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Show i $S1' r J r h -j rr-- ' xMi' S " ;Yf- w ' m:W' e- . ? f 1 - '..;r r " 't' S'- :v t. U 1 v ,: j vC'v Tfw v. , - : ; 4 v: "V 'T Tfuttr6rtnf A... ?;';y. ! Cachectic Observatory BY STEVE YATES x 5 - '' G.V , ..VM iWaday October f VK , 1985 1 J SULLIVAN'S CAFE 86 SOUTH MAIN STREET 586-676- 1 BUY ONE STEAK AND SHRIMP DINNER AND GET ONE FREE AT SULLIVAN'S The Bell Tower Mystery revisited This year I told myself that I was not going to write about The Hunt easy of a topic to poke fun of, or even to defend. Too many people are liable to get angry with me if I do either. The people who enjoy the tradition of The Hunt are apt to get mad at me if I remark upon how odd they look walking around the campus dressed in blaze orange, as if to say, Hey, look at me! Im a hunter! I may look like Elmer Fudd, but hey, thats alright because Im & its too huntin! Those who enjoy hunting might not see the humor inherent in the mental picture of some guy who looks like a refugee from a Sam Peckinpah movie wandering around in the woods for hours, and only to begin telling of the twelve-poin- t returning to camp empty-handebuck that he lost because a rabid grizzly bear chased him. Then, this same guy, still empty-handeand out of time, shooting a Deer sign in his frustration. On the other hand, people who are opposed to hunting might get mad if I told them that they had The Bambi Syndrome, and that they had let that hideously sentimental Disney movie go straight to their heads. They might not see the humor in the image of an adorable little fawn with huge, sad brown eyes saying, Mommy, mommy, wheres daddy, and the equally adorable, and somehow wistful looking doe answering, Daddys gone away dear. Some bad humans shot him. People who are opposed to hunting might not laugh very hard if I pointed out that no matter how hard they argue against hunting (saying things like, Oh you murderers! How can you shoot poor, defenseless deer? Someone should give the deer guns!) are still likely to accept a few venison steaks if offered. They usually justify this by saying, Well, at least its blood isnt on my hands. True but its meat in your stomach. think that people who call hunters murderers are a little out of line. But then again, I think hunters who arrange severed deer heads around the flagpole to see whose is biggest are a little gross. But, what do I know? Whos right? Whos wrong? Who cares? Hunt, or dont hunt its no reflection on your character which you do. So, since I dont want to get either faction mad at me, Id better keep my promise and not write about The Hunt. Instead, Ill write about something that makes even less sense. Todays topic: A Campus Mystery The Bell Tower. At one time or another, some of you may have been startled by a ghastly sound emerging from the region of the Old Main building, and wondered just what that noise was. It is the sound of fingernails being clawed down a chalkboard, the sound of a fork being dragged across teeth. It is an unpleasant noise, but what is it? Legend has it, that many years ago, there was a D.J. at the campus radio station who went deaf and mad playing endless requests for Pat Boone music and the theme song from the movie, They Call Me Trinity. Full of anger, and quite insane, he ran gibbering to the bell tower of Old Main where he set up a primitive P.A. system. The next day, when the campus was full of hapless souls, he began playing records of bells pealing dismally. For added effect he would scratch the needle across the record repeatedly (thus becoming the worlds first scratch D.J.). He shrieked with glee to see the people below clutching their heads in horror and falling down their spines turned to Jell-There were many attempts made to get him down, but these efforts were met with floods of molten sorghum. At last the campus administrators decided to seal the door to the tower and leave this modern Quasimodo alone with his scratched bell records. To this day, the deformed bell player is still there safe in his sanctuary, dining on bats and rats. He is never seen (although some have claimed to have seen, on cold moonless nights, a dark misshapen figure lurking about the eaves and-Taigutters of Old Main), but his music, the result of his madness (or is it the other way around?), can still be heard. So much for that. ayaaa' (SALAD BAR & tftoom LOUNGE) EXPIRES OCT. 28, 1985LIMIT ONE COUPON PER TABLE d d g . 1 $1 This certificate is wortn 10. 126. 35 or disc 00 otf c- the next roll c yov or ng to us Our c film PHOTO PROCESSOR KIS1-HOU- R will OFF prints in ;ust 60 minutes! give you pictuie-perfecOtei expires io30.'35. Only one coupon per purchase Ste S 33 t Main NEM7 MONDAY. FRIDAY 9AM. 4PM STUDENT CENTER LOUNGE ALSO... ROCEtlVORLD VIDEO 12 NOON. 1PM EVENING TELEVISION TUESDAY.THURSDAY 7 PM , 5 |
