The hour badly spent

I met Marco Lin last year at a party. Being a pretentious English major, when I got bored at parties I would often take out a notebook and scribble "observations" while coolly sipping a Red Rock.

Marco was curious about this. He’s from Taiwan and we struck up conversations in Engrish. At some point I told him I’d edit his papers whenever he needed it. Late last semester he started taking me up on that.

Saturday night he called again, so this afternoon I visited him. What I like is that every time I go there, his paper is all written out. All I’ve got to do is fix the grammar. He makes the same interesting mistakes all the time, errors that actually make sense in terms of the structure of language. For example, he will write "It’s important participating" instead of "It’s important to participate." In some languages — Spanish comes to mind — the infinitive is also used as the gerund; "Participar es importante." Or something like that. Maybe Chinese is similar that way? He also never quite knows when to use "that," which is extremely tricky. "It’s important to participate" is usually just as correct as "It’s important that you participate," which Marco might make into "It’s important you participate," which is conversational but not quite right in an academic paper.

So I fixed up a short paper for him. Afterwards he had a gift for me:

And another gift: a box of Japanese smokes. It resembles a camera:

 I have nothing else to add except that Marco is awesome.

Having a stuffy head and a sore throat actually carries an unforeseen health benefit: I can’t smoke. When I get better, of course I’ll start up again, but whatever I do will not be nearly as bad as that time I was chomping down a pack a day (right before I got sick). Come to think of it, I could even actually not smoke any more at all! Meh; who am I kidding. It’s 11:30 in the morning and I’ve already got a drink in my right hand. What, exactly, is supposed to go in the left? Before you answer, keep in mind that sometimes a cigar is not a penis.

The Manhattan Board of Commissioners voted on that smoking ban. They chose to spite me and my prediction by rejecting the ban, but I’m not taking it personally. Justin Nutter broke it down for us in the Collegian.

The commission gathered for a special meeting at 7 p.m. Tuesday to discuss the ordinance. City Attorney Bill Frost opened the meeting by discussing the possible outcomes.
“We essentially have one of two options,” Frost said. “We can elect to pass the ordinance as it was submitted, or we can pass a resolution to submit the ordinance to a vote on the Nov. 4 ballot.”
Frost said the ordinance did not appear to contain any legal issues in its presented form.
“From what we can tell, there are no constitutional concerns with the ordinance the way it was proposed,” he said.

Umm, parliamentary procedure? Servicey, I guess. But it gets better. After local resident Stan Watt outlined the bill to the Commissioners, Manhattanite Dee Ross expressed disapproval of the proposal.

“How dare you look a soldier or veteran in the face and tell him thank you for his service to this country,” Ross said. “When you say the Pledge of Allegiance, do you forget to say ‘With liberty and justice for all?’” Ross appeared to become increasingly upset as he spoke, and he ended with a gesture that sent the audience into a buzz.
“Let me end by giving you socialist fascists the New York salute you deserve,” said Ross as he waved his middle finger in the air [ed. note: Oh snap!].
The ordinance failed in a 2-3 vote by the commissioners.

The other day I waxed romantic about how indifferent I am on this issue. But I’ve had a total change of heart. This guy is awesome. He’s basically the Marlboro Man, and I’m joining his militia. It’ll be me and Barack Obama’s white siblings, all dressed like Launch Pad McQuack. During the day we’d use Dee Ross’s WWII pistols to shoot down illegal immigrants. At night we’d cook their remains over a bonfire on the prarie.

"I loooove Mexican," I’d say, wiping my sleeve across my mouth.

"Well then eat up, son," he’d chuckle. "No sissy food; no sissy portions."

[source: K-State Collegian]

I used to take the bus a lot. During the wait, after I whipped out a Parliament, inevitably some grungy-looking lady would make a big production out of faux coughing and fanning the air, as though I had just pulled her into the rancid colon of a dying mastadon. And I’d think to myself, what a prick; she needs this more than I do.

Then I contritely move downwind of her and enjoy my fine tobacco product. Because while the lady is being obnoxious, so am I, which was the focus of Mark Ehrbacher’s Collegian column today. No, not me, silly. Smoking.

“The Manhattan City Commission will vote Tuesday to determine whether to enact an ordinance that will ban smoking within Manhattan city limits at any place of employment or at any public place.

“The argument made for the ban is clear and easy to make. Cigarettes are unhealthy, and has been scientifically proven. It is also a nuisance to some pansyasses people who do not like the smell of cigarette smoke [ed. note: try cloves!].

Years ago, California agreed, outlawing our smoking practically everyfuckingwhere. Now a related bill will be put to the vote locally Tuesday. And lo, some ado is being made about our civil liberties or whatnot. "The ban is wrong on many levels," Mark writes.

"Many restaurants have taken it upon themselves to have smoking and nonsmoking sections. If people do not want to smell smoke while they are eating, no one is forcing them to eat at this restaurant. They can choose to eat wherever they like.

“If there was a large enough outcry for a smoke-free environment, business owners would take it upon themselves to provide one to make more money.

“If a person applying for a job doesn’t like the smoke, they can apply for a job somewhere else.

Then he makes an analogy with people who work in hazmat jobs.

As a dedicated intaker of the sweet, sweet, smokey goodness, I know I should probably take Mark’s side too. But the bill will probably pass, because these bills are passing everywhere. And it’s really not much of a big deal.

In California, you can’t smoke in bars or restaurants. And so, when you’re out at a table, you’ll say "I need a fag," and you’ll go outside and light up. Then a few other people will join you, because either they are trying to fuck you, or because they also need a few minutes away from some other annoying prig at the table, or maybe some will just figure it’s best to do whatever the cool kids are doing. And it will be a nice ten-minute clique. The smokers will all feel like they’re in on a dirty secret together.

And later on in the year, when it gets cold outside, you’ll become more scraggly and determined, huddling in a circle with muddy snow under your boots. And one of you will point out that you’re all pathetic. And you’ll all laugh and take a drag, all secretly knowing that yes, you really are pathetic, which is fine because the people who stayed inside are just not much fun, which is always worse.

[Source: K-State Collegian]