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EDITOR IN CHIEF
Ryan Frank
EDITORIAL EDITORS
Kameron Cole
Stefanie Knowlton
From chaos comes clarity
Enou&Q
Giovanni Salemina/Emerald
? Roaring back from the depths
of stupor, an Emerald columnist
has an epiphany about taking the
power back for the people
Just the other day I woke up with
what can probably be considered
JL Jk-the worst hangover in history. I
rose up feeling like a miserable wretch,
mid-afternoon sun blinding my swollen,
red eyes, and the scene in the living room
resembling a deserted warfield —
rgh!
corpses strewn about the rotting
carpet, cans and bottles blanket
ing the floor and broken glasses
dribbling the last drops of their
vicious contents.
But the worst thing is that
my head hurt like mad. I felt
as though there was a ham
mer bashing away at the in
side of my bloated head. I mean
it really, really hurt. And while
I my head kept exploding like
' Baghdad in pre-Ramadan days, I
started to remove a line of desiccat
ed stray vomit pasted down the side
of my arid, dehydrated mouth.
JA horrendous scene, readers. Bizarre
stuff, I know. But it’s hard to imagine a
different outcome after having engaged
in such a dementedly alcoholic and fan
tastically degenerate rage. Top night, it
was.
But, however big the revelry was, the ab
surdly painful hangover could have been
avoided. I know it could.
It would have been pretty easy, actually,
if only I knew how to turn people down. 1
squirm, groan and moan, look up and
down, gesticulate like the deafest of all
men, but in the end, my answer is always an
absolutely catastrophic “yes, please” (along
with a McDonald’s smile).
Terrible stuff, not knowing how to say no.
It can get you into all sorts of trouble. One
time, just outside the pub, a friend offered
me a recreational pill of alien origin and
composition. I hesitated and faltered, and
hinted I wasn’t in the mood but in the end
wound up going for it. I took three of the
bastards. The things kept me awake for a
week and still give me nightmares every
now and then.
Anyway, back to the epic piss-up. What I
meant to say is that brutal and throbbing
headache need not have happened. The
thing could have been avoided. It sure
could. All I had to do was turn down that
last bottle. I know it was that last bottle that
ruined it all. Oh, my God, that last bottle!
So when my swilling friend lurched to
ward me wielding that last bottle of warm,
second-class booze all 1 should have said
was: “Nah, had enough.”
Simple as that: “Had enough.”
Keyword here: enough.
And that’s what we, citizens of this coun
try, have to do. Sometimes
we’ve just got to make our
voices heard and shout out
Opinion
Vince
Medeiros
loud: Enough! Enough!
Enough!
Because there are times
when we must know it’s
time to say enough. Enough
of 10-page term papers that
make us stay up all night de
stroying our already-debili
tated health in front of mind
sucking computer screens
while devouring fattening
sugar ana cocoa ana sucking back hte
threatening doses of black coffee.
Enough of the ridiculously inefficient
University Internet provider that makes it
virtually impossible to check e-mail or sail
the Web unless it’s three in the morning or
spring break or summer vacation.
Enough of a university funded by filthy
capitalists whose only wish is for schools to
graduate brainwashed professionals who’ll
perfectly and silently integrate the market
economy.
Enough of this fake neutrality of the me
dia when we all know most journalists are
as thoroughly committed to capitalism and
existing social relations as the CEO of the
corporation for whom they work.
Enough of this free market rubbish when
we know that the economic power is con
centrated in the hands of a few dozen corpo
rations against whom no small entrepre
neur would ever be able to compete.
And finally, enough of a society broken
down into classes. Can’t condone that one,
can we?
So go out, readers, say enough to all these
ruthless, savage injustices. Make your
selves heard.
Democracy without citizen participation
develops a whole new meaning.
Unfortunately, it’s usually an empty,
void and meaningless one. Just like that in
famous last bottle of beer.
Vince Medeiros is a columnistfor the Emerald.
His views do not necessarily represent those of
the newspaper.
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