OSPIRG.

Commentary

OSPIRG Trouble

You cannot escape them.

My rant today will focus on OSPIRG. The OC and the Honest campaign have made it the fact that OSPIRG spends money with all the discrimination and accountability of the Democratic Party. Instead, I am going to talk about something more irritating than their incredible efficiency at pissing money away. For three days, these self-important twits hit the streets with their clipboards on a quest to annoy every living thing on campus. Even the squirrels tried to avoid them.

Before this whole ordeal, I had almost know knowledge of OSPIRG. All I knew was that they printed posters worth laughing about on the way to class. At the time I was sitting on the couch in the OC office, having a deep philosophical conversation with the OC editor about the volume of beer needed to cover the entire earth in a malt liquor ocean. Two guys walked in discuss the planned anti-OSPIRG pins and t-shirts. I threw some questions about OSPIRG and their hatred of it, but I really didn't give it a lot of thought.

My relation to these liberal groups is one of tolerance. Frankly, I don't care if they plaster their posters all over the school and then go chain themselves to a tree in the forest. Things like that give writers like me a lot of material to ridicule mercilessly, so I don't care what they do as long as they leave me alone.

Unfortunately, the very next week, members of OSPIRG upset this delicate balance of apathy. That Monday, I was walking back to my dorm after my Economics class, and was confronted by the first idiot with a clipboard. Considering it was a Monday morning, I think I acted very civil. I asked the clipboard-toter to explain her views, and finding I didn't agree with them, politely dismissed her with a simple, "No, I don't think so." Then came the second one, and the third, each rubbing another layer off my rapidly thinning patience. Afraid that I would eventually beat one of these people to death with their clipboard, I went to the OC office to seek the wise council of the aforementioned editor. And this knowing editor said unto the irritated writer, "Take you this pin of anti-OSPIRG, it will protect you from the clipboard welding maniacs that dwell near the EMU." The pin was white with the word "OSPIRG" printed on it and crossed out by a crimson slash. I put the pin on my shirt and proceeded to walk back home. I was stopped by one more clipboard idiot. Without even a word, I pointed to the pin and proceeded on my way. The clipboard moron gasped and said to herself, "That was mean!" as I walked back home, protected by the pin. That first day I was stopped four times for my signature.

But like virus, they mutated into a form that was more annoying, and worse, immune to the pin. Walking to my Spanish class, I was stopped once again for the signature I would not give. I tried my best to keep the pin in plain view, at one point going so far as to pin it directly onto my forehead. Even that attempt was greeted with a, "Wow man, I bet that hurts! Would you please sign..." By the end of that day I had three anti-OSPIRG pins attached to various parts of my clothing. By this time all the civility I had once fostered was a distant memory. I now answered all these people with a sharp, "NO! Leave me alone, for the love of God." The pins kept a few signature seekers at bay, but I was still badgered three times in the second day.

Wednesday was the worst. Besides the clipboard idiots, I was stopped by some lady wanting me to have a Bible. Now, I was not only a cynical, cold-hearted conservative, but also a heathen destined to be damned to hell. All I wanted was to get to class, not an assessment of my character. After being bothered three more times, I went to the anti-OSPIRG dealer to get another deterrent. They were standing outside the business school with their anti-OSPIRG paraphernalia. I went to them and said, "I need another anti-OSPIRG fix. No more pins, that stuff isn't working anymore, I need something stronger." The guys smiled and said, "Ok, we just got these shirts. These will keep OSPIRG away from you for good. Only eight bucks." "Oh, sure. Get me hooked then raise the price." But not wanting to be bothered anymore, I forked over the money.

Walking back to my dorm, I was confronted by some hippie that was tolerant to everything except differing opinions. She looked at me and said, "You feel proud wearing that shirt?" And I answered, "Yes, I am." It was then I realized that I was no longer a man, but a symbol for every bad feeling against OSPIRG. I was now Cynical Bastard! Protector of the Disillusioned and Bitter, Enemy to Idealistic Morons. No one is safe from my smart-ass comments! About that time, a DPS officer told me to get down from the tree and accompany him to the station for a sobriety test. The point is, I am comfortable with my innate cynicism.

In closing I would like to add a note to any OSPIRG members that might be reading this.

First, I think you picked up the wrong magazine, idiot. This is a magazine based on reality and not some false utopia where people live in peace and harmony and everyone lives by your narrow-minded opinion of what is "right." For this caliber of journalistic material, may I suggest the Insurgent?

And second, quit annoying us with your quest for signatures. All you do is irritate people, and give them a reason to vote against your cause. You'd be better off just sitting back and leaving us alone. All you do is spread knowledge, and let's face it, knowledge is not your friend. The only way a normal person would vote in favor of OSPIRG is if they didn't know any better.

Jeremy Jones, a freshman majoring in Journalism, is a staff writer for the Oregon Commentator