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Op-€d
the other press
Gotta Question? Get Online!
Shannon Boisvert
OP Contributor
October 9, 2002
There is still twenty minutes left before the class starts, but already a third of the group arrangements. The only problem with this is that there are a lot of peo-
class is grouped at the side of the room comparing assignments and asking each ple out there who either don’t want to admit they need help, are too shy to ask
other for help. It doesn’t matter that no one knows anyone else’s name, and all
social barriers are down as they all humble them-
selves and crowd around the class geek who
knows all the answers. While it’s great that every-
one is getting help, how much are they actually
learning? In this frantic pre-class scramble, not
much information is absorbed.
Let's go back to the beginning of the week
when the work was assigned. The keeners all
went home that night and had it done within an
hour or so, memorized the notes, and started
studying for the test coming up in two weeks.
The A-For-Effort students went home, struggled
with the homework for a good four hours, and
collapsed from mental exhaustion. They will
continue to struggle with this work until it’s due,
going over and over the problems, hoping that an epiphany will jump out at
them sometime between 2 and 3a.m. the night before class. Then there are the
Last-Minute-Crammers—students who toss the homework under their beds
and then panic the night before class when they realize they don’t know how to
answer the questions, and throw the textbook across the room in frustration.
There are a few options for students who require learning assistance. Most
obvious is the Learning Centre, where they offer tutoring, workshops, or study
The Tao Té Pee
(The Way of Urination)
Bryan Johnson
OP Rantibutor
So I was in Value Village the other day, though don’t
ask me why I go there ‘cause I don’t think I’ve ever
found anything worth using as a toilet-rag never
mind wearing, but it’s like playing the lottery: there’s
fourteen million pieces’a shit in that place but there's
gotta be one decent item and my number's gotta
come up eventually. So I’m looking through the
shirts on the totally-fucked-up size rack where every-
thing is for people with 78-inch waists and two-
foot-long arms and made in 1953 when I hear a
splashing sound. So I figure someone's done them-
selves a favour and thrown out one of those gaudy
pretend fountains you find in your average utterly
tasteless wasteland drywall-mansion but I can’t see it
anywhere and besides it sounds like it’s coming from
inside the shirt rack. But I figure that given there are
10,000 specimens of the latest in poorhouse fashion
extruded from god-knows-what chemical slop hang-
ing there, one of them has probably just hit the 50
year molecular-stability limit and is disintegrating
into a greasy puddle on the floor. So I’m looking
around for green gases or bubbles popping over the
rack but the only thing I can see is some broken
loser out on a day-pass with a look on his face like
he’s talking to God. I take a second look and realize
he doesn’t look capable of a conversation with any-
one, never mind God, so he must have found that
one good thing in the store and damn it but I might
as well go home. But come to think about it, to get
that kinda demented grin on his face it’s even more
likely someone’s on their knees in amongst the
creamy shirts with his dick in their mouth. But real-
ly, what are the chances of His Weirdness swinging a
blowjob in Value Village when most guys can’t get
one unless they pay for it? On a third and hopefully
last look (‘cause he is one sad ugly fuck), I realize he
looks more like he’s been saving up his meds for a
very long time and then he took them all at once on
the bus here, washed down with a gallon cup of 7-
11 caffeinated battery-acid. (I mean what do they do
for help, or simply don’t have the time. Not to mention that trying to arrange a
study group with five or more people who all
have conflicting schedules is a daunting task.
The other option, offered by the majority of fac-
ulty at Douglas, is to phone the instructors or
see them in their offices for help. Unfortunately,
the instructor isn’t often available when the stu-
dent needs to ask a question. Explaining a prob-
lem over the phone can be frustrating, and
many students don’t want to harass the instruc-
tors by phoning once, twice, or three times a
day. While both these options are great ideas,
they just don’t work for some students.
Well, now there is another option available,
in the form of an online forum. At board359657.aimoo.com>, students can post
questions for other students (or even faculty) to respond to. There’s even a chat
room where users can talk to each other real-time. So the keeners can help more
people more efficiently, the A-For-Effort students can spend less time develop-
ing an ulcer and more time studying, and Last-Minute-Crammers can get the
answers they need and preserve the resale value of their books. The more people
using this service, the more successful it will be, so this college newbie encour-
ages everyone to check it out!
to their coffee to make it taste like a Nazi experi-
mental diuretic that’s been drank once before?) But
that splashing sound is still happening and it’s been
two or three minutes now and I still can’t see the
cheesy fountain so maybe it’s really slurping and not
splashing and I look under the rack ‘cause who
knows, maybe there is someone on their knees in
there and I can at least watch. And what do I see but
a little waterfall dripping from the shirts and landing
at the guy’s feet and a river running down into a
floor drain and I can only think, “that’s considerate
of him.” Maybe he even regretted pissing all over the
shirts but it was preferable to making an exhibition
of himself. And he looked like he was in bloody
heaven. Unparalleled bliss. His eyes were rolled up
so far into his empty head I could only see the
whites. And I look at his vacant grin...and then look
at myself...in Value Village...at four o'clock on
another wasted Saturday afternoon with nothing
better to do than flip through a million coat hang-
ers, and I think “gee...I should try that,” ‘cause he
had the look of a junkie as the smack careens into his
brain at the speed of blood, only he was getting his
for free and junkies have to blow four or five guys
behind dumpsters to afford to get that high and
that’s a lot of torn jeans and bloody knees. But all he
had to do was drink an awful lot of anything wet,
not pee (or breathe) for a couple of hours, saunter
into some store where he looks like he belongs,
snuggle into the polyester, and then let himself go in
one very long ecstatically-relieving gush. God, all
life’s pleasures should be so cheap and easy.
page 7 ©
the other press
Gotta Question? Get Online!
Shannon Boisvert
OP Contributor
October 9, 2002
There is still twenty minutes left before the class starts, but already a third of the group arrangements. The only problem with this is that there are a lot of peo-
class is grouped at the side of the room comparing assignments and asking each ple out there who either don’t want to admit they need help, are too shy to ask
other for help. It doesn’t matter that no one knows anyone else’s name, and all
social barriers are down as they all humble them-
selves and crowd around the class geek who
knows all the answers. While it’s great that every-
one is getting help, how much are they actually
learning? In this frantic pre-class scramble, not
much information is absorbed.
Let's go back to the beginning of the week
when the work was assigned. The keeners all
went home that night and had it done within an
hour or so, memorized the notes, and started
studying for the test coming up in two weeks.
The A-For-Effort students went home, struggled
with the homework for a good four hours, and
collapsed from mental exhaustion. They will
continue to struggle with this work until it’s due,
going over and over the problems, hoping that an epiphany will jump out at
them sometime between 2 and 3a.m. the night before class. Then there are the
Last-Minute-Crammers—students who toss the homework under their beds
and then panic the night before class when they realize they don’t know how to
answer the questions, and throw the textbook across the room in frustration.
There are a few options for students who require learning assistance. Most
obvious is the Learning Centre, where they offer tutoring, workshops, or study
The Tao Té Pee
(The Way of Urination)
Bryan Johnson
OP Rantibutor
So I was in Value Village the other day, though don’t
ask me why I go there ‘cause I don’t think I’ve ever
found anything worth using as a toilet-rag never
mind wearing, but it’s like playing the lottery: there’s
fourteen million pieces’a shit in that place but there's
gotta be one decent item and my number's gotta
come up eventually. So I’m looking through the
shirts on the totally-fucked-up size rack where every-
thing is for people with 78-inch waists and two-
foot-long arms and made in 1953 when I hear a
splashing sound. So I figure someone's done them-
selves a favour and thrown out one of those gaudy
pretend fountains you find in your average utterly
tasteless wasteland drywall-mansion but I can’t see it
anywhere and besides it sounds like it’s coming from
inside the shirt rack. But I figure that given there are
10,000 specimens of the latest in poorhouse fashion
extruded from god-knows-what chemical slop hang-
ing there, one of them has probably just hit the 50
year molecular-stability limit and is disintegrating
into a greasy puddle on the floor. So I’m looking
around for green gases or bubbles popping over the
rack but the only thing I can see is some broken
loser out on a day-pass with a look on his face like
he’s talking to God. I take a second look and realize
he doesn’t look capable of a conversation with any-
one, never mind God, so he must have found that
one good thing in the store and damn it but I might
as well go home. But come to think about it, to get
that kinda demented grin on his face it’s even more
likely someone’s on their knees in amongst the
creamy shirts with his dick in their mouth. But real-
ly, what are the chances of His Weirdness swinging a
blowjob in Value Village when most guys can’t get
one unless they pay for it? On a third and hopefully
last look (‘cause he is one sad ugly fuck), I realize he
looks more like he’s been saving up his meds for a
very long time and then he took them all at once on
the bus here, washed down with a gallon cup of 7-
11 caffeinated battery-acid. (I mean what do they do
for help, or simply don’t have the time. Not to mention that trying to arrange a
study group with five or more people who all
have conflicting schedules is a daunting task.
The other option, offered by the majority of fac-
ulty at Douglas, is to phone the instructors or
see them in their offices for help. Unfortunately,
the instructor isn’t often available when the stu-
dent needs to ask a question. Explaining a prob-
lem over the phone can be frustrating, and
many students don’t want to harass the instruc-
tors by phoning once, twice, or three times a
day. While both these options are great ideas,
they just don’t work for some students.
Well, now there is another option available,
in the form of an online forum. At board359657.aimoo.com>, students can post
questions for other students (or even faculty) to respond to. There’s even a chat
room where users can talk to each other real-time. So the keeners can help more
people more efficiently, the A-For-Effort students can spend less time develop-
ing an ulcer and more time studying, and Last-Minute-Crammers can get the
answers they need and preserve the resale value of their books. The more people
using this service, the more successful it will be, so this college newbie encour-
ages everyone to check it out!
to their coffee to make it taste like a Nazi experi-
mental diuretic that’s been drank once before?) But
that splashing sound is still happening and it’s been
two or three minutes now and I still can’t see the
cheesy fountain so maybe it’s really slurping and not
splashing and I look under the rack ‘cause who
knows, maybe there is someone on their knees in
there and I can at least watch. And what do I see but
a little waterfall dripping from the shirts and landing
at the guy’s feet and a river running down into a
floor drain and I can only think, “that’s considerate
of him.” Maybe he even regretted pissing all over the
shirts but it was preferable to making an exhibition
of himself. And he looked like he was in bloody
heaven. Unparalleled bliss. His eyes were rolled up
so far into his empty head I could only see the
whites. And I look at his vacant grin...and then look
at myself...in Value Village...at four o'clock on
another wasted Saturday afternoon with nothing
better to do than flip through a million coat hang-
ers, and I think “gee...I should try that,” ‘cause he
had the look of a junkie as the smack careens into his
brain at the speed of blood, only he was getting his
for free and junkies have to blow four or five guys
behind dumpsters to afford to get that high and
that’s a lot of torn jeans and bloody knees. But all he
had to do was drink an awful lot of anything wet,
not pee (or breathe) for a couple of hours, saunter
into some store where he looks like he belongs,
snuggle into the polyester, and then let himself go in
one very long ecstatically-relieving gush. God, all
life’s pleasures should be so cheap and easy.
page 7 ©
Edited Text
Op-€d
the other press
Gotta Question? Get Online!
Shannon Boisvert
OP Contributor
October 9, 2002
There is still twenty minutes left before the class starts, but already a third of the group arrangements. The only problem with this is that there are a lot of peo-
class is grouped at the side of the room comparing assignments and asking each ple out there who either don’t want to admit they need help, are too shy to ask
other for help. It doesn’t matter that no one knows anyone else’s name, and all
social barriers are down as they all humble them-
selves and crowd around the class geek who
knows all the answers. While it’s great that every-
one is getting help, how much are they actually
learning? In this frantic pre-class scramble, not
much information is absorbed.
Let's go back to the beginning of the week
when the work was assigned. The keeners all
went home that night and had it done within an
hour or so, memorized the notes, and started
studying for the test coming up in two weeks.
The A-For-Effort students went home, struggled
with the homework for a good four hours, and
collapsed from mental exhaustion. They will
continue to struggle with this work until it’s due,
going over and over the problems, hoping that an epiphany will jump out at
them sometime between 2 and 3a.m. the night before class. Then there are the
Last-Minute-Crammers—students who toss the homework under their beds
and then panic the night before class when they realize they don’t know how to
answer the questions, and throw the textbook across the room in frustration.
There are a few options for students who require learning assistance. Most
obvious is the Learning Centre, where they offer tutoring, workshops, or study
The Tao Té Pee
(The Way of Urination)
Bryan Johnson
OP Rantibutor
So I was in Value Village the other day, though don’t
ask me why I go there ‘cause I don’t think I’ve ever
found anything worth using as a toilet-rag never
mind wearing, but it’s like playing the lottery: there’s
fourteen million pieces’a shit in that place but there's
gotta be one decent item and my number's gotta
come up eventually. So I’m looking through the
shirts on the totally-fucked-up size rack where every-
thing is for people with 78-inch waists and two-
foot-long arms and made in 1953 when I hear a
splashing sound. So I figure someone's done them-
selves a favour and thrown out one of those gaudy
pretend fountains you find in your average utterly
tasteless wasteland drywall-mansion but I can’t see it
anywhere and besides it sounds like it’s coming from
inside the shirt rack. But I figure that given there are
10,000 specimens of the latest in poorhouse fashion
extruded from god-knows-what chemical slop hang-
ing there, one of them has probably just hit the 50
year molecular-stability limit and is disintegrating
into a greasy puddle on the floor. So I’m looking
around for green gases or bubbles popping over the
rack but the only thing I can see is some broken
loser out on a day-pass with a look on his face like
he’s talking to God. I take a second look and realize
he doesn’t look capable of a conversation with any-
one, never mind God, so he must have found that
one good thing in the store and damn it but I might
as well go home. But come to think about it, to get
that kinda demented grin on his face it’s even more
likely someone’s on their knees in amongst the
creamy shirts with his dick in their mouth. But real-
ly, what are the chances of His Weirdness swinging a
blowjob in Value Village when most guys can’t get
one unless they pay for it? On a third and hopefully
last look (‘cause he is one sad ugly fuck), I realize he
looks more like he’s been saving up his meds for a
very long time and then he took them all at once on
the bus here, washed down with a gallon cup of 7-
11 caffeinated battery-acid. (I mean what do they do
for help, or simply don’t have the time. Not to mention that trying to arrange a
study group with five or more people who all
have conflicting schedules is a daunting task.
The other option, offered by the majority of fac-
ulty at Douglas, is to phone the instructors or
see them in their offices for help. Unfortunately,
the instructor isn’t often available when the stu-
dent needs to ask a question. Explaining a prob-
lem over the phone can be frustrating, and
many students don’t want to harass the instruc-
tors by phoning once, twice, or three times a
day. While both these options are great ideas,
they just don’t work for some students.
Well, now there is another option available,
in the form of an online forum. At board359657.aimoo.com>, students can post
questions for other students (or even faculty) to respond to. There’s even a chat
room where users can talk to each other real-time. So the keeners can help more
people more efficiently, the A-For-Effort students can spend less time develop-
ing an ulcer and more time studying, and Last-Minute-Crammers can get the
answers they need and preserve the resale value of their books. The more people
using this service, the more successful it will be, so this college newbie encour-
ages everyone to check it out!
to their coffee to make it taste like a Nazi experi-
mental diuretic that’s been drank once before?) But
that splashing sound is still happening and it’s been
two or three minutes now and I still can’t see the
cheesy fountain so maybe it’s really slurping and not
splashing and I look under the rack ‘cause who
knows, maybe there is someone on their knees in
there and I can at least watch. And what do I see but
a little waterfall dripping from the shirts and landing
at the guy’s feet and a river running down into a
floor drain and I can only think, “that’s considerate
of him.” Maybe he even regretted pissing all over the
shirts but it was preferable to making an exhibition
of himself. And he looked like he was in bloody
heaven. Unparalleled bliss. His eyes were rolled up
so far into his empty head I could only see the
whites. And I look at his vacant grin...and then look
at myself...in Value Village...at four o'clock on
another wasted Saturday afternoon with nothing
better to do than flip through a million coat hang-
ers, and I think “gee...I should try that,” ‘cause he
had the look of a junkie as the smack careens into his
brain at the speed of blood, only he was getting his
for free and junkies have to blow four or five guys
behind dumpsters to afford to get that high and
that’s a lot of torn jeans and bloody knees. But all he
had to do was drink an awful lot of anything wet,
not pee (or breathe) for a couple of hours, saunter
into some store where he looks like he belongs,
snuggle into the polyester, and then let himself go in
one very long ecstatically-relieving gush. God, all
life’s pleasures should be so cheap and easy.
page 7 ©
the other press
Gotta Question? Get Online!
Shannon Boisvert
OP Contributor
October 9, 2002
There is still twenty minutes left before the class starts, but already a third of the group arrangements. The only problem with this is that there are a lot of peo-
class is grouped at the side of the room comparing assignments and asking each ple out there who either don’t want to admit they need help, are too shy to ask
other for help. It doesn’t matter that no one knows anyone else’s name, and all
social barriers are down as they all humble them-
selves and crowd around the class geek who
knows all the answers. While it’s great that every-
one is getting help, how much are they actually
learning? In this frantic pre-class scramble, not
much information is absorbed.
Let's go back to the beginning of the week
when the work was assigned. The keeners all
went home that night and had it done within an
hour or so, memorized the notes, and started
studying for the test coming up in two weeks.
The A-For-Effort students went home, struggled
with the homework for a good four hours, and
collapsed from mental exhaustion. They will
continue to struggle with this work until it’s due,
going over and over the problems, hoping that an epiphany will jump out at
them sometime between 2 and 3a.m. the night before class. Then there are the
Last-Minute-Crammers—students who toss the homework under their beds
and then panic the night before class when they realize they don’t know how to
answer the questions, and throw the textbook across the room in frustration.
There are a few options for students who require learning assistance. Most
obvious is the Learning Centre, where they offer tutoring, workshops, or study
The Tao Té Pee
(The Way of Urination)
Bryan Johnson
OP Rantibutor
So I was in Value Village the other day, though don’t
ask me why I go there ‘cause I don’t think I’ve ever
found anything worth using as a toilet-rag never
mind wearing, but it’s like playing the lottery: there’s
fourteen million pieces’a shit in that place but there's
gotta be one decent item and my number's gotta
come up eventually. So I’m looking through the
shirts on the totally-fucked-up size rack where every-
thing is for people with 78-inch waists and two-
foot-long arms and made in 1953 when I hear a
splashing sound. So I figure someone's done them-
selves a favour and thrown out one of those gaudy
pretend fountains you find in your average utterly
tasteless wasteland drywall-mansion but I can’t see it
anywhere and besides it sounds like it’s coming from
inside the shirt rack. But I figure that given there are
10,000 specimens of the latest in poorhouse fashion
extruded from god-knows-what chemical slop hang-
ing there, one of them has probably just hit the 50
year molecular-stability limit and is disintegrating
into a greasy puddle on the floor. So I’m looking
around for green gases or bubbles popping over the
rack but the only thing I can see is some broken
loser out on a day-pass with a look on his face like
he’s talking to God. I take a second look and realize
he doesn’t look capable of a conversation with any-
one, never mind God, so he must have found that
one good thing in the store and damn it but I might
as well go home. But come to think about it, to get
that kinda demented grin on his face it’s even more
likely someone’s on their knees in amongst the
creamy shirts with his dick in their mouth. But real-
ly, what are the chances of His Weirdness swinging a
blowjob in Value Village when most guys can’t get
one unless they pay for it? On a third and hopefully
last look (‘cause he is one sad ugly fuck), I realize he
looks more like he’s been saving up his meds for a
very long time and then he took them all at once on
the bus here, washed down with a gallon cup of 7-
11 caffeinated battery-acid. (I mean what do they do
for help, or simply don’t have the time. Not to mention that trying to arrange a
study group with five or more people who all
have conflicting schedules is a daunting task.
The other option, offered by the majority of fac-
ulty at Douglas, is to phone the instructors or
see them in their offices for help. Unfortunately,
the instructor isn’t often available when the stu-
dent needs to ask a question. Explaining a prob-
lem over the phone can be frustrating, and
many students don’t want to harass the instruc-
tors by phoning once, twice, or three times a
day. While both these options are great ideas,
they just don’t work for some students.
Well, now there is another option available,
in the form of an online forum. At board359657.aimoo.com>, students can post
questions for other students (or even faculty) to respond to. There’s even a chat
room where users can talk to each other real-time. So the keeners can help more
people more efficiently, the A-For-Effort students can spend less time develop-
ing an ulcer and more time studying, and Last-Minute-Crammers can get the
answers they need and preserve the resale value of their books. The more people
using this service, the more successful it will be, so this college newbie encour-
ages everyone to check it out!
to their coffee to make it taste like a Nazi experi-
mental diuretic that’s been drank once before?) But
that splashing sound is still happening and it’s been
two or three minutes now and I still can’t see the
cheesy fountain so maybe it’s really slurping and not
splashing and I look under the rack ‘cause who
knows, maybe there is someone on their knees in
there and I can at least watch. And what do I see but
a little waterfall dripping from the shirts and landing
at the guy’s feet and a river running down into a
floor drain and I can only think, “that’s considerate
of him.” Maybe he even regretted pissing all over the
shirts but it was preferable to making an exhibition
of himself. And he looked like he was in bloody
heaven. Unparalleled bliss. His eyes were rolled up
so far into his empty head I could only see the
whites. And I look at his vacant grin...and then look
at myself...in Value Village...at four o'clock on
another wasted Saturday afternoon with nothing
better to do than flip through a million coat hang-
ers, and I think “gee...I should try that,” ‘cause he
had the look of a junkie as the smack careens into his
brain at the speed of blood, only he was getting his
for free and junkies have to blow four or five guys
behind dumpsters to afford to get that high and
that’s a lot of torn jeans and bloody knees. But all he
had to do was drink an awful lot of anything wet,
not pee (or breathe) for a couple of hours, saunter
into some store where he looks like he belongs,
snuggle into the polyester, and then let himself go in
one very long ecstatically-relieving gush. God, all
life’s pleasures should be so cheap and easy.
page 7 ©
the other press
Gotta Question? Get Online!
Shannon Boisvert
OP Contributor
October 9, 2002
There is still twenty minutes left before the class starts, but already a third of the group arrangements. The only problem with this is that there are a lot of peo-
class is grouped at the side of the room comparing assignments and asking each ple out there who either don’t want to admit they need help, are too shy to ask
other for help. It doesn’t matter that no one knows anyone else’s name, and all
social barriers are down as they all humble them-
selves and crowd around the class geek who
knows all the answers. While it’s great that every-
one is getting help, how much are they actually
learning? In this frantic pre-class scramble, not
much information is absorbed.
Let's go back to the beginning of the week
when the work was assigned. The keeners all
went home that night and had it done within an
hour or so, memorized the notes, and started
studying for the test coming up in two weeks.
The A-For-Effort students went home, struggled
with the homework for a good four hours, and
collapsed from mental exhaustion. They will
continue to struggle with this work until it’s due,
going over and over the problems, hoping that an epiphany will jump out at
them sometime between 2 and 3a.m. the night before class. Then there are the
Last-Minute-Crammers—students who toss the homework under their beds
and then panic the night before class when they realize they don’t know how to
answer the questions, and throw the textbook across the room in frustration.
There are a few options for students who require learning assistance. Most
obvious is the Learning Centre, where they offer tutoring, workshops, or study
The Tao Té Pee
(The Way of Urination)
Bryan Johnson
OP Rantibutor
So I was in Value Village the other day, though don’t
ask me why I go there ‘cause I don’t think I’ve ever
found anything worth using as a toilet-rag never
mind wearing, but it’s like playing the lottery: there’s
fourteen million pieces’a shit in that place but there's
gotta be one decent item and my number's gotta
come up eventually. So I’m looking through the
shirts on the totally-fucked-up size rack where every-
thing is for people with 78-inch waists and two-
foot-long arms and made in 1953 when I hear a
splashing sound. So I figure someone's done them-
selves a favour and thrown out one of those gaudy
pretend fountains you find in your average utterly
tasteless wasteland drywall-mansion but I can’t see it
anywhere and besides it sounds like it’s coming from
inside the shirt rack. But I figure that given there are
10,000 specimens of the latest in poorhouse fashion
extruded from god-knows-what chemical slop hang-
ing there, one of them has probably just hit the 50
year molecular-stability limit and is disintegrating
into a greasy puddle on the floor. So I’m looking
around for green gases or bubbles popping over the
rack but the only thing I can see is some broken
loser out on a day-pass with a look on his face like
he’s talking to God. I take a second look and realize
he doesn’t look capable of a conversation with any-
one, never mind God, so he must have found that
one good thing in the store and damn it but I might
as well go home. But come to think about it, to get
that kinda demented grin on his face it’s even more
likely someone’s on their knees in amongst the
creamy shirts with his dick in their mouth. But real-
ly, what are the chances of His Weirdness swinging a
blowjob in Value Village when most guys can’t get
one unless they pay for it? On a third and hopefully
last look (‘cause he is one sad ugly fuck), I realize he
looks more like he’s been saving up his meds for a
very long time and then he took them all at once on
the bus here, washed down with a gallon cup of 7-
11 caffeinated battery-acid. (I mean what do they do
for help, or simply don’t have the time. Not to mention that trying to arrange a
study group with five or more people who all
have conflicting schedules is a daunting task.
The other option, offered by the majority of fac-
ulty at Douglas, is to phone the instructors or
see them in their offices for help. Unfortunately,
the instructor isn’t often available when the stu-
dent needs to ask a question. Explaining a prob-
lem over the phone can be frustrating, and
many students don’t want to harass the instruc-
tors by phoning once, twice, or three times a
day. While both these options are great ideas,
they just don’t work for some students.
Well, now there is another option available,
in the form of an online forum. At board359657.aimoo.com>, students can post
questions for other students (or even faculty) to respond to. There’s even a chat
room where users can talk to each other real-time. So the keeners can help more
people more efficiently, the A-For-Effort students can spend less time develop-
ing an ulcer and more time studying, and Last-Minute-Crammers can get the
answers they need and preserve the resale value of their books. The more people
using this service, the more successful it will be, so this college newbie encour-
ages everyone to check it out!
to their coffee to make it taste like a Nazi experi-
mental diuretic that’s been drank once before?) But
that splashing sound is still happening and it’s been
two or three minutes now and I still can’t see the
cheesy fountain so maybe it’s really slurping and not
splashing and I look under the rack ‘cause who
knows, maybe there is someone on their knees in
there and I can at least watch. And what do I see but
a little waterfall dripping from the shirts and landing
at the guy’s feet and a river running down into a
floor drain and I can only think, “that’s considerate
of him.” Maybe he even regretted pissing all over the
shirts but it was preferable to making an exhibition
of himself. And he looked like he was in bloody
heaven. Unparalleled bliss. His eyes were rolled up
so far into his empty head I could only see the
whites. And I look at his vacant grin...and then look
at myself...in Value Village...at four o'clock on
another wasted Saturday afternoon with nothing
better to do than flip through a million coat hang-
ers, and I think “gee...I should try that,” ‘cause he
had the look of a junkie as the smack careens into his
brain at the speed of blood, only he was getting his
for free and junkies have to blow four or five guys
behind dumpsters to afford to get that high and
that’s a lot of torn jeans and bloody knees. But all he
had to do was drink an awful lot of anything wet,
not pee (or breathe) for a couple of hours, saunter
into some store where he looks like he belongs,
snuggle into the polyester, and then let himself go in
one very long ecstatically-relieving gush. God, all
life’s pleasures should be so cheap and easy.
page 7 ©
the other press
Gotta Question? Get Online!
Shannon Boisvert
OP Contributor
October 9, 2002
There is still twenty minutes left before the class starts, but already a third of the group arrangements. The only problem with this is that there are a lot of peo-
class is grouped at the side of the room comparing assignments and asking each ple out there who either don’t want to admit they need help, are too shy to ask
other for help. It doesn’t matter that no one knows anyone else’s name, and all
social barriers are down as they all humble them-
selves and crowd around the class geek who
knows all the answers. While it’s great that every-
one is getting help, how much are they actually
learning? In this frantic pre-class scramble, not
much information is absorbed.
Let's go back to the beginning of the week
when the work was assigned. The keeners all
went home that night and had it done within an
hour or so, memorized the notes, and started
studying for the test coming up in two weeks.
The A-For-Effort students went home, struggled
with the homework for a good four hours, and
collapsed from mental exhaustion. They will
continue to struggle with this work until it’s due,
going over and over the problems, hoping that an epiphany will jump out at
them sometime between 2 and 3a.m. the night before class. Then there are the
Last-Minute-Crammers—students who toss the homework under their beds
and then panic the night before class when they realize they don’t know how to
answer the questions, and throw the textbook across the room in frustration.
There are a few options for students who require learning assistance. Most
obvious is the Learning Centre, where they offer tutoring, workshops, or study
The Tao Té Pee
(The Way of Urination)
Bryan Johnson
OP Rantibutor
So I was in Value Village the other day, though don’t
ask me why I go there ‘cause I don’t think I’ve ever
found anything worth using as a toilet-rag never
mind wearing, but it’s like playing the lottery: there’s
fourteen million pieces’a shit in that place but there's
gotta be one decent item and my number's gotta
come up eventually. So I’m looking through the
shirts on the totally-fucked-up size rack where every-
thing is for people with 78-inch waists and two-
foot-long arms and made in 1953 when I hear a
splashing sound. So I figure someone's done them-
selves a favour and thrown out one of those gaudy
pretend fountains you find in your average utterly
tasteless wasteland drywall-mansion but I can’t see it
anywhere and besides it sounds like it’s coming from
inside the shirt rack. But I figure that given there are
10,000 specimens of the latest in poorhouse fashion
extruded from god-knows-what chemical slop hang-
ing there, one of them has probably just hit the 50
year molecular-stability limit and is disintegrating
into a greasy puddle on the floor. So I’m looking
around for green gases or bubbles popping over the
rack but the only thing I can see is some broken
loser out on a day-pass with a look on his face like
he’s talking to God. I take a second look and realize
he doesn’t look capable of a conversation with any-
one, never mind God, so he must have found that
one good thing in the store and damn it but I might
as well go home. But come to think about it, to get
that kinda demented grin on his face it’s even more
likely someone’s on their knees in amongst the
creamy shirts with his dick in their mouth. But real-
ly, what are the chances of His Weirdness swinging a
blowjob in Value Village when most guys can’t get
one unless they pay for it? On a third and hopefully
last look (‘cause he is one sad ugly fuck), I realize he
looks more like he’s been saving up his meds for a
very long time and then he took them all at once on
the bus here, washed down with a gallon cup of 7-
11 caffeinated battery-acid. (I mean what do they do
for help, or simply don’t have the time. Not to mention that trying to arrange a
study group with five or more people who all
have conflicting schedules is a daunting task.
The other option, offered by the majority of fac-
ulty at Douglas, is to phone the instructors or
see them in their offices for help. Unfortunately,
the instructor isn’t often available when the stu-
dent needs to ask a question. Explaining a prob-
lem over the phone can be frustrating, and
many students don’t want to harass the instruc-
tors by phoning once, twice, or three times a
day. While both these options are great ideas,
they just don’t work for some students.
Well, now there is another option available,
in the form of an online forum. At board359657.aimoo.com>, students can post
questions for other students (or even faculty) to respond to. There’s even a chat
room where users can talk to each other real-time. So the keeners can help more
people more efficiently, the A-For-Effort students can spend less time develop-
ing an ulcer and more time studying, and Last-Minute-Crammers can get the
answers they need and preserve the resale value of their books. The more people
using this service, the more successful it will be, so this college newbie encour-
ages everyone to check it out!
to their coffee to make it taste like a Nazi experi-
mental diuretic that’s been drank once before?) But
that splashing sound is still happening and it’s been
two or three minutes now and I still can’t see the
cheesy fountain so maybe it’s really slurping and not
splashing and I look under the rack ‘cause who
knows, maybe there is someone on their knees in
there and I can at least watch. And what do I see but
a little waterfall dripping from the shirts and landing
at the guy’s feet and a river running down into a
floor drain and I can only think, “that’s considerate
of him.” Maybe he even regretted pissing all over the
shirts but it was preferable to making an exhibition
of himself. And he looked like he was in bloody
heaven. Unparalleled bliss. His eyes were rolled up
so far into his empty head I could only see the
whites. And I look at his vacant grin...and then look
at myself...in Value Village...at four o'clock on
another wasted Saturday afternoon with nothing
better to do than flip through a million coat hang-
ers, and I think “gee...I should try that,” ‘cause he
had the look of a junkie as the smack careens into his
brain at the speed of blood, only he was getting his
for free and junkies have to blow four or five guys
behind dumpsters to afford to get that high and
that’s a lot of torn jeans and bloody knees. But all he
had to do was drink an awful lot of anything wet,
not pee (or breathe) for a couple of hours, saunter
into some store where he looks like he belongs,
snuggle into the polyester, and then let himself go in
one very long ecstatically-relieving gush. God, all
life’s pleasures should be so cheap and easy.
page 7 ©