first nuclear fusion plant loses to Krog's "The Wheel". Version 5.06 )t 22 Jan '92 The Four Thirty-Two Lord Who Art In Heaven, Hello! What's Your Name? Harry Tic Columnist In the beginning, God created the Universe, and as I showed in my first article, the Almighty Dolt did an incredibly crappy job. Then, as my second article explained, the Supreme Goof created life, and managed to screw that up as well. Finally, as I shall now reveal, God created religion. Need I say more? How do I know God gave us religion? Elementary! Imagine for a second that you're God (if you have trouble doing this, then start with something easier, like Donald Trump). You've just created Everything That Is and done a really bad job of it. Then suddenly, and when I say suddenly in connection with God I mean like over thousands and millions of years (Why do people think God is so wise and wonderful because he does things over several millennia? Face it, the guy is just slow). Anyway, you realize that there are all these humans running around who might someday figure out just how much of a stupid lazy goof you really are. Already they're developing languages, and complaining about how rotten life is, what with dysentery, starvation, and their mother getting gored by a mastodon. You've got to do something quick, before they evolve superpowers and come looking for you! You have to confuse them, distract them, Patrick Redding Editor-in-Chief and Executive Scapegoat / EDITORIAL Assistant to the Editor-in-Chief Ryan McCuaig Contributing Editors Morgan Burke, Jaret Clay, Aaron Drake, Clement Fung, Mike Hamilton, Derek Miller, Glovanna Vassone, Roger Watts Columnists Loona Adams, Tim Carter, Alan Douglas, Patrick Lum, Harry Tic, Editorial Manager Oppie X ART and DESIGN Design Director Ryan McCuaig Contributing Artists Mike Ewert, Mike Goshko, Patrick Redding, David Sovka, Roger Watts Director of Photography Peter Siempelkamp X PRODUCTION Desktop Production Claude and Wile E. Printer CollegePrinters, Ltd. Vancouver Distributor Armies of the Night, Inc. Title Assignment Supervisor Ryan McCuaig President/Big Enchilada, Science Undergraduate Society Glovanna Vassone 7Jinuiry1Wt,VmlsnS.0i Thg 432 it publiihad biweekly by the Science Undergraduate Safety of UBC, Somewhere clow to Main Mail and University Blvd. We gerwafly make cute het> out of our mail, aspeaeJIyltie politically correct tlutt, to dont bottler sending any. H you have a beet, talkto Pat Hell probably ask you to hold on to hit writt to he can show you the neat Aikido move he Itamed Ian night There cwentjy exists some debet as Is whether pubiicab'ont use this spape to spread subliminal messages, but you can rest assured tiatwa wouldn't do something like that Wall just come right out and toll you that reading tie Ubytsey ml compel youlo go buy a VW van and perform This Land is Your Land' at bra-burnings across the count/y. Not a pleasant fate, it rt? get them fighting amongst themselves. Hurry, there's no time to think, another millennium just shot past! Do something, anything!! And so God created religion. At first God just scared people, giving them omens and signs and stuff. People were confused, witch-doctors and shamans abounded, and the earth was alive with spirits. Gradually, more organized forms of worship were created, centered around deities, priests, and ritualistic sacrifice (I never did understand sacrifices. You worship the creator by snuffing one of his creations! Isn't that like honoring a writer by burning one of his books?) God however was still going nuts with the old omens. He was still trying to confuse us and He was doing a great job. The poor priests who had to try and interpret all these signs were forced conclude that there must be many different gods at work. Thus polytheism was born, the great mythologies of Babylon, Egypt, Greece, Scandinavia, Central America and countless other places were the direct result of God going ape-shit with signs. Finally, after a thousand years or so, God realized that this wasn't working out (didn't I say He was slow?). The poytheisms were too chaotic, too disruptive; people were starting to get tired of them. Monotheisms like Egyptian sun worship were starting to appear. God had to find some way gaining control of our religious beliefs. So suddenly and dramatically He changed His tactics. It was perhaps as early as 1500 B.C. that God clued into the idea of using prophets to spread religion. All God had to do was divinely inspire some susceptible loony, throw in some miracles, and let human nature take its course. In this way God was able to profoundly influence our development, with one goal in mind: to keep us from complaining. All the major reli gions of the world are dedicated to this task. Their methods may vary, but they are all trying to sell a view of the Universe that keeps us from saying "Hey this place sucks and it's all God's fault!" In other words, religions are God's ad campaigns! All the scriptures, the prayers, the beliefs, the rituals, they are all just a part of huge, complex, self-perpetuating series of advertisements, and the prophets were little more than celebrity spokespersons. To argue a point of religious doctrine is as idiotic as fighting over whether Coke is "It" or "the Real Thing". To say that the Messiah was Jesus and not Mohammed is as meaningless as saying that Paula Abdul is the true representative of Diet Coke, not Elton John. Is Bill Cosby really the Son of the Great Jello Pudding-Pop in the sky? Who knows? Who cares? Just like TV ads, religion identifies or even creates problems, such as human suffering, death, the evil in the world, eternal damnation, or the endless cycle or reincarnation (Can you say "static cling"). It blames these problems not on God, but on some evil force like the Devil, or on us and our sins or desires ("Trying to quit smoking?"). It plays on our fears, and insecurities ("Some days I just don't feel fresh"). It floods us with jingles and catchy slogans such as hymns, prayers, chants, and scriptural quotations ("Ah ha! Ah ha!"). It gives us a philosophy ("Just doit") and tells us how we should live ("a part of a well balanced diet"). And finally religion promises to give us just what we need, be it salvation, eternal life, enlightenment, or Nirvana ("With no bad aftertaste"). Yeah, this God character has really been jerking us around. In my next article I'll look more closely at some of His more successful ad campaigns and continue nailing His supreme to the wall. )( THE TOP TEN LESSER-KNOWN JFK' ASSASSINATION CONSPIRACY THEORIES Tim Carter, Alan Douglas & Aaron Drake Saucer Aliens 10 The National Enquirer was thinking of its future. 9 The second gunman was a camouflaged elf (the Grassy Gnome Theory). 8 Kennedy was just the patsy in an elaborate plot to kill Lee Harvey Oswald. 7 The assassination was orchestrated by mastermind Lloyd Bentsen in order to beat Dan Quayle in the 1988 Vice-Presidential debate. 6 Oswald did it to impress Jody Foster's mother. 5 A hunter mistook him for a deer. 4 Oswald fired in self-defense, 3 J. Edgar Hoover lost a bet. 2 Bobby to Jack: "Tag, you're it!" L They were all exit wounds. The 432 has decided to offer to you, our faithful reader, a new service. Beginning THIS VERY ISSUE (note the Drake capitals, the mark of authenticity), we are prepared to offer YOU, totally free, 3 printed lines, for whatever you feel the comatose masses who read this rag should know. If you've got something to sell, any impending hormonal deadlines, or whatever, submit it to The 432, in Chem 160. January 24 is the deadline for any messages for next issue. We reserve the right to edit for brevity and other stuff. UBC ProLife-Prochoice Mudwrestling Tourney. SUB Ballroom, 9:30pm, Jan 23. Tickets $5 at Ticketmaster. Sweaty necrophiliac seeks Julia Child type for brief lustful encounter. Gold's Gym Membership for sale. Call Gio at 822-4235. Apology: To blonde dancing at Pit last weekend, I'm sorry I used the line "Ooh, take me home & try me out, babe." Lost: One small invertebrate. Black w/ legs. Please return to theTouchy-Feely Tank at the Biological Sciences Display. Science merchandise is STILL for sale. Come on down to Chem 160! We've got great sweaters & financing options.. .not! Crew-cutted individual seeks Storm The Wall participants to participate in deviant sexual animalistic rituals. Call Jon in SUS. Case of Lucky wanted for 1st Cariboo. Lost: Blackcomb Instructor's Jacket & Wallet in the midst of drunken haze. Keep wallet, return jacket to address on ID. Bzzr Gardeners Club requests the presence of all members Friday afternoons at 4:30 in the Conversation Pit, SUB Fri 24 Jan Drinking Opportunities: Microbi Home-Brew Contest, BPP Bzzr Garden, SUS Science Week Party at SUB Ballrm. Saturday Jan 18, Chris's 20th Birthday. Give a gift to a tall, staggering redhead sometme next week. Bespectacled individual seeks dart players for SUS Dart Ladder. Talk to Jon in SUS. Wanted: PMR (Single male) seeks short, small-framed Oriental female for companionship. Leave message at SUS. PH seeks good steak. Talk to Jon in SUS. He's lonely. The Four Thirty-Two Version 5.06 X 22 Jan '92 The Grinch Had a Point Christmas has come and gone, and once again, I am experiencing the Post-Christmas Letdown Syndrome (PCLS). The days of GI Joe Antitank Missile Launchers are behind me now. The days of neato gifts are over. Then again, the days of Gifts From Santa That Are Really Toys Made By Dad In The Basement are past me. I am now out of the Toy years, and into the Ware years. For Christmas, I got Software, Dishware, Hardware and Underware. These days, I have to be content with commandeering toys away from the neighbour's children, Tammy and David, who come over on Christmas day. Unfortunately, Christmas is too quickly becoming Politically Correct, and the only toys they bring over are Happy To Be Me Dolls, and GUoel, the Special Forces Accountant, who is equipped with a Secret Service Pocket Protector. On the other hand, there were two gifts that I just drooled over. The first was a Nerf Bow and Arrow Set. It shot out foam arrows, and after careful examination, I determined that if you shaved the front of the arrow to a point, you could easily take out an eye. This is the entire point of getting violent Christmas toys: having your mother worry that a) you will put out someone's eye b) you will grow up to be Charles Manson c) your father will commandeer the toys and spend the rest of Christmas playing Cowboys and Indians. The second gift that David got was a Nintendo hand-held arcade game, with various cartridges that included Tetris, Super Mario Brothers, etc. "We never had toys like that when I was your age," I told David. "When I was young we only had Pong. And we loved it. We didn't need no removable cartridges." David ignored me and continued to the second level. "Space Invaders." I muttered. "Now there was a game. None of this 'jump over the sissy- boy barrels.' Why, you had to shoot down an entire enemy attacking force." Kids these days. I'm telling you. No appreciation for the finer things of life. Things that I still have not got for Christmas. X Julia Roberts. X Official Trekkie Membership, Button, ID Card, and CD soundtrack, for which I am Very Grateful. X World Peace and Goodwill Towards Man, which I could hopefully trade in for Canucks Season Tickets. Things that I did get for Christmas. Again. / One of those handheld dexterity games, where you are supposed to roll steel ball bearings around until they fall into little holes, but instead you end up smashing it into a frustrated pulp with your Cup of Christmas Cheer. X Hungover. That last gift, by the way has turned into a Christmas Tradition, as a result of another Christmas Tradition: The Christmas Eve Party. Having been away from home for the past six years, I know no one at these get-togethers, and I usually relegate myself to the kitchen and perform experiments to try and figure out exactly what the heck the Nog part of Egg Nog is. Usually these experiments involve Southern Comfort, after ten or twenty experiments, I had concluded that the word Nog has very little to do with the drink, but instead was perhaps the only thing I could audibly mutter. Another Christmas Tradition is a game that my dad and I like to play, called Who Has The Wrongest Opinion, which is quickly followed by the Who Has The Loudest Opinion, and is usually ended by Who Has The Rottenest Son. If you're at all interested, my mother usually wins the first game with her AIDS Is A Government Conspiracy hypothesis, According to my mother's sources, HIV was created by the US Army as a bioweapon. If the USSR ever invaded Europe, NATO would simply parachute thousands of prostitutes to the front lines, infecting Soviet soldiers with AIDS, thereby rendering the entire Russian army useless in ten or twelve years. This is what Christmas is all about: Tradition. For me, the real spirit of Christmas can be found in my tradition of hoping that if I go to the bank machine at 3 AM, the computer will be tired and give me money that I don't have in my account. Our neighbours have included us in on one of their family Christmas Traditions. They come over every Christmas Eve, and have "one of Santa's Elves" lay Christmas pajamas for the children on the doorstep. The "elf' (I'll bet you never guess who they asked to accept the honour of being this year's Christmas elf) must drop the presents on the doormat, ring the bell, and scoot out of sight before the youngsters open the door. Sound easy? This year, the Christmas Elf had a little too much Christmas Cheer. In his haste to run out of sight, this year's Christmas Elf tripped over a car. What it was doing lurking in the driveway, I don't know. These were the same neighbours, by the way, who came over for Christmas Dinner, and were introduced to a brand new Christmas Tradition: The Tradition of Oppie Sitting Under The Christmas Table And Emitting Christmas Aromas. Dessert was served in the kitchen. X f vi! \AiUi\e tyiese w^ofe-v^te V%l 3*vb \A fee ntok tofy' Wau[ C«£S M crfGX- ^W ^ I Ja ****** pit*** JU Vx^J 1 (AW^oM. Version 5.06 j( 22 Jan '92 The Four Thirty-Two Streams of Consciousness... "Hmm ... now, when they said his left kidney, do you suppose they meant his left or my left?" 3 proudly presents the annual Car Rally/B##r Garden/Dart Tournament 4-10 b##r garden &mt 10 ear rally 6-9 dart tournament Leona Adams Has this ever happened to you: you're reading something, and when you get to the end, you realize that you have missed an essential detail? Of course it has. You're in university. At any rate, over the holidays I was glancing over my dad's copy of LIFE 1991: The Year in Pictures, and I came upon the last sentence in a blurb about a picture taken during the Gulf War: "Alaniz was one of thirty-five Americans killed by friendly fire." So naturally I had to go back to the beginning of the paragraph, because never in my almost two decades of existence have I contemplated shooting someone with an Uzi as a mark of affection, and I was curious to learn the mind set behind it so I could learn to recognize the mental state and avoid making friends with anyone in it. The second read was rather uneventful, however, so I decided to stick with what had first come to my mind, a shoot-each-other-then-go-out- for-a-bzzr mentality. I could even picture the commercial: "I met Ed in the third grade, and we've been doing stuff together ever since. Even now, though we both have jobs at the mill and families to look out for, we still find time on weekends to go up to the mountains for some friendly fire with the guys. Then we go out for a bzzr. But not just any bzzr. After a long day avoiding gunfire from guys who have known us our whole lives, we need a manly bzzr to annihilate our manly thirst. We need Spike's, brewed just right to hit the spot so to speak. (In the background, we see Ed get shot) Don't just quench your thirst, spike it" Speaking of bzzr, am I missing something? Recently, I spoke to a friend of mine, a veteran in the field: "What does bzzr taste like?" I asked in my inquisitive-five- year-old voice. "Actually, it tastes pretty rude." "Why do you drink it then?" "It's an acquired taste," he said in his I-think-this-conver- sation-is-over voice. Call me naive, but if something's going to make me do the technicolour yawn, it had better taste pretty darned good on the way down. Nevertheless, there are a good number of people who like BEvERages, so I assume that either a fair percentage of the population is masochistic or the joys of inebriation far outweigh the woes of parting with one's last meal/brain cells/Uver/paycheck. Which leads me to another question: why dealcoholized BEvERages? If the point of drinking bzzr is to get a 'buzz', why would someone drink something 'buzzless' that tastes just as awful? Tome, that would be about as bright as drinking de-ascorbic-acidized grapefruit juice. The only fun you can have with dealcoholized bzzr is giving it to people who think it's the real thing, watching them act stupid for a while, and then telling them that they're not really drunk. I think the thing that entertains me the most about bzzr is the ads and their distinct hostility towards reality. I was catching up on some TV when La Commercial came on, talking about how to make La BEvERage. (My French prof is probably flipping out right now.) Still having some useless information left in my brain from cramming for my Microbiology Christmas exam, I was curious to see how much details La Voice would go into. Surprisingly enough, he never mentioned the bacteria. Right between "La Barley" and "La Hops" he should be mentioning "La Saccharomyces Cerevisiae". So, for the benefit of La BEvERage company, I have rewritten La Commercial: "You make La BEvERage in the comfort of your own home. All you need is La Wet Barley, La Active Bacterial Culture, and La Hops for that who- peed-in-my-cornflakes flavor. But if you do, I'll become La Welfare Bum, so you'd better buy La Bzzr, because La Bzzr is La Brand X." I'm probably being too critical of that one ad. I mean, it's a great improvement from the ads with La Girl, as I like to call them. The girl is never the same, yet La Voice never seems to have any trouble catching her interest. It usually goes something this: "So I was at La Blowout listening to La Bore when suddenly I spotted La Scantily-clad-for-no- apparent-reason Bombshell. She started towards me, carrying two bzzrs. When she came over, I said, 'Nice pair', because La BEvERages were La Brand X." Why can't there ever be ads with La Guy for a change? Something like this would be okay, with La Female Voice, of course: "When we got stranded up at Whistler, we thought we were in for a long, boring night. When we found Amelia Earhart, things got a little more interesting. Then, the Swedish Bikini Rescue Team showed up, and things got a little more interesting. Then, we found the case of Spike's and things really started to get interesting. (Cut to shot of muscular guy in bikini dancing with Earhart.) Spike's. Put a little excitement into your life. Hey, maybe I should drop all this keener academic nonsense and just go into advertising... X RABIES Dear Editors I wish to express my extreme dismay over the recent increase in page number within the 432 newspaper. In the past, I have always brought the latest issue of the 432 into my classes with me because the time it takes me to read through eight pages is roughly the same amount of time before I have to flip the tape over that 1 use to record my professor's lectures. Last issue, you switched to twelve pages, and I lost track of the time during the fifty-minutes, causing me to lose fifteen minutes of detailed explanation of union- busting techniques. That material was covered on the final, and I was unprepared; consequently, I only barely passed it. You should give more careful thought to the possible consequences of your format changes, since the careers of some UBC students depend on the dependability of their environment and this includes reading material like the 432. Well, anyway, I like your newspaper for its humor, but please switch it back to the original eight pages. Confused in Commerce € The Four Thirty-Two Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92 I j NHS V^NNNC 8:30 9:30 10:30 11:30 12:30 1:30 2:30 3:30 4:30 Evening SCIENCE WEEK Monday Tuesday pi iti ■I i Displays S.U.B. Concourse DlSPI AYS SUB S.U.S Open House Chem 160 Displays S.U.B. Concourse DlSI'l AYS SUB Chemistry Magic Show Math Club intergal Tourney Math Annex Room 1102 mmmmmmm^mtm'mm^^^t'ttmmmmmm'mmtm't'mm 6:00 Computer Science Car Rally Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92 The Four Thirty-Two 7 /\ ^^^^^M Displays S.U.B. Concourse DlSPI AYS SUB S.U.S Open House Chem 1160 Physsoc Paper Airplane Contest S.U.B. Auditorium Gyotaku S.U.B. 207/9 7:00 Computer Science Bxxr Thursday Physsoc Bxxr Garden iliiiiii S.U.S Open House Chem 160 •*<-^^»^-«w*-»**»i»« ************ MicroBi Home Brew 4:00-8:00 S.U.B. 207/9 BPP Bxxr Garden iiiiiiiii2piiiii ■Ml BW B0I1IHW jiiiii I \ BBSSE™™™™™" is f 8 The Four Thirty-Two Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92 Water Sports Morgan BURKE Face it, the excretion of bodily wastes is a dull activity. If it wasn't necessary to prevent us from exploding embarrassingly, some of us would never do it at all. The profusion of graffiti in public toilets and stupid magazines in private ones is testimony to the fact that boredom is the primary occupational hazard of shitters and pissers worldwide. It must be agreed that reading and writing are noble activities optimally suited to pot-sitters, but what of those members of population who excrete on their feet, so to speak? Most men cannot write graffiti while they urinate, since their hand are otherwise occupied controlling their thrashing willy and trying maintain some degree of accuracy, without splashing any tell-tale drops on their pant legs. Those who attempt to read graffiti or even worse, magazines, usually end up hosing down the floor, or the guy next to them at the urinal, as their aim drifts erratically. Obviously, men require an alternative form of intellectual nourishment as they walk the dog. The proprietor of a campground I once stayed at recognized this problem. In response, he built a latrine (actually it was a pit in the ground) whose primary accoutrement was a central pole, gradated in feet. It wasn't necessary to provide instructions. From the edge of the pit, it was possible to hit the four foot marker regularly, but five feet—well that was near impossible for thirteen-year- old bladder. Not that I didn't try. I drank a lot of water that weekend. Urination was never so much fun. The best technique involved tensing the abdomen to increase your bladder pressure, and then flipping the ol' member up with a hearty pelvic thrust. Such games do not translate well to the home or the public restroom. A possible adaptation for home use is to test one's bladder pressure by finding the maximum distance one can stand from the toilet and still reach the bowl, but this is potentially messy. In the confines of a private bathroom or toilet stall, a better measure of forcefulness is destructive capacity. A high-pressure urine stream can decimate a wad of wet toilet paper in seconds, if done right. If you are using a toilet whose bowl happens to be clean, tear off some paper and toss it in. Cigarette butts and other solid wastes are also fun to disintegrate. If you're truly bored, experiment. Try blowing apart raw eggs, rotten fruit, or live insects. The best place to find insects for such a purpose is the family dog. Fleas are not only undesirable and deserving of death, but since they are difficult to kill except by drowning, most fleas end up in the toilet after being caught anyway. Lastly it should be pointed out that killing a flea with one's urine stream is more ecologically sound than with powders and flea collars. Rural residents can take these games one step further, by besieging ant or termite nests. The little guys always get so mad when this happens, and they all come running outside to find out what is going on. That's when you nail them. The extensive empirical studies I conducted while growing up in the West Kootenays indicated a remarkably high resilience of insect communities to such abuse, along with an equally high fun quotient Once you've mastered the appropriate tactics, you can move on to wasp and homet nests. Rural urinators can also experiment with the ever popular game of snow-writing. Personally, I've found that snow-printing is much more challenging, since it requires the regular interruption of one's stream between letters and strokes. Creative individuals may want to experiment with snow-painting, although it is a rare picture that doesn't come out looking like a sickly form of abstract impressionism. City dwellers and those without access to pristine fields of show can simulate snow writing by filling the toilet bowl with froth (requires a hearty stream and urine of the correct consistency), and then writing in the bubbles. Having trouble making good froth? Try adding a drop of dish soap. In closing I will mention the holy grail of urine games, the great unsolved "last theorem" of urination: passing water with an erection. The essential problem, of course, is that the stream goes the wrong way. Numerous theorists have attempted to solve this tricky problem, but experimentation has shown that their solutions are awkward at best. The trivial solution, affectionately known as the "member-bender", fails completely due to pain and a kinked urethra, the famous "bend over at the waist" solution, although popular, is not completely satisfactory, due to its physical demands and silly appearance. Although these problems can partially be resolved by sitting down, this practice is widely perceived as cheating. The dramatic "Hail Mary" solution involves no bending or twisting, but necessitates that one calculate the precise parabolic trajectory that the stream will take, and then position oneself the appropriate distance from the bowl. While theoretically elegant, this solution has been shown to be inaccurate in practice. X SCIENC1 BflLLTt.OQi FRIDAY, JANl SUBBA1 8:00 •BUCKi •BOAT •PR] •DAN TICKET AVAII AT SUS (CHER jrscouwr %tK(>t%y Lolo torn i*5 j^rot^ Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92 The Four Thirty-Two Dik Miller, Campus Enforcer SWEEK m BLItz JARY 24, 1992 ,LROOM pm \ RACES LZES fCING SIFREE ABLE OFFICE 1 160) Derek K. MILLER Little did Roy Iknow that his next step into the lab would be his last... I was perched atop the concrete slab of the Civil and Mechanical Engineering Building, peering down through my Dik Miller™ high- power binoculars/bottle openers/juggling batons at the tiny wooden structure known inexplicably as "The Cheeze Factory." I was looking for suspicious activity, and I was there to prevent it. That's right. I'm Dik Miller, Engineering Political Correctness Enforcer. Look, it's a job, okay? I noticed a young man walking toward the Cheeze from Main Mall. He was wearing a red jacket and carrying a backpack slung over his right shoulder. He approached the building and opened the door. From inside, a young woman, also red-jacketed, greeted him and let him inside. The door closed. I put down the Dik Miller™ binoculars/botde openers/juggling batons and rushed off to the Dean of Applied Science's office. XXX "I have something," I said when I arrived at the office of my supervisor. "Do I ever have something." "Really?" she said. "That was fast. What is it?" "Well, I was watching the Cheeze Factory from the top of this building, and I watched one of the students go inside." I paused dramatically. "They've got women in there." She stared at me blankly. I raised my eyebrows to emphasize the point. "Women." She pursed her lips. "There are quite a few female students in Engineering, you know." "You're kidding," I said incredulously. "I'm not kidding," she replied. "But last week, you said that there was an entrenched, systematic hatred of women by Engineering students!" "Well, not by the women." "So this is no big surprise." "No. We do register these women into courses, after all." She leaned forward. "Get back to work, and only come back here if you find something really good." I sighed. XXX Two hours later, I was back on top of the Civil and Mechanical Engineering Building, this time looking through my Dik Miller™ high- power telescope/quarterstaff/poster packing tube at the main door of the Cheeze Factory. I could see movement inside, but it was too dark (and the windows were too dirty) for me to figure out what it was. I was also getting cold. An Engineering student emerged from the building beneath me and headed for the Cheeze. I quickly hatched a plan. Dropping my telescope/quarterstaff/poster packing tube, I bounded along the roof. I would intercept this student, purloin her jacket, and enter the Cheeze pretending to be a Engineer. It was perfect. All I had to do was get to her before she reached the door. There was only one way to do that. I took a running leap and jumped off the roof. XXX When I regained consciousness, I was hanging upside down in a bush. A quick self- inspection indicated that I hadn't broken anything (except my Dik Miller™ Mickey Mouse Rolex). The student was nowhere to be seen. I put my feet on the proper end on my body (the bottom end) and walked out of the bush. It was now quite dark, but light and noise were still streaming out from the windows and doors of the Cheeze Factory. I had to get inside to find out what was going on. "Excuse me, sir, can I help you?" asked a voice from behind me. I spun on my heel to see yet another student facing me. "Sorry?" "You were standing there, staring at the Cheeze, and mumbling something about a 'damn bush.' I thought I might be able to give you a hand." I looked at him. "No, but you could loan me your jacket." "My Engineering jacket? No way!" "You leave me no choice, then," I said. With skilful use of tai-jitsu (a martial art I perfected, combining the flowing grace of tai chi with the bone- crushing insanity of jiujitsu, and causing ultimate confusion in its victims, who are unused to being subdued by something that looks like a good morning stretch) I had him unconscious, tossed around back of the Cheeze Factory, and stripped off his jacket, which I now wore. I walked in the front door and into the middle of a loud and yeasty-smelling party. I watched as a man walked up to the bar. "Gimme a dark beer," he said. Sidling up beside him, I thought to strike up a conversation. "Shouldn't that be 'beer of colour?'"I asked. He looked back at me. "What?" '"Beer of colour' instead of 'dark beer,'" I elaborated. "Coloured beer?" he asked. He was obviously somewhat sauced. "No, no," I explained. "Beer of colour!" He was still perplexed. "I don't get it." I was about to go in when the door burst open and the student from whom I had borrowed the jacket rushed in, followed by some others. "There!" he shouted, pointing at me. "That's the guy!" They rushed toward me. "Wait," I protested. "You can't do anything. I'm Dik Mi—" XXX When I regained consciousness, I was lying on a couch in the Dean of Applied Science's office. My supervisor was standing over me. "I think he's awake now," she said. "Urgh," I said. "Just what the hell did you think you were doing?" she asked me. "Urgh," I said. "Well?" she prodded. "My head hurts," I said. "I would expect that, after you were beaten up by fifteen Engineers. What were you doing?" "I was trying to ...urgh... infiltrate their organization to find out what kinds of politically incorrect activities were going on." "By stealing someone's jacket?" "Look, sometimes a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do." "Which includes stealing?" "Urgh," I said. "I found out something else." She put her hands on her hips. "And what was that?" I motioned for her to come closer. She leaned over, and I whispered in her ear. "They drink beer in there." She straightened up and looked at me. "Beer," I said again for emphasis. She sighed, exasperated, and walked out of the room. On her way, she turned back. "When you're feeling better, get back to work, and get some real work done for a change, okay?" Another case closed for Dik Miller, Engineering Political Correctness Enforcer. "Urgh," I said. X 10 The Four Thirty-Two Version 5.06 X 22 Jan V2 Organized Grime Predictions for 1992 Well, folks, here we are in 1992, and things are every bit as dismal as they were before, only now they're probably more expensive. But you may be asking yourself, "Will things improve? Will they get worse? What important things are going to happen and to whom?" Actually, chances are these questions have never once crossed your mind, but I was fortunate enough to have had a chat with the great Swami Inhalf Withabreadknife last week, and he had some amazing predictions about the year to come. RW: Thanks very much for taking the time to chat with us today, Swami. SWAMI: Yeah, sure. Where's the $301 was promised over the phone? RW: Check should reach you sometime next week. SWAM: grumblegrumble- cursegrumble RW: So, what can we look forward to in 1992? SWAMI: Well, the world is in for some serious upheaval. For starters, the Soviet Union will collapse, and the republics that make it up will... RW:Uh, Swami... SWAMI: What? RW: That already happened. SWAMI: It did? "From the Mouths of Babes.. " Top high school physics students bare their brains Someone Unidentified Probably from Physsoc Each year, UBC sponsors The Physics Olympiad, which is a competition between high school physics teams. Teams are given a written exam to return to UBC before the Olympiad begins. Some of the questions may beyond their level of knowledge, and their answers sometimes go astray. Here are some sample questions and actual answers given by some students: Question 1. "If the speed of light were to double during the night, by how much would the time of sunrise be changed?" The answer given is "no change." Explain why you agree or disagree. If you agree, what should the correct answer be? X The effect of this doubling would be hotter weather...more skin cancer, and sunburns, and since we could see things better, our reaction time would be better. X.-.it makes no difference to us how old the rays are when they reach us. /...night and day depends upon the orbit of the moon. X Either way, the speed of the earth would be quadrupled and the time would be quartered. We would not notice, however... X I don't think that this would change the sun's rising, though. Everything would change such as clocks (if there was change) so one wouldn't notice a difference (probably) anyway. Or something like that. X The only way there could be no change is if we were travelling at the speed of light. X If the speed of light changes (or doubles) everything else stands still (therefore time would stand still). Since time stands still, there would be no change in the time of sunrise. I conclude, therefore, that changing the speed of light is impossible. Question 2. "You are given three similarly shaped rods of metal. One is a piece of soft iron, one is apiece of brass, and one is a permanent magnet. How can you determine with your eyes closed and without altering the bars, which is which? X Supply some iron, cobalt, nickel, or gadolinium. X Since it says that the iron is made from soft iron, it will be possible to break it with your hands. X ...grope around until you find a plug in the wall. Stick one of the two bars in the plug... X You can try bashing the other rod just to make sure you're right. X To differentiate between the two remaining ones, hold each up to a refrigerator. X When you have the two that attract, take one and hit it on the edge of the table. Feel to see if there is a dent. X After the brass bar has been identified, the iron bar and the magnet must be discerned. To do this, the person must hold both bars in different hands for a prolonged period of time, and sweat profusely...the person must smell both his hands. Which hand smells irony contained the iron bar. X I would drop all three bars. The bar that would make the recognizable "clang" would be the brass. X ...now give one bar a good whump on the floor... Question 3. If room temperature superconductivity is ever achieved, what novel application can you think of? X It would be a fun lab experiment for students to do. X Household particle accelerators for extra fast microwave ovens and burglar deterrents. X ...floating cities... X ...street lamps in the countryside... X Novel applications that I can think of are nuclear fusion of light weighted atoms that may provide us with more powerful molecules. X Turbines could be made more efficient—in fact, extremely more efficient. Turbines...could be made infinitely more efficient that the old ones. X Being fairly well read, I can't think of too many novel uses of room temperature superconductors. X Massive amounts of electricity could be produced at cheaper costs. Monopolies like BC Hydro would be crushed. X The power in superconductors is in their ability to combat friction. X Superconductors would allow all battery operated devices to become solar- powered. X ...a more fluid road hockey game... X Superconductor and magnet bumpers. X REALLY good electric fences. X A superconducting bowling alley... (Novel doesn't mean useful.) X RW: Couple of weeks back. SWAMI: Oh... oh yeah, right Geez, y'know, I thought that sounded kinda familiar. Sorry. RW: Uh, no problem... anything else on the global scale? SWAMI: Oh, certainly. There will be a presidential election in the USA... RW: Oh, gee whiz, REALLY ? What a shock. SWAMI: Hey, no need for sarcasm. .. RW: Well, of course there's gonna be an election!! That's not a prediction, everybody knows that! There's gonna be one in 1996 too, and another one in the year 2000! SWAMI: Really? Hey, man, you're good at this. Ever consider this line of work? RW: (groan) What else? No, wait, lemme guess... the Olympics, right? SWAMI: Wow, you are good... yeah, that too. Summer and winter, no less. RW: Uh huh... any idea who's going to win any of the events? SWAM: Um... well, the vibes are somewhat unclear on that... you'll have to get back to me on that one. RW: Yeah, sure. Maybe we'll just skip the world stage for now... what about the entertainment world? SWAM: 1992 will see a lot of successes and failures for many people. Virtual unknowns will become stars and international celebrities will fall from grace. RW: That's it!? SWAM: Well, that about covers all the bases, really. What else is there? RW: Well... don't you see any particular events happening to any particular people? SWAMI: Oh, a few, I guess... Elizabeth Taylor will get divorced again and write a book about it, Arnold Schwarzenegger will separate from his wife and have a sex-change operation, Julia Roberts will marry Donald Trump in a fit of drunken passion in one of those instant wedding chapels just off the Strip in Vegas, thinking he still has money, and Magic Johnson will sadly reveal that he is actually not HIV-positive, but that he simply faked it so he'd be able to get a few extra tax concessions and become a folk hero overnight. Also, Jay Leno will lose the Tonight Show job when it is revealed that The Wonder Years' Fred Savage is his illegitimate son whom he sold for $100 in 1975, a secret investigation by Geraldo Rivera will prove that Michael and Janet Jackson are actually the same person, and, yes, Bob Hope will finally die when a boom crane falls on him during his annual Christmas special. RW: I see. And how did you arrive at all this? SWAM: Tea leaves. Plus, I read the Enquirer. RW: Ah. Anything else you might like to add to this stunning forecast for the year? SWAM: Not really... are you sure about the Soviet Union? RW: Quite. SWAM: Hmph. Well, I suppose that's about all she wrote, then. I'd just like to say hi to my mom in Toledo. RW: Yeah, whatever. Thanks again, Swami. Go buy yourself a life, OK? SWAM: I've enjoyed it. X s&- What the ... Hey! This is hot dog relish! What the hell happened to the sewage treatment culture I was testing?! Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92 The Four Thirty-Two ii MUNDANE DUMBSTER Patrick turn Third-Year Rep Students aren't the only ones asking questions about the fundamental structure of the B.Sc. program, which was established several decades ago. By request of the Dean's office, a Curriculum Renewal and Review Committee was struck last summer to recommend changes to be made to the B.Sc. program. Since that time, the CR&RC has made a draft of changes intended to meet the needs of today's students: decreased program prerequisites, less structured Major programs, and in general, more opportunity for variety in any given program. Keep in mind that the main purpose of these changes is to provide students with more options for choosing core courses and electives. This process involves reducing the number of required courses for any Major program in 2nd, 3rd and 4th years. You can decide for yourself whether or not this goal will be attained with the current proposal: 1) That the total required credits in any 2nd year Major program not exceed 21. 2) That the total required credits in 3rd and 4th years combined in any Major not exceed 36. 3) That all Major students be required to take a min i- mum of 24 credits outside the Faculty of Science:; of these, at least 6 credits of English, another 12 credits of Arts, and 6 credits in any non-science faculty. 4) Of the remaining 15 elective credits in years 2-4, no more than 6 may be uiken in the field of the major, and the remaining 9 to be either Arts or Science electives. 5) That the number of required upper-level credits for the B.Sc. degree be increased from 42 to 48, with a minimum of 30 credits of 300/400 level Science courses. The purpose of having a lowly student on the committee is to provide some soil of feedback, so any comments or suggestions would be welcome. Try posting your comments on the bulletin board in Chem 160 (SUS) with my name on it. Stay tuned for proposed changes to the first year curriculum in the next issue. X Alan M. Soshyet AMS Briefs The AMS Executive Awards As the AMS Executive's term draws to a close, it seems reasonable to award a ream of fictional gifts to the Execs for a job well done. Jason "Piggyback Plebiscite" Brett gets one-hundred yes votes for use in the referendum of his choice. He also gets the latest Garth Brooks album; C & W is the next big thing, you know, Shawn "Doh!" Tagseth gets a complimentary membership in the beer gardeners' club so he can continue his work after his term ends. Kelly "Glenn Close" Guggisberg gets an academy award for feigning interest in more issues than I can count. She also gets one thousand free loitipops with a purchase of an acre of Florida swampland. Martin "Duke's" ErtI gets one thin slice of pizza, just one measly slice. Is there anything wrong with that? Of course it conforms to building code. Ranjit "Timely" Bharaj gets an extra week so she can get ihe budget accepted more than a month before the end of her (and the budget's) term. Tim "Smile** lo gets a nicer couch for his office and a recently acquired keg of beer. All on the up and up, of course. Charles "Silent Sam" Redden gets a blank book so he can write down what he really thinks about everyone instead of keeping it all inside. X Derek K. Miller c i r c v s SCIENTIFICVS Alright, you've just eaten 40 pounds of turkey, 13 pounds of stuffing, 84 pounds of mashed potatoes, 37 boxes of chocolates and a partridge in a pear tree. This not being enough punishment in and of itself, you made 56 resolutions on New Year's Eve, of which only 2 survived; one of those is to exercise more and the only reason you haven't blown it is because 1992 still has eleven and a half months left in it. Intramurals has prepared for this unfortunate state, starting off 1992 with the Resolution Run at 12:30 on Tuesday, January the 14th and Friday, January the 17th. Too Much Too Fast, you say? Well then hopefully you got a few friends together for the Broomball Bash on the 14th...Okay, I know, these are events which involve extreme effort, but I haven't given up on those pot bellies yet. Drop-in volleyball is every Tuesday night at 6:30 at Osbourne Gym, and every Wednesday at 7:30 there's drop-in badminton at the same location. Now it you consider yourself "too good" for drop-in badminton, then the Pan Am Badminton Tournament is Saturday, January 25th with all levels of play welcome. As well, Sunday the 26th boasis the Great Plans Squash Tournament from 10:00am- 4:00pm as well as the SUB 6'/5'8" Basketball Tournament from 10:30am- 7:30pm. So none of this tickles; your fancy? How about the Girouse Mountain Ski Challenge from 9:00pm-Midnight on Thursday, January 30th: night skiing at its best. Registration is open now and closes on January 28th. Budget a problem? Intramurals offers 4 different fees: the minimum of $25 gets you a race t-shirt, $35 adds a lift ticket, $40 loses the lift ticket, but adds dinner and $50 gets the whole shot. Now that you have something to start you off, I'll finish with something to build up to: The UBC Triathalon and Uuathalon; Saturday, March 7th. Registration forms are already being accepted, with packages being given to the first 100 (there are 70 left as of this writing), including a one-of-a-kind Cathy Hudon limited edition t-shirt, as well as a hi-liter, Maxell tape, etc. Two courses are available for the Triathalon; a regular course with 800m swim, 23 km cycle, 7 km run and a short course of 400m swim, 11km cycle, and 4km run. Prices for students range from $25-$45 for the Triathalon, and $20-$40 for the Duathalon. There it is. Be prepared for another great semester of Intramurals! P.S. Foreshadowing: The Storm is Coming!! X Board of Governors I'm a little late with this. The last meeting of the UBC Board of Governors was on November 21,1991. But, you know, there were exams after that. Of course, I didn't have any exams, being in Creative Writing and all, so that doesn't give me much of an excuse. Anyway, a month and a half after the fact, this is what the evil overlords of the University (me included) were up to: We talked about the issue of Maclean's magazine which ranked 46 Canadian universities for their Arts and Science curricula. As likely happened at most universities (except perhaps at McGill, which came out on top), the President's reaction was that the idea of discussing universities in a national magazine is a good one, but that the implementation of the survey was deeply flawed. (UBC came in #7, after McGill, Queen's, Mount Allison, U of T, McMaster, and Acadia, and well before SFU and UVic, which were #23 and #24, respectively - and were not too pleased about it.) If you haven't seen the issue, it's worth checking out, flaws and all. If you're in Comp Sci, Electrical Engineering, or anything else that deals with computers a lot, you'll probably be pleased to know that the new Centre for Integrated Computer Systems Research (CICSR - pronounced like "Caesar") building has gone out to tender. Watch for digging, noise, and construction crews on coffee breaks between the CEME building and the Pulp and Paper Centre out by B-lot. Speaking of B- lot, the preliminary planning for new student housing at the south end of Main Mall (where the front two B-lots are now) is underway. Look for completion long after most of you have graduated, if you're not like me and spend seven years here. The controversial waste disposal incinerator has to go through a lot more public hearings before the GVRD will approve it. (The old one no longer meets environmental regulations.) Interestingly enough, both the Board and the Senate (at the instigation of Orvin Lau, student senator) unanimously passed similar motions opposing the new 3% "guarantee fee" imposed by the feds on Canada Student Loans. (Note that the University has no problem opposing fees it does not impose. It's a step, at least.) Those loans - along with University loans, bursaries, and scholarships, B.C. student loans, graduate fellowships, and campus student employment and work study - gave students some $82.6 million last year. The employment (at the library, Bookstore, etc.) and work study alone made up about $30 million of that total. And the Canada Employment Centre on campus, which closed in September, will be replaced by a University-run facility in the new Brock Hall building by this coming September. Plans for a new, powerful Ombudsoffice are slowly crawling along, with the 16- page terms of reference - composed by student senator and former ombudsperson Carole Forsythe with the help of Vice- President K.D. Srivastava and Dr. Cherry of Senate - approved at the Board meeting. (Un)fortunately (depending on how you look at it) the recent AMS referendum to levy a fee to pay the AMS's share of the cost of that office failed, so it may take longer to organize than previously thought. Dr. Srivastava (known universally simply as "K.D.") was also reappointed for a six-year term to his position as VP of Student and Academic Services. K.D. is also involved in the ongoing clash between the Administration and the AMS over management of the Aquatic Centre. The Board meeting saw AMS executives Jason Brett and Martin Ertl give a well-received presentation on their side of the argument, and it seems that the Administration (ie. Strangway and K.D.) is finally bending a bit. A memo I wrote the Board outlining some of the concerns you students have brought to me during the past few months was also responded to (in writing!). It dealt with topics ranging from Bookstore pricing policies to bike racks. As usual, if you want to know more about any of the stuff I've mentioned (or have neglected to), if you want to bring up something that bugs you about UBC, or if you want to find out about what the Board will be up to in the next little while (such as tuition fee increases), you can contact me or Wendy King, student BoG reps, in SUB room 262 (top floor, northwest corner), phone 822-6101, or you can call me at home (anytime; there's a machine) at 439-9465. If you're really technically inclined, I can be faxed at 822- 9019 or 434-5092. And to those of you who raised questions with me and to whom I haven't responded, I apologize; I'll try to phone you with answers in the next few weeks. Both Wendy and I are running again for the student Board representative positions in the upcoming elections, but I will refrain from propagandizing here. I'll just say that the free lunches during Board meetings and all the Christmas parties were very good. Thanks for reading. X 12 The Four Thirty-Two Version 5.06 / 22 Jan '92 tr o n 6 » a* CO CO CO CO CD tr o tr sr tr co" jb co" tyT »r >-< rt 2 is* Sr* w o ^ = ►*- a « 93 5s Q en co D c/s co tr o tr tr n c it n r, O p s. CO *» w- cj a* s co H ft) P 2* Iff fB t» if CO 10 o CO sr co 00 o CO O n m x re r> ■ I 00 re X CD $ n H% s 5* CO CO O \ f\* . ^ ' \\ H It < £■: •S. \ A ^, > 0^^pN***Nh %. '& «t-: