FS Vol. 5 - Issue 8

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<Your Title Here> Your Name Year / Major

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giam iriliquam niam, vel dolor ilit inis ercil et endrerat. Lor summodipis nostrud do ea faccum ipsuscil ectet, quisim zzrit iliquam consequat, consed tet ute cons augiamet lummodo lorperos nit, cor acip eumsan ut aliquam, sequatie dui euisci tisl irit augiam nonsent dipisi blandre te core min ulla am eugait utem volor sum zzriliquat iril ullaortinci bla facil ecte vel il enim augiam quat alit illa ad ex ea facilit iure veliquamcon vel ectem zzrit alissecte vulput volor incing eumsan exerius tismolobor at wis enisl ullaore er ipisciduip ea commy nostrud ecte tie tat. Ipsum ip eu feugue magna aut lore facipit velenim nullutat dit in utatisi tat. Duis exer iure dit lore mod tem zzrilis aut at, con vel illa facil essed el ut aliquat, si tio od er sent nonse veliqua mconsequis et ulputpa tummodio euisis nit ut in ulla aci bla alit lore vel doloreet et eugue dit num incilis sequat do doloreetum quat lorperosto odolessendio do et ute facidunt iriureetum ilit ese estrud do odolutpat, quismolesto core do dolore consequam, quipit lobor ametuerit iuscip ex ero con hendre dui tin henisim zzrit la facil in vullumsan hendipsustie dolore dionsequat. Si. Em erosto digna consequ isismodit at, volore feugiam, consequam, con ercipis dolore vercipis alit praesent adion henisl doluptat, se min ea ad et, quisit, se diat. Duisit ad miniscing enim zzrit nullan utem euis nonsequip euisi bla consequamet, quiscil

Hello From Your Editor Sara Adams

The Flip Side/ Editor-in-Chief This is The Flip Side’s first issue of the spring semester. If you’ve never heard of us we are a free speech publication, and our articles come from submissions we receive. We do not assign staff writers. Anyone can submit, and that includes you. We can and do publish articles on all topics conceivable. In the past we’ve printed pieces ranging from articles about politics to fiction containing cross-species sex. Barring a submission that contains slander, libel, or presents a very demonstrable clear and present danger, it will find its way in to our publication.

I could encourage you to submit with clichés about the power of words or the necessity of free speech. However, people more intelligent and eloquent than I (your professors, maybe,) have urged you to participate and failed. And you know, probably the more concerned among you already say to yourselves, “Yes! I want to make a difference! Someday…” And then you plan to do it later. If you already do something, stop getting self-righteous, I’m not talking to you. But for the rest of you, look, I’m not going to assuage your guilt by saying, hey, I understand, you’re probably busy. Such is life. Rather, I am going to graphically illustrate the situation using myself.

Jan. 30th - Feb. 12th, 2008

Sometimes, I have a fairly intense desire to write something. And then, instead of actually writing it down, I give in to the more pressing desire to lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling. Maybe you waste time in a more or less normal ways, but I’m sure you understand what I’m saying. To do this occasionally is human. To do this all the time is a ridiculous waste. Do you have any idea whatsoever that you think ought to be considered by your fellow students and community members? If not, I suggest you take a few minutes to consider the universe and your relation to it. If on the other hand, you have something you want to share, I suggest you submit an article.

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Lowering the Bar Paul Johnson Alumni / History

This article was originally written in December of 2007, but did not meet the deadline for the last issue of the fall semester. The Bush years are wearing on me. My entire adult life has been during the Bush II administration, and I am just about exhausted by the sheer magnitude and consistency of ineptitude and incompetence. It is no great leap to wonder if there is some kind of insidious deliberateness directing it all from behind the scenes. I am not prone to seek conspiracy as an explanation for the unexplained events of our lives. I am not trying to blame George W. Bush for all of our problems or to demonize political conservatives. We are up to our necks in hyper-partisanship, and it is not helping. I do however think that a degree of speculation once in a while can be useful in our perception of the patterns of our age. It is probably true that the FDR years significantly reshaped the American people’s perception of the role of government in our lives. It has been claimed that the forces on “The Right” have sought to roll back the New Deal ever since. Would it be possible that some Republican strategists are trying to reshape public perception, and therefore lower the bar of our expectations? If they could demonstrate with enough persistence how inept government can be, perhaps Americans will finally just give up on the idea of government intervention to improve life. If that were the case there would be a new age of rugged individualism in which the wheat would be separated from the chaff and people would get things done themselves. A new age of social Darwinism… After watching Spike Lee’s documentary, When the Levees Broke, it dawned on me that there might just be some kind of insane brilliance at work. With enough will and a gambler’s delight in risk, the national machinery could be deliberately undermined in such a way to make the entire country give up on the positive potential of government. I do not have enough space here to highlight the many, many, things that had to go wrong for such a disgraceful outcome as the situation in New Orleans today. I am personally embarrassed with

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the United States right now. It is almost unbelievable that the most powerful and wealthy country in the world could so ineptly handle the aftermath of Katrina. How could we dare presume the arrogance to impose our will on the outside world, if we can’t rise above such a low level of disgraceful incompetence in our own affairs? I am also personally embarrassed because I haven’t done a thing about it. I did not go there myself to offer assistance. I didn’t even write my congressman to insist that he do something about it. I wonder why I didn’t do anything. Is it possible that I was just too oblivious to what was happening beyond my narrow personal affairs? Yes. Is it possible that I didn’t realize how insane it was down there? Yes. I wonder though if there is any type of trend bigger than me that can explain why so many of us Americans are too glued to our personal affairs to afford to really care about what is beyond our local existence. Is it possible that we may be scratching the surface of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World in which the society is steered into the pursuit of amusement and distraction? In that world everyone in the protagonist’s caste is on the drug Soma, and most people are glued to the entertainments available of substance-less sensory arousal and soap opera. I was busy with school and had no money to transport myself to New Orleans to help. Even if it had really occurred to me to do so, I couldn’t really afford to not work (paid work– there was and probably still is very much to do down there that will probably only get done by volunteers). And damned if I wasn’t a little bit distracted with the amusements of our local night life, and the opiate of entertainments like The Sopranos or even reading Huxley. I actually feel a little bit guilty at my complacency but clearly I have some good excuses, don’t I? My point is that we all have lots of good and socially acceptable excuses for not doing anything “important.” I have yet to do anything myself that would be considered “important.” The big picture is that somehow we may have stumbled into our own brave new world of inertia and mass distraction. Back to my original speculation, are we in an age of radical de-evolution of the American perception of government in our lives? I think that a lot of people who were directly affected by the disaster

The Flip Side

have given up on finger pointing, or even holding their hands out for assistance and intervention. Many, many, people will not be coming back from the New Orleans Diaspora. They will be trying to start over in a wide variety of places, but will never forget the monumental failure of government in their personal memories. If there actually is some kind of evil genius force at work behind the scenes, maybe it believes it is changing Americans through some kind of paternalistic tough love. “This hurts us more than it hurts you, but if you are ever going to grow up you will need to learn how to rely upon yourself to survive or even to get ahead…” Maybe government is assuming the pose of a messed-up parent who tells the son or daughter who still managed to turn out all right, “See, I always knew you could make it, no thanks to me…” Post-Katrina incompetence may be some kind of example being made on a national scale of the sheer folly of expecting government to be a positive force in our lives, and of operating in any way but the most disgraceful incompetence. If that is so, New Orleans is a martyr, yet another high profile victim whose visibility will keep us from actually expecting government to help us should disaster ever threaten us personally. Karl Rove envisioned a permanent conservative political realignment that would dominate for decades. Perhaps part of that vision is that after enough incompetence, government would be happy to live down to our new diminished expectations. If we are wore down by enough examples of sheer ineptness and occasional callousness - as in the healthcare disaster depicted by Michael Moore, or in the disgraceful lack of national will in prioritizing education over military spending (at least in not adjusting the proportionality) – if we are wore down enough by all of this we may totally give up on the FDRera attitude revolution about the role of government. We may just get used to the defensive posture of looking out for number one and numbing ourselves with the opiates of localism, entertainment, and consumerism. Hoover was not a bad guy he just had a different philosophy that may be becoming dominant. This is not about the wisdom or folly of rebuilding where disaster may lurk around the corner in the form of the next


hurricane or flood in areas that are actually below sea level. There ought to be a very sober discussion and risk analysis before the rebuilding occurs in very vulnerable areas. (Don’t forget about the Netherlands, though… if you have the will to do it there are better ways to protect vulnerable areas.) But we do have a very American tradition of stubbornness in our heritage. After San Francisco was devastated, we scoffed at the notion that we might not rebuild it - on a fault line! Bush has told our enemies to “bring it on,” and for the most part I think we second him. Our national character, if there is such a thing, instinctively compels us to defy and crush the barbarous thugs who would seek to intimidate us. The American way is not always en-

tirely rational, but maybe that’s why we’re so darn interesting. We feel pretty big when we can scoff at risk, and dare the probabilities of disaster to actually occur. Our occasional audacity is like playing chicken in a national car with the wide variety of potential disasters like economic meltdown, geologic disasters, unprecedented wastefulness with resources, and even cataclysmic terrorism. We get high on the risk and proceed to poke the stick at the cornered animal or fan the flames that could erupt at any moment. We are not a meek people, but we must try to be a little bit smarter about the kinds of risk we flirt with. It is revealing however, in how we take care of those who bear the brunt of it when they absorb the damage that we

collectively provoke. I don’t believe we have been doing a very good job taking care of our crippled veterans, supporting those affected by Katrina, or those who have been hurt by the creative destruction of economic trends. We have our bumper stickers and lapel pins, of course, but for the most part we feel very little personal responsibility to help out. Should we? I’m honestly not sure. What are our obligations? Should we scale it back and try not to provoke so many disasters, or at least do what we can to minimize the risks? Or perhaps we should just try to provide a better safety net for those who personally absorb the damage for the rest of us. I’m puzzled by it, but I cannot honestly believe that we are doing our best in either way.

Re: Welcome back UWEC Students! Ryan Prior

Undergraduate / Computer Engineering ATTN Learning and Technology Services: I am disgusted with Ruckus, and with the fact that the University of WisconsinEau Claire continues to support them. Ruckus supports the Recording Industry Association of America, a trade group that organizes racketeering efforts among multinational music labels, and litigates against students and consumers nationwide. The RIAA is propagating a massive campaign of fear and doubt that is harming legal fair use of culture and introducing Orwellian restrictions on privacy and the free flow of information. It is clear that our university has been affected by this campaign of fear. Because I participate in legal file sharing activities on the University network, I am frequently sent harassing emails from LTS regarding “network issues,” warning me that “it is illegal to download copyrighted material,” and that the RIAA is watching my network traffic. The emails even link to the RIAA’s own page about “piracy,” suggesting that students are pirates and that they ought to believe the trade groups’ corporate legal team’s draconian interpretation of the law, which sug-

gests, among other things, that it is illegal to posses digital copies of music unless it is explicitly permitted by the copyright holder. This would imply that many students who buy CDs off the shelf and copy them to their computers or digital music players for their own personal enjoyment are copyright criminals. The exclamation that the music is “FREE & LEGAL” is equally disgusting. Ruckus supports only the Windows platform, depriving students who do not buy Microsoft Corporation’s products of the music they have already paid for with their tuitions. Not only is the music not free (I pay for it, and like hundreds of other students on campus, I am barred from using it under Ruckus’s unfair distribution scheme,) but it’s not legal for me to use it either: any attempt on my part to remove these restrictions on the music, allowing me to play the music I have paid for on my own private machine, would be in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, a piece of legislation that may be unconstitutional based on Supreme Court precedent, but has not yet been appealed to that level of judicial review. The legislation was bought and paid for by trade groups such as the RIAA and the MPAA, who the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire supports through their contribution to Ruckus.

Jan. 30th - Feb. 12th, 2008

I ask these things of you: Apologize in full and in public for falsely claiming that Ruckus is free of charge and legal for all students to use, and discontinue your misleading advertising campaign. Cease sending harassing emails to students who utilize the network for legal file sharing. End your complicity with the trade groups’ destruction of our rights. Stop forcing students to pay for rubbish music, and to prop up a nefarious operation of lobby and litigation. Sincerely, Ryan Prior

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Scattered Thoughts in Airport Bars Tim Faiella

Washington State It’s January 6, 2008. I’m in an old Dodge, heading north through the city on my way out of town. The ride from Boston to Manchester passed in the lifespan of a match. Concrete and brick give way to snow covered hills, interrupted only by the kinetic maneuvers of myself and other motorists, trying to escape the trappings of modernity. Yesterday’s hangover is still scrambling every brainwave somewhere between thought and action. The last 48 hours are a blizzard of hectic conversation, accented with toxins whose origins I can only guess at. Now, it’s time to head back to work, back to the rigors of routines that never made much sense, habits that enable sporadic indulgences. As we made our way into New Hampshire, some phantom memory intuited that there was a primary impending, but when is it to take place, and who is really running, and why? There are hoards with desire and intent, but how many have a legitimate chance of winning? The media have already whittled the field down to about three candidates on either side. Campaign signs line the street in enormous clusters, swaying in a gentle

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breeze. I can’t help but think these monotonous personal advertisements have evolved the ability to reproduce asexually. Every one of them dons a red, white and blue color scheme, and most of them are crammed into nooks and crannies between buildings, tiny slivers of land that nobody can claim as their own. The most littered areas are abandoned gas stations and highway on-ramps. Most politicians will sell their soul for a chance to inundate voters with a 30-second clip oozing with the stink of self-promotion. Politics is narcissism institutionalized. Unfortunately, most people don’t care about the primaries or the politicians. Together they frequent a realm of society that most of us will never even visit. Another national contest is about to commence that has captured most peoples’ attention. Today is the first day of Wildcard Weekend, the start of the NFL playoff season. People are waving their teams flag, decked out in freshly pressed game jerseys, parading their dedication to one side or the other. Behind every corner and in every meeting hall the candidates are reiterating the same old speeches, completely devoid of substance and sterilized to the point of inanity. Long-winded tirades are written by third parties whose strategic aim is to

The Flip Side

Ian Kloster

say as little as possible, and if possible include contradictory beliefs in every breath. The trick is to make yourself appealing to everyone, including the people that are bound to hate you as soon as you’re sworn in to office. Simultaneously, every bar in town is filled to capacity. People have been pregaming for the better part of the morning, and kick-off isn’t for another couple hours. Teams don’t have to advertise. Most fans are faithful even when you finish below .500 for the better part of a decade. Playoff teams get an extra push from hordes of disloyal fans that jump in at the last minute, hoping they choose the right horse for the final sprint. I pulled up to the nearly vacant airport somewhere around 1p.m. The simians from TSA were double checking every bag to make sure that nobody had a travel size bottle of mouth wash that wasn’t packaged in accordance with an orange security level. It’s always level orange. A shaggy beard marked me for special scrutiny…again. I haven’t gotten through airport security without a patdown since 2001. I can’t complain this time, the guy was very gentle and even gave some attention to the taint while he cupped my junk in search of God knows what.


I sidled up to the bar, sure to keep my boarding pass and watch within my line of sight. I’ve missed a few too many flights because of specials at airport watering holes. Most of the patrons are clinging to the last few seconds before they take flight, hoping they don’t miss any of the action. I decided to start out with a rum and coke to settle my wracked nerves. There’s a horrible tension in the air. Everyone is desperate for something, whether it’s a change of guard in Washington, or a ticket to the big dance the first week of February. What’s worse, most of them are going to be disappointed on both accounts. The customers in the corner booth must be abandoning their respective camps before a single ballot is cast. May-

be their conviction has subsided, or maybe they’re heading elsewhere to start swindling votes. Fans from every contingency line the room, grouped by team of choice. Monday morning coaches espouse farfetched strategies that would never prove buoyant. Everyone’s an expert if only in their own mind. I sucked down my first drink in the span of a commercial break. There’s a hint of violence in the air, a desire for blood. If the game ends on a questionable call, the whole place will erupt in a no-holdsbarred brawl. If people were so passionate about politics a revolution would have precipitated somewhere during these eight torturous years under King George II. After a few more rounds of drink it

was time to board the plane. Finally, a few moments of controlled chaos veiled as peaceful contemplation. In those hectic seconds as the jets kick up to speed, as the nose starts to lift and the tires lose touch with the ground, not even the pilot is entirely sure what will happen. The tiniest mistake could turn the cabin into a ball of fire, and that puts me completely at ease. There’s a certain freedom in resigning yourself to the unknown. A million things could transpire in the space of a yawn, and any one of them could be the most significant event of you’ll ever know. The travesty is that those things don’t happen and we’re left searching for meaning in contests that have very little to do with our daily lives.

The In-vote: Be Different, But Do It Together Paydon Miller

Undergraduate / Print Journalism I take politics very seriously, and believe strongly in the idea of a government by the people, for the people. While democracy might not be a perfect system, I do think that it’s the closest thing to it and I feel it’s a privilege for us, as voters, to educate ourselves enough to make an intelligent vote. This is why I feel the moral obligation to write this article, especially with Wisconsin’s primaries rapidly approaching. Since the presidential debates began, I have noticed an unsettling trend, especially in the younger demographics, specifically on campus: something I have termed the “in-vote.” What is the in-vote? I’m glad you asked, kind reader. The in-vote is a group of people who pledge undying support to a candidate – 95% of the time, it will either be Barack Obama or Ron Paul – and have little or no actual knowledge of the said candidate’s stances on the issues. The reasons may be varied, but I tend to blame it on the difference factor, meaning that these candidates stand out from the crowd. The reasons vary from candidate to candidate, but the general thread amongst them is that they are different and the in-voter often votes for change for change’s sake. The general distaste for the Bush Administration is mostly to blame for that. Others are part of the in-vote because of spite or blind distaste for the candidate’s oppo-

nents. For the most part, you can spot an in-voter very easily. When explaining why they support a candidate, they will generally use generalities and vague terms, mentioning “their stances on issues,” but never really saying which issue specifically. Fun fact: I have heard more than one person say they support Obama because “Hillary is a bitch.” Yet others chose their candidate because, “Bush fucked stuff up so badly, I don’t want anyone remotely like him in the White House.” I have heard people say they support Ron Paul because they “wanted a Republican in the White House that was the exact opposite of what we have now.” This kind of logic makes me very uncomfortable. This isn’t to say ALL Obama or Paul supporters are this way. I know many very educated supporters for both candidates who can back up their support with some semblance of reason. If this is you, by all means stop reading now, and pretend this article never happened. Perhaps stop by the café and enjoy a nice coffee drink. Not sure if you’re part of the in-vote? Answer the following questions to yourself. Jot them on a piece of scratch paper if you must. Whom do you support in the upcoming primary election? Why? The “Why?” is the important question here. If you can only answer “his or her stances,” but really can’t say which stance or which issues you support, you’re part of the in-vote. If you can answer the “Why?” section with an answer longer

Jan. 30th - Feb. 12th, 2008

than two sentences, congratulations! You can also stop reading now. Why not spend your free time reading a good book? If you are part of the in-vote, don’t panic. There’s a few days to educate yourself on the issues. If you’re not sure where to start, check out this website to read information on all the remaining candidates from every party: http://www.ontheissues.org/Candidates.htm. This website has every candidate’s stances on almost any issue one could ever want to know. Don’t be afraid to tune into a debate or two, maybe even read the political section of the newspaper. It will only take twenty minutes out of your day and you may even enjoy it. Listen carefully to this next sentence, friends. Supporting a less popular candidate doesn’t make you wrong. Don’t limit yourself to the “major” candidates. If Mike Gravel is who matches your political and ideological beliefs, then Mike Gravel should be who you vote for. Don’t mistake me. I will NEVER be opposed to people involving themselves in our political system. Honestly, it offends me that people make a conscious decision to NOT vote. I will never tell anyone that their support of any candidate is wrong, as long a semi-thought out reason is given. It just frightens me that some people are pledging support to a person so vehemently, and don’t know their stance on some of the key issues. Hell, if you want to vote for the sake of voting, write my name in.

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Memoirs of an Ex-Dishwasher

David Steinfeld

Undergraduate / Psychology My German grandparents endured World War II and its aftermath for Germany. The biggest part of the population was poor in general, food was scarce, and my grandparents were compelled to save on everything they had; they never dared to throw food away that hadn’t all been eaten immediately. My grandma always told me that my generation in Germany had so much food available that it would never consider the fact that as people of the third generation we were very lucky. She could therefore never understand that I would sometimes not finish up my plate and throw food away. My mom and I would often find ourselves shaking our heads in disbelief when we observed my grandma putting bread or remnants of our lunch into the freezer again, so that it could fill our stomachs later on. I have become better at it though, and try harder to finish up my plate to the best I can, or to save leftover food. Why am I recalling this? I worked at the dish room of the Riverview Terrace last semester, and what I saw there really stunned me. I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up or not, but two good friends of mine urged me to do so. I’m not the only person who sometimes doesn’t finish up his plate, and I hence expected to see some trays once in a while that had a few plates on it with some minor leftovers that I had to throw into the garbage cans before cleaning up the plates with water. The occasional edges of a pizza, pieces of broccoli, small groups of noodles, and so on. However, during the three hour shift I worked twice a week I discovered something different. Among the occasional plates with leftovers I cleaned off trays that were flooded with untouched food. Bowls filled with cereals to its boundaries, plates loaded with noodles and sauce that hadn’t been touched at all, bananas and apples with no visible bites in them. All of this ended up in the trash can. I can understand that you encounter some dishes offered by the cafeteria that you don’t like and thus can’t eat. Lack of hunger can also be a problem. No one can force you to eat all your food when you are not hungry enough or whatever. Since you are in college though, aren’t the majority of you mature enough to possess the

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capacity to estimate how much you can eat every day, and how enormous your hunger really is? Have those of you then ever thought about the people in Third World countries? Or simply about those who don’t have access to such a big resource of unlimited food due to their low income? Wouldn’t you agree with me that we are somewhat privileged in a certain way? I mean, imagine what an underfed child would think if it had access to such a tremendous amount of food. It could feed its family and probably several other families for more than a day with all the food that is available at the cafeteria. And some of us simply decide to throw a big portion of that away. Some of you might tell me that I should stop whining about this. But have those of you actually ever experienced severe hunger for several days in your life, or the feeling of not knowing when the next day or hour will be that you get to eat or find food again? It’s hard to feel that kind of empathy when you have grown up in one of the wealthiest countries around the globe, not having to fret about a minor inconvenience like scarcity of food. But what if you happened not to be here at UWEC, located at one of the richest nations in the world? What if God or coincidence had decided to put you somewhere else? Wouldn’t you consider it unfair that some parts in this world get the bigger slice of the cake, and not even dare to appreciate it? We just happen to be at the place that has managed to strive in prosperity. How grateful are you guys though? By discovering the amount of garbage of leftovers we daily had to throw away, I can certainly tell that many of you are not. Have those of you ever thought about the amount of lives that could be saved by the tons of food that is daily thrown away due to recklessness and selfishness? I’m not the sort of person that likes to impose his way of thinking on others, but as a person who aspires to become a counselling psychologist I can only advise you to undertake the steps for wiser decisions. I hope that those of you who decide to throw their leftover food away the next time can do so with a good conscience, and think about the lives that are ended diurnally due to starvation…

The Flip Side


Separation of Church and State: One Step Closer to Making Sense

Andy Boden

Undergraduate / Political Science The election season is now in full swing, and shit is going down. Personal attacks are being traded, images are being tested, and rumors are circulating. One such rumor that has come up is that Illinois Senator Barack Obama is a Muslim and took oath upon the Koran when he was sworn into office. During the January 15 debate from Las Vegas, Obama felt the need to make it clear that he was a Christian, and that he took his oath upon the Bible. This is a shame for so many reasons. First, the fact people need to spread rumors that a candidate is a Muslim in order to tarnish his or her image shows that there is a sense of Islamophobia amongst Americans. We would all be better off if a candidate had a Muslim image than if a country’s people had a racist image. Second, the fact that a candidate must be a Christian in order to run the country is holding the American political system back. This year there is a good chance that we could elect a woman or a black man as president for the first time ever, but we will still have a Christian

president. Christianity isn’t inherently good or better than any other belief system. In fact, pretty much all religions are inherently screwed up. Lastly, why must politicians be sworn in upon scripture in the first place? This is where the issue of church and state comes into play. Some people may not see this as a big deal because there are already instances of church and state not being separate. For instance, “under God” is still in the Pledge of Allegiance and “In God We Trust” is printed on our money. I don’t find these instances to be that big of a deal either. As far as the money is concerned, the issue isn’t what’s printed on it, but whether or not people have it. As long as people who don’t have trust in God can still earn, obtain, and exchange currency in our country, then there is no issue. As far as the pledge is concerned, the issue isn’t what’s written in it, but whether or not people are forced to say it. If people are not forced to say the pledge, then there is no issue. However, I do think there is an issue with using scripture to swear our elected officials into office. Some might say that politicians should just do their jobs with integrity and uphold the law, and it really

doesn’t matter what they place their hands on when taking oath. I would agree with this, but some Americans are so goddamn adamant about using a Bible and nothing else that there is an issue. If this is an issue, we need to come up with a solution that makes sense. Therefore, my suggestion to taking a closer step to separate church from state is to swear in our politicians upon the Constitution. The Constitution is the law of the land, it’s representative of every American, and it’s not based off the supposed word of a being whose existence cannot be proven (that’s right it can’t be proven, and if you have a problem with that, then liberate your mind, you motherfucker). If politicians dishonor their oath upon the Constitution, then they dishonor everything this country stands for. And just to make it clear, the Bible does NOT represent what this country stands for; it’s only for people of JudeoChristian faith. While the Ten Commandments can be imposed on those people, the Bill of Rights can be held sacred by every American.

Striving for the United States Way

Kristoffer Martin

Undergraduate / English Two thousand and seven was an odd year, filled with local and national tragedies. And as I placated what topic I should write on in the New Year for the first Flip Side, I decided to write a personal dissertation on the state of our wonderful country. Watching the election escapades, debates, chuffing and finger pointing, I question the validity of our current presidential candidates. I’ll admit I’m a swing voter, I listen to both sides and try to decide which person is going to be the best for our country, but I feel that many people stick to only one party, only listen to one side’s points, and the propaganda that is then spoken about the opposing opinions. Now, after listening to both sides, democratic and republican, hearing the

ongoing banter and bickering interparty and between party members, I am still lost as to who I believe would be the best president for our country. I find myself asking, what about our constitutional rights? What about the economy and the continually decreasing funds for students and the public education system? What about health care that works? Are the plans that these candidates are proposing going to help in these areas and others? What I do see is a lot of indecision; the Republican Party is putting forth the same arguments they have in the past and are losing ground. The Democratic Party has put forth several ideas on how to solve the issues and how to end the war in Iraq, but have yet to come to an actual definitive conclusion and method as to how to reach their goals. And what I do not like is the fact that none of them have acknowledged, the fact that our country is slowly becoming the Iraq government

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that we were so adamant in dissolving. Slowly removing the very rights we aspire to uphold. Of course when one has the gall to try to contact the various candidates with real questions and concerns they’re met with carbon copy letters that ask for donations “to help their cause.” I miss the times when the politicians were for the people and not for the income (though I suppose I was never alive during said times but you catch the drift…) Our country has a long way to go to regain what we’ve lost, economically, socially, and legally. I just hope that the candidates we have now, and whichever becomes president, will be able to see past the boundaries of democrat and republican and see this country as a whole, not just as a country, but the global community that makes up the U.S.

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If I Were Gay, I Sure Could Fuck a Lot of Dudes Jake Everett

Undergraduate / Creative Writing I like the gay community, in general. Although I’ve met few since I’ve been back in Wisconsin, I had quite a few friends in southern California who were gay. The “Diva Monique,” also known as Mikey, was a man (usually) that I counted among my closest friends. He introduced me to friends of his, and I went with him and other friends to gay bars to watch his drag shows and met other gay men and women. California really opened my eyes to the gay community and minorities in general. I hadn’t even met a gay person before I moved out there. I found out in California that I seem to be what my family calls “a gay magnet.” My brother and father have discovered they share this trait. Maybe it’s something in our blood. Who knows? The point is that is has led me to interact with a lot of gay people. Through these interactions, I have learned a great deal (sometimes a little too much) about them. I realize that they are people just like you and me. They’re people just like women. They’re people just like minorities. The problem seems to be that they haven’t been around openly long enough for us to get used to them. It was the same way with women’s rights, black’s rights, and other groups that have been repressed. I fully hope and believe that our view of the gay community as a whole will change within my lifetime, hopefully within the next ten years. When I tell someone that I support gay marriage, I usually get this response: “Umm…why? Are you gay?” No, asshole, I’m not gay. However, I also am not a woman, and I support woman’s rights. I am not black, or any other minority, but I support their rights. Why is it that people think this way when the subject of gay marriage comes up, and not for other causes that are more “in the norm” or “socially acceptable?” The argument I get most frequently is that the Bible says it’s wrong. Even though I know my counter argument is completely lost on religious types (perhaps because it’s logical,) I always tell them the same thing: “If we go from the lessons taught in the Bible, we should go get some concubines, gang rape them, then throw in a

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little genocide for fun! Oh…what’s that? You don’t follow the lessons taught in that part of the Bible? Yes, yes, I see your point. That makes perfect sense.” Do you see my point, kids? If you’re going to follow the “Word of God,” why don’t you follow it to a T? I say that if the Bible is full of shit about gang rape and genocide being all sunshine and kittens, then we should toss out the part about gays, too. Of course, I think we should toss out the entire hate-mongering outdated pile of trash, but that’s another article. My parents, after seeing that the Bible argument didn’t really go over well with me, told me that gay marriage is “a threat to the institution of marriage.” Every time I hear this argument, I have to smile, because I always think of a bit done by Lewis Black a while back. Mr. Black makes fun of former Senator Rick Santorum (D-PA) after the senator said that homosexuality is “antithetical to a healthy, stable, traditional family.” In his bit, Lewis points out how ridiculous the idea of gays being a threat is. “Maybe there are a group of gay banditos … [that] go back into a suburban neighborhood to [a house] … [where] a young American family is sitting down for their first meal. And these queers … don their black cloaks and hoods and matching pumps (very tasteful) … they charcoal up their faces and sneak up to that house, and open up the door, and start FUCKING EACH OTHER IN THE ASS! AND ANOTHER AMERICAN FAMILY IS DESTROYED!” As I said, it’s meant to be ridiculous. Because what do people mean when they say that gays are a threat to marriage or families? How do they pose a threat? The answer is that they don’t. That’s just another empty argument. That brings me to the final argument I hear. Some people say that two men or two women can’t raise children. Well, why not? If a single mother or single father can raise a child, then shouldn’t two women or two men be able to do it twice as well? We don’t take children away from unwed mothers, so why bicker over letting gays have children? The only thing you could say is that the child might get made fun of in school. And yes, that’s more than likely true. But that isn’t the fault of the gay community; it’s our fault.

The Flip Side

We need to accept gays, just like we accepted (and are still accepting) blacks, women, and other minorities. Until then, hang in there guys; your time will come. Sources: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rick_ Santorum#Controversial_statements_regarding_ homosexuality http://www.jibjab.com/view/125918


Philip of Trier: Part Two Philip Kaveny

Undergraduate / Religious Studies “I bet I can.” “We bet you can’t.” “I bet ‘can’.” “We bet you can’t.” “Can. Can’t. Can. Can’t Can. Can’t. Can. Can.” The crowd broke into a thunderous roar and the Guild Hall Tavern shook on its five hundred year old foundations. Philip was now looking very much like the late Philip of Trier. Thomas only seemed be the fool, he was fast, strong, and deadly, even if he thought he was just playing at his idea of a good time. Philip thought about running, but where could he run to? For some reason at that instant, he thought of himself as the sinner man with no place to hide, and it was his judgment day. It was out of control. They were all placing bets on how far the teamster Thomas could throw poor Philip. Thomas snatched Philip up like a kitten and held him by the shoulder in a grip as strong as the vice that held a horseshoe to be filed. Then he calmly waited till the pile of silver bets all grew a hand tall and then another. The night was so filthy and so wet, and so cold and no one would be letting him inside because he smelled so bad. Philip would freeze to death before dawn. It was not so much that they wanted to kill him; they just did not connect things sometimes. His mind slipped out of time to some Greek he had translated when he was a boy. He thought of Plato’s phrase, “The boys throw rocks in jest at the frogs, but to them it is a deadly matter.” Thomas set Philip down on the floor for an instant. The lumbering teamster loomed in front of Philip who came barely to his chest. Philip felt like a child’s doll helpless, doomed, without hope. He thought about fighting but he did not know how, all he knew was playground wrestling, headlocks, arm-twisting, and the kind where little boys put each other in headlocks and roll around like puppies. What were his chances against this lumbering giant of a man? Then Philip remembered a small knife in his pocket, but it was not a knife to cut or hurt a gi-

ant. Philip did not even know how to use the small palimpsest knife as a weapon. It was used for cleaning ink off parchment, and he kept it in his belt as a reminder of his other world, it was useless except, to scrape ink off the parchment so that it could be used again, and even at that it did a lousy job. He thought about getting his hand free and cutting Thomas’s face. He was so calm and peaceful in his mind. If he cut Thomas’s face he would drop him. But then they would just beat him to death. But all that was not to happen. That night, or any night in the near future Philip was not destined for the piss trough. His story was to continue. Philip did not have to attempt anything because Thomas the Teamster got not one step farther towards him. Thomas stood up stiff as a plank for two heartbeats; then he let Philip slip from his grasp. No one saw what happened, exactly, but Thomas fell, he fell to the floor like a pole axed ox who had just been knocked. Then he gasped like a fish drowning in air. Something stopped the room from breaking into pandemonium. It was a ringing, singing, maddening sound which sang to their souls like the songs of Sirens, or laurli who sang and drew sailors to rocks of death in the river Rhine. A gloved hand, the same gloved hand that brought Thomas down spun a pure, half pound gold coin on the bar. A pure coin that size was double the wages of a master craftsman for a year. Gold was so dear, yet they all knew the tenor of gold. Even the hounds sensed something as they awoke from primal dreams with pointed ears. Humans loved gold with a murderous madness. They all felt its call and loved it like dragons loved their hoard. Gold, not copper or silver, was what they all wanted to be paid in. It was their dream it was always worth the same in war or death or famine. Gold was their deliverance. It could stop a war and bring peace, and it could ransom you from the darkest dungeon. It even could save the heretic from the stake, some said, and the church seemed to believe gold could even buy a soul out purgatory. But as gold was their deliverance it was also their damnation, they felt this in their souls. That was the knotted con-

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tradiction of their faith that might bathe their world in flame as it had eighteen hundred years before. The man who had dropped Thomas and then spun the coin was known only as master of the hounds and warden of the night. The man who had effortlessly brought Thomas the teamster blacksmith down with a short sharp punch to the base of the rib cage could have killed Thomas. He knew and could have done so easily by driving his sternum like stiletto into his heart, if he chose. But he chose not to even injure him, using only the necessary force it took to save Philip from the “piss trough.” The dark master was dressed in a black leather coat that seemed even in bright but flickering light and the acrid smoke from the black cast iron lamps that hung from the cathedral ceiling, to bring the night with him inside the tavern. Even inside the tavern the night seemed to be part of his great coat. Its great leather folds wrapped him like arms of darkness. Only a very little of the masters skin showed, and he had a leather patch over his left eye. It was hard to see anything about the man inside, but it was clear that nobody else was about to test him. Thomas’s breathing was more regular now. Thomas seemed to hear a voice inside his head say “Careful you fool, whom you claim as a relative.” But maybe it was only the booze talking to him.” The dark figure spoke; Philip’s savior now spoke for the rest of the room. He seemed very gentle as he helped the bewildered teamster Thomas to his feet and then set a chair under him, as his legs still buckled. The dark man spoke in a soft rich voice, as if with almost somber and yet musical tones. “Innkeeper, the coin is yours. Give them all as much as they want to drink. Let them drink their fill. I want to hear the rest of this boy’s story.” The dark figure that saved Philip was only known as “Master of the Hounds.” He reached inside his coat, and placed what he had been holding inside his palm back inside his coat. In a fetid room the dark man smelled faintly of spices, spices that came from across the world, and perhaps across time. Bar maids rushed forward to fill glasses but backed away from the patrons.

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Philip of Trier: (cont.) They knew their trade all too well to do otherwise. Philip of Trier continued in a different voice, he wanted to tell his story and hold and interest them, it only takes one listener to do that. He knew how to pace himself and how to lower his voice to pull them in it, and make them start asking questions of themselves. He looked into the, sad, lonely eyes of his audience, he sort of lost his contempt for them, and he was not sure why. Maybe, he changed because they were all such a long way from home. He now saw them as different. All he knew was that he really believed the story he was telling them and he wanted them to believe it, or at least enough to continue to listen. They felt it too. Nothing had changed, but everything had changed. He was still Philip of Trier, sad eyed with auburn hair that cascaded down his shoulders across the back of his best embroidered gold thread linen shirt, which was open to his waist. In some ways he looked like an overly flat-chested maid, if not for the wisps of hair on his chest and the finely drawn muscles in his forearms. One last voice broke in from Marvin, the stone cutter, who held his hands up for all to see, they appeared to be cut from stone themselves, cut from living stone by the one master of all master stone cutters. He took a huge daft of ale, farted loud enough to knock birds out of trees, and then asked Philip in a slurred voice. “Say my fine pretty lad, have you ever done an honest day’s work in your life?” Philip stopped and looked at his own hands, which were another reason why he would not be mistaken for a woman once one got past the first glance. They were not workers or a craftsman’s hands, but they were not weak either. He had a sensed that if he lived as long as Beagle the Bard he would have old man’s hands, if he lived that long. Everyone waited for Philip to answer, as he seemed to wait forever. Finally Philip simply sighed and answered, “No I haven’t. I have not ever done an honest day’s work” Marvin laughed hoarsely and said, “Son, you ain’t missed a god dammed thing”

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Maybe the Guildsmen really did not hate their sons at The University of Paris, or Oxford as much as they seemed to. What they hated was that they sensed their world was about shift into a world where they had no place, into a world where a man’s word was not as good as his bond. They did not know what they were remembering, but in some ways the world became very stable after the Black Visitation. Some said it was God, others said it was the Devil, or God’s angel of death, or perhaps it was just human stupidity. But, before Philip started again one last question scrabbled crablike from the back of the room. “S’excuse me but, begging your pardon, but Yurich and I was wondering, why does your Alphonse care what happens to her? How could he care? He only shagged her once. I mean, begging your pardon, no disrespect, but I mean I would just leave town after I shagged her and forget it.” No one answered Otto’s question for the longest time. No one could answer them. Faces turned back to Philip who had no answer either. But they waited just a little longer. Yurich cleared his throat and about half the crowd came back from the piss trough. Thomas was not hurt; and the dark man was nowhere to be found. But the gold coin was not yet spent. Since it was worth enough to pay the wages of a master craftsman for year it would last the night, and still leave the innkeeper a handsome profit. Thomas the giant red haired blacksmith no longer felt like boasting that he was the offspring of Thor. Thomas was nearly as tall sitting down as most men standing up. He asked more quizzically than anything, and out loud but to himself, “How did the dark man do that to me? Thomas the blacksmith had actually been following Philip’s story and asking himself questions in spite of himself. “No other man ever decked me that way ever, nor my father, nor his before him. But the man who decked me would be nothing against the beast. He could not kill what cannot be killed, The beast who Philip spoke of. Thomas asked himself another set of questions.

The Flip Side

“Why is Alphonse so good at death? Why did the Monks give Alphonse thirty years sanctuary? Who nearly beat him to death?” Then Thomas sighed, “Good Christ, Philip has me talking to myself.” He continued out loud but still to himself, “I had people to do that kind of work for me in the old days but, they were scum and never lasted long, because there were always others to kill them.” Philip started out again and he noticed the dark man was in the house after all, still in the back of the room. He had just signaled to John the owner of the tavern to bring a barrel up from the basement. It seemed to be getting much colder outside, the icy wind was working its way through the cracks in the stone wall, and breath turned icy inside The Guildhall Tavern. Three helpers heaved a great long log to the fire. It must have been full of pitch dried almost to explosive tinder. The flames wrapped around it looking like popping dancing figures, female and voluptuous, seeming almost to beckon all whom watched to join in the revel. One looked almost likes fangs and teeth and claws come to life. And the Wolfhounds wailed and went back to sleep. About half of the crowd had gone off to sleep in their rooms or loft. Some were asleep on the disgusting floor with their arms around their favorite hounds wishing that some princess might come and save their soul, but still many listened, that time of the year in that part of the world the nights were very long. Outside the trough froze and horses and farms animals shuddered and then huddled for warmth. Far north across the icy sea a blast of air was gaining force, ice had not melted completely the glaciers had moved 33,300 meters south since August. One good thing about this was that it was too cold for the lions of Judea to come any further north unless they were going to grow overcoats and fur hats. Philip of Trier took a smaller drink and started his story again.


A Bend in the Term Band: A Q&A with QuinnElizabeth Kristoffer Martin

Undergraduate / English Arriving at the Acoustic Café in downtown Eau Claire for QuinnElizabeth’s temporary farewell performance, the atmosphere was somewhat droll. The empty seats leant the place to be somewhat of a cliché coffee shop. However, as it got closer to eight p.m., people started to file in, some came in cars others wandered in off the streets. The brief introduction by one of their close friends Shane was met with chatter, but gave way to a silent audience when QuinnElizabeth came on stage. With astounding music bridging genres ranging from alternative rock, to jazz and folk, they captivated the audience with original songs and superior vocals. Elizabeth the main singer and founder of the band plays the guitar, Jerissa the noteworthy and fun loving back up singer, performs superbly well with her range of percussion instruments and wind instruments. Finally, Jerrika, the lovely back up on the right meshes the styling of the band with excellent rhythmic presence, and a great sense of random humor. After a great performance that lead to hoots and hollers from the packed house, I was able to ask the three sisters about their band, life, and ambitions. Me: Why did you choose the name QuinnElizabeth?

Liz: It came from when I was performing solo…it used to be separated but when Jerissa and Jerrika joined we combined it. We used to call my mother Quinn and one day she said to me, “It’d be kind of cool if you could be Quinn Elizabeth, like Queen Elizabeth,” and it stuck. Me: How does it feel to be recognized by so many people as one of the best bands in a city known for its local bands and music? Jerrika: Really I like the place to be packed before we get there, like today, but even if it wasn’t I think we’d still play just as we do now. It’s kind of a wow thing to see so many people show up, and to realize that they like us. Liz: When people say we’re the best I feel sincerely touched, sometimes its hard to believe people are so interested [in us]. Me: What are your hopes for the band? Liz: I have high hopes…though right now it’s to book in more well known venues, other than Eau Claire. Me: What inspired the song “Daddy” which so many people love? Jerrika: Well it’s kind of personal, it’s about friends of ours who wanted their dad back in their lives after their parents had separated. Me: As a full time student do you wish you

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could spend more time with the band? Jerissa: Yes…though school is important, it’s about doing what I’m interested in, as an English Major studying is important. Me: Jerrika, why do you plan to move to Colorado while your sisters go to school here? Jerrika: Well my sisters are going to be full time students, and I’d just be waiting around [for them,] so I thought I’d go to some place I’d enjoy, where I can explore. Me: Growing up with eight siblings, was music a large part of your life? Jerissa: Yes, absolutely, it was almost a constant…we’d always listen to oldies and go for car trips or pajama trips at night, which had the rules of you had to have your pajamas on, and well, obviously it had to be night. Me: Many of your songs seem to have a very spiritual essence, how many of your songs come from personal experience? Liz: They’re mostly from personal experience, or related experiences from our friends. QuinnElizabeth will be back this June 21, and will be performing at the Mable Tainter Theater in Menominee. Liz will be performing again soon at the Acoustic as a solo act.

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On a Human Rite of Passage. . . Betsy Lorenz

Undergraduate / Latin American Studies and Political Science What does it mean to be human? To know that you’re human? To engage in the joys and sorrows of the human experience, whatever those might be? To walk on two legs? To have the ability to understand language? To me, understanding and engaging in language with others is a trait that provides us one of the unique sources of what it means to be “human.” Indeed, to me it is absolutely fascinating to observe a young child who has just begun to speak pick up the language that surrounds her. It is a rite of passage that is fundamentally part of the human experience, and yet we are so young when it happens that we are often unaware of its profound impact on our perception of the world. In coming to México and immersing myself in the Spanish language, I tore myself from my linguistic comfort zone in the English-speaking world. As I eagerly anticipated the experience (as I hoped that it would improve my Spanish skills to near fluency,) I hardly stopped to think how much I was actually getting myself into. My first two weeks in México (and this small part of the Spanish-speaking world,) were exciting and exhilarating. Everything was new, every action and discovery in my new locale was an adventure. At times when I hadn’t spoken to someone for awhile or heard someone speak, I would forget that I was in a Spanish-speaking place, until a random conversation of

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passers-by or a question or salutation from another person would jolt me back to the awareness that I was in this new linguistic landscape. And even though I had felt somewhat competent in the language upon arriving in México, it took only a matter of days for my resilience to be exhausted. Constantly having to ask for repetitions or other words to explain things can wear on a person who once felt confident in his linguistic skills, and for me this was no exception. I continually felt baffled and overwhelmed, becoming frustrated in the profundity of my plunge into the uncharted depths of this new language. And then, the epiphany came. I was walking home from school, thinking my own thoughts about the day that had passed, when a simple and resonant conception sounded in my brain: I was thinking in Spanish! My thoughts, as they were occurring, were relaying themselves to me in Spanish! And the car that had just passed me with its radio blaring- the content of those sound waves had been in Spanish as well, and they had meshed seamlessly into my thought-pattern! Suddenly and unexpectedly, a wondrous thing had happened to me; I had crossed the threshold of a linguistic rite-of-passage into a new world. I know I am not yet completely fluent in the Spanish language. And yet, I also know that my mind has finally stopped fighting with itself; it has stopped trying to categorize Spanish into English definitions and concepts. And I also know that a whole new world of music, of reading, of

The Flip Side

talking—indeed, of enjoying the human experience—has been opened up before me. The undertaking of learning a second language as an adult can seem daunting and perhaps “not worth it,” but based on this experience, I can assure you that it is. I have given myself a new dimension of existence; can it not be argued that that which exists is that which can be represented, and therefore in my new linguistic knowledge I have opened up for myself a new dimension of existence as I can represent my thoughts and feelings in it? But I digress. The point is this: The ability to comprehend and engage in the sharing of language with others is one that each of us has, and one that is crucial to our identity as humans. By learning a second language as adults, we recreate for ourselves a very crucial rite of passage that is otherwise experienced at such a young age that it might not be remembered or appreciated. In learning a second language, have I become more human? No, probably not. But I have given myself an opportunity to understand what it means to be human in a way that I could not have realized through any other means. So, if you’ve ever had even the smallest inkling to learn another language, do yourself a favor and follow that inkling. If you stick with it, you won’t be disappointed. Betsy Lorenz is studying abroad in Monterrey, Nuevo León, México this semester, and will be writing about her experiences for The Flip Side.


The Best Music of 2007 Ted Waldbillig

Undergraduate / English I don’t think an explanation is needed for what this is all about, but I must leave a disclaimer: I didn’t get around to much of the music released last year that I would have liked to hear because a. there’s too much music with too little time, and b. I can only get my hands on so much. As a result, this review will cover my 2007 library (a little more than 100 albums,) which I have narrowed down to ten essentials among others. Obviously, there are more than ten great albums for 2007, but as I’ve said, space is limited. However, I will make appropriate mention of albums I don’t own or didn’t hear. So, without further ado, 2007’s must-hear records: LCD Soundsystem: Sound of Silver James Murphy is as much a genius as he is inventive. He’s created perhaps the best album of the year with Sound of Silver, and doesn’t show any signs of giving up here --as he has also recently revamped a show-stopping EP under his moniker of “LCD Soundsystem.” Sound of Silver combines electronica with edgy funk in a way other dance musicians can only dream of. Burial: Untrue Dubstep is a relatively new genre. It has only recently taken off (2003-2004) and is still relatively unrecognized. Luckily, there are artists such as the anonymous “Burial” who are willing to create defining albums in this contemporary style. With Untrue, Burial not only overcomes the “sophomore slump,” he formulates one of the best Dubstep records, period, and perhaps one of the best albums representing any genre for the year. Of Montreal: Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? Has “Of Montreal” transformed since they first became a band and joined the now-legendary Elephant

6 label? (Neutral Milk Hotel, The Olivia Tremor Control) Have they finally grown above their appearance as the “little sibling” of Elephant 6, now that its been largely disbanded? Is it possible that Kevin Barnes, the enigmatic (or psychotic) leader, a cross-dresser known to play shows for large crowds in full nude, could write some of the most eviscerating, powerful songs of 2007 while maintaining his band’s pop ethic? Yes. Animal Collective: Strawberry Jam Animal Collective deliver, once again, with an LP that is sure to be viewed as another marker of their career as music innovators. Strawberry Jam is another divergence-quickly becoming distinct from their other popular releases, yet still “Animal Collective.” I have no qualms recommending this as much as any other of their records as an introduction to the band. The National: Boxer While buried hooks permeate The National’s latest, its remarkable beauty captivates the listener long enough to create the inevitable ties. Piano-driven and sung largely in a baritone register by Matt Berninger, The National have produced a dark and moodily-unbalanced, yet comprehensive rock album... and it works so damn well it will leave you wanting more spin after spin. Radiohead: In Rainbows A very polarizing album, indeed. I could never fully explain my feelings about this record in a short set of sentences. So, here’s a one word review: indispensable. The Arcade Fire: Neon Bible Wait, before you write me off as campy or ready to eat up anything The Arcade Fire makes… Listen to the album again. The political lyrics aren’t trite; the stories are all told from the point of view of the people

Jan. 30th - Feb. 12th, 2008

victimized by our current political state, resulting in something refreshing. It took me a while to begin to like this, but once I did, I realized that although one could claim The Arcade Fire have “sold out” to a political, liberal appeal, it isn’t forced or tired as Snakes and Arrows (Rush) is… or something. Frog Eyes: Tears of the Valedictorian A consistently surprising, bombastic approach to subtle Canadian Indie. Mercer’s vocals have never come off as so menacing or poetic, using everything from the Roman Civilization to birch trees for analogies. TotV is also much more textually oxymoronic than even this review. Battles: Mirrored Hold up… whoa, whoa… where is that going… what the… ahh!...(At this point, the listener gets out of the chair, takes off the thick, black-frame glasses, has a brief identity crisis, reaches for the door handle and then realizes, with all pertinence: “OH MY GOD! MATH ROCK IS BACK!!!”) Liars: Liars Don’t think I would leave this list unmarred by some truly caustic noise. Following up an incredible 2006 release, Liars shift their sound once again; if only slightly, to enhance their stance in the modern noise-rock scene. Also, Liars performances are intimidating, sexy, and intriguing all at once – another clear indicator for the reasoning behind such attentive critics. Others... Menomena: Friend and Foe, Panda Bear: Person Pitch, Black Dice: Load Blown, The Field: From Here We Go Sublime, Kanye West: Graduation, Jens Lekman: Night Falls Over Kortedala.

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Time Machine Invented, Travels at a Constant One Second per Second:

A dissertation on the finer points of the science fiction double feature Michael Seaholm

Undergraduate / Computer Science Between the constant procession of all-night parties where they serve drinks with little umbrellas coming out of them, and the random acts of debauchery I perpetrate against society in order to glorify the lifestyle of the ninja, I seldom have time to watch anything on television before nine or so at night. Every once in a while, however, I flip through the channels and manage to find something remotely watchable wedged somewhere between Pooh’s Hanukkah Spectacular and Extremely Graphic Violent Crime Show: New York. Usually, this ends up being an episode of Dirty Jobs, featuring Mike Rowe getting bit in the junk by farm animals. At any rate, one channel that is very good when it comes to random shows that everyone will enjoy (assuming everyone involved is awesome) is the Sci-Fi channel. This issue’s article will be about all the quality programming that appears on this great station, and how it may be useful the next time something totally freaked-thefuck-out happens (ex: sudden time warps, inexplicable superhuman abilities, someone nearby expresses a liking for Richard Simmons, etc.) The Sci-Fi channel has a surfeit of amazing original series that range somewhere between holy-crap unbelievable and regular unbelievable. One of the more fantastical of these is Painkiller Jane, in which the titular character and an underground group of policing agents apprehend “neuros” – people with strange, unexplained powers, such as the ability to eat six Saltines in under a minute. For reasons that have not been properly established as yet, Jane has the uncanny power of regeneration. In fact, most episodes revolve around the fact that she gets shot hundreds of times without dying, and then gulps down a whole bottle of Ibuprofen to dull the pain. There are only two people that can possibly withstand such an attack: Wolverine and the Burger King (the latter can only do so because he is made from the nightmares of children, and thus is intangible). Obviously, no discussion of the SciFi channel would be complete without a mention of one of the most batshit in-

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sane shows ever: Doctor Who. It follows the adventures of a magical man known only as the Doctor, who travels around with a pretty young female assistant that we can only assume is around to satisfy the Doctor’s rampaging libido between episodes. Basically every installment of Doctor Who has to do with the Doctor and his assistant travelling through time to fix up all the crap that apparently goes

Ian Kloster

wrong in history, on what is considered by the viewer to be a daily basis. Usually, these situations involve the Daleks, a race of trashcan-like beings that once tried to use the Empire State Building to harness enough power to produce Dalek-human hybrids to ensure the survival of their race. And if that doesn’t make you crap your pants from sheer terror, then welcome to the overworld, Prince of Darkness. Even more entertaining can be the movies that they show on the Sci-Fi channel. To give you an idea of just how awesome they are, consider this example synopsis of what could be a Sci-Fi movie:

The Flip Side

Wyvern: The Legend A group of stalwart turkey hunters on a routine expedition of the European wilderness stumble upon an ancient evil put to rest centuries ago. Now, it is up to them to save humanity from the terrible wyvern that now threatens to escape to New York and smash up the place. Starring Arnold Schwartzenegger as United States President Cosby. Rated 1.5 out of 4 stars. Armed with this knowledge, one might suspect that this movie would be a total bust and would probably turn to the Discovery Channel to watch Dirty Jobs. However, further inspection of a movie like Wyvern: The Legend would be to one’s enormous benefit. This type of film is best watched with a few friends (at least 20 percent of them must be drunk) and some Buffalo wings. I guarantee that within ten minutes, all of you will be laughing unabashedly at the poor acting and lack of rational plot (unless percent of your party is vomiting at the time). As another example, let me relate to you a commercial I saw on the Sci-Fi channel for a movie called simply Mammoth. During the commercial, a bunch of buildings are destroyed as an undead mammoth rams into them with impunity. It then cuts to a man who says to his terrified companion – and this is a direct quote – “We have an alienpossessed mammoth on the loose and if we don’t stop it the government is going to kill all of us.” Tell me that is not quality dialogue and I shall declare you a liar, good sir or madam. As you can see, the Sci-Fi channel offers many colorful programs, most of which I haven’t even begun to talk about. I mean, there’s a show with a detective… who’s also a wizard. That kind of writing gold could not have been crafted by human hands. Nay, it could only be (Choose one of the following: God, Jesus, Lord o’ the Mormons, Buddha, Allah, the Tao, Arnold Schwartzenegger) himself that came up with this sort of lineup. Obviously the Sci-Fi folks have made a deal with the divine, which sort of puts them ahead of TNT and the History Channel. But not CBS, however; from what I understand, they have Extremely Graphic Violent Crime Show as their trump card.


To start this off, there are some details of this story that I’m just going to plead the fifth on. If you really want to know, ask me and maybe I’ll tell you. Right before the last issue went to print Barrows and I had an adventure of sorts. We loaded up his van with essentials like beer and…well just beer I guess. Our destination: you guessed it, fucking Crappleton. There were minimal setbacks along the drive, the most notable of which was us stopping at a bar in Wausau to shoot the shit with Palmer. I had a few road sodas on the way down as well, seeing as I wasn’t driving. So naturally, by the time we rolled into the Poison Estate I was a leeeeeeeeetle bit buzzed. When we showed up, there wasn’t even anyone at the house, despite the fact I had called Shane when we were something like ten minutes away. Not really that surprised. Once we got all our beer in and Shane, Ryan, and Remy showed up we all did the hug thing and got straight to work. Barrows, Ryan (Wartorn/BFG House,) Shane (Choose Your Poison/ Poison Estate,) Remy and myself sat at the awesome bar they built and listened to vinyl. They even built Homer the dog a chair. I’ve noticed that a bar in a house sends out a sort of subconscious signal to anyone who enters. It definitely serves as an excellent congregation point for those who tend to get the most fucked up. There’s just something about alcohol abuse that just makes you want to put your elbows up. Hart wasn’t there yet because according to Ryan he was totally absorbed with Final Fantasy VII or something of the like. I feel like someone else was present, but that could be my imagination. Anyway, we all proceeded to hit the fucking bottle, and boy howdy did we. Initially our gathering was generally civil, just chilling at the bar drinking, chatting, listening to music. But just like a virgin on prom night, it didn’t last very long. The next thing we know, and we were all legitimately caught off guard by our spontaneous flurry of debauchery, everyone is bouncing off the fucking walls. Literally. We were running up the couches and launching off the walls into/onto each

other. It was like we all turned into Animal from the Muppets. At one point all six of us were dancing on the bar, which segued into running down the bar, jumping off, and seeing if you could land on the couch on the other side of the room. In retrospect, this was retarded seeing as there is no fucking way anyone could clear

that distance. Sort of like drunken lemmings. Ryan managed to slip or something and laid out the Christmas tree. Seriously though, a Christmas tree in that type of setting, what the fuck do you think is going to happen? The last thing I remember was getting into a scuffle with Hart. We were both rolling around on the floor and he got ahold of my fingers, bending them

Jan. 30th - Feb. 12th, 2008

waaaay the fuck backwards. So I grabbed his trachea and squeezed. We were in this death grapple for at least five minutes before I caved. Somehow I ended up at the BFG (Hart and Ryan’s house, three blocks away) eating chili. Then I slept on the couch next to Buddy, the nicest yet most disheveled looking dog in the world. He kind of looks like Keith Richards but with more hair and matted shit by his butthole. But really, I’ve never seen Keith Richard’s butthole, so maybe they do have that in common. Ironically, the six of us actually did more damage on night one than on night two, what with the hand lotion sprayed on the walls, broken paintings, etc. But from a non-material perspective, night two was way worse. It started out “innocent enough.” There was to be a show at the Poison Estate; Wartorn, Tenement, Choose Your Poison, and The Cougar (I believe that was his alias; it was some sort of large cat.) Anyway, everyone was there and all was going well. This guy that was friends with Remy named “Punch” showed up. He was only somewheres around 35 but seriously looked like he was pushing 60. Oh, and he was the loudest, most chauvinistic person I’ve ever met in my entire fucking life. I think the first thing he said to us was “Where are all the girls? I wanna thrust on some volcano!” Later Shane went outside, down to the end of the block and he could still hear this guy yelling and shit. Absolutely out of control. Then he got drunk. The Cougar was this schizophrenic dude and his guitar. Sort of a white Wesley Willis. His lyrics were gibberish and his skills were in a way mediocre, yet in a way absolutely brilliant. Punch kept grabbing the mic and yelling shit (like he needed a fucking microphone, honestly) and the Cougar was getting pissed. Back upstairs, Remy had consumed something and was getting nutz. I walked up to him, said something along the lines of “How you doing man?”and he headbutted me. He later proceeded to kick holes in doors and shit upstairs. Hours later I was in a very, very, very, bad way. Hart picked up on this and escorted me back to his house. That night was somewhat of a harrowing experience. The next morning I woke up and I haven’t felt that shitty since I was 16. Moral of the story? I’m not fucking 16 anymore.

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Monday, February 4th 10 am-1 pm – Black History Month Reception – Tamarack Room, Davies Center – Samples of Nigerian and African American foods will be offered.

Tuesday, February 5th 7 pm – Flip Side Meeting – Wisconsin Room, Davies Center

Wednesday, January 30th 11 am-2 pm – The Blugold Organization Bash – Council Fire Room, Davies Center – A membership recruitment fair to learn more about student organizations. 7:30 pm – Artists Series: Revelations of Mann – Schofield Auditorium – Tickets Available at the Davies Service Center

Thursday, January 31st

7-8 pm – Planetarium Program: “Ancient Horizons” – Planetarium, Phillips Hall

Wednesday, February 6th 7:30 pm – Black History Month Concert: Jabali Afrika – Schofield Auditorium

Thursday, February 7th

11 am-2 pm – Community Action Fair – Council Fire Room, Davies Center – Matching students with community servicelearning and volunteer opportunities. 5-7 pm – Karaoke – Higherground 6 & 8:30 pm – Campus Film: The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters – Davies Theater - Tickets available at the Davies Center Service Desk or at the door – $1

Friday, February 1st 6 & 8:30 pm – Campus Film: The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters – Davies Theater - Tickets available at the Davies Center Service Desk or at the door – $1

2:30-4:30 pm – Black History Month: Dialogue on Diversity – Presidents Room, Davies Center – Discussion and refreshments follow each episode 5-7 pm – Karaoke – Higherground 6 & 8:30 pm – Campus Film: Fuck – Davies Theater - Tickets available at the Davies Center Service Desk or at the door – $1 7:30 pm – Campus Forum: Anthony Romero – Council Fire Room, Davies Center – Tickets Available at the Davies Service Center

Friday, February 8th

8 pm – Local Talent: Jack O’Connor – The Cabin, Davies Center

6 & 8:30 pm – Campus Film: Fuck – Davies Theater - Tickets available at the Davies Center Service Desk or at the door – $1

10 pm – Club Mercury Dance Party – Higherground

10 pm – Club Mercury Dance Party – Higherground

Saturday, February 9th

Saturday, February 2nd 11 am-12 pm – Planetarium Program: “Zubenelgenubi’s Magic Sky” – Planetarium, Phillips Science Hall 6 & 8:30 pm – Campus Film: The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters – Davies Theater - Tickets available at the Davies Center Service Desk or at the door – $1 8 pm – Local Talent: Drew Brown – The Cabin, Davies Center 10 pm – Club Mercury Dance Party – Higherground

10 am-2 pm – Ice Fishing Contest - Half Moon Lake (Carson Park) – Purchase tickets at the Environmental Adventure Center, or at the event – $5 11 am-12 pm – Planetarium Program: “Zubenelgenubi’s Magic Sky” – Planetarium, Phillips Science Hall 6 & 8:30 pm – Campus Film: Fuck – Davies Theater - Tickets available at the Davies Center Service Desk or at the door – $1 8 pm- Open Mike – The Cabin, Davies Center

Sunday, February 3rd 6 & 8:30 pm – Campus Film: The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters – Davies Theater - Tickets available at the Davies Center Service Desk or at the door – $1

10 pm – Club Mercury Dance Party – Higherground

10 pm – Club Mercury Dance Party – Higherground

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The Flip Side


Sunday, February 10th 6 & 8:30 pm – Campus Film: Fuck – Davies Theater - Tickets available at the Davies Center Service Desk or at the door – $1

Monday, February 11th 7:30 pm – Artists Series: Janice Garret & Dancers – Zorn Arena – Tickets Available at the Davies Service Center

Tuesday, February, 12th 7 pm – Flip Side Stapling – Campus Model, by the Old Library 7-8 pm – Planetarium Program: “Ancient Horizons” – Planetarium, Phillips Hall

Submit Your Events! To better serve our readers, all Student Organizations, Departments, Students, Faculty, Staff, and Community Members are welcome to submit events or activities for inclusion into our calendar for FREE. The deadline for events in the next issue is Feb. 7th Send events to Phil Kolas at: kolaspn@uwec.edu

Jan. 30th - Feb. 12th, 2008

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