Page10- Over The Edge -

is advised.

the real thing. Period.

stare back at you.

mix.

Unconditional Love

My heart grows tender, my
affection grows large

You are my dreamboat, but I am
just a barge.

T try and I try to gain your
affection,

But.all that you see is some big
defection. —

I may be a disease in your eyes
alone,

“Why don’t you want me?” I
constantly bemoan.

I wear my skirts real short, and
my shirts real tight

‘Cuz it’s not what’s inside that
counts, right?

My tongue gets tied, and my

knees turn to Jell-o

When God smiles on me, and
you say “Hello”,

Merry X-mas. And kiss my ass.

MEMO FROM THE ISOLATION WARD:
More Mindless Chatter.

During one of my less-than busy evenings, when I found a couple of hours away from the
reams of pages, stacks of binders, books, articles, correspondence, Deep Thinking etc., I sat
down to watch a bit of television.

What a remarkable medium, this ‘TV.’

In one commercial, which is the real reason TV was invented, a beautiful family sits around
their sunny kitchen table, shoveling shit into their happy faces. Mom is beaming; finally, she
has mastered the skills necessary to satisfy her man as well as her brood. The voice-over goes
something like this: I work hard to satisfy my starving family by feeding them boxed food
made from non-edible flotsam.

Well, that’s not exactly what she says...but it’s pretty close.

I flip from this station to another. On CBC, Peter Mansbridge, looking grim as usual, reads a
news item about the mass exodus swarming across the Rwandan boarder. The road traveled is
lined with the bodies of those too weak to continue the perilous trek. These images, by the
way, will provide nice emotional fodder for the many charities that will flood the air waves
with their righteous cries for financial help this holiday season.

On another channel, some right-wing religious weirdo screams about.Sin and Hell and
‘homosexuals’ and feminist agendas and rock music and teen sex and yadda yadda yadda. Then
he: asks everyone watching to send him a few bucks. His suit looks new and oddly stylish for a.
man whose job it is to be humble.

A couple of weeks ago, I was lambasted by a student for using the word ‘tits’ in a column. I
guess I have not grasped the subtleties of Political Correctness. Or I don’t understand the
current fascination with being Nice and Polite and Non-gender-biased-ethno-centric-blah-blah-
blah. (Insert your own boo-hoo-hoo here) .

Or maybe I simply don’t care. I realized that the first time I saw that commercial. When
words like ‘starving’ pop up in TV commercials for crap-o-la food, I see something more
offensive than tits, male or female.

What offends me even more than that is the idea that people will take a word and make it the
center of their objection when all around them, real people can be seen to die on screen, lay in
pools of their own shit and piss, where TV preachers can scream about Christian Family Values
while on the other hand, deny the keys to ‘heaven’ to others who don’t share a particular point
of view. | take great offense when someone hoots about tits when, in this very city, people are
freezing to death because they don’t have a home.

I take great offense knowing that there are individuals who concern themselves with
imagined issues and will go on to make mountains out of mole-hills while failing to recognize

Editors Note: Due to the University’s Policy on Political Correctness, it should be noted that
while Mr. McFetrick’s views are his own, we feel that Merry X-Mas should be rephrased as

Happy Holidays (or Season’s Greetings, if you prefer). However, if you didn’t like the fact that
we didn’t edit for content and left “Merry X-Mas” as is

I can’t say a word, I turn into a
geek,

Like when you caught me
watching you last week.

I watch you always, while you
eat sleep and drink;

I keep seeing your face in each
thought I think.

With pictures of you I have
plastered my walls.

I hang up the phone when you
answer my calls.

I took your underwear out of
your hamper.

I just stare at it, it makes my
heart scamper;

I let all the air out of all your
tires,

Watching you pump’em up relit
my fires.

The embers within me, all

ou can kiss all of our asses too.

Warning: Some material contained in this column may be offensive to some readers. Discretion

Remember this when you sit down over the holidays fora fine family feast. Think about this
when you sit idly in front of the boob-tube. Take a close look at the blank Rwandan faces that

All that steam from one commercial about recycled-foam-by-product oven-ready stuffing

burning and hot;

I have your old Kleenex,
Covered with your snaught.

I send you love letters and, did I
mention,

I boiled your bunny to get your
attention?

My burning love grows stronger

every day

That restraining order can’t keep
me away!

You call me a psycho, a bitch, a

stalker,

That’s why I love you, your such
a sweet talker!

Your fate and mine are
completely entwined—

If I have to kill you, you will be
mine.

1996, The Bitch

LIBRARY POLICIES

In an attempt to create an environment in the library that is
conducive to research and study, the Senate Commitee on the Library
has endorsed the enforcement of the following existing UNBC

Library policies.

1. The consumption of food or drink in the library will be strictly
prohibited. Library patrons who bring food or drink into the library
will be asked to leave. This policy extends to all drink containers
including covered mugs and water bottles.

2. Library patrons will be asked to refrain from continuous or loud
conversation. Patrons who fail to cooperate will be asked to leave the

library.

Library staff will be making regular tours of the library to ensure

that these policies are followed.

Joanne Matthews

Head of Information Services

UNBC Library

Very Ignorant
Nauseating Crybaby
to the End.

Fast walking, nasal talking

Bad without a doubt

Exciting future in shelf stocking
Is what his life’s about.

Should he survive and remain
alive

Through what I wish to do

My goodness has taken a nose
dive

As I will beat him with my shoe.

At night I dream to hear his
scream

In vain and full Of pain

My eyes having a demonic
gleam

All through my torturous reign.

Every meeting consists of a
beating,

A trashing and a thrashing,
The repressed evil I am
supressing

Is revealed through my face
smashing.

I wake up, alas, and I go to class
With every page grows my rage;
The thorn in my side is a pain in
the ass

And the classroom becomes my
cage.

What to do, should my dreams
come true,

And I treat myself fo a beating?
I’d get locked up once I was
through,

But the satisfaction would not be.
fleeting.

1996 , The Bitch

V. Y. Lawrence

Nails on the blackboard:
More welcome than you,
Eating Live spiders

I would rather do.

Mutant infections,

Or massive gangrene

I like much better

D’ya know what I mean?

You constantly spew
Out streams of drivel,
‘Bout as pleasent as
Festering Slivers.

“Shut up” our minds scream
When you open your trap
Entangling us with

Idiotic crap;

You take it too far

‘Til it’s no longer funny
We wish your silence
We'll pay you money!!

The message is short,
But painfully true:
I’d rather be dead
Than listen to you.

1996, The Bitch