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An Editorial

(05/30/01 9:00am)

I once read a novel entitled "The Lathe of Heaven" by Ursula Le Guin. The novel is about George Orr, whose dreams change reality, and Dr. Haber, who tries to manipulate him for the benefit of humanity. On one occasion, Dr. Haber has George dream of a world without violence or tension caused by race, religion, gender and so forth. The result is that all humanity is changed into a gray-skinned, single-gender, non-religious group, stripped of individuality, which arguably is as synonymous as humanity in the first place.

SUV Crazy

(05/30/01 9:00am)

Is it just me, or are there ridiculously large numbers of SUV commercials on TV nowadays? I know that some people view the sports-utility vehicle as the best thing since coal burning power plants, but total immersion is hardly the answer. Consider the following. This past weekend, I was, in my typical anti-social manner, enjoying a Sunday NBA basketball game. At one point the game became so interesting (now I know why they don't show the Bucks and the Hornets on network TV more often) that I gave up on watching the action, choosing instead to undertake odd tasks I generally like to take care of least once a month, like washing clothes and dishes. But whenever they took a commercial break, I made sure that I was back in my seat, to sample the latest from Budweiser, Nike and Adidas, only to be inundated by Toyota, Isuzu, Ford, Chevy, General Motors and Dodge.

In Praise of Moderates

(05/30/01 9:00am)

The rumors swirled through the marble stairwells of the Senate and the ornate gardens of the Capitol. Whispers of shock met scoffs of disbelief at every office's water cooler. Barely anyone dared utter the word -- "independent." Oblivious to the precipitous change about to occur, a Dartmouth '01 wandered the Senate, looking for the site of his next job interview (for a lowly staff assistant position). Passing through the office of last summer's internship, I ran into an old friend. "Have you heard?" she asked me, "Jim Jeffords might leave the Republican Party!" It was almost too incredible to be true. And yet just like the removal of a single card from a card house, Jeffords single handedly brought the entire Republican Senate crashing to the ground. How could Jim Jeffords, Vermont's loyal Senator of 13 years, strike such a stunning blow to the Republicans in the Senate who had called him a colleague and a friend? How could the Bush White House have been so asleep at the switch that they could allow their precious control of the Senate to utterly collapse? More importantly, was Jim Jeffords a confused dissenter who decided to fundamentally alter his political beliefs or a loyal Republican who could not in good conscience support an agenda that repressed the voices of so many? The Jim Jeffords story is a perfect example of what happens when the moderates in any political party are stifled, not because the party disrespects their views, but because the party's ambitions become too great. Moderates are the gears in the complex machinery of successful lawmaking and Jeffords' departure should serve as a warning to both parties about the penalties of political arrogance.

Dirt Cowboys

(05/29/01 9:00am)

It's time for the sea of red, the sliding, the dirt and the slow-ass moonballers. Once again it is time for the French Open in tennis. This annual tournament of who can last longer running down balls on a surface that should have long ago been abolished, at least from an American's point of view, will once again showcase European excellence and American ineptitude on the greatest equalizer in tennis, clay courts.

Spin Spin Spin

(05/29/01 9:00am)

My alarm goes off at 6:24 on Monday and Wednesday mornings. I munch on some bran flakes, slip into my always styling workout wear (ha) and run across the street to the gym, towel and water bottle in hand. By 6:45, I'm seated on the bike and ready for spinning class to begin. An hour later, my cheeks are flushed, sweat drips down my neck, my t-shirt is damp. (Unfortunately, due to time conflicts, it is in this lovely state that I then run to drill and sit for the next fifty minutes dreaming of drill's end so I can rush home and take a shower. My apologies to my fellow students in Portuguese drill who have to sit next to me). Thus, before it's even eight in the morning, I've already gotten in an intense workout, burned somewhere in the neighborhood of 500-600 calories, and am energized for the rest of my day.


(05/29/01 9:00am)

Have you ever had an idea about how to improve life at Dartmouth? Nothing huge, just something that would make students' day to day lives here a bit easier. Maybe you've wished that there was a blitz computer in Sanborn, DA$H on soda vending machines or online PE registration (which will actually be put into place this summer).

The Last Hurrah

(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?"

The Last Word

(05/29/01 9:00am)

How to treat the dreaded last column?? It's getting to be my "last" everything and I'm running out of ideas. I just don't have the strength (This is the part of the column that I like to call the suckiness disclaimer: Don't blame me -- I'm old and emotionally drained. Cursed "milestones" such as graduation. How can I be expected to do something as trivial as string together complete sentences?)