FEBRUARY 3, 1970
“The world is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my refi- giom” —‘ Thomas Paine.
The above quote is being used because it is a lofty, emotive statement apt to dis- pose people toWard granting credibility to the user of such» a statement. These kinds of statements are usually usedl
in preambulary co m m e n t s
made to uncritical, bourgeois ‘minds. If you have been drawn in by the quote, don’t feel foolish or defiled; you have been doing it all your life. If youhadn’t been doing it, there would be no justifi- cation for its use. Man, be- cause of his imposed petti-
ness, is usually disposed to- ward awe when lofty ideas are placed before him. There
' is a catch to the whole game,
however, and it is important to note this carefully: First, let us give our game a name —— let’s call it “BULL” (Bet- ter Understanding of Ling- uistic License). ‘ ‘
When a politician, mandar- in, or social commentator wants to insure your non-in- volvement in supposedly cru-
' cial areas of human interest,
he simply describes the situa- tion as being extremely com- plex and intricate, and not soluble overnite. Certainly, any twit does not anticipate a solution by dawn on the
;, DOWN THE [IN-E
by Hubert Tersteeg
Dusty roads, sand blowing into nostrils, heat vibrating the air. Ghaza strip, brown Bedouin children in rags, smells everywhere, undefinable smells . . . Playboy magazine, middle page. Gorgeous blond, nude, lovely hair, perfect breasts . . . Heat, blowing sand. Water truck going down the line. Medi- cal sergeant, bleary—eyedl, too many beers last night. Trying to forget those people down the line . . . Lovely legs, smooth columns, carrying this provocative body. Pearly teeth, wide smile from red lips . . . A young woman, down the line. Her baby, three weeks old, dying, mother’s breasts, no nipples left. Some sort of infection. Too late for the sergeant to do any- thing. Just try and stop the infection from spreading. The baby cries,- such a tiny sound. Nobody hears but the sergeant. Cringing inwardly, swearing aloud. Godldamn it, forgot the- penicillin .— . . lights a bit stronger in the back please. Want more from that side, makes the hair look blonder. Less light here, bring out the cleft between her breasts. Beautiful, stretch that leg slightly, nice. May I have some water please . . . Damn flies, all over the baby. Crawling in her eyes, her ears. Hand me those drops from my bag will you? Hold it, man, we haven’t too much water to give them, there are more peo-
ple waiting down the line. Keep this kid out of the sun, her
eyes are in a bad shape, direct sunlight is murder for her. No shadow in this God-forsaken place. Jesus, what am I doing here? OK. let’s go . . . Pretty, real pretty, the readers are going to like this picture very much. Thank you darling, see you for dinner. Wear something sexy. Something sheer and
black, goes so well with your complexion; Great . . . Great God, "
not again. Those tires are no damn good in this climate. Must be at least 1-02 degrees. Let’s get back to HQ. The mail should be in, wonder if Playboy has arrived yet? '
Germla ny 19 3 3
-—-to Pablo Neruda
First the trucks sirens skulls like electric 5 bulbs bursting Behind 'gas chambers and ordure 4 and pyres of corpses: flowers of nightmare.
Lost therefore the rose the multifoliate one The rose bled white that year.
And yet you heard them go ~ long long ago You heard them go ‘ the feet the steady tread of feet. down every city street echo of love’s defeat ,. The feet the feet down every cobbled city street. Your. retreat?
Beerhalls cigars plump flesh in garters still houses, in suburbs houses so still. Swastikas pirates black monocles prussian eagles in green valleys Austrian hamlets dazed in sleep!
The year requires no day-to-day expatiation:
The camps; burning crosses of books; - Mann hounded, Einstein in shameless exile. . . Horror multiplied, tabulated, analysed, loses cogency.
It was like this: ,
A high machine-gun nest ’ Eyes of , efficient duty . Three heros of the Fatherland A male trinity Watching The barbed corridor where In mud . . ” Five small children behind A Jewish grandmother Limps. -
7 Then the trucks sirens) skulls . . . silence.
It was like that: bewildered guilt hope . and such wild loving
0 cover up the bleeding faces mine eyes. dazzle After such‘ knowledge, great forgiveness.
——Reshard Gool
CHARLOTTETOWN, P. E. l.
39th right you are . . . . hp ikarl fill.
morrow. But that does not preclude the basis of the tac- tic which is to frustrate ac- tion and! direct participation in progressivism. It also frus- trates analysis because one can never visualize action coming out of one’s analysis. You’ve got to admit that its a pretty clever trick—eh? '
University s t u d e n ts are particularly susceptible .to these kinds of games. First- ly, because the environment flatters their vanity and plac- es them a cut above the aver- age man on the “john”. Sec- ondly, because they are en-
thralled by the jargon of their
discipline, and do not wish to leave the security of their isolated m e n t a] workshop. This attachment to a perver- sion is difficult to break, and those concerned viciously pro- tect their jargon, because to yield to anything else would lead to extreme despair. Don’t condemn them, sympathize with them because they have been forced into this situa—
tion by the mandarins of psycho-political manipulation. (disregard this last statement as facetious, since I was only attempting to demonstrate the tactical methods of those in charge of the controlled society.) '
Now that I have led you through this pseudo-psyche- delic exploration — there We go again! Let us look at the university structure 0 n c e more, andI see why it is struc- tured in such a metaphysical manner.
It is important not to be
fettered by historical allus- ions, because this is simply another aspect of the ‘games’. Sure-1y, we structure our in- stitutions on the basis of rea son and not on the basis of history. See I’ve just sucked you in again, the foregoing statement is emotive and flat- tering and certainly is not en- tirely based on fact — but then again, we manipulate
facts don’t we? Frustrating ,
PAGE 7
isn’t? (However it is intend- ed that you are placed on the horns of a dilemma.) Such can be the exasperation which which the individual faces and the unfortunate conse- quence is that he will suc- cumb and become a “good citizen”.
A cursory view of univer- sities will reveal that they have been achieving their ob- jectives well. Furthermore, ‘ the segmentation of know- ledge in the guise of discip- lines has succeeded in frac- tionalizing knowledge. Yet, I defy you to show me the sociological, psychological, re- ligious, and psychedelic parts of man. Evidently, it is not how you play the game, but when you lose! Remember, that united we stood, dividled we are falling. There is one bright aspect to it all, how- ever, and that is that when you fail a sociology test —-— it was only your sociological part that failed!