2005-03-14-pine-press

Pine Pre ss

March, 14 2005

Letters from Past Co-Opers!

A friend sent me a link to your wonderful web site. I can see that the co-op movement wavered a bit but is now back, looking stronger than ever. I lived in Ulrey house from 1971 to 1973, the last year as house president. It was truly a wonderful time for us gals.

It taught me so much about management and running a house. I was also in your position, president of SHC, mostly as a puppet, since I had the help of people so much more informed than I. During that time, we bought Ulrey house (for $40,000!) from Sigma Tau Delta, I think. I moved to Howland house on Ann Street for my senior year, which was even more fun. You are part of a long history of movers and shakers, finding a more efficient way to live off-campus. Don't lose your idealism.

Annette Ripplinger So do they still award the quarterly awards: * Mundo Faggione Award (Given to the girlfriend of a resident who spent the most time in the house. Named after Mundo Faggione, the only plumber who would respond to a late-night, holiday plea for help in unclogging the sewer drain. As he snaked out the obstruction, he muttered, "There's a goddam Kotex in here!" All residents blamed each other's girlfriends for the disaster. * House Gross Award (Self-explanatory. You probably don't want any of the details....)

These were active in the late 60s and early 70s--'69-'71, certainly. House Gross Award once went to someone who wrapped up a....uh...um...turd, in tin foil and deposited it in the bathroom wastebasket of a particulary messy guy and it took DAYS for him to seek out and locate the source of the retching odor...

There was a pretty good-sized room on the main floor that contained the plaque about the (dead) guy the house was named for. The walls were painted a dark rust, and were adorned with reproductions of the famous French cave paintings. These done by the resident who was an art history major who later became a violin builder. This was the best room in the house, sort of the house's living room, with the coolest guys who welcomed everyone in!

How about BHMC? (Bower House Motorcycle Club. Many engines were rebuilt using baking pans from the kitchen. Members had a grand embroidered patch for their black leather jackets. One guy had plasticbicycle streamers on his handles.)

If not, I suggest the Bower House residents revive these fine traditions!

Christine (Niedzwiecki) Brady Observer of many Bower House activities

Fourteen Days, Anyway

This here adorable little puppydog has submitted to the Pine Press.

Why haven’t you?

SUBMIT TO YOUR PINEY MASTER! BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE! Send submissions to pinepress@hotmail.com

2005 Executive Committee

Don’t Forget!

VOTE! Completed Ballots are Due Friday, March 18 Turn in Ballots to your education officer Education officers, turn in ballots @ SHC Office

Steve O’Connor Reviews

More Bands You Don’t Know!

The WPP Baam! Jaam!

Substandard Records 2003 www.myspace.com/thewpp www.substandard.com

I consider a short EP the second best introduction to a band (the first being: live performance). Serving their cause well, the sounds created by The WPP captivated my ears on first listen in a way that few bands ever do. The most impressive track onto thisfebruary EP is the third24's Leadersedition, Are For Followers, which in response provides sufficiently aggressive energy for satisfying your “inner mosher”. If RE: the pine press 'jam': you’re a fan of loud (amps at 11), angry, punk n’ roll or enjoy groups like Melt Banana or The Locust, then The WPP is for you.

dearest tim, you silly goose! i dont rap cuz i have a bad back and spend most of my day preparing vegan snacks. if i did though, id simply place one thumbtack in one of your casual shoes [shoes that a rapper could hardly consider 'phat', fact] break into your shack and videotape your response in hopes youd yelp 'YAAAAACK!'. so next time you dare attack, think before you act, or else you could end up like 2-pack, dead. sincerely, dustin h. [420 evergreen son.] p.s. youre rhymes are whack! and...you have bad breath! ooooooooohhhhhhh! dag.

I Like To Sleep

By Hayley Gaines—Elsworth

I'm trying to remember the very first thing I thought when I woke up today, though it seems like a pointless task. There is no clear demarcation between sleeping and waking. Rather, the curtain is very slowly lifted and daylight seeps into dreams to slowly expose them for what they are fantastical meanderings of the unconscious mind.

I've never been a very good sleeper. As a matter of fact, I was born with dark circles under my eyes, already behind in sleep. Oddly, I tended to sleep well as a baby. It wasn't until my mind could conceive of monsters and evil men lurking in closets and under beds that I began to fear the night.

Though my memory is obviously hazy, for at least a year's worth of nighttimes I would slip into my parents' bedroom and shake my father awake, who would then groggily shuffle into my room while I crawled in next to my mother. I have no recollection of this pattern ending, though obviously it did.

As I recall, my next fit of sleeplessness came when I was seven.

This time there was a clear reason for my fear of night. Stephen King, that year, had made his novel It into a made-for-TV movie, which I had the misfortune of watching. For months, I spent nights curled in my bed, watching the door half expecting a clown's white-gloved hands to creep around the corner. This bout of nightmarish sleeplessness ended when I was sent to a psychiatrist. It strikes me as odd, 15 years down the line, that I never pinpointed as a problem the lamp that burned night-long next to my bed - a plastic clown holding a large bunch of balloons. I'm only just now getting rid of that lamp, too.

As I grew older, my poor sleep patterns returned off and on, though not usually as the result of any fear. Physical discomfort and emotional upheaval (or what amounts to upheaval to a 17-year-old) tended to be the root of my insomnia. Entering college brought new difficulties in sleeping, though (perhaps sadly) they were not usually related to late-night studying. In addition to being an insomniac, I was also a light sleeper and an early riser. Dorm parties incurred a passive-aggressive wrath the likes of which I had never experienced.

The answer to my sleepless dreams came right before I was leaving to spend six weeks in Italy. My father had read in a travel magazine about an herbal supplement that would help regulate sleep patterns (and, thus, control the effects of jet-lag). I found myself taking a half-pill every night and enjoying the most fit rest of my life. I slept soundly, nearly dead to the world.

In a strange twist of fate, the deep slumber I've experienced in recent years has had the tendency to erase any memories of dreams. I now sleep the whole night through, though with no recollection of any flights of fancy. Gone are any recollections of bizarre nighttime adventures. A pale, lifeless light takes its place.

Except, last night I know there was something, a glimmer of a dream that I am now trying to recall. I grasped it tightly as the curtain lifted, but the daylight seeped in, and my dream receded into shadows no light can break.

Pine Press Editorial Staff Editor-In-Chief Rhonda Britten Managing Editor Julia Cameron News Editor Wayne W. Dyer Opinion Editor Louise L. Hay Sports Editor Richard Carlson Edits Editor Steven Covey Pre-Editor Jack Canfield Post-Editor Phillip McGraw Edit McEditson Franz Wisner Self Help Editor Ben Stein

The Pine Press Spring 05: Issue 3 The Pine Press is the official news letter of the MSU SHC. All other newsletters are much less than official. They are unofficial. They are fakers. Frauds. Liars. Jerks. Other such pejorative names for things that are not the real thing. You are holding the only newsletter that is blessed by the co-op gods for the dissemination of co-op information. Speaking of the Co-op gods, it has come to the attention of the Pine Press that many of you do not know the true mythology of the co-op gods. Unfortunately, I don’t feel like figuring out a madeup mythology to fill this space. I’m sure if I had more initiative, you would read about gods and goddesses fighting and fucking and what have you. However, since I’m lazy and a complete jerk, you read me telling you about what I might have written had I not written this. A meta-non-story, if you will. And you will. Because I said so. Damn.

I think it should be clear at this point that my entire purpose with this box is to fucking swear a lot. Shit. I can’t swear as much as I’d like in the large print because children might read it or something. Then I’d get sued. However, in the small print I can swear all I want because children are too damned stupid to read small words. Fuck. Also, I use this space to insult co-opers in general. To tell them that I think they’re poo-faced jerk heads. Because I’m sure they don’t read it. And if they do, they assume the insults are only meant for “other” people. Which is fine with me. I’m sure I’d feel bad if anyone was actually insulted by what I say. I’m a fucking wuss. Oh yeah, and I like to swear. Ass. Damn. Pee. Poop.

I’m out of anything to say. I’m just writing words now so stop reading because the rest of this is going to be worthless bullshit. There’s that swearing again. I’m just filling space. I could come up with something to fill the space, but fuck it. I don’t really care that much.

Seriously. I’m not sure why I’ve chosen for myself this vanity space, but I have and now I have to live with it. I have yet to say something worthwhile in any of these editorial boxes.

I just ramble, swear, and insult people. Is that proper grammar? The second comma two sentences ago. I can’t remember which one is MLA style and which one is AP style. One says there should be a comma before and while the other says no comma before and. By the way, I just ended a sentence with the word and and it was still grammatical. My uncle once handed me a piece of paper that said: Joe had had had Bill had had had had had had had had the teacher’s approval. There is a way to make that grammatical without adding, subtracting, or re-arranging the words. Can you do it? I should read “Eats, Shoots, and Leaves.” It looks like a good book about grammar. That sounds like an oxymoron. An oxmoron. Ox. Moron. Gibberish. Please let this box fill on its own. Please. I’m begging now.

Now, I’m going to copy and paste the first part at the end so that I don’t have to write more: The Pine Press is the official news letter of the MSU SHC. All other newsletters are much less than official. They are unofficial. They are fakers. Frauds. Liars. Jerks. Other such pejorative names for things that are not the real thing. You are holding the only newsletter that is blessed by the co-op gods for the dissemination of co-op information.

Speaking of the Co-op gods, it has come to the attention of the Pine Press that many of you do not know the true mythology of the co-op gods. Unfortunately, I don’t feel like figuring out a made-up mythology to fill this space. I’m sure if I had more initiative, you would read about gods and goddesses fighting and fucking and what have you. However, since I’m lazy and a complete jerk, you read me telling you about what I might have written had I not written this. A meta-non-story, if you will. And you will. Because I said so. Damn.

I think it should be clear at this point that my entire purpose with this box is to fucking swear a lot. Shit. I can’t swear as much as I’d like in the large print because children might read it or something. Then I’d get sued. However, in the small print I can swear all I want

Your mother knows the Rock and Roll Bass Guitar is the undisputed Truth. So how about you quit your stupid adolescent rebellion and just submit to the rock? Damn!

Have a drink for Hunter.

Maggie Thatcher: Hottie He’d do the same for you.