Not Worthy

February 23, 1998

Dear Ann Landers,

I am writing in regards to that tyrant, Abby. She, of that othercolumn, has viciously attacked my person, responding to my calls for helpwith questionable remarks about my sweet mother and other vulgar slandersagainst myself.

Mrs. Landers, my problem with that evil, foul-tongued woman beganwhen she spurned my first, innocent query regarding the size of her nipples.

You see, I have discovered a basic truth about human nature, whichconcerns intelligence relative to nipple size. The whole theory came to mewhile on mushrooms with a Saigon whore who spoke Russian and fingered hernose gingerly.

The base theory was also discredited by that horrible woman. She,if one could whisper an opinion, is a drunk. I think her addiction shouldbe of concern to all those close to her.

I digress. The point of this letter is in regards to any chance Imay have of seeing your nipples. It does not have to be in person; you cansend me a photo copy. After spending a few days memorizing their delicatelines and personality, I shall return to you, free of charge, my analysisof your intelligence.

May Abby rot in her drunken hell,

Spurned in Eugene

P.S. God save us all.

Nazi Lamps in UI?

The black and gold touch lamps which are standard in every room in theUniversity Inn may, in fact, contain a hidden camera used for surveillancepurposes.

Lamps which closely resemble those found in student housing at the UI werefeatured in a prominent advertisement for covert video surveillance systemsin the November 1998 issue of Soldier of Fortune. The surveillance lampswere advertised to have a color wide-angle, auto-iris lens, with highresolution and built-back light compensation, which video-taped from an"undetectable pinhole lens." The video-out cable was also said to beconcealed.

There was no comment available from University Housing on the possibilityof cameras in dorm room lamps.

Students were surprised when shown the ad, but not quick to accept thepossibility that their lamps contained a camera.

Barrett Lipomiy, who lives on the sixth floor UI, could not believe thatthe UO's jack-booted thugs might be watching him, but also added that ifthere were cameras, "it would be a major violation of privacy."

Freshman Chiara Juster felt that "There is a definite possibility the lampsmay be the same ones in the ad, but for no reason other than they lookalike." She continued by quoting the Fourth Amendment of the Constitution,concluding, "Cameras would be unreasonable search and seizure as dictatedby the Fourth Amendment."

Sophomore Christina Murnane, a friend of Juster's who lives on the fifthfloor of the UI, was open to believing that cameras may be in her room, butonly because of other aspects of dorm life which she felt infringed on herpersonal space. She cited an odd encounter with a custodial worker who wascleaning her room and thought she was the "angel girl." Both women notedthat it is possible to listen to conversations on the elevators in the UI,and that the main lobby is monitored 24 hours a day by a bank of cameras."They'll know when you're falling on your face drunk," Murane said.

Murane was agitated by the thought that there could possibly be cameras inher room, and went so far as to say that, "I would feel totally violatedand disgusted, like I had been raped."

Upon disassembling one of the UI lamps, a Commentator staff member wasunable to detect a camera, yet it can be certain that any piece ofexpensive surveillance material would be hard to find by the untrained eye.It should also be mentioned, however, that the same Commentator staffer hasindulged in activities which, if viewed via surveillance camera, wouldelicit a response from dorm staff or OPS, but he has not been hassled byeither agency.

No one can be certain that the UI would want to monitor its own tenants, orwhether rooms are in fact being monitored. The fact remains, though, thatif students are being watched, it is an inexcusable and most heinousassault on basic human privacy. This school can not condone the theft ofprivacy from an already too controlled student body.

Game of Pricks

God bless the dorms. Who needs freedom and independence? Who needsliberty and justice? Who needs to listen to anything but Tupac and buttrock whilst eating lukewarm, limp Hammy's fries? Not we freshmen. Weobviously couldn't handle freedom; why else would the University keep itfrom us? They know what's best for us. Case in point:

'Twas a Sunday night not long ago. Unlike my partying Tingle Hall brethrenand sistren, I was in my room typing a nice little argumentative essay fora fun, fun class. I knew that I was going to have to start producing somekind of tangible work at this school, else my funding from the 'rents woulddry up faster than piss on hot asphalt. So, reluctantly, I declined theoffers of drugs and demon alcohol, locked myself in my Lilliputianroom/cage and set myself to happy work.

As I sat down to start to think about beginning to plan to flip the Onswitch on my computer, I came to a realization: Music soothes the savagesober unhappy bastard. I needed music, sweet music to stop me fromthinking about the copious amounts of booze my hallmates were swigging, thegallons of beautiful, potent liquid sliding down satisfied gullets.Whiskey and vodka and gin, oh my!

I wrested my mind away from visions of alcohol, and spun the soundtrackfrom Good Will Hunting, at good high volume. I began to type my paper,inspired by heartbreakingly beautiful songs of love and loss, written byPortland singer/songwriter Elliott Smith. Ten o'clock rolled around, andone of the Tingle RAs requested that I turn the music down. I complied byreducing the volume by one-half. The RA left. I grumblingly returned tomy essay.

Half an hour later, the orchestral score was cued up on the CD player. Ihardly noticed, wholly consumed by the growing essay on the computerscreen. I fought through the blinding Gamma-ray pain, a Herculean task,like the math guy staring at the sun in Pi. I shall mold you and make youmine, Paper From Hades! Suddenly, a leaden knock at the door, andKazounds!, my train of essay thought was derailed. I turned down the weebit of pretty sound squirting and dripping from my 3"x3" speakers, andstood up.

On the other side of the paper-thin dorm door was the RA, writing me up fordisturbing the peace. As this was the polar opposite of fair, I,shell-shocked and dumbfounded, started to gently protest. The lovely RAtold me that I would be receiving a letter telling me that I was to gobefore the Area Standards Board, hidden out of public eye in the dark, dankbasement. I walked back to my computer, sober and screwed.

The day before my hearing, I met a nice man who told me that I had theright to an attorney and a trial. I thought I was trapped in someStalinist movie. Now all we needed was more hammers, sickles, and poverty.Bread lines for everyone! Da!

Despite the totalitarianistic overtones of the whole situation, I was givena chance to defend myself to the ASB. I was placed in a plastic chair,alone in the center of the God-forsaken Watson Study Room, facing theaustere faces of the Board. I politely pointed out that this was the firstmeeting of the ASB of the year, and that students committing much moreserious "crimes," such as being caught with demon illegal substances, wereusually given at most a warning from the RD, not dragged in front of theBasement Board. I relayed my horrific tale, stressing the fact that I wasnot playing Slayer at 3:30 A.M., but orchestral music at 10:30 P.M., andthat the dorm was virtually empty. The ASB agreed that the charge was"bogus," but I still received a comment on my permanent record saying thatI had broken the school's conduct code. This is justice?

And what lesson did I learn from this ridiculous debacle, boys and girls?Next time I'll just booze it up with the rest of 'em.