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(05/29/01 9:00am)
I like that I knew which side of Baker Library's front door to open before a tiny "PULL" sign gave my insider's knowledge away. I like that door and its great brethren at Parkhurst and McNutt. Those massive doors mark my first experience here. (There's a sloth of a metaphor hanging about that last sentence, but I'll not let it see the light of day.) Most of you know those places; the inveterate course shoppers know at least the basement of McNutt, the ruffians know Parkhurst better than nice boys and girls but the slackers need a map to get to Baker. Yes, I know who you are, those of you approaching the Reserve Desk during reading period and asking, "What have the other people in that class been reading?"
(05/11/01 9:00am)
The evil empire has fallen. The U.S. is the only super-power on the planet. But, since we know that it's still a dangerous world, Dubya has reached back to the frigid past, knocked the frost from Donald Rumsfeld and set him loose. The result? Star wars redux.
(04/27/01 9:00am)
I'm hesitant even obliquely to enter the brouhaha surrounding the latest Greek scandal, for it seems that the whole question of Yes Greeky, No Greeky has no end in sight. Perhaps it's better to write about injustice in another venue and hope that issue gives some perspective on the real, unspoken problem underlying the most recent anti-social behavior from those darn boys. That problem is punishment, real punishment that is, not probation, a stern letter or lots of columns in The Dartmouth decrying the obvious. There needs to be an absolute correction from the folks who, loosely it seems, hold the reins on those unruly beasts. Create zero tolerance rules and throw the bums out when they cross the line. That fact should be recognizable to most folks. To use an analogy, it's like the current drug laws -- one strike and you're out, especially if you happen to be poor and non-European. Quit playing around, I say, and back the bark up with a strong set of jaws.
(04/16/01 9:00am)
I am trying not to think about the long-term effect on the nation of our new President's proposed tax cuts. Let me correct part of that last sentence. I meant to say; our new President's regents' proposed tax cuts. George doesn't have the horsepower to do the intellectual heavy lifting required to get these things done. That said, let me say this: the tax cut we need to be concerned about in the long, long term is the abolition of the inheritance tax, what Dubya's regents refer to as the Death Tax.
(03/30/01 10:00am)
The real news in a story often hides in the subtext of what we read in the morning papers. Being an eager beaver schoolboy, I was on campus this past Monday in order to be the first one to check in and while waiting, I read the Valley News. The usual international crisis, Congressional blustering and falling stock market stories competed for my attention, but what I read was a front-page article about Hanover being "targeted" for a "tony" new housing development by Hartford, Vermont's Simpson Development Co.
(03/06/01 11:00am)
Reasoned expression in academic writing and, most importantly, in public discourse should be our goal. Needless polemics and crude language do nothing to advance a personal or public philosophy. The most recent offering from the conservative voice here at the College points out the need for a reasoned conversation, not the contentious and insulting locution of strident voices raised in anger at those with whom they disagree.
(02/19/01 11:00am)
The old white guys are at it again. Last week, American and British aircraft conducted operations against command and control sites in Iraq. Operations and command and control are euphemisms for lethal attacks against living persons in those sites. Firing another salvo against the evil people of Iraq isn't going curb Saddam Hussein's megalomania. Solving problems with expensive, sophisticated hardware is the American way, but it doesn't seem to be working in this case. Perhaps another approach is needed. Let's wait him out instead, and leave the pyrotechnics for a real war, like that 1991 drive-by shooting in the desert.
(01/22/01 11:00am)
Last Friday, in the waning hours of his tenure, Secretary of Defense William Cohen released a report effectively exonerating the Navy's chain of command, and the ship's commander, of responsibility in the terrorist attack on the USS Cole last October in Yemen. Lest this seem like old news, remember that 17 sailors were killed and 39 were wounded in the explosion and subsequent fire aboard the guided missile destroyer. Cohen's statement faulted the entire structure of command, including himself, but no one would be punished.
(01/08/01 11:00am)
After the heavy snow last weekend a friend and I went tobogganing at the golf course. My toboggan is a beautiful rock maple sled, its steam-bent nose arcing gracefully backwards toward the smooth boards of the base. It was built by our Canadian friends, those great toboggan makers. Lovely yellow plastic ropes snake down the sides, threaded through six cross pieces that reinforce the construction and provide stability to the toboggan. What turned out to be our last run of the day was a scream. Literally, we screamed our way down the hill. It was our fastest ride, our Gore-Tex clad butts absorbed the bumps until we got big air and somewhere near the bottom came down hard on the packed snow. The cross members holding that beautiful yellow rope are themselves one-inch square, two foot long blocks of that same Canadian wood that makes the toboggan so durable. We landed on those blocks. Our butts lost. The maple won. Sniveling in pain, we rolled onto the snow, skidded to a stop and looked at each other in wonder. Straggling home in disgrace, wounded in flesh and pride, my friend spat blood from the bites she'd taken from inside her mouth when her chin speared my shoulder. The heretofore cherished toboggan dragged ignobly behind us, unloved, as we limped to the car. We were disenchanted. I was mortified; it was my fault.
(11/14/00 11:00am)
When I started doing this column I promised myself that I wouldn't write any Army stories. I'm breaking that promise. Look at it this way -- I'm not writing about the Student Life Initiative. Count your blessings.
(11/01/00 11:00am)
Jan. 21, 2001. The White House: Under gray skies threatening rain, Al Gore was sworn in as the 43rd President of the United States. He promised a return to a democratic America and the end of a government insensitive to the needs and desires of ordinary citizens.
(10/24/00 9:00am)
The nights grow colder on the hilltop in Etna. The leaves departed from here many days ago. The nascent, tightly bound buds of spring emerged behind them, patiently waiting their departure, perhaps even hastening their fall to the forest floor.
(10/10/00 9:00am)
Recent polls, as reported in the New York Times, show George W. Bush leading Al Gore among voting age men. In California, this question was asked: If Bush and Gore were cars, what kind of cars would they be? Before I consider the inane responses to this query, let's examine the inane question itself. The car substitution poll, even if conducted in California, is dumb. The representation of the presidential candidates as a particular make of automobile says more about the person being polled than it could possibly say about the candidates.
(09/26/00 9:00am)
How can you tell the world is about to end? In the Christian tradition, a dazzling light in the sky and a figure born aloft on a cloud herald the extirpation of life. Well, that is unquestionably one way of thinking, but any lunatic, alcoholic or zealot worth his or her salt already claims that particular vision as their own personal revelation. Where does that leave a thinking person? That's correct, right where my Little League coach told me I would be playing. Left out. But, hold on a moment. There are a few current events that almost certainly presage Armageddon. Indulge yourself and me for a moment.
(09/21/00 9:00am)
I was reading The New York Times this past Sunday and a picture captioned "The proposed Kennedy sculpture" drew me to its accompanying article. A sculptor in Massachusetts wants to erect a memorial to John F. Kennedy in Hyannis. I'm in agreement with that -- this is New England after all; if you stand still long enough a plaque will be cast and affixed to your chest, pigeons will flock and people will seek you out, guidebooks in hand. However, the sculptor, one David Lewis, was also impressed by the death of John F. Kennedy, Jr. and "felt that Mr. Kennedy [Jr.] should be honored along with his father." Here is where Mr. Lewis misses the point.
(08/14/00 9:00am)
Yes, Franky, you can go home again. You
(08/04/00 9:00am)
Life. We're in it. For the long haul. It's what we do. We get up in the morning, shower -- most of us -- dress neatly -- some of us -- and trudge/bike/drive/ into the day.
(07/31/00 9:00am)
Before I get to the column proper, let me say that I am appalled at the Republican annointee's choice for a running mate. Richard Cheney, known as Dick -- as if this country hadn't had enough of the other one in the seventies -- is a conservative's conservative. He served, you may remember, as the Secretary of Defense under George Senior, but before that George he worked for the other Dick and for Dick's successor, Gerald Ford. Scared you Democrats, didn't that?
(07/17/00 9:00am)
Let me get right to the point. George W. Bush is going to be elected to the Presidency of the United States of America. The dreadful preliminaries to this even more dreadful event are unfolding as you read this column. Do you want Dubya to be President? I don't.
(07/07/00 9:00am)
I was driving up East Wheelock on my way to class this week and there were two police officers directing traffic around the public works project being carried out at the intersection by Berry Sports Center. What is remarkable about this is that these officers were wearing dark blue combat fatigues. Their cargo pants were tucked into their boot tops, they had bellows pocket shirts with name tags and wide, black nylon belts bearing sidearms in quick release holsters encircled their waists. They were ready for a shootout on East Wheelock. We don't need that kind of presence while a hole is being dug in the street. We need Sheriff Taylor of Mayberry, RFD, with or without Barney.