Opinion

Abortion
A Gruesome Reality
My Turn
by Joy Stanley
Columnist

ÒI stood at the doctorÕs side and watched him perform a partial-birth abortion on a woman who was six months pregnant. The babyÕs heartbeat was clearly visible on the ultrasound screen. The doctor delivered the babyÕs body and arms, everything but his little head. The babyÕs body was moving.

His little fingers were clasping together. He was kicking his feet. The doctor took a pair of scissors and inserted them into the back of the babyÕs head, and the babyÕs arms jerked out in a flinch, a startled reaction, like a baby does when he thinks that he might fall.

Then the doctor opened up the scissors. He stuck the high-powered suction tube into the hole and sucked the babyÕs brains out.

Now the baby was completely limp. I never went back to the clinic.

But I am still haunted by the face of that little boy. It was the most perfect, angelic face I have ever seen.Ó

This is what nurse Brenda Pratt Shafer stated after she quit working in an abortion clinic she was assigned to three years ago. She considered herself to be a strong Òpro-choicer,Ó but after witnessing the cruel killing of an innocent child, she began to change her mind.

It is amazing how people get upset about those who choose to die in the hands of Dr. Kevorkian, or want guilty criminals to be executed with the least amount of pain, but when it comes to the life of a child who cannot express its choice, it does not matter.

Each person on the face of this earth has a purpose, whether they accept that fact or not. Just imagine...what would it have been like if you had been aborted? Think of all the people who would have missed out on being around you, hearing your laughter, or simply seeing your smile?

What about those who have helped you throughout your life?

Suppose they were not there?

Even though a person may not always think about it, they are special to someone out there, just like that unborn child that is waiting to touch the lives of others when it is born.

Yes, there is the exception when the mother of the child is faced with death, but most of the time abortion is used as a form of birth control.

From conception, the child is a complex, dynamic, rapidly growing organism. At two and a half weeks, the babyÕs blood cells and heart form. And at three weeks, the nervous system forms, which means the developing child can feel pain. At one month, the child is like a one-inch miniature doll, equipped with everything the adult has, only smaller.

After a month, the child is able to be aborted through the methods of Dilation and Curettage (D&C), and suction. In the D&C method, the child is removed by being cut into pieces with a sharp knife. During the suction method, the child is torn to pieces by a suction machine that is 29 times as powerful as a home vacuum cleaner.

At three to five months, the child can be aborted by Dilation and Evacuation (D&E), prostaglandin, and salt/saline solution poisoning. The child is either cut to pieces with a sharp knife, stabbed continuously, or inflicted with innumerable knife wounds until it dies.

Prostaglandin is a procedure where the child is subjected to violent muscle contractions as it is forced out of the womb. Sometimes the child may be decapitated because of the force of the contractions. The death of the child could also come from the impairment of its heart and circulation of blood. The child has pain similar to that of a person experiencing a severe heart attack.

In the salt/saline solution procedure, the child is bathed in a chemical solution that poisons the baby and burns its skin. The salt is so concentrated that it chemically burns human flesh. A baby who is aborted this way looks as if it has been subjected to an attack with napalm.

The baby feels the same agony as an adult who has suffered third degree burns over 80 to 90 percent of his body. The baby squirms, throws itself around and shows a grimacing pattern of withdrawal.

How can this be possible? How can a life be destroyed so violently? A life created by God that is waiting to live, just as we are now. A child with birth defects or conceived from rape is of no less value than the others. They should have a chance to live also.

At the time, the child may seem to be a mistake or burden, but in the end the child may be a blessing.

That child may have been one of the doctors who would have found a cure for cancer or AIDS.

In todayÕs society, it takes courage to stand up against all of the pressures and inconveniences which push towards abortion. And it takes even more courage to keep a child. Abortion appears to be a convenient way to avoid the consequences of an unwanted pregnancy, but it is actually the ending of an innocent human life.

Abortion may be legal, and it may seem right at the time, but it is the death of a child...not an insignificant mass of cells. Just remember, for every time a child has been aborted, the world has lost a precious jewel...a treasure.

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Are you an official moron?
From late night fire alarms to new drivers
Viewpoint
by Matt Bielejeski
Columnist

Did you ever wonder how stupid people manage to make it from day to day? Now, IÕm not talking about people who are mildly dense or slow to catch on to jokes, IÕm talking about the people who still havenÕt figured out why the concept of ÒInstant Water-Just Add WaterÓ doesnÕt work that well.

A perfect example of the kind of stupidity IÕm talking about occurs about once a month on campus. Some fool hasnÕt figured out how to nuke popcorn in the microwave properly. In the process of their feeble attempt at late-night nourishment, the popcorn bag catches on fire, setting the fire alarm off and forcing the whole building to evacuate.

For those of you lucky enough not to have heard a fire siren in your building, allow me to describe it to you. The sound emitted is a alternating high-low pitch that reminds me of whale mating sounds from a National Geographic special. The first time I heard the alarm, I didnÕt evacuate because I thought it was someone down the hall playing their ÒChantÓ CD too loud.

To make the situation worse, the aforementioned fool (hereafter referred to as ÒMoronÓ) sets off the alarm at 2:30 a.m., when most people are asleep or at least thinking about trudging up the stairs to their bed.

Compounding the problem even more, the entire population of the residence hall (read: Ôlynch mobÓ) is without the benefit of heavy clothing, since they were so quickly moved outside. On top of all of these happenings, the firemen take around 30-45 minutes to show up and give the OK, leaving the lynch mob time to get frostbite and plot the demise of the Moron. I feel very safe if there actually was a fire.

I myself have been trying to come up with a suitable punishment for those found guilty of doing something completely stupid. After much pondering and scratching my head, I have devised a system that will identify possible morons before they can cause too much trouble.

The process involves teenagers getting their driverÕs licenses at 16. When someone takes the driving test, he is also tested to see whether he is truly, inherently stupid. After taking the written exam, another piece of paper is handed to the prospective driver: the Moron Exam.

The Moron Exam consists of multiple choice questions that give various responses to situations in which stupidity could arise. One of the choices is the Idiot Response. Out of 20 questions, if more than four answers are Idiot Responses, the examee gets a number code on their license, explained on the back as being Òirrevocably, undeniably, stupid.Ó

When the examee (now a tried and true Moron) receives his license, he also gets another laminated card: the Stupid Check Card. From that point forward, before the Moron is allowed to do anything while other people are within a 15 feet of him, he must check with the Intelligence Patrol checkpoint.

Intelligence Patrol checkpoints are stationed all over the country, with one checkpoint per quarter mile. Manned by people who passed the Moron Exam, these checkpoints create jobs for the community as well as preventing possible stupidity.

For example, a certified Moron decides to get some breakfast. He walks into a bagel establishment. Before he orders and says something stupid like, ÒDo you guys have doughnuts?Ó he must first go to the Intelligence Patrol checkpoint in the restaurant. The moron asks the question of the Patrol officer, the officer directs him to the correct question to ask, and the Moron enters the line.

Before ordering, the Moron presents his Stupid Check Card to the employee and declares, ÒIÕm stupid. Watch out!Ó Now that the employee knows that his prospective customer is indeed a Moron, he can watch for warning signs given off by the Moron to alleviate any distress to other customers.

Guided by the wisdom of the Intelligence Patrol officer and the alert employee, the stupid problem is solved.

Before people start sending Letters to the Editor that scream, ÒStupid people have rights too!Ó understand that most people are not certifiable Morons.

But, for those who are, their stupidity does not need to affect society. Ship them off to an uninhabited South Pacific island or something, I donÕt know.

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Grass Fu
The Legend Continues
Down Home
with Bob Hutton
Columnist

I am very jealous of Joy Stanley.

I sit here slaving over a hot Macintosh, knocking out article after article written with the express purpose of enraging my readers and end up hardly garnering one decent angry response.

Ms. Stanley, on the other hand, writes one humble article arguing against the legalization of marijuana (ÒWhere Were You While You Were Getting High?Ó, 11/12/96) and seemingly honks off half the student body.

The November 21 letter column was full of incensed responses in defense of the sacred cannabis cow from people I assume to be our universityÕs most prominent potheads, all of whom calling for the decapitation of my gutsy colleague. Not to mention the ÒnastyÓ phone messages received by Ms. Stanley that she herself mentions in the same letter column. ItÕs enough to make this columnist feel almost unwanted.

What about me? ArenÕt I controversial enough for you? What do you want me to do, write about abortion? DonÕt worry, IÕm not that desperate. But donÕt push me.

I know, I shouldnÕt complain. IÕve gotten my share of less than favorable feedback. IÕve earned exactly two negative letters to the editor (both of which IÕm extremely proud of) and a host of my very own nasty phone calls (of which IÕm even prouder). IÕve even heard from a few people who liked my articles but what fun is that? I donÕt need other people to tell me IÕm right.

One phone call from late last semester (received thanks to my roommateÕs answering machine) that I especially treasure was from a young half-wit who threatened to beat me Òto a bloody pulpÓ for referring to (c)rap music (IÕm compromising by calling it music) as (c)rap. This was hardly a major point of the article in question and I can scarcely imagine how even the most moronically superficial reader could be so angry over a dissenting opinion regarding musical tastes. Maybe he was a rapper himself (I kind of doubt it though; he didnÕt begin his message with a Òyo-yo-yoÓ).

So I really donÕt have much to complain about in the hate mail/call department.

The quantity was one thing but the quality was another. After I got over my jealous fit I took the time to read the letters regarding Ms. StanleyÕs article and ended up feeling a little better. It turns out that I wasnÕt missing out on much after all. While most of the letters at least contained a few morsels of validity (well, one did anyway) they led me to question the priorities of some of this schoolÕs student body.

Man, you kids sure like the grass donÕt you? No wonder the dealer on my hall can afford such nice stuff. I mean, I never realized that drugs were such an integral part of your little lives. WeÕve got our own little Dallas Cowboys organization right here at ASU donÕt we (insert comparisons between Chancellor Borkowski and Jerry Jones here)?

Seriously, canÕt you people think of anything more important to get riled up about or is the possibility of legalized marijuana the most important thing we have to be concerned with?

My favorite bit was the part where the one letter writer said, ÒHello, our government is as corrupt as they come.Ó It made me giggle, not just because he said hello in the middle of the paragraph for no apparent reason, but also because he cited that tired but ever-stylish Òthe-government-is-evilÓ line.

Now maybe this writer was some sort of deep-cover CIA agent who knew some dark and arcane secret about the governmentÕs plan to train captured Sasquatches to slaughter baby dolphins for their meat to feed those guys that are chopping down the rain forests.. More likely, he was just some guy who thinks the X-Files is real. If youÕre reading this, Mister whatever, e-mail me and let me know which is the case.

DonÕt get me wrong, IÕve got nothing personal against marijuana. In fact, I want as many people smoking it as possible. That way, while yaÕll are sitting around with your brains fried, IÕll have far less competition in the tough job market. I sure could use the extra help after graduation, and if you guys want to make it that much easier for me to take advantage of you then IÕm all for it.

The problem I have with most pot smokers is that theyÕre just not funny. DonÕt you people know that the marijuana smokerÕs sole purpose in life is, and always has been, to entertain the rest of us? You people write these uptight letters arguing about THC and how grass is better for you than tobacco. Who cares? What youÕre supposed to be doing is wandering around looking dazed and telling your imaginary friend Bippo the Monkey that heÕs far out.

HavenÕt any of you people ever watched Cheech and Chong? You need to stop taking yourselves so seriously and start making the rest of us laugh. Otherwise, I see no good reason to legalize the stuff.

What it boils down to is, if marijuana is such an important part of your life that some article could enrage you this much, maybe you need to rethink things. Now maybe some of you people who wrote in are dealers and were just trying to defend your profession. ThatÕs perfectly understandable. If not, however, you might consider getting a life.

Now, how about some of that hate mail?

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Our Opinion...

How weather makes people lose their reasoning....

We know keeping this campus ice-free is a difficult and sometimes a never-ending job but we have some suggestions when it comes to where to put the so necessary, de-icing salt.

For instance, most of the many stairs and steps on-campus are clear after it snows (thanks to the maintenance crew) but what's the point if there is ice on all the railings? In order to keep from falling on any patches of ice that may be left, one usually holds on to railings but if there's ice on that, you might as well prepare to take a good fall. Here at The Appalachian we fail to see the logic in this.

What's up with the snow plows in the parking lots? What are they thinking? They come through scraping the snow and ice only to pile it up behind all the cars. If you're in a Honda, you can forget about that trip to K-mart. Most students don't have snowshovels lying around the room to dig themselves out. Getting stuck in a parking lot because you can't get your car out is no fun.

The snowplowers should realize this and movethe snow the plow from the middle of the parking lots to the ends of the lots. This would prevent the snow from trapping people.

The weather also causes what we like to call "That idiot over there wearing shorts" to become the topic of conversation for people passing along on sidewalks and on the AppalCART.

This person is not really a rare sight and in fact, if you watch long enough, he or she will pop up when you least expect it. This person is typically moving very quickly and looks downward to avoid curious stares of disbelief. He or she is usually wearing heavy, warm clothes on the top half of the body and shorts.

So, we must ask ourselves, how is it that our wonderfully schizo Mother Nature causes these idiots to venture out in too little clothing? Didn't their mother teach them how to stay warm?

Winter in Boone is hard on everyone but let's all use a little common sense.

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Student Union needs to reunite...

Did you know the student union is really two different buildings? We learned this last year when the fire alarm went off in the new part, while the original section's alarm stayed silent. The doors leading to the new edition closed, while our office, the Student Government office, the Center for Student Involvemnet and Leadership, Outdoors Programs, and several others offices were unaware that the building was quite possibly on fire. We just assumed the alarms and intercoms would be hooked together between the two. Were we ever wrong. On January 8 we learned the opposite. This was also the night of all the snow. While we were working and trying to complete our first edition of the spring semester , in walks a union worker asking if we heard the announcement about closing the union because of the weather. Well of course we hadn't heard because the union is still not unified.

Would it really be so difficult to connect the alarms and the intercoms so that everyone can hear when announcements are made or so we can save ourselves from a possible fire?

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