Volume 12 • Issue 2 October 2, 2007 Editorial rMOON The other day I went down he wovdd talk to me, ‘“cause I didn’t to the plaza to look for someone in seem aU uptight and stuff... I Staff teresting. I had a vague idea of find seemed like, pretty cool, and just a ing someone to interview for the guy who was tryin’ to go to school, Levi Armlovich Moon, a sort of ‘Man on the Street’ and get by and everything.” So after thing. So I went downtown, parked, an hour and a half or so of hanging Editor and started ambling toward the plaza. out Hstening to these guys play— and I saw some homeless-looking guys they really were good— I got my in Micheal Grotz hanging out, but I just didn’t get the terview. It wasn’t long. I asked Intern right vibe from them. I kept on Jessie what his story was, where he walking. When I got to San Fran was from and why he was here and Esme Gaisford cisco Street I heard music. Now, I where he was going. He told me, have always had a special place in my “I’m not really an interesting person, Layout and Design heart for street performers, especially man. I’m just a kid from the Mid musicians. I saw these three accor west who Hked to play music, and Gatlin Cass dion players once in Cologne who who wanted to hke, go some places Layout and Design were playing Beethoven... but that’s and play.” I was astonished. Here a different story. At any rate, I heard was a kid who had left everything he bluegrass coming from down the knew, hit the road, and with nothing street and thought, ‘Ahight, I’U check but a guitar and a backpack, was this out.’ They were really good; a hitchhiking around, “giving his music forty-ish guy with a banjo, harmon to people everywhere.” And he had ica, and tambourine, and a kid with nothing to say? He thought he was The Moon is the independent student newspaper for St. dreads and a guitar. I listened to a n’t an interesting person? I grew up John's College in Santa Fe. New Mexico. As such, all couple of songs, then started talking in a small Midwestern town. I know opinions expressed v\ ithin represent onU the view s of their respective authors, and do not necessarily represent the to them between songs. After a bit I that what he is doing right now is views of the College, the Faculty, the Administration or asked if I could do an interview for more extraordinary, in the tme sense the Moon Staff The Moon is composed of works from the St. my school newspaper. That really set of the word, than what most of the John's College Community and all contributions are wel the older guy off “We aren’t tryin’ friends I had in high school will ever come, but the editorial staff reserves the right to demand do. In retrospect, though. I’m not so an indefinite amount of revision to ensure that each issue to be, hke, Justin Timberlake or any is intelligible, relevant, informative, and fun .The editorial thing here. We aren’t tryin’ to be surprised. There have been a num staff also reserves the write to edit any and all submissions famous and get interviewed on the ber of times where different people for content, length and clarity. No animals w ere harmed during the making of evening news or anything. We’re just have said to me, ‘Oh, I’m not an in the Moon. here to play a Utde music.” “Whoa teresting person. I don’t have any The Moon asks you to not make that face. It might stay that way. man, you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m stories to teU. Not hke you, anyway.’ The Moon likes it shaken...not stirred. just a guy from St. John’s who works But I know that that’s just not tme. The Moon is not controlled by Cobalt! The Government made us say this. for the newspaper.” “Yeah but I’m A while ago I was hanging out with just sayin’ that we’re not tryin’ to be an old party buddy of mine, and I like Justin Timberlake, man, we’re was laughing about aU the partying not tryin’ to make it on Channel 7 or we had done, and all the good stories anything.” I might have left at that about my college days I’d be able to point, but the kid with dreads said, teU when I was older. He said, ‘Well “No man, he’s just a smdent tryin’ to I guess you have some good stories, do what he’s gotta do, man. I tried but I don’t really have any good school once too, I know how it is.” ones.” “What!?!” I said. “What So I listened to a couple more songs. about that time that you and I------The older guy kept needling the kid, Or what about that other time saying things like, “You know, if you that we hung out and then you------have to go do your interview thing —.” He was forced to admit that he with the newspaper, that’s cool... I’ll had had some adventures worth tell just play here by myself and you can ing stories about after aU. I just had go do this interview.” I guess he was to prompt him a little to get him to needling me too. But Jessie said that realize it. So I guess the point of all 2 The Moon this is that everyone is an interest ing person, o I guess the point A B L E or Contents Everyone has great stories tell, even if they don’t realrie it. The Moon has sucked the last couple of News ^ years, but not because people don’t National Affairs Desk ! ^ *■1^^ have worth-while things to say. lanRuskey...... ^ You’re just afraid to talk about Petraeus Report "' them. I took charge of this paper Miranda Tomic...... 5 % with the hope that that I could make it better than what it’s been. What The Secretary Saw But I need your help to do it. It Scott Manis...... 4...... 6 really doesn’t take that long to Community Workday crank out a few hundred words. Jessica Bloom...... It’s taken me about an hour to write this. So please, help make St. John’s Mythbuster this a fun paper. Scribble down Travis Wilson...... ^|Bi||| your thoughts. Or you could even Letter to the Luddites tell me what you have to say, and Scott Van Vechten...... 9 \ I’ll write it for you. But the Moon won’t be worth reading unless you take a few minutes out of your busy day to write a little something. Try it; it’s really not that hard. rtATLRtS Whether it’s a poem, a story about Eddie’s Homestyle Cookin’ what happened to you last week Eddie Lederman...... 10 Tools of Discussion end, your reaction to President Teething on the Tooth Steve Kolock...... 17 Bush’s speech at the UN about cli Ecology of a Seminar mate change, or why World of Patrick Macala...... 10 10 Questions For a Tutor S.Flynn...... 18 Warcraft is a worthwhile use of Taser Tag your free time, if it’s something you Aldona Dye...... 12 Scott Van Vechten...... 19 care about, it’ll be interesting for Opinion Poll other people to read. For all of my Moon Staff...... 12 Unseen Moon Archives efforts, this paper is really in you, Crossword Puzzle Jack Langworthy...... 20 Loneliness in the Desert my reader’s, hands. Please email Jonathan Palmer ...... 13 Laura Sook...... 20 anything you want to Music: KaLaRadiolina
Hillary Clinton has more politics in her veins Ron Patil sends me really boring than blood. emails, but people keep telling me he is actually cool.
BiU Richardson has enough spunk to Tohn Edwards is the third Rock Star vying for make an ad in which he is at a "Job the single Democratic nomination. Interview" for the Presidency. Also he is our Governor.
Alike Huckabee like' sophistree, Alitt Romney is a Mormon, probably an' his proficiency there-in evident-in has some sort of plan for Iraq, is a his sharply gains among the polls. Mormon, and aside from all that, he is a Mormon.
Fred Thompson has an intricate Dennis Kucinich doesn't have a chance. understanding of the reality of our legal system from his work Law & Order, but hell we might get a good Rudv Giuliani was knighted by the Queen of speech or two out of him. England...England, the country we fought so fiercely to be free of in 1776...President, a Albert Einstein is the smartest man Knight! I'll eat my hat! .. .oh and don't you who ever lived, and he was right when think it is unfortunate that he is capitalizing on he said, “The significant problems we the deaths of 3,000 fine Americans? face cannot be solved at the same level of thinking we were at when we creat Tohn McCain may have gotten the White ed them.” House confused with the Margret E. White Home for Elderly Persons when he announced Unfortunately, Albert Einstein is not running in his candidacy. this election, instead we must take our chances with
The Moon: News the latest batch of preeminent political hacks. But that's just it; the significant problems we face were created by polit ical hacks and at their level of thinking. How then can any politico save us? So it seems that there will be little innovation in American politics next year. And thank God: For dramatic change is not befitting of government, although it is constantly touted in the rhetoric thereof. Government should remain consistent, and it is the People's prerogative to be flexible until the Government prevents them from bending in the direction they wish to pursue, and they are at last compelled to stand up and demand change. This is the most exciting moment in Politics, the moment every presidential-hopeful dreams of spearheading. Real change, however, is slow and subtle. Real change cannot be affected in four years. And the structure and stability of our Government relies on this fact, lest some tyrant succeed in changing the world "for the better." This need for stability may explain why the forerunner in any election remains Prevailing Apathy.
Prevailing Apathy relies on our comfort and complacency and lack of real knowledge to maintain a system of government that does not consistently and deliberately strive to serve its constituents. Prevailing Apathy allows our great country to be run into the ground and embarrassed in front of the people of the world. Prevailing Apathy is the crack cocaine of our people and in its delirium we may well sleep our selves to death. Prevailing Apathy is our best defense against the upstart and overambitious politicos.
And so, with such a dominant and persuasive candidate controlling this election, why should we even bother getting out of bed on that fateful day next November? Because, even though every candidate running is fundamental ly the same, there is one interesting and subtle element of real change: An element that might go unnoticed until the last paragraph of an article in our student newspaper: The one thing that might make this election worth while: The one iota of evidence that social change is in fact occurring. This year, a black man and a woman are running. And this year, they both have a shot.'''>?S?^
Petraeus Report General Petraeus and Ambassador Crocker Report Luanda Tomic to Congress on Progress of Iraq War
September 10th, 2007 - General 2007. Most of these additional troops ing steadily since early 2006, and are David Petraeus, General of Multina were used to surround and secure the now only being brought down to the tional forces in Iraq began two days of capital. Roads were barricaded and level that they were at before. General testimony to Congress on the military cars were searched. The goal was to Petraeus himself admitted in his report progress made in the Iraq war. Along sift out insurgents and reduce the flow that they are “stiU at troubling levels.” side him, U.S. Ambassador to Iraq, of explosives into the city. It seemed Though the surge is helping to Ryan Crocker, assessed the progress to have worked. Sectarian violence and maintain stabhity in the capital. Con made by the Iraq government. Both civihan deaths in the city have been gress is arguing that our troops are the General and the Ambassador ad substantially reduced. Cumulative worn thin. It seems it would be diffi dressed significant questions that had weekly attacks were diminished from a cult to maintain this degree of force been plaguing Congress and Ameri high of about 17,025 per week in June for much longer. President Bush was cans. While a great deal of progress ‘07, down to just over 1,000 per week informed of this more directly by Ma was cited, many shortcomings were as of September 7th, this year. Total rine Cobra hehcopter pilot Captain addressed as well. civihan deaths in Baghdad were down Lee Hemming during a surprise lay General Petraeus reported on to 500 per month this August. over in Anbar province, on September the benefits of the 28,829 additional The numbers sound promising, 3rd, en route to an economic summit troops (which brings the total mihtary however they can be misconstrued in Austraha. Though the extra time on force in Iraq to about 160,000) that outside of their context. Insurgent at the battlefield aUows soldiers to famil have been deployed since June 16th, tacks and civihan deaths had been ris iarize themselves with the terrain more
Continued on page 6
The Moon: News 5 thoroughly, “our time back at home is very limited,” and this puts enormous stress on soldiers and their families. In addi tion, it is likely to cause a drop in recruiting and retention of soldiers. We simply do not have the amount of human re sources necessary to maintain our current involvement. The current simation in Anbar province, like that of Baghdad, appears to have improved. Sunni insurgents who were once allied with Al-Qaeda have joined Coahtion forces. This has been cited as a result of Al-Qaeda’s overly forceful methods of recruiting (i.e. murdering those Sunnis who refused to declare allegiance). Since Anbar is primarily Sunni, such a turn in allegiance is substantial. Ideally, it could mean a significant amount of power could be transferred into Iraqi hands in the region, and a substantial drawback of troops could take effect. But to turn away from Al-Qaeda does not mean that Sunnis have turned towards the Coalition for good. The loyalty of these mercenary type soldiers is difficult to asses, and should they decide to turn on the U.S., Anbar province could once again become a safe haven for insurgents. and troops would need to be called back in. The solution? It seems we General Petraeus announced must begin to hand over responsi- bihty to the Iraqi government and that a slow drawback will begin forces. But haven’t we been trying to do so for a while r A ’1 nnno ^ l i problem with that, of course, is a result of the fragile poHti- as of April2008. One brigade cal balance between Sunnis and Shi’ites. Iraqi militia and poHce are of3,500 will be removed per infiltrated with insurgents, and loy- alty to a new and delicate. Govem- month. ment is hard to come by. The Iraqi Security Forces Independent Assess- ment Commission, ordered by Congress and led by retired Marine Commander James Jones graded the Iraqi army and police. The army scraped by with passing marks, but the police forces failed due to a considerable amount corrupt officers. It seems that one thing the surge has accomplished is that we’ve bought the Iraqi government time. We’ve bought Prime Minister Nouri al-MaUki time to resolve political tensions. But whether or not those tensions have been resolved thoroughly- and it is likely that they have not- General Petraeus announced that a slow drawback will begin as of April 2008. One brigade of 3,500 will be removed per month. Speculation on the potential effects of the drawback are wide. If we do not provide enough support for new Iraqi government in its infancy, civil war could be at hand, and beyond that, regional instability is a extensive threat. But if we continue to be so involved, we could stretch ourselves beyond our ca pacity. Thus, the primary question left unanswered is whether Iraq is strong enough to step up to the plate any time soon.
Bibliography Wikipedia - “Petraeus Report” TIME Magazine - “Moment of Truth” by Michael Duffy, Sept. 17th Issue www.NPR.org - “Petraeus Report” What The Secretary Saw
While this article is generally about what has happened in Polity recently, before 1 start covering current events in this col umn, I feel that everyone should he informed of the role that Polity plays in the college community. In the Polity charter there is a provision for the creation of the smdent government, and some duties are laid out: to manage the funds available to the student body; to sanction and regulate student clubs, organizations, and activities; to represent the smdent body to the community outside of the college; and to maintain formal channels of communication between the smdents and the faculty. Polity has a fairly wide scope of activity has a good amount of in fluence on the events that take place on our campus. Though the Polity Council at both campuses has the same scope of duty, only in Santa Fe does any smdent have the chance to become a member of the Council. The constimtion of the Santa Fe Polity Council has something called the elastic clause; it allows any smdent to become a voting member, with the simple requirement that three consecutive meetings are attended. This clause al lows the Santa Fe smdent body to become much more involved with every duty that the Polity Council has set out for them. I encourage anyone who is interested in having a say in what their school looks like to take this oppormnity that the consti mtion of the Polity Council, and become a voting member. This year we have even more of a chance than ever to make our voice heard; we have over $30,000 dollars to disburse to smdent activities, events, and clubs this year. If you have an idea that you would like to see implemented, but need help and guidance. Polity can help. We have given over $3,000 to various smdent activities and organizations so far this year and if you would like to decide how the rest of the money the smdent body has is spent you should be come a voting member.
The Moon: News Community Work Day 2007 St. John’s Mythbusters Pancakes, Rubbish and le esprit de Freshmen
By: Jessica Bloom The Legend of The Naked Reality Parade The day began not with picking up trash, but with Mr. Peters flipping pan By: Travis Wilson cakes - and a table piled with whipped cream, raspberry sauce, pine nuts, syrup, etc. For, what else can encourage a person to work at chmbing up a Ahh Reality, that most extravagant and re mountain besides sugar? Many freshmen volimteered their time... to make a nowned adventure of the St. John’s community. Is good impression, make more friends, or help make their new home a little there any more wildly hyped experience in all of more theirs. The ‘adventurous type’ followed some trails marked with pink up higher education? As a Freshman, I was far from di the mountain to the site of destruction: campfires surrounded by broken glass. appointed by the fulfillment of a year’s worth of ba Paint cans, tents, and clothing huddled beneath trees. A dismal sight. And so lyhoo, which is why as a Sophomore I was stunned we picked it up - put it into oversized garbage bags and hauled our treasure to discover a legend suggesting that our Reality ma; back down the hill. Somehow a few of us became responsible for carrying be missing a key component, making it a mere down large slabs of metal. As we were struggling -with unwieldy weights and shadow of its once glorious self. shapes our relief was spotted in the form of Mr. Venkatesh - we were saved from the last few meters, but not from overall muscular pain. Being unable to Writing this column, I knew I could not fail hold a spoon, much less a hook, I spent the remainder of the day reflecting to investigate a legend about an event so wild, so upon this valuable experience. Upon how helpful and not-yet-jaded the fresh preposterous, that it was harmed even from Reality. man are, upon how doing good can bring people together, and upon how a Quite a task it was too. One might be surprised to little school spirit isn’t the worst thing that could happen to a Johnnie. find out just how few staff members exist who have Watch the Project Politae bulletin board - across from the Switchboard - for fitting memories of a scandalous Reality past and other opportunities to get down and dirty with the National Forest Service, just how many alums seem to have odd memory Habitat for Humanity, Beneficial Farms, Tutoring and SFBaking Co. burritos. gaps sparming their Realities. Nonetheless, through some persistence and a wee bit o’ blind luck 1 even tually got to the bottom of The Legend of The Nake Reality Parade.
The story, as I first heard it, goes something like this: somewhere back in the mists of time, somi say as recently as the 1980’s, others say as far back as the sixties. Reality on the Santa Fe campus begai with a naked parade of the entire campus that begar downtown on the Plaza and wound its way up to the school. It sounded quite fantastic at the time of tell ing, but the person didn’t have any verifiable detail: and I wasn’t writing a column yet and so I didn’t bother to investigate. At Homecoming, I chanced to run into an alum from the class of 1980 who men tioned something about a wild Reality parade. How ever I still wasn’t all that interested in the story, but thanks to the aforementioned wee bit o’ luck this fii gentleman, by the name of Charles Reuben, gave m a business card before we parted.
And so it was, once I had decided to write this article and bothered just about everyone I could think of on-campus to no avail, that I remembered
Continued on page 8
The Moon: News 7 Mr. Reuben’s business card and thought with joy that maybe-just maybe-he would answer an email from me with the full and hopefully shocking details of St. John’s Gone Wild. I thought up a few quick questions and shot them off to Mr. Reuben, and within 12 short hours received this most interesting reply.
“I don't know when the parade began but I sort of know when it stopped. Furthermore, I feel I am responsible for it ending and I think all of us who are involved in reporting and documenting such things can learn a lesson from my experience.
I graduated from Santa Fe St. John's in 1980. The Santa Fe Reporter snapped me up as a compositor for their weekly newspaper. I left Santa in spring of 1983 so the demise of the parade must have occurred at Reality in either 1980, 1981 or 1982.
Here is what happened.
I told the managing editor, Marty Gerber (forgive me if I have misspelled his name) that St. John's always throws a parade on the Plaza during Reality weekend. I told him about some of the specifics, that people wear costumes, dance and were scantily clad. I believe at this point Marty told one of the photographers to snap pics of the event for a photo spread. I can't remember who was taking pictures at that time, it might have been Ed Klamm or a couple photographers named Kitty or Myers, I can't remember. They were all excellent.
Anyway, the event took place, the photographers took pictures and I'm pretty sure the pictures or some large picture of a painted, dancing person appeared in the paper. At this point the whole thing turned into a scandal and from that moment on the parade has never again taken place.”
I was quite ecstatic to have this tragic piece of the puzzle filled in, but still I wondered. What exactly hap pened at this parade? Full of hope for more titillating details on the event itself, I scanned to the next lines of the email, only to find these fateful words, “As far as what actually happened during the parade, well you know what they say....If you can remember any of the details then you probably weren't there.”
Although 1 was beginning to sense that maybe I should just leave well enough alone I returned to one of my earlier failed sources and asked if he could at least point me in the direction of someone, anyone, who might know something about this parade. “Yeah”, he said. “Try Bill Donahue the Director of Labs, I think he was tutor around that time.” Hoping against hope for some true knowledge to supplement my (hopefully) true opinion I found Mr. Donahue in his office, introduced myself and asked if he knew about the parade. “Why yes, there was such a parade, certainly.” And can you tell me about it? “Oh sure, probably more than you want to know.” Wonder of Wonders! Sure that I had finally found one of those ever elusive divine forms Plato is always going on about I pulled out my notebook and listened as Mr. Donahue revealed the Mysteries to me from the beginning.
As it turns out. Reality was not always Reality, but instead began existence in Annapolis, long before there even was a Santa Fe campus as a curious affair called The Real Olympics. Apparently, the theory goes something to the effect that as the sole torchbearers of the intellectual tradition of the Ancients, only we at St. John’s had the right to hold the true and proper Olympics and all those silly fools over at the International Olympic Committee were mere posers. While a full list of events was somewhat impossible to obtain, a sample of the various Games includes Epicycle Races, Chariot Competitions, and Wrestling, not to mention the almighty Spartan Madball, which I am told used to go by the name of Hobbes. I’m given to understand that this older title has something to do with the Natural State of Man. As a lowly sophomore I don’t have the slightest clue what this means as I’m still under the impression that man is a political animal. However, I’m sure some senior will happily fill us all in. The way Mr. Donahue tells it, over time the Real Olympics became less Olympics and more Reality until we arrived at the present day spectacle.
And how does the parade fit into all this? As promised Mr. Donahue had the answer. Near the campus in An napolis there lies a waterfront area, which for the purpose of The Real Olympics was renamed the Pyrheus, and The festivities always began with a torch bearer, followed by a crowd, running from the Pyrheus to the school. Thus,
Continued on page 9 8 The Moon: News when the tradition showed up in Santa Fe, every year the college applied to the city for a permit and held a parade from the Plaza to the campus.
Sensing it was time for the moment of truth I asked about the clothing optional part. “No, no, people weren’t na ked. Lots of togas, but it wasn’t like that.” Happy day! Perhaps our ancestors were not so much greater than we after all. Could it be that we sons have not fallen so short of our fathers after all? Pursuant to this conversation I searched the ar chives of the library and found the pictures accompanying this article that show rather plainly, that indeed there were to gas, though admittedly not much else. This makes me wonder though, what exactly was on the cover of that Santa Fe Reporter that ostensibly brought about the demise of our fine parade... Opinions and Ifirrns An Open Letter To The Luddites {written on parchment, so as not to offend)
Dear Respected Elders of the Sacred Lodge of St. John's,
I am writing to you today to inform you of an astonishing and outrageous new device that has insidiously latched itsei onto our modern culture, no-doubt intending to suck dry its feeble relevance. I am referring, of course to the Internet. I ma not be the first to write to you about this, I find it hard these days to uncover a single mind not spoiled by the poisonous moi ster, but I intend to be the first to explain just how it has managed to put on the disguise of relevance and importance, and hopefuUy by so-doing, I wih have successfully destroyed the adamantine bonds that it has secured over your minds. The Internet was invented by Satan and A1 Gore in the 1990's in an attempt to corrupt the minds of the youth of America by means of readily-available pornography and noisy video games. As technology—hereafter referred to as The Great Satan—advanced, so did the quahty of this pornography and these video games. Today, the Internet's power is near total, with the exception of this one pristine edifice, St. John's College. Persistent vigilance and a refreshingly selfless attitude allowed you all. The Esteemed and Respected Elders of the Sacred Lodge of St. John's, to capture this vicious beast, which was all-too recendy snarling at the gates of our well-protected compound, and keep it locked away forever in Wiegle Hall. How you brave souls have managed to endure the full force of such a powerful opponent for so long is indeed a question thz will mystify me for years to come. But thanks to your self-sacrifice, the larger portion of St. John's has remained nearly Inter net-free for months now. The entire campus is grateful to you for this gift. However, I fear that the longer you are exposed to the seductive wiles of the Internet, the sooner you will be enrap tured by The Great Satan's most powerful weapons. I am referring to websites such as YouTube, iTunes, and CNN; Wikipe dia, NPR, and NBC. These are not merely websites, but addictions—far worse than the slew of illegal narcotics and underag drinking that you have so graciously ignored all these years. Unlike cocaine, psychedelic mushrooms,and LSD, these website; pose a serious risk to our community. I know this may sound extreme, but it might even be possible that a smdent who wou otherwise be gleefully discussing the Meno on a Friday night, as the vast majority of Johnnies are want to do during every wa. ing moment, could conceivably be found in his room instead, reading about this siUy Iraq War business or watching lectures from some college (I shudder at the very notion). Impossible, you say? Far from it, for such are the manifold powers oi The Great Satan. The only suitable course of action for this college is to remain eternally vigilant. Continue your unceasing batde with The Great Satan deep in the bowels of Wiegle, far from where any student might become infected. This fight wiU also requir a more strict monitoring of your staff, for I have only recendy discovered reports of YouTube and CNN being seen in Wiegl You must watch your employees like a hawk—^pretend that they're visitors from The College of Santa Fe if it helps—^but the moment that you let your guard down, the vile fiend in a plastic suit wiU find them, poor unsuspecting lambs that they are, an cormpt them. Weed out the corrupted ones at aU costs. You shall know them by their arguments. Students and administrators whc have been corrupted will claim that the Internet can be a useful research tool, or that it's a vital and revolutionary new move ment that has the power to positively affect and improve every facet of any lifestyle. These are mere falsehoods and blasphe mies. It is apparent to aU common sense that if this Internet were such a great thing, Aristode would have invented it.
Sincerely, Scott Van Vechten The Moon: News 9 rCATLRCS Eddie’s Homestyle Cookin’
College is the time when an individual breaks away from the comforts of home to begin making an earning. It is when the student be gins setting a schedule for themselves. When bed time and meal time are not as concrete. Finally it is a time when a large portion of luxuries are not enjoyed because we are not living under our parents. The worst luxury to lose is Mom’s home cooking. It is an enjoy ment that is there from the beginning of our memories. A great thing missed can be reclaimed. And I’m not talking about going home for break. I’m speaking of the opportunity that you have in utilizing the three kitchens on campus. Whatever it is you make it might not be Mom’s specialty, but with my help and a little practice you can be doing a lot better for yourself in terms of food quality than Aramark will ever provide you. This first recipe is an Italian dish noted for it’s simplicity in preparation and magnanimity in flavor. Pasta Carbonara’s staple ingredients are Parmesan cheese, Asiago cheese and eggs. The cheeses are the most expensive items at approx. $5/pound but if you split the cost of ingredients with around 4 or five hungry college students you will have enough servings to go around. The ingredients are as follows:
!4 pound of Asiago Cheese !4 pound Parmesan Cheese 14 dz. Eggs '4 pint cream 1 slab of bacon (note bacon can be substituted for a leaner choice of chicken cutlets) 3 cloves of garlic ( This ingredient is important in every Italian meal) 14 white onion 1 pound of pasta Salt and Pepper
Okay first and foremost you should prepare all ingredients that are to be chopped or cut. This is where the most injuries occur. You never want your fingers extended fully when chopping the ingredients. Hold the ingredient with your knuckles closest to the blade. Thoroughly chop onion and garlic into very small pieces. Be sure to peel off the skin of the onions and garlic prior to chopping. Next put water on to boil pasta, make sure it’s big enough to hold all the pasta, and two quarts of water. Grate the cheese. Never buy pre grated cheese. It’s more expensive, there’s more packaging; the cheese is dried out and flavorless. Always get fresh cheese. Crack the eggs throw them in a mixing bowl. Whisk in 4 of the grated cheese. The rest will be used to top the finished product. Mix eggs and cheese together. Put eggs and cheese aside. Cook the bacon or chicken. Chop the cooked meat into small pieces and put aside. Be sure to leave grease in the frying pan. Throw in the diced onions and garlic. Brown in saute pan on high. At this point your pasta should be in the pot and close to cooked. Pasta usually takes about 10 to 15 minutes to cook. Be sure to add a bit of oil into the boiling water and noodles to help prevent the noodles from sticking. Adding salt to the water also helps it boil faster and add a bit of flavor. After the onions and garlic are browned turn the heat to medium. Throw in the cream, salt and pepper to taste, let simmer three minutes. The pasta should be cooked, strained ,put in a serving bowl. Next quickly mix in the raw eggs and cheese. The heat of the cooked pasta will efficiently cook the eggs. Mix in bacon/chicken pieces and cream sauce. Top with the rest of the cheese. Thoroughly mix and enjoy with a nice chilled glass of Charles Shaw white wine. Timing is a crucial part of this recipe. All of this happens in under thirty minutes. You cannot let the pasta get too cold and the cream sauce will separate if cooked too long. This is an easy recipe when you prepare as much of the ingredients prior to actual cooking and sauteing. Good luck and remember that the best way of reminding yourself how good home is while away from home is to use your palate. Teething on the Tooth By: Patrick Macala You may know them only as the Parkour guys or maybe simply as the guys who showed up on campus in January and started jumping off of things. Maybe because you’ve seen them on crutches, braces, or covered in Band-Aids, your expectations of their life spans are not very high, but the bottom line is that the guys who make up “SJ Kru” are still going and looking for more adventures. While many at St. Johns consider re-reading Huckleberry Finn or Moby Dick as exciting as adyentures get, sometimes it is necessary to step outside of academia and experience something with a little less logos and more, well andreia. Translation: Mountain Climbing. Okay, lets face it; who wouldn’t want to eat cheese and chocolate with champagne while watching a sunrise from the top of Santa Fe Baldy (summit 12,622ft)? I mean, how much classier can you get? On the other hand, a seyenteen-mile gulag up Pecos Baldy (summit 12,500ft) led by St. Johns Tutor Lauren Brubaker, the man of iron knees, that’s something that should be left to the dedicated. Better yet, the class III climb has fueled the kru into looking outside of New Mexico’s Continued on page 11 10 The Moon: Features peaks which top out at around 13,000ft, to the higher, more technical moun tains in Colorado, the Hers. The following is an account of SJ Kru’s first attempt at a 14,000ft peak. Research of the 14,000ft peaks in Colorado (Hers), led the kru to El Diente, or the tooth. With information gleaned from an informative website www.Hers.com. the kru decided to try the southern face which promised easiest approach of El Diente (14,159ft). After sumitting the trail leads along a knife-edge called the Ridge Traverse to Mt. Wilson (H,246ft). The climb is a solid class III, making it possible to accomplish without ropes. Prepara tions finished, the kru set out Friday, September 14* to Colorado. In retro spect Will Thomas jokes, “I guess you could say we were teething.” Little did he know of what was to come on the slopes of El Diente. On the drive up, it soon became apparent that the trip was not going to go as smoothly as planned. After four-wheeling on a dirt road in a two- wheel Buick, the kru was forced to retrace their steps and take a gentler detour turning a six-hour drive into an eleven-hour slog. Realizing that after ascending the peak the next day, they would not be able to make it back to their car, the kru sent Ryan Smith ahead to the junction of two possible routes. Already tired from driving the entire eleven hours. Smith hiked ahead up a five-mile, switchback ridden, section of the trail carrying eighty pounds of gear, while the rest of the kru slept by the car. Just after sunrise the kru, revived by the three-hour nap, proceeded up the trail to meet with Smith. At the rendezvous bad luck once again settled on the shoulders of the kru. Sophomore Joe Robinson realized that he had forgotten one of his hiking boots at home. At first Robinson tried to hike using one boot and a borrowed sandal but soon realized that the ascent would be too diffi cult with his uneven footwear, “At first I said TTl do El Diente,’” recollects Robinson, “... I wouldn’t have been able to do it.” Once again, the kru was forced to detour, and by the time they returned to the original rendezvous site it was well into the after noon. Realizing that the full hike up three summits was no longer an option, the kru decided to aim for the two highest of the three peaks in the area. Not long after setting out, the kru ran into difficulties on 50° slopes covered in talus (loose fragmented rock; think of the stuff that buries Frodo). As the slopes became more treacherous hiking gave way into mad scrambling up the continually sliding stones something resembling trying to run up a slope covered in marbles. Once past talus and scree covered slopes the kru found themselves face to face with a 50 ft vertical wall. After scanning the rock face, two possible lines were found, one to the left and one to the right. To the left went Will Thomas, and to the right Ryan Smith. Smith began to climb and after some effort was able to reach the top of the wall. Thomas was not so lucky. From the start Thomas had trouble. Many of the rocks in the cliff were loose and fell, making them impossible to use as hand holds. “Every hold was dan gerous... if I had fucked up I would have fallen first 40 ft, then 60ft, all the way down the mountain.” Luck however was on Thomas’s side...until that is he reached a ledge 15ft below the crest when every handhold within reach pulled out. With no alternative left to him, Thomas had to descend. With no ropes, back up, and no chance of survival if he fell, Thomas began half- sliding, half-falling down the side of the cliff. For those on the bottom, all they could do was watch as a rain of rocks fell from the cliff. “Rocks were falling and we were just waiting for a person,” remembers Robinson. At last Thomas did appear not falling as they feared, but alive and thoroughly terri fied, “It was the scariest experience of my life” says Thomas, “Joe had to calm me down and talk me up the other route.. .1 thought I was going to die.” Eventually, the kru managed to get onto the ridge and began their movement towards the summit once again. By this time it was 5:30 in the afternoon and clouds were beginning to blow in towards the mountain. Fearing a descent in the dark and realizing the danger of the incoming clouds, the kru decided not to attempt the last half-mile trek to the summit. “We all just let go of it,” says Robinson “it was a very satisfactory day.” With evening at hand, SJ Kru descended the trail, taking catnaps on the way back down and getting into camp at 3:00 am. There, the tired but satisfied the kru drank their victoiy beers, perfectly cooled in a nearby stream. In the end, the words of Joe Robinson seem best, “There is a lot this school offers for outdoors, but when you want to get out...you just grab a crew and go.”
The Moon: Features 11 10 Questions For A Tutor: Andy “Jazzhands” Kingston
By Aldona D> 1. Ok, we’ll start with something easy. Cake or pie? Mr. Kingston: Pie. Why? K: I like fruit. 2. How do you like your hotdog? K: Not burned. So...plain? K: Not burned and with mustard and that little pickle relish stuff, 3. Which Shakespearean character would you be? K: Falstaff. Why? K: It should be self-evident. *note: A half an hour after this interview, Mr. Kingston called me wishing to change his answer to “The bear in ‘A Winter’s Tale”’. I guess it wasn ’t that self-evident. 4. Have you read the Harry Potter series? K: No. WHY NOT?!?!! K; I read the first one and got the idea. Are you SURE you got the idea?? K: Yes...... that’s not going to be popular, is it? 5. Which Disney character do you resemble? K: Resemble?! I don’t know, what do you think? I want to resemble the genie from Aladdin, but I don’t think I do. 6. What superpower would you have? K: Invisibility. No, not invisibility. No, its ok. The heroic is overrated. Put that in. 7. To be or not to be? K: To be. Is that really the question? K; No. 8. How do you pump yourself up for seminar? K: Caffeine. A lot of caffeine? K: Enough. 9. In what circle of hell do you belong? K: It would be a surprise, I’m sure. So many possibilities. 10. Ok, final question. In a zombie apocalypse, what would your weapon of choice be? K: Cowardice. Opinion Poll
Answer a few simple questions and you could win a $15.00 gift certificate to the bookstore. Print your name clearly on the bottom and send to “The Moon” through campus mail. One entry will be chosen randomly to win our prize. See the poll results in the next issue of the Moon. 1. True or False: Opinion Polls are useless.______2. If the Moon was in gladiatorial combat which article should be fed to the lions?
3. If Aramark was a reality TV show which food would you vote off the island?
4. Which tutor would you liked to be trapped in an elevator with? Pirates or Ninjas?______
Name
12 The Moon: Features Crossword Puzzle
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Answers on page 28
The Moon: Feature 13 Reviews
Music
By: Oliver Muchmore
KaLa Radiolina I have here two albums under consideration, which may, together, actually appeal to nearly the whole student body. I feel confident in saying that this will never happen again (excepting the second coming of George Harrison and John Lennon). If one displeases you can give the other a try, preferably you’ll find interest in both. Originally I had not intended to review the first album, but on listening to it decided I should spread the gospel a bit. It also didn’t feel right to waste the connections present between these two albums. There seems a convergence, divine or otherwise, in the proximity of the release of M.I.A.’s Kala and of Manu Chao’s La Radiolina. Both ofthese solo artists while rooted in different musical genres (rap and latin respectively) take a great interest in musical exploration and blending, treating other musical traditions as valid grist for their mills. Not really surprising for a British-Sri Lankan and a Basque-Gallician-Frenchman. They also share a great concern for global politics and social issues. Not surprisingly they each have a connection to Joe Strummer of The Clash, whose body of work long embodied mu sical splicing and global politics. At the time of Joe Strummer’s death he considered Manu Chao as his favorite artist. M.I.A. takes Joe Strum mer’s work as part of her inspiration. M.I.A. references the Clash on her first album and samples from them on her second. The first is a bit unusual, the second is downright weird. A rapper sampling punk music you say?! Yup, and using it quite well I might add. In addition to the Clash’s “Straight To Hell” she uses “Where Is My Mind” by The Pixies {the alt-rock band of the Eighties and Nineties, no it wasn’t Nirvana, I know you’re still shook up about Kurt but no) and “Roadrunner” by The Modem Lovers. In addition to these rock songs, she borrows heavily from Bollywood, incorporating two Tamil language songs and a Hindi language song as well as covering a song from Bollywood “classic” The Disco Dancer. Yet again these are odd, and refreshing, choices considering that hip-hop artists rarely use samples from gemes other than funk, disco and hip-hop. Mind you two hip-hop tracks do show up, Wreckx-N-Effect s Rump Shaker and Blaqstarr’s “Hands Up, Thumbs Down”. Filling out her sonic melting pot she collaborates with the U.S of A’s Timbaland, Nigerian MC Afrikan Boy and Australia’s young Aboriginal MC crew Wilcannia Mob. Wil- cannia Mob’s track is probably my favorite for its wonderful Australian accents and Didgeridoo driven beat. Combining all this with her com plex and imaginative beats M.I.A. creates a captivating and challenging sound, one that while new and unique reaches back over two decades ' recognizing and drawing inspiration from great music. While not sampling any classic hip-hop she invokes the name of Sugar Hill (the legen dary label that brought hip-hop to the world’s attention with “Rapper’s Delight) an especially apt reference as her incorporation of “Where Is ' My Mind , Rump Shaker , Hands Up, Thumbs Down” and “Roadrunner” feel far more like old, old-school hip-hop “covers” than the sampling ' one finds in most hip-hop today (for other exceptions to this see The Roots’ “Star” and Mos Def s “Brooklyn”). * Jit’s not only M.l. A’s music that makes her so unusual but her lyrics as well. Her global outlook and her flat out rejection of money (see ' “Hussel”) set her apart from the majority of hip-hop, even the majority of “conscious” rap. The best part of M.I.A’s work though is the sense of ' humor she brings to it. Whether it’s turning the tired line-drawing hip-hop declaration, “Represent!” on it’s head and making it all inclusive on “World Town”, Juxtaposing a New-Agey/generic “world” music wail with lyrics about violence in Africa on “$20”, or her spoof of popular rap ' song “Chain Hang Low”, her satirical sense nicely tempers often bombastic rhetoric Just as The Clash did twenty years ago. ' While M.I.A and Manu Chao are similar in many ways I’m not really sure how much of a sense of humor Manu Chao infuses into his * work. Mind you it could be bursting with glorious satirical material and I wouldn’t know. My biggest handicap in reviewing La Radiolina is linguistic. Manu Chao sings in five languages, Spanish, French, Portuguese, Italian and English. My facility with Spanish and French is minimal and with Portuguese and Italian negligible. On La Radiolina his English language songs are pretty dark but I’m not sure if they can be used as indicators for the rest. What I can be sure about is the deeply political nature of the album, it is made quite obvious even to an English speaker like myself when he ends the second track with a 1984-ish warning, “cuidado, Senor George Bush... is watching everything.” He then goes into two English tracks, one denouncing the evils of politics (and subtly applying itself to the U.S. with its Ennio Morricone spaghetti western style music) and the other listing dire simations of countries around the world. However his music varies a good deal from dark and sad to very up beat, but it almost always sizzles with energy. Manu Chao has roots in punk rock and he shows it by tempering his awareness of the evils of the world with a refusal to sink into despair. La Radiolina s album art shows this spirit as well with childlike drawings, bright primary colors and pictures of Manu Chao with a huge grin splitting his face. Even if his lyrics aren’t uplifting Manu Chao certainly takes great delight in his music. He borrows freely from a wide variety of musi- ' cal traditions. He spreads himself so far that the best one can do is to label his music “latin.” I get the feeling that the influences on La Radiolina are more varied than I can recognize but I can parse out a good number of styles, most notably flamenco on “Me Llaman Calle”, salsa on “La Vida Tombola” and the mariachi styled “Mala Fama” as well as western “cowboy music”, rock and Jamaican ska and dub. Manu Chao pulls all of this skillfully together to create an album that is challenging, experimental and highly accessible. I strongly recommend both of these albums. They are brimming with thoughtful, engaging and well performed music, and above all they are damned fun. The music on Kala and La Radiolina. to my mind, is the best sort of music, music that is intelligent, challenging and makes you want to get up Just to get down. However, if I were to put one above the other I think it would have to be M.I.A’s Kala. It is a bit more imaginative, more original and a good deal funnier, and consequently more important to the development of music. But really, you should grab them both and enjoy. P.S. Blast those suckers.... within the limitations of sleep-study, of course.
14 The Moon: Features Books
Orr The Prooram: a look at mopekn books By Chris Hamann
2005 marked the release of the book Freakonomics by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner; in a nutshell, Freakonom- ics is about motivation and incentives, the reason people do what they do. Economics is an interesting field; it studies trends, on ^ Wall Street, in scientific fields, and in some more surprising areas. If drug dealers make so much money, why do they still live with their mothers? What does the Ku Klux Klan and Real Es tate Agents have in common? Does money actually win elections? Is Sumo Wrestling corrupt? Questions like these make up the bulk of the book; Steven Levitt, a 30-year-old professor of Economics at the University of Chicago, spends his time wrestling with data like election information for congressional incumbents, and creating algorithms to help find teachers cheating at standardized tests. . In 1996, the Chicago school board launched Standardized testing in public schools; the school board also placed an in centive program for the teachers, with great teachers getting higher chances for promotions and even raises and bonuses. Alter nately, a poor teacher can be passed over for a raise, put on probation, and even fired. Teachers have quite a large incentive for cheating, be it more money, or protecting their jobs. Steven Levitt was hired to create a means of catching cheating teachers. He was given all the High Stakes test scores from 1993 to 2000, as well as information about all of the teachers and ability of the average student. Students had to pass a stan dardized test in 3'^'* 6'^ and 8*^ grade to pass onto the next grade, so Levitt focused on these classes. He quickly found a pattern in suspect tests; in certain classrooms with poorer students, strings of answers would be the same among a majority of the class. The strings would often be later in the test, where the harder questions were, and were usually strings of more than 6 correct an swers. How could a classroom of more than 30 students answer the same series of questions correctly? The only answer is that the teacher was erasing the original answers and replacing it with the correct answers. The algorithm was created and made to work in 2002; Classes suspected of cheating teachers were made to retest, with other classes thrown in as control subjects, but the teachers weren't allowed to touch the tests, with officials passing out and picking up the papers at the end of the test period. Classes suspected to have cheating teachers tested much more poorly than the other classes, and the teachers were summarily fired. Levitt’s algorithm had another effect; it pointed out the effective teachers. While classes with cheating teachers had a notice able pattern, classes with excellent teachers stood out just as much. These classes had longer strings of correct answers, with much more variation in the answers, and an overall higher average grade. Freakonomics has no overarching theme; it was written as an exercise of tools, a way to show how microeconomics can be applied to much more than just businesses and the stock market. Nonetheless, it’s an interesting read, and because of it’s style, is easily read in chunks in between great books, as a means of blowing off steam. I highly recommend it to anyone inter ested in cheating, economics, or sumo wrestling. FIEIKONOIIIIGS innEECtHnmuniiR
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The Moon: Features 15 The Open Diary of a Senior Wallflower
By: Doren Valez Testicle-Growing 101:
I realize, a little late, that I've contributed very little to this, our delightfully cultish conununity. I'm pretty sure most of my class mates know me only by name and the rare occasions that I grace classes with my verbal presence. The few and faithful frequenters of Chrysostomos productions know me as Little Red Riding Hood or Viola (or, God forbid. Professor Willard), but the characters that Pat rick McCullough's brilliant stage lights manage to draw out of me have little to do with the person my friends and family know. So why, you may ask, have I passed through three years here so silently? Why is it so difficult for me to feel confident around people I haven’t Imown for ages? It's true that I'm more than a little shy, but I know that's not the answer you're looking for. Trust me, I understand your frustration. I've spent more time than you trying to figure it out. One week before summer vacation was up, the universe threw the answer in my unsuspecting face. It's a little more severe than mere shyness. As it turns out, I was bom without testicles, literal or figurative. I know. I too was surprised that I didn't think of it sooner. 1 real ized this on the second to last day working my shitty summer job, with the help of the most attractive crazy person I have ever met. I met him in June, slouching behind the CafeExpress counter, a useless cashier with no customers to overcharge...obviously feeling a little melodramatic. I had spent the last month of junior year holding my breath, waiting for it to be over. Consequently I spent most of my summer trying to learn to breathe again. That was all well and good, but after a while breathing got a little boring. I wonder sometimes if other people find a middle ground between being consumed by anxiety and being restless with inactivity. Anyways, I've had no luck curing my self-diagnosed bipolar disorder, and at the end of the summer found myself at the restless end of the spectrum. Enter Jason. Jason is a 30 year old teenager. He's a rolling stone, a gypsy with an office job. Basically, he quickly became a very convenient symbol for me to place my hopes for the future on. He is a wanderer who's had day jobs ranging from a standup comedian to an African American History professor while still faithfully and successfully writing. He lives the life that I daydream about without ever worrying about it, precisely because he has the stones to live it without worrying about it. I spent all summer waiting for him to walk through the damned glass doors that I had to keep so spotless and when he did, I al ways became painfully shy and testicle-deficient. Not to say that interacting with a very attractive man who you spend all day at work fantasizing about isn't normally nerve-wracking. But a tiny voice whispered in my ear every time I saw him that it would change my life to talk to him. Maybe I'm a little schizophrenic on top of everything else, but I felt that it really would change my life to get to know this truly strange stranger. But I never tried to talk to him. The last time I saw Jason was my second to last day at CafeExpress. I had just worked a double; I was very tired in every way. I didn't have the energy to even pretend to try and talk to him. I didn't have the energy to let a sense of pride get in the way, and I realized that I had absolutely no huevos. This epiphany didn't really improve my mood. I left work and headed to the train station to go home and mope in front of Friends reruns. I stopped to look at the show times for my all-time favorite place in Dallas, the Angelika Film Center. Then I turned around to head towards the train platform and literally ran into Jason. I didn't really have a choice but to acknowledge and talk to him. It seems the universe saw fit to force me to grow a pair, at least for the hour we spent talking over the gelato he bought me. At some point in the best conversation I've ever had, I fumbled through a half-hearted explanation of what I want to do with the rest of my life. I want to be a writer, because writing is the only thing that makes me feel less anxious but not stagnant. I just have problems actually finishing anything due to a painful lack of confidence. Jason cut me off, "I know that everyone says this, and it's disgustingly cliche, but writers write. So just do it. Seriously, right now. Go get a pen and paper and stop being a pansy. Sorry, I really mean that in the nicest way possible." As a fellow writer, Jason really has a way with words. He'd ever so eloquently hit the nail on the head. I didn't have the balls to talk to a guy who really did wind up changing my life in one short hour. Until he shamed me into writing a short story that night, I hadn't had the balls to write anything for months, too afraid that my words wouldn't find any open ears. And I've been too cowardly to add my voice to the quirky chorus of the St. John's community. I wish I could will myself to grow a permanent pair, or find a simple solution. Maybe somewhere there's a class called "Testicle- Growing 101". Until I find it. I've realized I'll just have to fake it. I'm pretty sure a lot of the guys I know do that anyways. So I'm writing a column filled with my uncensored and inane thoughts to exorcise my self-conscious demons in a public and potentially humiliating way. It seemed like a great idea when I thought of it. Hopefully acting like I have the huevos to write honestly for a school year will prepare me to do it in the mysterious place they call "the real world." Hopefully I'll make my crazy friend Jason proud, and maybe if I play the part for long enough I'll grow a pair of figurative gonads all my own. Tools of Discussion HERE, I BAKED SOME TRUTH CUPCAKES FOR YOU - TRY ONE. By Steve Kolock
Often at parties people are loosened up and relaxed enough to ask those nagging questions that they are usually either too nervous or too sober to ask otherwise. Because of how approachable and outgoing I am, however, I’ve been the receptacle of many such quandaries over the years I’ve spent here at St. John’s; the topics of which range from the most mundane and everyday (are you my baby’s daddy?) to the most profound, the answers to which impact the universe on the cosmic level (where are your pants?). And although I usually respond to those particular questions by pretending I can’t hear them, occasionally not only do I not avoid them, but I even pretend to care instead - just a little.
The most recent query (that I remember only vaguely hazily) was asked by a ffeshwoman. This generic ffeshlady - who was as we know, without name, rational faculty, or soul - noticed how I glowed with the light of wisdom, and was drawn to me as a moth to alcohol con suming flame. Had she known I’d recently returned from Los Alamos, she wouldn’t have supposed it to be wisdom that made me glow and probably would have kept her distance. But she didn’t know, and I decided not to tell her in honor of the spirit of freshman lab experi ments. Regardless of how radioactive I was, she was drunk enough to open up to me, a mere sexy stranger, and confess that she was quite intimidated by the pressure she felt to live up to the ideal of a St. John’s student in the ever-so-sacred “St. John’s Discussion.”
At first, I laughed at her pitiable lack of self confidence. But I quickly realized that she was pretty, and so I played the laughter off as a cough and pretended to sympathize.. .despite the obvious fact that I can’t relate to ever having had any weakness whatsoever. I’m just too damn manly.
Thus, as those who know me can imagine, a question of this sort threw me wildly off guard. While I’m used to guys asking me how it is possible for me to be so badass and used to girls asking me why their boyfriends can’t possibly begin to compare to me in any way. I’m simply not used to people asking me about something so apparently unrelated to my overwhelming masculinity. Soon it dawned on me, however: discussion is related to my masculinity. For just a few tools of mine help me prove to my classmates how utterly manly and de cidedly badass I am (something which one must constantly prove if he indeed is all that is Man). And although she was a she, I felt that this she-ffeshman would appreciate my He-man-esque advice for its robust wisdom. Unfortunately for her, however, I passed out before I could share The Truth. So, this article is dedicated to that brunette...or perhaps redheaded (but most certainly not blonde) ffeshgirl who was brave/drunk enough to ask:
There are three main tools which are indispensable for anyone at St. John’s who feels the need to prove how unremittingly badass they are (and everyone should feel this need).
Sarcasm - If a regular picture is worth a thousand words, a derisive and dismissive picture is worth a thousand cute, happy pictures of kit tens. You know what kinda word currency we’re dealing with there? Let’s just say I can buy and sell you six times over with that kinda word-cheddar in word-land. And I will. This astonishing exchange rate results directly fi-om the fact that sarcasm is basically a cleaned up and sexy brunette version of the Socratic method we praise so much. For, unlike the old, blonde, decrepit Socratic method it does not lead the sarcasmee (what one calls the recep tor of sarcasm) to truth through deceptive twists and turns, but directly puts her own concept on trial in front of the sarcasmee, so that she may reveal the truth to herself (e.g.. Sure, Ms. Sponar, we’re all just a bunch of amour-propre driven monsters with no knowledge of the causes of our own actions. Right.). O Socrates, can you tell me why someone would want to learn virtue when sarcasm feels so good to my naughty parts? Ambiguity - As a discussion should not be (despite what tutors say) a group effort to discern the full meaning of a text, but rather should be (despite what common sense says) an attempt to prove one’s superior interpretative and rhetorical skills, ambiguity provides a perfect place of repose. When you don’t actually have a thought - or even more likely, haven’t done your work and are still drunk for your 3:00 pm class - you don’t have to just sit around listening to other people explaining their well thought out perspectives, you know, like a prepu- bescent girl would. Instead, try being a damn man and making blanket statements that sound profound (precisely because of their vague- • ness) and yet which are of absolutely no consequence. That way you sound smart to yourself (your voice is ever-so-soothing to you), your peers respect you (they’re always interested in what you have to say... even if it’s not exactly ‘helpful,’ or ‘even remotely relevant’), and your tutors won’t hold secret meetings with the each other in which they have kinky sex orgies, sacrifice chickens, and make fun of you (at ' least not nearly as much as they currently do). Furthermore, in using ambiguity one leaves all interpretations open, and therefore actually accomplishes a feat long believed to be impossi ble - the unification of two distinctly opposite acts: saying words, whilst at precisely the same moment saying absolutely nothing. They have a word for this sort of combination in music; Harmony. Perfect fifth, bitches.
Misdirection — What do you do when you think you’re in danger of being called on your sarcasm or ambiguity? You might panic and curl up into the fetal position and sob, like a little bitch, or you might grow a pair and conquer the class by doing a little move I call “The Shocker.” First, you must look at the person next to you (preferably a tutor) in confusion, and then merely shake your head and focus once Continued on page 18
The Moon: Features 17 again on the discussion. Then, a few minutes later while the discussion is still rolling, look again at that same person, but this time in obvious disgust. Act as though you’re about to say something directly to him/her, but have decided to bite your lip instead. It s almost show time, so get ready to put on an Oscar winning performance. The next time your ‘target’ talks, immediately stand up and yell, I CAN T BELIEVE YOU’RE DOING THIS! DON’T BRING OUR SEX LIFE INTO CLASS, YOU DIRTY LITTLE MAN! I’M SORRY I SLEPT WITH YOUR SISTER, BUT AT LEAST / PUT THE MILK BACK IN THE FRIDGE WHEN I’M DONE, YOU SLUT!” And to really sell it, wait a few seconds and then calmly say, “And I’m not paying child support either.” I’ll be damned if that’s not the sexiest phrase in the English language. I personally guarantee that by the time the last word leaves your mouth everybody will be naked or well on their way. Everybody.
Now I’m not saying that these tools will fix all of your problems, but I’m also not not saying that. And that’s what’s important, you duty lit tle man. Ecology of a Seminar (may be used by upperclassman, with appropriate precautions) By S. Flynn
For freshman, the St. John’s experience can be a little disorienting, particularly in seminar. Not only is it the most important aspect of the Program, but it’s also one of the most significant factors in our lives (or at least in our homework schedules.) By now we’ve all gotten to know each other a little better, but some questions still remain. Who are these people? How can you better understand them? And why don’t they ever seem to bathe? • • c- u • In an effort to answer at least two of these questions, we provide here a quick overview of the most common inhabitants of the seminar. Each species is awarded a brief description, a number indicating the level of frustration they evoke (1 is godlike, 10 means you would like them to commit seppuku with a rusty spoon), and an indication of how likely they are to “evolve” to a more advanced, i.e. less annoying,
form of life. . j i i .1 n j The Valley Girl: Regardless of her place of origin, this person sounds like she just peeled herself off the beach. Words like um and “totally” slather her conversation like makeup on a hooker. However, the Valley Girl is far from stupid, and those who attempt to dismiss her will be met with a scathing, "You're so whatever." /frMifrafron 5core: 6. You’re just, like, totally hating on her. Chance of Evolution: Slim to Moderate. Exposure to other students may temper the Valley Girl's dialect somewhat; however, the taint can never be fully eliminated. u j- • The Anchorman: Much like his television counterpart, the Anchorman attempts to keep an up to the minute commentaiy on the discussion. Although the Anchorman's delivery can range from a drawl to a rapid-fire barrage, his speeches remain consistent in their extreme length and just like a real anchorman, his journalistic integrity prevents him from strongly advocating any one position as his own. Frustration Score: 7-9. His ambivalence just makes you itch with fury. Chance of Evolution: Slim to none. (Exposure to CSPAN may stun him temporarily.) The Bookend: She'll offer one idea at the beginning of discussion, reiterate it in the middle, and put it forth again at the end-- thus effec tively "book-ending" the seminar. Experimentation has not yet been able to determine whether the Bookend is actively ignoring the other participants, or whether she merely likes her idea so much she can’t bear to let it go. Frustration Score: 5-6. If you love something, baby, set it free. Chance of Evolution: Moderate. Try putting her on a shelf; it seems to help somewhat. The Oracle: SNAPE DIESl Remember that asshole who told you that ri^t as you were opening up the last Harry Potter book? No? Well,
11m .. sorry... The Oracle isn't content to stick within the realm of the assigned reading, but constantly skims forward in search of an an swer, that he may utilize this future knowledge for his comments. Frustration Score: 6-8. Stop grinding your teeth; it won’t make them any sharper. Chance of Evolution: Very high. The Oracle's behavior is particularly distasteful to tutors and fellow classmates, many of whom start carry ing rusty spoons in his presence...... , The Hang Glider: Using the seminar as her cliff edge, the Hang Glider cheerfully launches herself off into space. Her initial pomt tends to quickly run out of power, spiraling into a long, drawn-out series of vague generalizations and long-winded personal anecdotes as she at tempts to soar over the conversational gap. Frustration Score: 6-8. She’s like a Slinky that stops on the very last step. Chance of Evolution: Moderate. Condition grounded, but determined to try. • • • u u The High-School Debater: This is the guy who makes your seminar seem like a bad episode of Law & Order. This person likes to sit back and glower for most of the discussion, projecting an image of aloof superiority. When he does decide to put in his two cents, he is curt and combative, preferring to attack others' opinions rather than add any of his own. Frustration Score: The High-School Debater is not going to be given a score, for fear that he might take this as approval of his behavior. Chance of Evolution: Slim. Oh well... that's what don rags are for, after all...... The Inquisitor: The Inquisitor rarely speaks, except to question; and question she does, incessantly. Perhaps she is genuinely mterested m what you have to say—more likely she has, in fact, not actually done the seminar reading, and is attempting shamelessly to leech whatever knowledge she can out of you. And get you convicted of witchcraft, too.
Continued on page 19
18 The Moon; Features Frustration Score: 6. Suq^rise is her chief weapon—surprise and fear, fear and surprise. Chance of Evolution: Varies. There have been cases of an Inquisitor asking a concise, relevant question... however, this result has yet to be reproduced within laboratory conditions. The Enigma: Her face impassive as a sphinx's, the Enigma sits in her chair and waits, regarding the conversation with stony calm. Perhaps she's a sweet person, who's simply rather shy. Perhaps she plans to leave the seminar room a shambles of blood and tom paper. With her there’s no telling. Frustration Score: 3. Things are quiet out there... too quiet. Chance of Evolution: Slim. But you might be more comfortable not knowing what’s on her mind... The Assassin: Feared and despised, the Assassin is almost impossible to pin down. The Assassin ignores all seminar etiquette, overriding student and tutor alike in order to deliver his “wisdom”... which will probably be something along the lines of “FNORD!” If you've ever been in a discussion with one, you know of that of which I speak... if you haven't, pray to your gods to protect you. Frustration Score: 10. Where’s a msty spoon when you need one? Chance of Evolution: Nil. Fortunately, Assassins tend not to last long at St. John's. It is worth noting, however, that an Assassin may appear in any class, at any time, and it is wise for all students to be on the lookout for the warning signs. The Savant: Every so often, there comes a person who seems to flow with brilliance as a vegan bar flows with soy milk. The Savant is the very incarnation of the Ideal Johimle, a student whose perfection is superlative (and possibly adjective, if this writer hadn’t misplaced her thesaums.) God, don’t you just hate him? Frustration Score: 1. You’d sacrifice a virgin to him, if you didn’t suspect that he was one. Chance of Evolution: None. The Savant has already reached the pinnacle of St. John's existence, and no longer concerns themselves with the mortal world. This concludes our field guide to the weird and wonderful ecology of the freshman seminar. Any complaints, questions, or further observa tions may be directed to the author, who promises to ignore them in a prompt and efficient manner. Taser Tag By: Scott Van Vechten
On November 6*, 2006, Charles Littleton of Saginaw Valley State University in Saginaw, Kansas was shot with a stun gun by police after failing to remove his hat during a city council meeting. Eight days later, on November 14*, Mostafa Tabatabainejad was shot with a stun gun five times by UCLA security guards, having failed to produce a student ID while working in one of the college's libraries. Most recently, Monday, September 16*, 2007, 21-year-old Andrew Meyer was shot with a stun gun during a John Kerry forum at the University of Florida. What do all these students have in common? They're all participants in Taser Tag, the latest craze to sweep college campuses. Forget lacrosse or reading, and throw out your hockey sticks and calculators, the new fad for the young only needs a stun gun. And in order to keep up with this new, hot, craze, stun gun makers are upping the ante: the new Taser C2 can shoot from up to twenty-five feet, and has an optional laser sight for precision. And yes, it even comes in pink. (Pony decals sold separately). Not to be out-done, Apple—well-known computer company, and considered synonymous with all hip new technology for the young—is rumored to be working on their own Taser, currently nick-named the iTaser. While details are still sketchy, it is believed that this device will follow the trend of previous Apple devices by incorporating everything else Apple makes into it: this means your Taser could store thousands of songs, play videos, access the internet, and make phone calls, as well as surge 50,000 volts of pure electric joy through every inch of you or a friend's spinal column. However, even if you can't afford to buy your own Taser (the price range starts around $25, while the Taser C2 retails for $350 with the laser attachment) this doesn't mean you'll be unable to participate. In fact, sensing the growing popularity of Taser Tag, several states (including Kansas, Minnesota, and Florida) have started sending policemen to schools armed with Tasers in order to sate the public demand for electric shock. So who plays Taser Tag, you ask? The game is surprisingly open and non-discriminatory. In fact, refreshingly, the majority of recorded inci dents of the game being played have been between white security guards or police and minority students. The game appears, however, to be much more popular among young people than adults (outside of police and security guards, that is). The fad has even spread to grade schools, as in the case of a six-year-old boy in Miami, who in 2004 got his start in this trend by playing with glass. This inspired a police officer to introduce him to the game. Before you go out and start playing Taser Tag yourself, however, there are some things you should know. Many outraged citizens have feared the health risks involved in Taser Tag. In the case of Charles Littleton, for example, Saginaw Police Chief Gerald H. Cliff reported that Littleton accidentally kicked and broke the officer's finger while reeling in the effects of electric shock. Such risks can be avoided, how ever, if you make sure beforehand that the person being Tasered is properly restrained. Taser Tag has had its detractors since its very inception, however, who seem to be hell-bent on putting an end to the game that has brought together the young and the old, the minorities and the whites, and even police officers and young teens, a dichotomy once believed to be per petually at odds. Inexplicably, the media appears to have a negative bias against Taser Tag, as the game only seems to make its way to the news when the student in question performed some sort of minor infraction beforehand, clearly trying to sell the idea that Taser Tag is for delinquents. They are so desperate to smear this game that they even resort to reporting on Tasers being used to wake up students who are sleeping during class. And while these nay-sayers may be right to worry that Taser Tag is a diversion for police officers who should be work ing instead, they fail to see the inherent value of this bonding between teens and the police. The media isn't alone in its bias however, as there are several groups also hoping to sell the image that Taser Tag is for delinquents. One group, based in Wichita, hopes to restrict when and how police officers can use Tasers in schools, so that students will only be allowed to play after committing larger acts of delinquency such as rioting. The intent with such policies is clearly to encourage students to commit crimes if they want to play the game. This sort of policy can only be bad for our youth.
Thf Moon: Ffatitrfs Unseen Moon Archives: Notes from Tarnation Part II By Jack Langworthy
The secret to happiness is money. The secret to money is two credit cards. Just use one to pay off the other. If you get into trouble, get a third, etc.— People always ask me about their math homework. They say, “What’s this variable mean?” or, “How do you substitute B for 2x to the fourth?” They ask me because I’m a no bullshit kinda guy and I say to them exactly how the equations and variables make me feel. “Y = MX2 + B! That is such a comforting equation! OH But only in a free will sort of way.”------Sy Hersh praises Clinton’s war in Kosovo because that was the first time a U.S. President had openly bombed/killed white people since WWII. I think WWII was awful and so is killing white people. ------I’m not all enamored by the Pillsbury dough boy. Not anymore. He thinks he’s so cute and that makes him so not cute. Everybody thinks he’s all cute, but that’ll change. Real soon.----- I realized that I’d zoned out during an Aristotle seminar my freshman year, so I interrupted Ms. Parikh by saying, “I’m sorry, were you say ing, “Lawful” or “Waffle”?”- Sometimes you gotta get religious so that people can get their shit done. I often motivate people by saying, “Be still, and know that I am God.”---- If I’m asked about my feelings towards someone or thing, I usually say, “Oh they’re cool but it’s weird cuz you could cut the sexual tension between us with a knife.”------I’m a sucker for accents. My favorite accent is probably Nebraskan, especially thick Omaha ones. They drives me just so crazies!------
It would be great to be a bodyguard and always act really paranoid and keep jumping in front of and tackling the body you’re guarding. You’d look so noble and get so well paid. You’d never have to respond to real threats, because you could say, “Damn it, the one time I wasn’t ready!”------The best news-papers aren’t afraid of using exclamation points in their headlines.---- Art says so much to me. When I’m on live TV or giving some speech, I don’t use a teleprompter for my lines, I use abstract paintings. For new information about the Dow or various stock options and political breaking news, Franz Kline works better then Rothko. Rothko’s just not a trustworthy source.—...... I invented the little hourglass icon that shows up on your computer when it’s processing something. You thought it would help you gauge how much time is left, but you’ll never know how long it takes for one side of the hourglass to empty into the other side, or if when that finally happens it will just flip over again. The trick for doing that is not using real sand. I invented this hourglass icon cuz I was mad at you. I’m not anymore though, so sorry about that.------Alexis Du Tocqueville traveled the US of A for years and wrote this 700 page book called Democracy In America that he thought really got to the core of American life and Government. Too bad America’s a republic, not a democracy. That whole book was way the hell off.------
Loneliness in the Desert
Let me be the first to officially break the news: “Ask Connie and Carla” is no more. For those of you who are new to SJCSF, this means noth ing (and welcome to St. John’s!). Suffice it to say I wrote an advice column with a dear friend for two years and we tried our best to spread some hope and silliness to this campus we love. To everything there is a season, though, and the season of Cormie and Carla is past. Some thing new is on the wind, heralding change and things not yet known. So I write alone now. Carla, follow your pen wherever it leads, and I love you. Why should you read my musings in a colunrn whose title is a blatant rip-off of a popular HBO sitcom? Well, everyone understands being lonely. Here in our city on a hill, we’re isolated from the town below. The more we become entrenched in the literature and philosophy of the program, the more we isolate ourselves from people back home who don’t get our lewd Alcibiades jokes. And dreaming of virtue and arete, we isolate ourselves from the big world around us where people laugh, struggle, live and die without ever hearing of our tiny school. So at least a column about being lonely and searching for connection to anything is something that everyone can understand. It’s your life, only written better. Also, I’m a girl. This is obvious, but here at St. John’s my kind is woefully underrepresented, not only in the literature (seriously, are there only two women in civilization worth reading?) but in class. There are a few firebrands, of course, who ignore the gender “rules” and take over the class like a man does, but mostly the female voice demurs, starts sentences with “this is probably wrong, but...” or allows her colleagues to cut her off and shoot her down. So in the penisocracy, this space is exclusively reserved for girl power. And not the platform shoes clad, high ponytailed variety. The real kind. So send me your rants, raves, questions, comments, whatever. Let’s talk about loneliness. And love.
20 The Moon: Features The Pointless Leftward Motions Of Santa Fe By Henry Anderson
An inquiry into the character of the local Santa Fean (this is, by the way, what they prefer to be called) is an ambi tious and exceptionally important task for anyone who has journeyed here from a more rational land. It is a task also that, as someone who is neither ambitious nor particularly concerned with the exceptionally important, I have no intention of com pleting, let alone attempting. Seeking purpose in these idiosyncratic South Western mind is, as far as I can teU, a hopeless and possibly unethical endeavor. Therefore, I declare here and now, for clarity’s sake, that this article will not be, and should not be taken, as a proper inquiry. No, I do not write to enquire, but only to complain. Now, perhaps you think there is a certain charm to our local co-inhabitants, a certain innocent, carefree, whimsical charm? Yes, you must think that. No? But you’re wrong. There is no charm, only a series (a long list if you will) or purpose less peculiarities. Oh, and it’s such a long Ust. I’m tempted even to write it all out... and to place a nice little roman numeral to the left of each entry... for clarity’s sake, again. But I won’t. Space! In the interest of space (and of conservation), I won’t. Make your own Ust. I will be making no Usts. To heU with Usts. To heU with buUet points. The heart of the Santa Fean re fuses to be organi2ed. It refuses to be rational. It refuses to be understood through charts and diagrams and roman numer als. Well, really it refuses to be understood at aU. But that’s not the point. To be honest. I’ve forgotten the point. I probably never had one. It doesn’t matter. There are no points in this city. No, it is (and I’m sure has always been, even from the point of it founding) fundamentally point-less. But examples! We must have examples. What is the point of a non-point without examples? Well, I have examples. I have examples and examples and examples. From the Blockbusters that closes the second after darkness falls, to the insane dividers that someone (and there’s really no telling who) has felt the need to place in the middle of every habitually winding and directionless road in the city. I have examples! But of aU my complaints (which are all, by the way, perfectly reasonable) there is one that stands out in my mind from the rest. It is something so heinous, so immoral (if I can even use that word in the context of a place like this) that I cannot help but give it special attention. It is the complete disregard for the art of the left- hand turn. The left-hand timi is a simple (and I think divinely inspired) method of navigation which allows a driver to reach his (or her) destination quickly by avoiding the repetitious and highly impractical tri-right turn. In short, it is a marvelous thing and should be used as often as possible. And, like most drivers, Santa Feans are very fond of the left-hand turn. In fact, ever since it was introduced here it’s been a huge hit. Ordinarily I would regard this as a good thing. The more left-hand turns the better. To be perfectly honest, my routes are even determined by the number of left-hands turns I will be able to make. That is how much they please me. So you’d think I’d be applauding these Santa Feans. You’d think I’d be placing a little gold star on each and every one of there lapels. But no. She shall not receive any applause from me. They shall get no pat on the back. They shall certainly get no gold stars. No sir, if I give them anything it will be only a sideways glance and an angry letter (I’m a big fan of the angry letter. They’re almost as good as left turns). Let me explain. While it’s true that I love the left-hand turn (perhaps even above all driving maneuvers known to me), there comes a point when this love goes to far, gets out of hand, and becomes nothing but an immoderate and per- , fectly vile infatuation. And like so, these Santa Feans have taken this love (this perfectly natural and healthy love) and taken it to the extreme. And do you know how they did this? I’U teU you how. They put green-arrow turn signals at every intersec tion (and I mean every intersection) in the city. Their love of left-hand turns has grown into such an absurd reverence that they felt it was only proper to celebrate it with these silly Httle illuminated arrows... which serve only to congest my streets and blacken my soul. You see, the problem is this. With the exception of only the very busiest intersections, left-hand turn arrows are completely unnecessary. You can, in fact, make a left-hand turn on one of those plain old timey green lights. Yes, and it’s really much better that way. These green arrows, you see, have spoiled these Santa Feans. They’ve become complacent and annoying. Moreover, they’re in my way.
Continued on page 22
The Moon: Features 21 Incidentally, I have a theory. I worked it aU out in my head and it’s become all very clear to me. You see, once upon a time in Santa Fe there were no green arrows. These were happier times, when getting around town was much simpler, and even sometimes a pleasure. Now of course the roads were just as ridiculous as ever... but no one minded. They were just too absorbed in aU the wonderful left turns they were making that they didn’t care. Yes, these were great times. Then one day somebody came along and told the Santa Feans that he had an invention that would let them make left turns without hardly any effort at all. Well, understandable the Santa Feans thought this was great and they told him to ‘let his magic shine’ (that was how they talked in Santa Fe in the old days). So this man (this evil, evil, evil man) installed all these con founded left turn arrows. He put them everywhere. Just everywhere! And slowly but surely the Santa Feans learned to rely on these wretched arrows and they forgot the old ways. They forgot how to make a realX&it hand turn. They even began to avoid them. Soon drivers were just sitting (not moving even a bit) in the left-hand turn lane all the way through a perfecdy good green hght... waiting for the arrow that they could now not do without ( I’ve seen this happen. I swear to god). And here we are today. Not a single Santa Fean (no, not one) will pull into the intersection when making their turns. No, they just sit there and wait... and lo and behold the hght turns yellow, and still they just sit there. They sit and sit and sit and insist on only turning on a green arrow... that abominable, impish httle pest of a green arrow! So you see there are no more left hand turns in Santa Fe. Those days are gone. In their place are only these indefin- ^ able leftward motions, lacking coherent direction... lacking rational thought. Let no one make the mistake of calling these i left turns. No, these are perversions. Perversions! Why only the other day I watched a man do this very siUy thing. He was ! turning left (he even had a green arrow, by the way) and instead of making a nice httle ninety-degree arch he did something that, well frankly, stunned me. You’d think that after driving with these people I’d no longer be capable of being stunned. No,'but he really stunned me! He was about half way though completing his turn (and up until that point he had done so nicely, I was almost impressed) and then for no reason at aU he turned into the oncoming traffic that was mming left in the other direction. Of course he corrected his mistake and survived, but my god! I was stunned. j But I have a solution. Actually, I have many solutions, but one in particular strikes me as especially productive. I propose that every rational, weU meaning and just driver in Santa Fe (whoever had not yet been corrupted by these local perversions) stop right in the middle of the road every time he (or she) comes to a green arrow and refuse to turn until it goes away and is replaced by a nice, regular, simple, old timey green hght. Then, and only then, should you make your turn. These people will have no choice... no choice!... but to learn how to turn correctly on a green hght. Yes, and that wih finaUy show them. And if every one of us comes together to teach these Santa Feans a lesson about driving... the world wiU not Squatting in the Soil of Foreign Lands By: Timothy Leonard
Bram Stoker wrote a classic horror novel about the land between the Carpathian Mountains. The title of that novel is Dracula, it is an imaginative work of fiction with little reference to the actual locale, and this article will have no more to do with such superstitious frivolities. Bram Stoker never actually went to Transylvania. 1, on the contrary, did. For five weeks this past summer I participated in an archaeological dig near the town of Tilisca in central Romania. The excavation was of a Dacian hilltop fortress. The Dacians were those whom the Romans conquered around the turn of the second century. Our dig site had two trenches, one on an artificial terrace and the other at the foundation of a tower. j • u u Two roads along a river constitute Tilisca, which winds up the valley like an adder with scales of red tile. The roads are covered with the excrement of passing horses, cattle and sheep. The excavation team slept in tents around a rented cabin at the high end of the valley. A retired townsman served as guard against marauding gypsies who picked blackberries in the hills. The fieldwork of archaeology (for the peons at least) involves systematically removing soil down to a specific layer, making that layer of dirt look pretty, then taking a picture of it. We would then continue scraping with hand tools. I would often question the importance of clean ing dirt off of dirt. We spend hours on our knees attempting to create a perfectly cubular hole. Occasionally I would get to pickaxe. I found that in the bmtal Southeastern European heat, it was often easier to do strenuous labor than trowel-work. Archaeology can easily become extremely tedi ous, and boredom leads to lethargy. • . u i • u As the hole grew deeper, the importance of careful stratigraphy and documentation became apparent. A trained archaeologist will read the patterns of rock and soil as a diligent johnny will the subtle imagery and complex analogues of a beloved tome. The feeling of history, know ing that people have lived and died in a place for thousands of years because you see the mess they left behind, is quite different from the paper- dreams of armchair academia. Furthermore, intellectual banter goes along with swinging a shovel like pizza and beer. The locals would sometimes ask me what we had found. They were under the impression that the foreigners were completely insane and were searching for buried riches of some sort. In reality, we found hundred upon hundreds of potsherds. In addition to that, there were several nails, a few spearheads, a section of a sword, an axe head and a silver Roman corn together between the two trenches. I simply told them that most of it was ancient rubbish. Continued on page 16
22 The Moon; Features Early in the morning, as I was making my way up the hill, I would sometimes see old men on the side of the road drinking the lo cal moonshine. I noticed that while Americans wait until after work to start drinking, in Romania one drinks before, during and afterwards. My dig director informed me that this trend is a vestige of Communism, a system wherein “We pretend to work, then they pretend to pay us. Then we go home and pretend to eat. The drinking is real though - it helps with the pretending.” After five weeks of excavation, we nearly filled in all of the trenches in a single day. Mud soaked completely through my boots, I was left with only two shirts, several tents were nearly washed away in the rain, the heat was deadly, the team was pushed to exhaustion later and later each day, we all nearly suffered from liver failure, and further hardship upon hardship we diggers endured simply to find little pieces of Iron Age trash. When 1 left Bucharest I had but six lei in my pocket (about $2.70). I would wholeheartedly recommend the experi ence to anyone.
Calliope’s Comer
Loose Marbles and Johnny Thoughts By:Caroline K. Gorman
I have figured out our nature, and it is of colored glass. As I was visiting St. John’s last year, as a prospective student, I was reading Hermann Hesse’s Magister Ludi: The Glass Bead Game, and it seemed to speak to the very nature of St. John’s . Now that I am an actual Johnnie, the analogy seems an even better fit. The book centers around the glass bead game, similar to a game of marbles, which is played by a reclusive group of intellectuals in the mountains ( see the parallels?) of Europe in the twenty-second century (here’s where the parallel falters). Each bead represents a certain thought, be it of math or music or culture, and then the beads can be combined in any manner desired by the player. Combi nations are of inexpressible beauty, so inexpressible, in fact, that Hesse manages to never fully describe the actual machinations of the game. Despite this amazing, deliberate obtuseness, the correlation of individual thoughts with individual bits of glass led to me to the following understanding of Johnnies: -First of all, it’s not that we’ve lost our marbles, but rather that they are rolling around in our heads, the gemlike products of much thought. - The marbles come rolling out of us, as through chutes, and into play during seminar - Some people, volcano-like, simply shoot out marbles nonstop. - Others prefer to send their priceless gems, through as many convolutions and loops before it actually reaches the table, the table being the point where the thought is actually comprehensible to others. - Some play a competitive form of marbles, aiming to knock other marbles off the table - Some marbles are without aim and happily roll towards the edge of the table and out of any relevant subject area - And of course, sometimes the goal is to shoot for the metaphorical hole of endless depth, located in the center of the seminar table, which appears when the capital-letter concepts are brought up (What is Justice? Or Home? Or Virtue?) The pleasant clinking sound of glass on glass echoes throughout both my mind and the seminar rooms, and perhaps now others (you included) will hear it too
The Moon: Calliope's Corner 23 DREAMS
“[So] you made me lying,” a boy is speaking to god of sin, [hands upraised in pain, a guilt]. [“Yes. Yes, I made you lying,” with lighthearted good-natured smiling upraised hands wobbled by shrugging shoulders says god. “They were the fools who said the lies I gave you were bad.”] Leaving the train station, I board the colossal land reform train and at full speed everyone inside starts singing: “all land is all of ours.” I say a long prayer in Latin: “Sanctus spiritus...” A noble television cowboy says: “ideas can kill.” * Appearing in a mall, I lunge across a glass barrier on a catwalk, jumping through the air, pouncing on the old man who controls my destiny, rocking in his rocking chair. Landing on his lap, I take my chance, I pull out the hairs of his grey head with tweezers—there is no one to protect him from me, I have taken care of all of them, he has no hope of being rescued now! * “If there is a holy vessel to God then there should equally be one for the Devil.” By the side of the prayer room, a man worships an urn to the devil—^the devil is the same as god—and this man’s house is the prayer room. Every portion of the spacious prayer chamber is made of marble. The light is soft and the air, calm. His bed is built into the wall, to the right of the side and central, and it rolls out into the open chamber. His bed is the lead of seven; all the beds form a triangle that moves together. His concubines sleep in the beds behind. Following him, crawling through the beds, we come to another room behind the marble walls. There I make a deal with him that if he pledges allegiance to me then I will pledge allegiance (salience) to him and we will make good our promise by feeding each other. He then offers me food and drink from a platter, but I recognize that everything has been poisoned. I pretend that I am eating and conceal the poisoned morsels in my clothes. And we both know that neither he nor I was deceived. I am naked and spill out insides onto the floor. I find an exit and escape outside. Running around back to the front of the house, finding the road, another man pursues me and tells me that the devil worshiping man will eventually find me no matter where I run.
One Fine Preschool Day
One fine preschool day, I got in big trouble. I said within earshot of Ms. Crossright some swear word: crap, penis or some such thing. Years latter. Mother recounted this tale among many others to prove how hard I had made life for both her and my father. But now I just had a thought and traveled back in time to the basement of the church where I spent those preschool days. After a good long scolding, getting a hold of myself, I ask Ms. Crossright if I might show her something upstairs. Before setting off, I request that we proceed with interlocking arms. She blushes and complies. We walk up from the basement and into the church and I point to the crucifix. “Here is one of the most violent, gruesome, and grotesque images I have ever seen and we pray to it every Sunday. Iron soaking up blood from hands and feet, the blood would stream down in rivers and is so depicted; his lungs collapse and his arms are pulled out of their sockets, a bloody crown of thorns gives forth abundant springs of blood and these trickle down into the mouth open in torment. Who then are you to keep me from words addressing the perverse, provoking, and hateful nature of things I see? Once you and your cute lovely friends tidy up the world, then I’ll give a god damn about not saying god damn—bitch.” She sees the light of utter reason and from then on children are not only permitted but are happily encouraged to bring reality back to those sorrowfully brain damaged and obese children, the “adults.”
24 The Moon: Calliope's Corner 1
Awake and Breathing
The suns are calling out to us Distant stars wink in dreadful haste Always distant, blinking, in and out of sight Who stares, eyelids broken, must be happy but not in bliss Ten processions of the first and last dawn have risen since Uprooting tantalizing tantrums and rolling them into the sky, Peeling sate joy from the earth with built up gravity. Straining, straining, reaching hands. Squinting, grasping To pick the bright white out shining From untouchable nothing I would have death to not keep straining Having death, my corpse to hold forever in the Desert sands of my arms I may smash myself out on a windowpane Red smear and abruptly without flight falling Crushed into nothing Grimace hate would be closer. Closer there would be no space. Terror the only escape from horror; Rows of unbreakable splinter teeth for eyelashes, inward curling. Sight stabbed reflex, stripe gashes flowing—^red white and blue —^tears spitting at blood bled; Ears submersed in veins hearing in the way underwater audio is heard better louder; The burgundy smile of a drained cadaver in a pool around him: As a toothless smile, embracing a black mass, lying face down, a foam of the last few breaths in one comer of the biggest smile of your life To be bottled up for the best lipstick made I am destroyed by the unholy attitude In agony thinking of death as an end And the far away as never close Asking when eyes open after sleep are they blinking. Counting ten eyes, two teeth, and twelve feet away from what’s right. Writing three letters to friends:
Dear Universe, We’ve been busy at a mad ensemble; Insanity, insanity: to speak and have words.
Dear Mind, No one is sure how the puzzle pieces fit together because the edges are invisible.
Dear feet. We thought we were getting somewhere. Where was there to go?
The Moon: Calliope's Corner 25 We Lend Our Deaths to Fate By Rhett Forman
In Troy they lent their deaths to Fate with winged words and bronze; they killed their guests, held their spears, their shining, bloody calf heads up in glory, though they were driven back the more. For it was on the dark brow of Jove that there dripped a bead of battle fury, like the cracks and shocks of thunder that prayed the shepherd leave his flock. In the valley the men like wolves fought lions for the lamb, and all the same their pack sauntered hungry back to shore, the steadfast ships. And wine and Sleep, the painless, celebrated their destruction for with Dawn their ships were burned, Poseidon’s jealous wall was tom.
Though it is there we slaughter still, we say we kill our enemies; we bow our heads, kiss our prayers, hold our shining, golden crosses up to heaven. Our shepherd receives our sacrament; we drive full-stomached, bloodthirsty into battle. Still and all, we revere our ancestors for their victory, for we ourselves have but shattered shields to offer down in verse. But even more blindly we steal our glory and leave blameless for the bloodletting, and thus, but with empty words and oil, we still lend our deaths to Fate.
26 The Moon: Calliope's Corner The Moon: Calliope's Corner 27 What's Happening Crossword Answers
Answers: 10/19-10/21 Long Weekend Down: 1 , Therein 10/27 Halloween Party 2. Footsteps 4 . River 10/28 Halloween Films: The Devils Rejects 5 . Silence 8 . Cards and Slither A cross: 3. Charcoal 11/3 Films: Music Man 6 . Towel 7. Bookkeeper 11/10 Films: Shall We Dance 9 . Stamp 11/17 The Drag Ball 10. Hands 11/22-11/25 Thanksgiving Break 11/28 Special Dance Class: Disco 11/30 Moon Deadline 12/1 Film and Party: Disco Night-Saturday Night Fever and Disco Party
The MOON: Calliope's Corner 28