Editor in chief: Laura Cadiz
Editorial Editors: Bret Jacobson, Laura Lucas
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Room 300, Erb Memorial Union
P.O. Box 3159, Eugene, OR 97403
E-mail: ode@oregon.uoregon.edu
On-line edition: www.dailyemerald.com
Sit back, relax and pill-pop your way into the
peaceful oblivion of holiday spirit
Bryan Dixon Emerald
By Jason George
Oregon Daily Emerald
It’s the last issue of the year,
but it is the first time I am
getting to go off on my own
little tirade.
And it's a fitting time too.
The Emerald, in keeping with
the giving spirit of the season,
has decided to let me rant as
my swan song of the term.
But what does that exactly
mean, “giving spirit of the sea
son?”
Why do we give now?
Christmas, Hanukkah or
whatever you celebrate stress
es the spirit of giving, but
why? Don’t I give enough?
I just wish I could take a lit
tle holiday pill. One-quarter of
the pill would be joy. And I
don't mean elation; I want
Hallmark in powder form, car
olers on roller skates and all
\ the trimmings. Joy like hear
I ing Handel’s “Messiah” in
[ Westminster Abbey or snow
P on a third grade night.
The pill would also be guilt
less. No fat, no calories, no
aunts or uncles bitching about
your not calling since you got
their birthday card and a Mi
cro Machine set that they gave
you ten years after you asked
for it.
And, of course, there
would be no
side effects
5 in mY
know that
feeling
when
elixir.
You
you open that big box of cot
ton socks from the extended
family?
Gone.
During the winter break,
you know that despair you get
seeing old girlfriends who
have moved on, high school
friends that have become the
ideal guest for Jerry Springer,
leaving you with “Do you re
member the time ...” as your
only conversation?
Gone.
But the most important part
of my pill would be relax
ation. See, the problem with
the holidays is that we don’t
relax because we are so busy
trying to create this Rock
wellian Fantasia that we've
never experienced in the first
place. For example, my grand
mother sweats people liking
her meal so much that I would
not be surprised if she actually
turns into an ulcer this year.
But, of course, there is no rea
son for this.
Seriously, if you’ve seen my
family, you would knotv that
this is not the bunch that is go
ing to be complaining if the
thyme is not pureed enough in
the stuffing. Open the can of
cranberries, crack open a
packet of Louis Rich, leave the
plates on the counter and din
ner is served. And yet, God
bless her, Grandma makes
herself crazy over the “perfect
dinner.”
And this is a “holiday”?
-So my advice for the holi
days: Relax, and remember no
matter how bad it gets at
home, it still beats running
down to Gilbert Hall on a
Monday at 9 in the morning.
Yes my friends, if only I
could make this wonder pill.
But then again, if I could make
it, I would be making seven
figures at Pfizer, not working
at the Emerald for laundry
money.
Twas the Night Before Christmas,
or ’Twas the Rally ’fore the Sun Bowl
^ t | ^was the night before
| Christmas when all
| through Eugene
JL. Not a student was
studying, especially in Bean;
The picket signs were hung in
the closet with care,
In hopes that Y2K would bring
protests to bear.
The GTFs were nestled, all
snug in their beds,
While visions of benefits
danced in their heads;
And Frohnmayer in his ’ker
chief and Wylie’n his cap,
Had just settled in for a long
winter’s nap.
When out in the Fishbowl there
arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my tenement to
see what was the matter.
Away to the Buzz I flew like a
bird,
To quack at the scene so easily
heard.
The moon on the breast of the
new fallen rain
Gave mildewy smells to the
leaf-clogged drains.
When what to my wondering
eyes should appear,
But a miniature Beaver being
dragged by reindeer.
With a little old kicker not apt
to miss,
I knew in this moment one
must be Villegas.
More rapid than Huskies his
teammates they came,
They whistled, and shouted
and prepared for the game.
“Now, DROUGHNS! now,
HARTLEY, now HARRINGTON!
and MOORE!
On, FEELEY! on WILCOX! on
SIRMON! and MCLEMORE!
To the top of the conference! To
the top of the poll!
Now fork over money to get to
the bowl!
As wet leaves that before my
feet get so mushy,
When they drop from the sky
and make sounds so squishy,
So up to the ballroom the play
ers they ran,
To rally some pep and meet
with their fans.
And then, in a twinkling, I
heard on the street
The prancing of cheerleaders
dancing their beat.
As I watched all their moves
and was turning around,
Up the stairs ol’ Bellotti came
with a bound.
He was dressed all in green,
and his face said “I’m ready,”
To face the Golden Gophers
with a style so steady;
A bundle of footballs he had on
his back,
And he looked like a peddler
just opening his pack.
His eyes — how they twinkled!
Yet his face was so stern!
His cheeks were like roses from
feeling the burn;
His hands helad the headset he
wore as he coached,
And his moustache twitched
with thought of gophers to poach.
The Oregon playbook he held
tight in his grip,
And the players were eager to
take this bowl trip;
For students were counting on
them to perform,
This Christmas Eve rally was to
get them in form.
The rain on the pavement made
noises as it fell,
And Ducks were ready to cele
brate their holidays weli.
With football and Christmas
and Hanukkah and more,
This season would be merry for
all and not bore.
Bellotti made a quick exit, to
his team gave a whistle,
And they prepared to fly like
the down of a thistle.
But I heard them exclaim as
they carried the Beav,
“Happy Holidays to all, and
watch us kick Golden Gopher
butt New Year’s Eve!”
CORRECTION
In the Dec. 2 article “University inau
gurates new center," David Strom’s
name was misspelled. The Emerald
regrets this error.