Hey kids.,. The 432™ Official Residence Survival Package ...inside! BC Archives Serial New Breed of Corn! "Movie-goers everywhere are elated" says theatre owner. Jeremy T. Fibble Roving Correspondent TORONTO (REUTERS) Yesterday, after years of painstaking research in the field of cellular growth biology, Dr. Raymond Sung of McGill University made an announcement that he and his team had encountered "some limited success" with a recently developed growth hormone. In his press release, Sung was quoted as saying "In the past few years, we have been testing this particular hormone regime on a variety of food crops with the hopes of increasing their durability and output potential. Ideally, a plant with these heightened characteristics could be used to help fight hunger in the third world." When asked to comment on the level of success that was being experienced, Sung replied "It's very difficult to say, really, and I don't want to hedge any guesses as to how it will turn out. But I'm willing to Dr. Raymond Sung checking on the growth rates of his genetically engineered corn plants. (Jennifer Brown/'AP photo) say that the progress so far is satisfactory and may even be something to get excited about in time;." Corn sprayed with the new hormone grew from an average kernel width of 7.5mm to approximately 20cm across. Sung was quick to point out that the size change was not something to get excited about. "We can't just assume the experiment was a success just because we can make popcorn big enough to feed an entire movie crowd off of one cob. We must remain scientifically minded and confirm that there are no side effects from the growth hormone before we start using the corn in famine relief efforts. This may take years of painstaking scientific research." According to a unnamed internal source, earlier in the program, a lab mouse was given a daily dose of the hormone. After almost two months of no noticeable results, the mouse spontaneously grew to eight times normal size and escaped during the night. It was picked up by the SPCA the following day, and adopted almost immediately by an affluent family under the assumption that it was a rather large Chihuahua. The mistake in identifying the animal may have occurred due to the side effects of the growth hormone, which causes almost complete hair and teeth loss when applied to mammals. Luckily, initial tests show no equivalent side effects in plants. According to Sung, the treated plants retain all the characteristics of their small relatives, including taste and nutritional content. Canadian Shield Glows! "It's even better than those stupid Northern Lights" claim local residents. Cord van McOlundsky Roving Correspondent. VANCOUVER (CP) Officials at the Atomic Energy of Canada, Ltd. announced today the results of a fifteen year investigation into safe disposal of Canada's nuclear waste. AEC is the official government agency responsible for the safe operation of nuclear power stations. Canada's 23 reactors, primarily located in Ontario and Quebec produce an estimated 500 kg of depleted plutonium and uranium per year. Currently, this radioactive waste is stored in temporary containers, and buried in local parks and schoolgrounds in the middle of the night. The announcement, was made by Larry Shewchuk, a senior AEC official "We're very, very pleased that we finally have a place to dump all this nuclear waste. We're running out of safe storage spots. There's only so many barrels you can dump in a lake before the biologists start noticing crazy things like third eyes and stuff." Currently, the plan is to bury the waste nearly a kilometer deep in stable rock structures in the Canadian Shield. Individual containers would be placed in shielded tubes, and then filled with high density concrete. The stable rock structures were named plutons, reflecting AEC's initial plan to "let the Martians take the containers to their holiday resort on Pluto" This statement was found in AEC documents from the 1960s. CSIS has been asked to investigate the possible connection between Martians and senior government officials, and is treating the matter very seriously. When questioned, Shewchuk angrily replied, "Look, we never took any money from anyone for anything! AEC has nothing to do with the Reform Party, or any other white supremacist group. All we care about is power. Nothing else! " In addition to safe disposal, AEC's research identified several applications for small amounts of radioactive waste. One idea would be to provide light without the use of electricity. By inserting a few milligrams of radioactive waste into a glass tube, the tube will produce enough light to read by for nearly seven months. This technique has already been applied to the Cyalume™ lightsticks sold in most outdoor supply stores. It has been revealed that, due to public concerns about the hazards of carrying about radioactive waste, Cyalume's PR company successfully convinced the residents of a small Alberta town that the light was actually produced by three little pixies. This successful ad campaign fell through when tourists from Montana visited the town, heard the story and as a result bought several boxes of lightsticks. When crossing the Canada-US border, the tourists replied "pixies" to the standard question regarding livestock or fruit. Custom officials investigated and Cyalume admitted the charade. Subsequently, Cyalume started promoting the light as the result of a chemical reaction. AEC officials refused to comment on Cyalume's products or advertising practices. HI t I'm tellin'yat Frank, this is not going to work!" Random Thoughts. a ■ «P—9 Mcdonald There's been an awful lot of really weird things going on out there lately. You've seen it, I'm sure. It must be the full moon or something. I've always tried to keep an eye out for all the little, slightly bizarre things out there, but I never could remember any of them when it came time to write my articles. So, I started carry around with me a hardcover notebook, that I use to jot down ideas as they occur to me. This also cause a 25% increase in my grades, since I normally ended up neglecting most of my homework 'cause it wasn't written down. The moral of the story is that, if you see something in the paper that doesn't make a lot of sense to begin with, bear with me. If s probably something that occurred to me in the shower or something. Unfortunately, these ideas have a half-life of about five minutes, so I have to make a mad dash for my notebook before they evaporate. Apologies to my roommates for that shower incident last week... Most of these ideas just aren't long enough for an entire article, so they stack up over the space of the year. It's important to go back and clean out the ol' notebook every now and again, so you can fill the space with other totally ridiculous ideas. And the only way to do that is to write an article about all the little ideas you can't write an article about. Here's a few of the things from my notebook. Why is it that I can never find a matching sock in the morning? Speaking as a biology student, the only obvious answer is that socks are cannibalistic. You can't blame them, really. You lock them up in a crowded, dark drawer for most of their life, and their only respite from that hell is when you stick them into a smelly leather shoe. Socks need to eat, just like any other organism, and the only food available is other socks. Add to that the fact that by eating their brethren; socks will create more room for themselves, giving them space to create little baby socks, The only way you're gonna be able to keep matched sets is to go out and steal your roommate's socks, shred them into really tiny pieces, and feed your sock drawer every four days. This also has the added side benefit that it will drive your roommates nuts. This new theory of sock life history should take precedence over the old theory of how the dryer ate your socks. When socks go missing from the dryer, it's actually other people living in your building stealing them to feed their own CLUB BUDGETS DEADLINE NOVEMBER 10 PART TIME HELP WANTED Due to increased pressure from animal rights groups The Department of Biology has announced the creation of 200 positions effective immediately. No experience necessary. Sucessful applicants will have: high pain tolerance, no major illnesses, and good internal organ contrast. brood of socks. This was proven with the use of hidden cameras in residence laundry rooms. Why would porcupines be eating the metal tags from saplings? Apparently, some ecolo- gist from the States is looking for a solution to this very problem. He's doing some experiment with birch tree saplings, but the native population of porcupines generally eat the metal identification tags before the experiment.ends. So far, the ecologist has had to plant twenty different sets of saplings. Personally, I see this as a conspiracy on the part of the porcupines. Porcupines like to eat saplings. Ecologist plants saplings with tags. Ecologist plants even more saplings if tags disappear. Porcupines make tags disappear, thus creating more saplings. The porcupines win big because there's a never-ending supply of nice, fresh tasty saplings. This system will work quite well until the ecologist goes completely mad and decides to make his wife an wonderful porcupine evening coat. Or maybe porcupines are the terrestrial equivalent of sharks, and in addition to those tags you'd find pop cans and license plates in the average porcupines' stomach. Incidentally, somewhere out there in the great wide forest is a porcupine den stuffed to the rafters with little tiny tags. And I'm sure if you dig deep enough, you can link the porcupines to Elvis and the Grassy Knoll and the fact you can never find your car keys when you're in a hurry. Elevators contain a chemical that prevents communication. Have you ever noticed that when you get in an elevator, everyone is completely silent and stands there staring at the little red floor indicator? It's really eerie how a group of people can be standing in the basement with their laundry baskets, talking away, but the minute you step on the lift, everyone turns into zombies. Nuclear physics is neither nuclear nor physics. At least it is to me. Nuclear physics is based on the concept that if you accelerate little tiny things to nearly the speed of light and slam them together, something will happen. They're not quite sure what, but something should happen. The fact that something might include enough energy to sink Vancouver Island hasn't occurred to anyone yet. It's the high-tech equivalent of the classic math problem, "If Train A leaves Los Angeles heading east at 120 m.ph, and Train B leaves New York heading west at 79 mph, at which sleepy little town in Texas will the two trains collide and kill everyone aboard, assuming the Amtrack switcher guy was asleep on the job again?" Girlfriends. I think this question has been on the mind of every male on the face of the planet since the dawn .of time. No one understands 'em. No one. If a guy says he does, he's either a) very, very naive. b) very, very stupid. c) having a relationship with a carrot. Girlfriends have the annoying habit of setting little traps for the hapless boyfriend to blunder into. You get the feeling that you're a white mouse, running a maze designed by the Minotaur, according to a set of rules that change according the time of the month and what she had for breakfast that morning. By the way, if you ever get asked to guess your girlfriend's weight, the only correct answer is 118 pounds. Anything less, you risk insulting her intelligence. Anything more, you risk insulting her diet and exercise regime. It's not a round number, so it gives the appearance that you actually put some thought into it, rather than just tossing off the first number that came to mind. Just a little hint from me to you. Of course, it won't do a damn bit of good if you're dating a psycho-chick. Nothing will. Speaking of psycho- chicks, I think I better get going before she gets mad. Apply in person lo ihe Depanmeni <> Know \our: ;me. sex. hoisihi. wci.uhi. ology Office BIOL 2521 oil type, and next of kin. A &&n-typical production night at The 432. Siskel on Alarm Clocks. Volume 6, dumber 5 31 October WW Editor iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiMiimMMmiiiiiiiiniiniiiii tsialr McDonsId Assistant Editors Graeme Kennedy Roger Watts Cartoonists IllllllllltHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Tes$a Moon glana Promiskwv Glen Stokes ftoger Watts C«?lMror)tsts Jesse Burnett Bella Carvaiho jayCarda John Hallett Graeme Kennedy Dave Khan Tracy MacKinnon Ryan McCuaig Blair McDonald Tessa Moon MsttWkjgtn Roger Watte Olstr&utJon WM««MIIWWW**—stWHIIIHII**WMIIIItllll»HI A sofid and dependable groapoNedforted volunteers, Hahl Printing College Printers Vancouver, BC 4500 copies The 422 h published every second week by the Science Undergrad Society of USC Alt rights reserved. All opinions expressed within are those of the individual writer*, not of the student government or the adminstration of use, ynso&ited sebn&sJons from ag UBC students gfsdiy^epiHi. Priori*/ mM be $m* to &*«*& <«fcM1$& by thread* marked Tn*-«£ Mat and ISM dlsksok. Your full name artd phone number r»ust be include ed for yow submission to be considered. Any cartoonists out there? We want more cartoonists™ Thanks to everyone who sent in stttff for this issue and didn't get printed. In the words of telephone operators every* where, "All fines are busy. Please try placing your tai* again later../' Contains tots of stwff. && KENNEDY Wednesday morning is my sleep in time. You see, as I have 8:30 classes every other day and have to get up by six to make the bus and as I have to work on weekends, I really exploit my 11:30 Wednesdays. I do The Calculation. For those of you not familiar with this term, The Calculation is that ritual undertaken whereby one underestimates the time required to perform complex morning tasks, in an effort to convince oneself that five minutes to shower, shave, dress, eat and pack leaves plenty of time to sprint five blocks to the bus. The end result is either abandoning the belief that I can make the class or becoming a neighbourhood spectacle as I bound down 41st after the bus, dripping wet and wearing only unmatched socks and my school bag, toothbrush dangling out of the corner of my mouth. For example, this is my Wednesday routine. Other days, I'm up like a shot. It wasn't always this way. There was a time when a rabid wallabee could jump up and down on my sleeping head with little response. I just couldn't have enough alarm clocks. For those of you who have the same problem, here are my reviews. Braun Voice Control. Pros: nice small travelling size, world map so you know where you're waking up, and your voice activates the snooze alarm. Cons: If your voice controls the snooze, there's no reason to get OUT of bed at all. Verdict: completely useless, except as a novelty you can use to pull a Kreskin impression. Baseball with embedded clock. Pros: easy to pack on trips, first time it goes off you can throw the thing against a wall to activate the snooze and the second time you have to get up and stomp on it. It's pretty loud, too. Cons: replacing double- glazed windows is quite expensive. Verdict: I like it. Just don't mix it up with your real softballs or the pitcher will be tweezing solid-state electronic components out of his flesh for days. Curtis digital. Pros: Only $9 at London Drugs. Cons: you get what you pay for. Runs about 2 hours slow per day. Verdict: Don't bother with this one, unless you've already made a trip to London Drugs for some "non-prescription medications" that shouldn't normally be combined. This would make the clock quite accurate, perceptively speaking. It's kind of a Salvador Dali thing. Melting watches and all that. You'll understand after you try the drugs. Roommate who wakes up earlier. Pros: if you don't wake up, you can blame somebody else. Cons: you have relinquished control of your attendance record, and thus your grades to the same guy who claims he can't remember which toothpaste is yours and which is his, despite the fact that he has never bought toothpaste. Verdict: unpredictable. Very unpredictable. Back this one up with another clock if you have to get somewhere important. (Note: if he does forget to wake you, no matter how late you actually are, you can always find a minute or two to beat the tar out of a slumbering roommate.) Stereo with alarm. Pros: You can wake up to your choice of CD, tape, or radio station, at the volume of your choice. Cons: you could just wake up to one of those coun- SlQjt G-OODLUCK \N C*ft££*/ try stations. Way to start your day. No snooze. Verdict: if you need a snooze, don't go this route. Note: I like to tape myself the night before and wake up to my own urgent shouts. 'Wake up! Wake up! Midterm! And you're LATE! Aaaaaaaugh! Feel the adrenaline!" This usually seems to do the job. Old-fashioned windup with bells on top. Pros: ridiculously foolproof. Power failures have no effect. You'd rather bite down hard on a nail file and then yank it out real fast than listen to those bells for five minutes. Cons: see pros. And try to find one of these clunkers in this day and age. Alarm clocks with bells went extinct with the dinosaurs. (Note: as a more insane variation, try putting the clock in an aluminum pie plate filled with marbles. Just don't sue me.) All of the above. Pros.yer up. Cons: yer up on the ceiling. Verdict: A week of this and grey hairs will start to develops i Dean Marchak on Graduation Day. SCIENCE UNDERGRAD SOCIETY Thursday November 10, 1994 4:32 - 8:00 SUB Partyroom THE NOTHING- HAPPENS-IN- NOVEMBER BZZR GARDEN WARNING! Contains alcohol. Keep out of reach of children Use only as directed. McCUAIG Don't have a Hallowe'en costume yet? Looking for some last-minute ideas that don't involve lots of cash? Trick or treat as one of your parents. Creative? Yup. Easy? You betcha. Scary? Well, probably only to you. I've got the mannerisms. I've got the look. I've even got the turns of phrase. All I need is a pair of specs and some grey at the temples and presto, I'm my dad. (A side note: this is why I never believed that Clark Kent could get away with that disguise for so long; people have been calling me Gary since I was fourteen). I'm willing to bet that you are distinguished from your parents by only a similarly cosmetic device. It seems to be one of those things that strikes you after you turn twenty (along with a genuine appreciation for jazz music): that, in spite of all that adolescent rebellion against the parentals, you remind yourself of them and that there is no escape. Now I'm going to tell you a scary Hallowe'en story. It's true, I swear... WHAT W you MtJAN yOM CANTTINDyMK car Ksy*? yer heart ar Allan The revelation had been long in coming, but our hero ignored the signs until it was too late. The seeds were planted when he bade farewell to the folks and moved out. It started slowly: he picked up a sock here, brushed off a dust mote there. A place was set out for everything, and everything slowly, imperceptibly, and in a rather out-of-character manner, started migrating back to it. Our hero—a fan of mid- eighties t-shirt rock (Bryan Adams, Northern Pikes, et al)—one day discovered a Steeler's Wheels CD and a Jim Croce CD on his shelf, and had no idea how they had got there. "Play me," they beckoned. "Crank it, Flash," went the siren's call. He quite liked them. By now, our hero was aware that something was amiss. He threw the CDs out the window. He wrenched the lid from the top of his hamper and liberally sprinkled his apartment with unwashed laundry. He cooked up a storm and left the dirty dishes in the sink. Satisfied that all was as it should be, he slumped to the couch and picked up the dog-eared paperback that straddled the arm. Chaucer! Reeling in horror, he recoiled from the testament to the beauty and expressiveness of the English language as though it were an especially poor vintage... He looked at his bookcase; the titles resolved themselves slowly, as if he were emerging from a dream. Penguin editions, all; it was the library of every civilized person. His head whipped left and right, desperately looking for some sign of comfortable squalor of adolescence. He found none. The laundry was done... and folded. The dishes... in the cupboard with nary a water spot. Then, as our hero reached the final moments of consciousness before his spectacular hyperventilation fit took hold, a voice—unbidden—intruded in his perspiring mind: "Ya know, adolescence would have been a lot easier if you'd just listened to your parents.. .parents.. .rents.. .ents ...ts...." Okay, you can all come down from the ceiling, now. It's just a story. It didn't really happen. There were still a couple of forks in the sink. (Insert sinister, Vincent Price laugh here). Happy Hallowe'en, everyone. "It is never difficult to tell the difference between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine/' PG Wodehouse The day after surgery. Students of General Science Club Meetings every Tuesday @ 1:30pm SUS Office (CHEM 160) Shh... we're not hunting wabbits Jay Garcia Columnist It's Halloween! For those young at heart (and ghoulish in imagination), it is a time to roam the neighborhoods in search of high-calorie, sugar-rush inducing, coronary generating goodies offered in appeasement by those poor beleaguered homeowners. Any other time of the year should be spent simply beleaguring homeowners for other reasons. Terrorizing the neighborhood is easy enough for most of us ('specially me, living as I do some two blocks from Mountain View cemetery), but for those in res, it might be a trifle more difficult, although, granted, hitting Strangway's house for Mars Bars - not those damn "fun" size ones, the really big ones - might be mildly enjoyable, provided you aren't chased off the property by the Cowboys, (as in the campus police, not the football team or John Wayne lookalikes.) So, in order to aid the ghoulish creative juices of those Science students living in res, safely away from their families, I offer, as yet another public service, some helpful hints to make Halloween a truly memorable time. Forget spooky sights and scary noises! You get enough of that in class anyway. What you really need is to do some terrorizing of your own! To that end, we should settle on the appropriate faculty to victimize. Keeping in mind that engineers are mean as all get out when riled, it only seems appropriate that our Halloween prey should be none other than... Artsies! To that end, one good idea would be to bombard the Buchanan buildings with low- frequency sound waves until people start pouring out of there, stumbling about and retching violently. Alternatively, a drifting hydrogen sulfide fog could be generated and blown towards the buildings. - Both these ideas, however, have quite a few drawbacks, as many professors - those directly responsible for the well-being of, your grades - frequent the buildings as well. Plus, it sounds like something the Engineers would do. A more... satisfying method involves torturing some Artsies personally. To that end, we have to obtain some Artsies. As is well known, quite a few of 'em hang out in Arts-type places such as Starbucks, the CiTR lounge, and the whole of Kits. Next, we lure 'em back to the res TV room by dangling a freshly-rented French film with subtitles (obtained from almost any video store - where else?- in Kits) in front of them. It doesn't even matter which particular French film you rent, as most Artsies will willingly watch something they've seen before, as the gods alone know precisely how short-term their short term memories are. Once you've got them, you have to prepare them. Offer them something highly caffeinated. Lots of something highly caf- feinated. Now, despite the legendary Artsie fortitude for latte and other similar beverages, all that caffeine will eventually affect them adversely. Arrange to leave the room right at the moment that the latte takes effect. Bar the doors. After all, you wouldn't want to be a victim of your own scare. Now, Arts people are kinda hard to scare, living as they do in bleak and depressing worlds of their own creation, but even the hardiest Artsie will shriek in hideous fright after constant exposure to several hours of... a Jerry Lewis comedy marathon! After a while they'll be clawing at the doors begging to be let out. Watching them flee in terror should be a chuckle in itself. Editor's note: In order to protect the wonderful relations between Science and Arts, I'd like to be the first to say that no one here at SUS could possibly condone any action whatsoever against our wonderful friends over therein Buchanan. Nosirree, not us, nope, no way, just not gonna doit... We wouldn't want to provoke the awesome wrath of the juggernaut that is Arts. After all, their paper really scares me, with all their thoughtful insights and wicked sarcasm. John and the Bejeezus. HALLETT All teenage males (and some females) are fascinated with the concept of war and weapons of war. All this fascination leads to many of our younger selves spending long hours in the elementary school library looking at pictures in such books as The Art of Destruction, Why Nuclear Weapons Are Bad, and, my personal favorite: 1001 Things Your Mom Won't Approve Of. Many people contend that all this exposure to violence at an early age can cause disturbing effects in people when they grow up. I don't think so. You see, I was at the forefront of the collective horror research effort and, as anyone who knows me can tell you, I have suffered no ill effects from it to this day. In fact, I am perfectly comfortable in claiming to be completely normal. Admittedly, me and a few of my friends did experiment with little articles of destruction for a while, A good example of this would be when I borrowed my dad's pressure washer, filled the tank with gasoline (high-grade, no expense spared here) and proceeded to "dampen" an entire block from the back of a moving van. I learned several things from this experience: First: Never spray an entire block with gas if you're doing it going down a dead-end street. Second: If you accidently complete mistake #1, don't compound the problem by proceeding with the plan to ignite said street. Third: Entire burning of an avenue will attract a lot of attention, namely from large guys with a moustache and a yellow stripe down the side of their legs. Fourth: Gasoline does wonders to all the little rubber seals inside pressure washers. Once my parents posted bail, I learned the errors of my ways and settled down. Besides, I had no idea how to implement the rest of my ideas. That was, of course, until I took Physics 11. Now don't get me wrong, it's not like I decided to take the course for the explicit purpose of learning how to attack other human beings (well, it wasn't my only reason). In fact, the whole concept of actually using science to scare the bejeezus out of other people didn't come to me until the middle of a rather boring class sometime in late October '91. After several experiments in propulsion involving small rockets, we devised a projectile that would self- destruct when its fuel ran out. It worked like this: the rocket contained an explosive charge that would detonate after the propulsion cartridge burned through to the wick at the top. The whole plan involved firing many of these little desinens of destruction from afar at a neighboring elementary school during their late night Halloween party (a clever plan to get the youngsters off the street and away from danger... bawa- hahahahaha). The stage was set, me and three of my friends had set up a launching platform in a park near our high school, . and a fifth party was at the . target site with a walkie talkie and camera to document the event and call back targeting instructions. We had over two hundred handmade rockets waiting to be launched. Don't panic, we planned to have all the rockets detonate at least 150 feet over the heads of the sweet, innocent, children. At least that's what we planned- After the first batch of ten hit the target, we realized that about three from each batch would take a lower arc to the target, arrive ahead of schedule, and implant themselves in the ground before detonating. Being the wisemen we were we decided: "what the hell". Explosions were going off every couple seconds at all altitudes. No one got hurt, but boy, were they scared! And isn't that the way Halloween is supposed to be? (* What the hell is a bejeezus exactly? And why do people lose them when they get really scared? After extensive research, involving a Gomer Pile Reunion Special and The Jerry Lewis Telethon cycled continuously for hours on end, we have determined a bejeezus is probably a gland of some kind.) The Official 432™ Resid Social Compatibility Test Ever wonder if that rather attractive individual sitting on the other side of the cafeteria is Mr. or Mrs. Right? Never had the guts to go over and find out? Then The 432 Social Compatibility Test is for you! It's simple and easy to use... just take the test to the right, check off the appropriate boxes, add up the corresponding scores and write that number in the box at the lower right. Then, just cut out the sheet and paste it on your door. When you're wondering if that special someone is right for you, just follow them home and check the Compatibility Score on their door. No need for awkward introductions and embarrassing ice-breakers - a score within ±5 points of yours is a sure winner! Even a gap of 5-10 points could point you down the road to romance! Don't forget to bring your official 432™ Compatibility Score to parties - you never know! Good luck! ® How would you describe your room? □ O A brochure for the Westin Bayshore □ © Everything is "tucked away" under the bed □ © Patches of carpet are visible □ © Can't really describe that smell □ © Defies several EPA codes ® What's your favorite movie? □ O Absent Minded Professor □ © Revenge of the Nerds (Anyone of them.) □ © The Fugitive □ © Animal House □ © Wanda and Her Hot Buttered Midgets (D Your favorite pet? □ O Kittens □ ©Plant/fern/both □ ©Dog/fish/dogfish □ © Your roomate in lots of duct tape □ © Tibetian Spitting Llama © Your favorite music? □ © Barry Manilow □ ©Phil Collins □ © Early Metallica □ ©Gwar □ © Barry Manilow © You would have sex with: □ © Only your beloved spouse □ © Some one you love very much □ © Some one whom you told you loved very much □ © A complete stranger □ © Anything moving under its own power © What is in your fridge? □ © Rice cakes and Evian □ © Fruit stolen from cafe last week □ © Fruit stolen from cafe last year □ © I don't know, but it wants the right to vote □ © Fridge? It ate the fridge. ® Your idea of an ideal night out: □ Olnevergoout □ @ Night at the opera □ ® Movie and/or dance club □ © Somewhere really loud □ © Earning extra money on Davie © Your views on alcohol / drugs? □ © Never touch either one □ © Occasional drinker / user □ © Why wasn't this part of ®? □ 0 Gimmee! Gimmee! □ © Whoa! The dwarves are back, man. dfc Hi, My Name Is My Official 432 Social Compatibility Score is Letter to Home: Just Add H2O. Did you forget to send a note home to Mom and Dad this month? Are they threatening to cut off your cash flow just because they feel "they're not an important part of your life anymore"? Maybe you're too busy to sit down and pen them a letter. Or you're too cheap for a 43 cent stamp. After all, even if Mom and Dad are paying the education bill, you still need every cent you can scounge for arcade games and junk food. So buckle down, and write them a letter. It doesn't have to be real. It's doesn't even have to be written by you, if you've got a few bucks to spare. And if you're really desperate, you can always use the handy-dandy template letter at right. Just cut it out and place under a piece of lined paper. Trace over the words, and when you get to a blank, choose from the handy 432™ Lexicon-o-Matic. This saves you the hassle of actually spelling the words correctly. And if you're feeling especially ambitious, you could even use a word not on the list! ( For additional lexicons send cheque ox money order for $5.95 to The 432.) 432™ Lexicon-o-Matic M CD TJ CD O) ro o>ro •§£ CDS'"cd ro 9> CO > 0)4-' C CO ■E ro •-£ . ro >= ro CD co > O 4-* o c- o o co O) c o = £ ro co o 4-> CJ)> !OC > 5 c->- p ro ro >^. cd OJD. CD sz ro TJ ■1-1 , ro w _i CD .ro .> CD CD TJ CD SZ o ro CD E c co TJ CD CD Q. X CD ro 3 O .O CO o o ro . O) > Ecu Q. to CD tj >• CD .Q c S o-S 'cz° cB^ C CO -i£ 4^ £ci — CD Eo O to -S- s_ CD JZ> £ CD — c r^. ro •^ o ro ■IS iD CD SZ 4-< CD ■w Q. CO CD TJ CD s- 12 r,-4-1 .- TJtN CD-' TJ "°-§ «D_ >^ .9 o ^t o r> TJ = CO "i^ p CD > X CD c CD CD CD O c TJ C CO 3 o M— CD _ro £ 5 r-i O CD o>sz ^ +-> M .- >CO ro cd §^ < £ CD TJ C CD CO o > c ro O CO 0_ (1) (2) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) Mom, Dad, parole officer, local priest wonderfully, fine, horribly biology, physics, math, chem istry, piano, singing rocket scientist, complete moron, "interesting" fellow lit the bench aflame, dropped a full beaker of corrosive chemicals onto his foot, disproved the Theory of Relativity, dropped dead to the floor. absolutely detest, am barely toler ating, am in a state of complete ecstasy from Totem Park, Place Vanier, Gage Towers, off-campus Matsqui Prison, boy scout camp, that brief stint under the bridge about the same, only slightly greasier, better than home (14) AlanAlda, William Shatner, the man (15) M.A .S.H, that really cool show, Rescue 911, Glad (16) operation, blow to the cranium, well — you know about most of my problems (17) ex, grades, roommate, sex life (18) ignoring it, running, going to the Pit Wednesday nights (19) court order, Dean's warnings, patrimony suit, fact my girlfriend knows (20) have a heart attack, get caught, lose my small-mouthed bass, go postal (21) my massage appointment, class, the bzzr-garden circuit, therapy (22) charge me twice as much, start without me, run out of the amber liquid of life, assume I'm even more crazy than I am (23) -cinsert your name hero (24) my teddy bear, my winter cloth ing, a camera with film, $200 (25) lonely, freezing in the icebox they call a rez room, trying to raise my tuition with a bit of blackmail, trying to get a commerical spot for Western Union lence Survival Package* Schrdedinger's Item Locator. Has it ever seemed that the item you need the most is the one item you can't find? Ever lost your textbook the night before the exam? Or one of each and every pair of socks )rou own? Most of us here at The 432 have served time in one or more of UBC's fine student residences. We know what it's like being unable to see the deep, plush Brillo-pad carpet 'cause your dirty laundry somehow made it out of the hamper to grow and spread across the entire floor. Luckily, we (as always) had a cunning solution. Taking Schroedinger's electron probability equation as the starting point, the staff mathematicians were able to derive what may be considered the greatest leap in human knowledge since Einstein proved relativity. So, with our newly-patented Probability Locator™, you should have no problem finding any of the common items in a residence room, despite the three foot layer of crap you need to wade through to reach your bed. Even when you're completely blasted the night before the exam. 44% pulp fiction 18% ChiaPets™ 18% knick-knacks 14% assorted plastic beer garden cups 4% cafeteria mystery meat that you had bronzed for postrerity 2% unexploded water balloon 50% dirty laundry 20% silverfish 10% beer cans 6% dead pens 4% candy wrappers 4% missing homework 3% tacks 3% clean laundry 50% dirty laundry 30% clean laundry 10% unclassifiable laundry 8% balled-up linen 2% Sparky (pet tarantula missing since last Tuesday) 40% scrap paper (39% of which will reveal itself to be useful course notes two days after the exam) 23% crumbs of various origin 15% old beer garden tickets 13% dull pencils 12% soiled dishware 6.9% round things from holepunch 0.1% Post-It note read ing, "Study this year, for once" 45% various drinkables 30% what may once have been rotting fruit 20% rnold experiment 5% beleaguered box of baking soda DOOR 20% left-footed shoes 20% clothes that you wouldn't be caught dead wear ing 15% unmatched socks 15% broken sports equipment 15% textbooks 10% other assorted clothing items 5% deep, dark secrets Residence Emergency Food Rations. Too busy in the morning to get breakfast? Running low on Meal Plan points? We want to make sure you are getting the essential vitamins, nutrients, and fibre necessary to keep both your brain and your bowels working at top efficiency. Good eating habits can now be as easy as cutting out these simple coupons. So, the next time you're short of time, and your stomach's sending you a clear message, simply grab your scissors, cut out the coupons and chew. Don't forget to swallow. With The 432 Emergency Residence Food Rations, you'll be getting the same nutrition food value as a real residence meal in a fraction of the time. (Note: extended use of this product can be hazardous to your health). 1 Emergency UBC Housing Food Ration BREAKFAST Emergency UBC Housing Food Ration LUNCH Emergency UBC Housing Food Ration DINNER DEADLINE ^ NOV 22 FORMS AT CHEM 160 PRE MED SOC PRESENTS Dr. James Carter • UBC Medical School • Dean of Admissions Tuesday November 01 HEBB THEATRE 12:30 Matt s Mental Guide. Matt Wiggin Columnist It's midterm season again; stress levels are high, and they'll probably continue to increase until somewhere around mid-January when our parents finally forgive us for failing Math for the second time. UBC this time of year is just twenty-five thousand people, each waiting to have a nervous breakdown. Now, nervous breakdowns are kinda messy. It's akin to sending your brain a quick note, telling it to pack its bags and take a short vacation. Also, they're rather predictable, and have lost their shock impact on professors and the like. Besides, everyone and their dog has a nervous breakdown these days, and if you're gonna fall apart, the least you can do is to make it creative. In that theme, I'd like to present my handy-dandy guide to Defense Mechanisms. Defense mechanisms are one of the best things to come out of evolution since sex came on the scene, and I'm quite sure that without them, each and every one of us would be positively batty by the time we reached adolescence. For the uninitiated, defense mechanisms are defined as "unconscious strategies of the ego that distort reality in order to lessen anxiety." The first time I read this, I was immediately attracted to two things. First, and most importantly, was the "lessen anxiety" part. I hate worrying, so I do whatever I can to prevent it. The second part I liked was the "distort reality" bit. I don't believe in reality. It's far too complicated, and whenever I examine it, I always come to the conclusion that the universe isn't centered around me, which I don't like. Simply put, for me, distorting reality is a good thing. There was one thing I disagreed with: the word "unconscious." Personally, I think it's time we learned to use defense mechanisms consciously. This part looks more difficult than it actually is. After all, I'm willing to believe almost any lie I tell myself, as long as it's in my best interests. But enough explanation, and on with the application. Below is a list of the most commonly used defense mechanisms, complete with examples: Denial: despite being the simplest, this is one of my all time favourites, because it's both effective, easy to use, an excellent choice for beginners. The central idea here is that if you close your eyes tight enough, the problem will ignore you and go away. e.g. "I'm not impotent, I just haven't felt like it lately." Regression: ever miss your childhood? Well here's your big chance to relive it, complete with the complete lack of responsibility. Regression goes like this: you do yOur absolute best to react to problems exactly , like the average five year old. The difficulty rating here varies with the individual. (I personally find it almost second nature.) e.g. whining to your mom and dad until they give you a bigger allowance. Displacement: I recommend this one only as a last resort, mostly because whenever I use it, it back- firesand everything comes back on me. It involves taking your frustrations out on someone you know is not only completely unresponsible for your problems, but also utterly helpless to do anything except get mad at you for being such a jerk for no reason (and inevitably they do.) e.g. beating up helpless old ladies because you lost your favourite underwear in the wash. Rationalization: this is a difficult strategy to employ, but the advantage to it is that once in place, this defense mechanism is almost undetectable, even to other people. Here's how it goes: you come up with a perfectly sane, logical explanation for your behaviour. The fact that it's completely untrue is beside the point, e.g. "I'm just smoking pot to experiment, and university's all about learning, right?" Repression: Far and away the most difficult of all defense mechanisms. Fooling yourself into changing the details of your version of things is one thing, actually deleting reality is another. Like rationalization, however, when implemented properly, this one is extremely effective. For example, last year, I repressed an entire six credit physics course. Didn't go. Didn't study. Never worried about it once, becauseas far as I w^s concerned, it didn't even exist. This is by no means a complete list of all of the defense mechanisms that there are out there, but it will get you started. If all of these fail, I suggest getting as drunk as you possibly can. In my experience, you always forget your worries far before becoming incapable of drinking more. Science vs Arts Challenge Thursday November 3rd • 12:30pm at Maclnnes Field (((((((((((((((((((((((((<( Register before Nov. !2 with Tracy or Bella in the SUS Office (CHEM 160) $2/person • Teams of 10 (must include 5 women) United Way Tug-OWar Pete Peterson, Professional Student. y^ $y:Gi-EM wcs. Halloweem IS M*) FAMoClTE Time of the ^ear.. OH WAH... WHV? WELL, IT1£ TH& CMW TIME Of TWe ^M*. WHEM PEOPUE CAK RE&ME WHoMEWfcft. THE"/ WANT TO BE-TttE'V CAM fcfc AUYTO/N* PftcW ftoVIF c3Tft(&,/ ThIMK. ABOUT IT ,,, HaIjLOUOEEM ic, THE DNLm; MlfiHT toHCH P£Of?\-«r CAN l£.iPtVt'S& THEt* |NJ4ER ftiOfcT bKUBS AMD BetoWC \WftO 0« "WHAT EVER. TttgW sJJOUUO BE IF Ik £m*LoF Ewe«MHE*£, THE. Lo<\d OF LouKCte ^vMe,6*^, THE MavoR of ManliwsJ I(ft Euvi-s ,/MK, KlNfc CF KIW&9. • % ?,lst pw*t or- m^'cosmnt & that I 6eT To ip(l*G. IHt^ coCL tAPE ^ PUBUC HE^ fVfERSoM , 'F HOU HAD A Tori ToN&S MA<,K ' U)fc 0;UL!> PUT A Stoop TO<,ETH£fe ... vr1 " — ■ ■■ — k The Neighbours from Hell. Tessa Moon Columnist It was a dark and stormy night... when the doorbell went off. My neighbor stood there as I opened the door. He puffed evil- smelling cigar smoke into my living room, while his two children, of indeterminate age and gender, happily munched on my doormat. "Can I borrow your meat cleaver?" He asked, making an unlovely attempt to bare his teeth over an inch-thick stump of carcinogenic material. "Meat cleaver?" I echoed blankly. "Meat cleaver," he confirmed with barely restrained glee that set me wondering what precisely he intended to do with it. I asked him. "I'm going to murder several small forest animals and eat them," he whispered to me confidentially. "Excuse me, while I... umm... go set the kitchen on fire," I said, kicked surreptitiously at his grunting, rooting offspring, and slammed the door shut. And set the deadbolt just in case. The incident got me thinking. Granted, one must have neighbors, unless one is prepared to set up shop somewhere in the middle of the Canadian Shield and have all one's supplies flown in. But I can't ever recall having had one that wasn't an embarrassment to all the other primates. Apart from my current cleaver-happy friend and his genetically ambiguous brood, there lives on my floor a succession of horrors fit only for a zoo (or maybe politics). First, there is the little old lady with a bird named Mulroney. She sent everyone in the building cookies for Christmas, and constantly calls people "Dear." Not bad, eh? The only trouble with her is her drinking habit. Every Friday evening., she wanders through the halls, singing a shaky French rendition of "O Canada" and attempting to recruit every occupant of the floor into a terrorist organization set on "recapturing Quebec for the King of France." Next, there is the med student. He brings the same woman home every weekend, and introduces her to anyone he meets. "Meet Kim," he said to me when I ran into him in the elevator the first week after I moved into the neighborhood. "Hello," I said with my usual cheerful friendliness. Until I noticed something odd — about the way Kim seemed to lean a bit too heavily on him, and how the hand she held out (which he had to support) was a little, well, skeletal. And, accustomed as I was to the vagaries of today's fashion, it did seem somewhat strange that she should have no hair and wear "Eau de Formalin." "Kim's been my cadaver for three weeks now," he announced proudly. "I'm just getting started on her small intestines. It's starting to get serious now, I think." "Oh," I said in a very small voice, and plastered myself firmly against the far wall. "I'm done with the eyeball, and I've used only one," He lovingly turned Kim's head toward me, so that I could admire the gaping cavity. "Would you like to have the other one?" He asked, his face shining with the beatific radiance of neighborly sharing. I might just have chewed through the metal door if the elevator hadn't opened just then. The med student, though, is a bastion of normalcy when compared with the gentleman who lived briefly around the far corner of the corridor. He freely admitted to being a lawyer, which should have warned me. He lived with several large snakes (the spirit of renewing bonds with his own kind, he called it). Soon after he moved in, he decided to sue me for cutting ahead of him to race up the stairs. Then he discovered that all my earthly possessions could fit into a newt's fanny, so he tried to sue Madame Quebecois, the med student, and Kim, in that order. All to no avail. He finally tried to sue Mr. Meat Cleaver the night before Thanksgiving, and consequently wasn't seen again. The police were called in, and completed an extensive investigation. Incidentally, I learned shortly later that Mr. Meat Cleaver didn't need a turkey for the family supper that year. As a result of the trial, there is now a vacancy on the floor. But I don't think I'll stay long enough to find out who rny new neighbor will be. After all, Christmas is approaching, and I hear Mr. Meat Cleaver will be out on parole soon. He might be looking for another turkey substitute. Classifieds. Drawers of SUS. $200 REWARD rot return of a big 'Ttrndfa* Backpack lost fttriay, October 14 la $m. Call Jase*na.t72l*?$$& Contains cassia notes, etc, Ho om$t$ons asked- WANTED Good focal bands to plsyjsoise Science gigs. A$»»ry to Dave, SUS SoCo by any m#m* TOAlXUlEMwhO arte&derflfeeSUSW&e aftes ?^>i«v i*iK quite sorry but fast not attracted to any of jnrj, 1 apologise for any