Friday, November 1st, 2002 VOLUME 1, ISSUE 2 Yeah, we're still looking for a better name... 

Protest in D.C.: An insider's account
By Andy Lee

My alarm rang last Friday morning, just early enough for me to get up, throw a pillow, some food, and a clean shirt into a bag and go. But I'm no morning person, and all I wanted to do was push the clock back five minutes, so that I could consciously appreciate those last few moments of sleep. Instead, I told myself to buck up and get ready for the trip.

Why was I going to D.C.? My initial response to the call for students to protest President Bush's oedipal war was derisive: the protest would be nothing more than an imitative attempt to recapture the protests of our parents' generation. As I became more interested, I realized that the trip was less an urge to get away from the academic environment for a weekend and more a concern for the state of the world. The day I left, the headlines of the New York Times featured the arrest of the two D.C. sniper suspects and the beginning of the hostage crisis in downtown Moscow. The first news was a relief, but it did not quell my impression of the disorder, anger, and violence permeating the world, and it added to my uncertainty that the United States was pursuing a war that could do little but increase the hatred and chaos. So I went.

A few hours into the long bus ride, Paul Wellstone died - first in a murmur and a rumor around the bus, then on the radio and the newspapers at gas stations, and finally in the eyes and on the signs of protesters, and halfway down the mast of every flagpole in D.C.

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Signs of the Times
By Nick Edwards

When I first arrived here at Carleton a 3 years ago, I must admit I was lost. I wasn't exactly sure where Myers, my assigned freshman dorm, was located, I didn't know what the letters CMC stood for, nor could I readily distinguish where Sevy ended and Sayles began. I followed the little map in my lagniappe everywhere I went, tracing the sidewalk from Leighton to Laird with my finger as I walked it. About a week later, that lagniappe was in the trash along with so many of its brethren, and I was confidently navigating my way around campus. Sure, I'd still get lost occasionally, but I found that someone was always around that knew how to get where I needed to go. It's an extraordinarily small campus, after all, and the people tend to be quite friendly.

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In Other News...

Wellness Center: Gas killed 16 in tunnels - Oden calls for regime change

Northfield - The gas that Security officers pumped into the tunnels to knock out student vandals during a raid Wednesday killed at least 16 of the students in a tragic climax to the siege, the Wellness Center's chief medical officer said yesterday.

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