Ft. Hood tragedy ‘terrorism’ debate is irrelevant

by Paul Smith

The recent tragedy at Ft. Hood in Texas where Major Nidal Malik Hasan, a Palestinian-American and Army psychiatrist, senselessly killed 13 people and wounded 30 others has inspired a ridiculous national debate of over the definition of terrorism.

Fox News (of course) recently ran a poll on its website asking whether the Ft. Hood tragedy was the worst act of terrorism since 9/11. The respondents overwhelmingly voted that, indeed, it was.

But, what the Fox News respondents and the other countless people currently engaging in this irrelevant national debate fail to realize, is that the Ft. Hood massacre does not reasonably fit any metric for classifying terrorism.

We could split hairs over semantics all day about what the word “terrorism” really means, but perhaps we should just go to official sources for the definition.

The United States Law Code currently defines terrorism as “premeditated, politically motivated violence perpetrated against noncombatant targets by subnational groups or clandestine agents.”

The Department of Defense’s Dictionary of Military Terms defines terrorism as “the calculated use of unlawful violence or threat of unlawful violence to inculcate fear; intended to coerce or to intimidate governments or societies in the pursuit of goals that are generally political, religious, or ideological.”

The evidence so far suggests the Ft. Hood tragedy does not even come close to fitting these criteria.

There is no evidence to suggest Hasan was a “clandestine agent” or part of a “subnational group.” And while he may have been partly motivated by religion, there is no evidence to suggest he intended to coerce or intimidate government or society.

The Ft. Hood incident actually has far more in common with the U.S. Postal employee workplace shootings that used to occur than with any form of terrorism.

The only reason the word “terrorism” is being batted around is because Hasan was a Muslim and his victims worked for the military.

Now, do I think religion was a large part of Hasan’s reason for going on this senseless rampage? Absolutely – I think the evidence suggests his mind was poisoned by religion to a large extent, but religion is certainly not the only excuse people have to go on killing sprees.

Hasan was also a psychiatrist who had to constantly hear about the horrors his fellow soldiers experienced at war and the difficulty of post traumatic stress they had to deal with once they returned.

Hasan was about to be spent to Afghanistan, and his fear of being deployed coupled with the psychological perils he experienced because of his religion caused something inside him to snap.

It was a sickening and horrific act of violence that should be condemned by all – but there is no current evidence to suggest it was an act of terrorism.

Ultimately, I fail to understand why we’re even having this debate. Let’s say we do find out that Hasan committed this terrible act because he was politically motivated, had some sort of tangentially related co-conspirators egging him on, and was hoping to intimidate the American populace and change government policy – so what?

Well, then we could certainly call this terrorism, but does it really matter? Would it in any way change the way we look at this tragedy just because we used a different word to describe it?

I fail to comprehend why are so many are insisting we call this terrorism. I find something about this insistence not only strange, but a bit disturbing and disgusting.

The Ft. Hood tragedy is the story of a man who snapped, just like every other mass shooting that has taken place. People are obviously free to call it whatever they want, but to engage in this debate and insist we must call it terrorism is a myopic distraction and does a disservice to the people who died that day.

It was a tragedy by any definition – any everything else in this debate is just pointless semantics.

Whatever happened to manners?

by Justin Otto

As I live my life day to day, I am faced with this question. This is an especially perplexing question as I am from Pensacola, FL – which, in case you aren’t up to date on your geography, is in the Southeastern United States.

The reason I bring this up is because of a phrase that is thrown around a lot, but is very seldom actually put into action these days by the majority of the population in this Podunk hamlet. The phrase is Southern Hospitality, but what it really boils down to is having a sense of manners.

I am still a “yes, sir,” “no, ma’am” type of guy. I hold doors for people; I say “thank you” and “you’re welcome.”

I also notice that it is very often that I hold a door for someone and don’t get the obligatory “thank you” for my efforts… I mean, is it that hard to stop for 1.8 seconds and say “thanks?” It took me longer to hold the door than it takes just to say it.

I see motorists stranded on the side of the road very often, and while I don’t ALWAYS stop to help them, I have been known to change a tire or two for random strangers.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe the people that were brought up with some sense of actual morality are a dying and finite breed.

Have you ever gone over the Bob Sykes Bridge and just paid for the person behind you as well? Well, I have. And it only cost me one extra dollar to make someone’s day – one dollar to show someone that not everyone out there is a self-absorbed automaton. Most of you people spend more than that on your morning triple cream macchiato with a raspberry splash or whatever the hell kind of coffee you people drink nowadays.

It gets especially bad around this time of year when people have the Kris Kringle-lust in their beady eyes and start drooling like the loup-garou at the sight of whatever the new big seller of the season is as you kick and claw your way through the lines of other delightful shoppers with the same “Christmas Spirit.”

Is it that hard to just be nice to people? I’m no Christian, so I won’t go espousing Christian theology at you, but is it so hard to live by the maxim: “do unto others as you would have done unto you?”

Would you like to be stranded on the road without help or have a door unceremoniously slammed in your face for no other reason than the person in front of you just doesn’t care? I wouldn’t think so, but I’m not you. I’m me.

So this Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza or whatever strange yuletide holiday you get to suffer through with your family and friends, just endeavor to be a little nicer. And mean it. Hold a door for someone; don’t get into a fit of blind rage in a traffic situation; just be a moral human being for once. It’s really not that hard, and at the end of the day you might actually feel like a better person for it. I can’t guarantee that, but it might just work.

I suppose this is what happens in a town that thinks it is far larger than it actually is and tries to be “progressive.” People change as the times change, and people lose sight of what is really important. What makes a town are the people, and at this point most of you make me sick. But that’s just my opinion.

What am I doing at Sluggo’s?

by Timm Schowalter

I was trapped in a room full of 50 or so other kids that would look like aliens compared to the button-down oxford-type so typically exemplifying our species. I could find no way to escape, which was incredibly ironic because the only thing I could focus on was the filthy half-glowing “exit” sign precariously perched at a dangerous angle over the backdoor.

The hopeless green saucer lights hanging from the walls (that prehistoric uncultured Pensacolians decided many years ago was the only hip way to facilitate light in a place that prides itself as such a pop-culture hotspot; in other words, a vegan restaurant) did nothing but wash everything and everyone in a vomit haze.

But there it was: EXIT.  Screaming as if the neon wanted to explode out of the letters and consume this little shenanigan being labeled as a show.  It was the one thing I wanted and the one thing I could not have.

This highway of thought stretched out before me like a zoo lion watching little children walk past its cage.

Some creature disguised as a girl was on the stage.  She was all alone.  No - I was all alone.

She and all the other people here were in the same place, something they’d consider to be musical nirvana. And although all these snobby scene kids may have been in harmonious Elysium, I saw no golden fields.

She was the only person on stage. Ill Ease was the apropos name of the girl’s band (if you can call it that).  She was probably about 25 years old, wore a camo shirt and had hair that was so unkempt only Bigfoot could love it.

Her voice was a hyperactive raspy monotone shout that will cause linguists 1000 years from now to quit their jobs. And she kept saying things in between songs that only made sense to the well inebriated in the crowd.

She used a looping-pedal that allowed her to record what she played over a certain amount of time and then repeat it over and over again.  Basically she would pick up an instrument, get a riff going, and then move on to another one. It was like watching a mad scientist create sonic poison.

“What am I doing here,” I thought.  This was terrible - on par with what Beethoven might have thought of a Nickelback concert.

“ANDREW!  What’s up man?” someone said from the crowd.

“Timm,” I replied.

“Oh, you’re right, man.  Andrew’s my name.  I’m so drunk right now I called you my name.”

A friend (well sorta) I had known for the past four years had just addressed me by his own name. Later on it dawned on me that this is the guy currently leading the bike rides around police stations protesting the death of Victor Steen.

“Is this what music is coming to?” I thought.

I was boiling over with frustration, because not even half an hour before, I was watching an excellent two-man band, The Evergreens, play on the very stage that was now being desecrated by Ill Ease.

The most subtle drummer (who informed me afterwards that he was only 17 years old) I’ve come across in quite some time was hashing it out on his two-piece drum set beneath the gorgeous vocals and simple guitar of his musical counterpart.

The two guys were so plain. They weren’t using some crazy pedal to create some kind of pseudo music that isn’t worth the effort it took to create, and you could easily understand what they said without having to down the Pabst Blue Ribbon everyone in the Sluggo’s crowd is so fond of. They were just playing guitar and drums, and it was working for them.

But, unfortunately, what wasn’t working for them was the crowd.  Consisting of me, a good friend, some drunk dude making a fool of himself, and the singer’s girlfriend with a few of her friends, the eight-person crowd was not accomplishing much to encourage the hopes of this un-dynamic duo.

I thought, “How does something so good procure such a small crowd, while something so terrible gets the attention of a horde of needy college students?”

While pondering this question, trapped somewhere between the exit sign, cross-dressers and the most unpleasant sound-waves my ears had ever endured, a small beautiful pinprick of light tore through the puke mist of the stage-room at Sluggo’s, and I came to a realization.

I was witnessing the answer to my query: The crowd for Ill Ease may have been large, but, man, did they suck. The awful music was getting the awful crowd it deserved.

The bimbo in the corner accidently bumping the guy next to her private parts and then laughing it off with a careless, “Whoops!” certainly was not intellectually sound enough to engage in the beauty of subtlety, nor was the goon next to her who took the initiative to scoot in a little closer to his bird-brained new friend.

After my epiphany had faded I beheld the most uplifting scene thus far.  The one-woman-band of Ill Ease was breaking down her equipment and getting off the stage.

While this was going on, two new dudes were setting up some drums and a piano.  This awkward instrument combination sparked my interest.

Making a few calculations about the congested environment, I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so I might as well just stick around.

Due to the crowd preventing me from escaping, I was able to bear witness to some totally enigmatic music.

These guys played some amalgamation between chip-tune (music that sounds like old 8-bit video games) and the melancholic synthesized electro-pop of the band HEALTH, or imagine Radiohead meets Nintendo, if you will.

Although it was, at times, repetitive and a little underdone, the chord progressions and vocal extremities paired up with the intricate simple drumbeats was something that made your insides melt and start to drip out of your eyeballs.

Yet, before the set had time to get over-played or boring, they stopped.  15 minutes of musical paradise was my reward for enduring an hour of trash, but I had no time to be angry about it.

Finally an opportunity had presented itself, and I raced through the tiny opening in the crowd to that cockeyed glowing sign which read to me like the bright star must have to the shepherds on the night of Jesus’ birth.

The crowd swelled around me on each side like two giant balloons being filled by the lungs of some monstrous creature.

I persevered.

At last I made it to the exit.  Exploding out the door and into the freezing cold night with not but a small spot of beer dripping down my sweater, I began to praise the Lord for my timely escape.

After spending a night of musical ups and downs, drunk people with bad  teeth, cross-dressers, hippies, sluts, and a thousand of society’s other misfits, I was able to come a conclusion: Sluggo’s is not for everyone, and just like the wise King Solomon pointed out, the end of a thing is truly better than the beginning.

To some of you reading this now, I imagine I may sound like a jerk that needs to get over himself, and the events described above may seem like Disney World did when you were 11 years old.  If this be the case, then you may very well be on your way to becoming an integral part of the Sluggo’s society - May God help you.

Was Steen’s death an abuse of power?

by Justin Otto

The recent death of Victor Steen raises some interesting questions.

What exactly was the crime he was being pursued for? He was hanging around a construction site which is apparently illegal, but why? If the thought was that he was stealing things from the site, I might see a reason for the pursuit by Officer Jerald Ard. In my opinion though, it would be more than a bit difficult to steal anything from a construction site on a bike.

So, why did this crime deserve chase? Still, no one but Mr. Ard himself knows why this was a justifiable pursuit when he flipped on his lights and gave chase after the young man for the minor crime of trespassing on a site that no one inhabited — a chase that ended in the death of 17-year-old Steen.

I am not bringing allegations that Steen was guilty or innocent of any crime other than trespassing because, granted, he was on a constructional site which is technically a crime.

But does the crime justify death, even if it was accidental? I am not bringing allegations that Officer Ard wasn’t just in pursuing him. What I am saying is that the Pensacola Police Department needs a serious evaluation and overhaul.

Since the incident, they have changed the protocol for taser use, so now an officer is not allowed to fire their tasers from moving vehicles. I always thought it was common sense that you wouldn’t do something that asinine in the first place, but I suppose I was wrong.

I myself have never been tased, but I have been stopped, searched and harassed for what seemed like nothing than the shear amusement of the officer at the time. What the officers in Pensacola, and in America in general, seem to forget most of the time is that they work for us. They are civil servants. We the citizens pay their salaries only sometimes to get treated as if we aren’t worthy to walk the streets.

There are times and places for the use of force and aggression, but there are many cases that seem the aggression gets out of hand. Why would you tase someone just to get them to stop riding their bike? Did you actually witness a major infraction of the law? If there was no real justifiable crime deserving of force and this boy got tased, does that mean that I could get tased for jaywalking? Is there a limit?

All in all, it teaches us a lesson. A lesson that says we might be better just sitting at home rather than going out due to the risk of allegations of minor offenses and the possibility of recourse for a crime that we may not have even been party to — or even known was a crime.

I have also on numerous occasions watched as officers flipped their lights and sirens on to simply get through a red light faster, only to flip them off once through. I have seen officers talk on cell phones while driving. I have seen officers not wearing seat belts. These are things that we the citizens cannot do without repercussion, so why no repercussions for the officers?

Running a red light just because you can is ultimately an abuse of power. That seems to happen a lot actually — abuse of power. Just because you can get away with something doesn’t mean that you should do it.

I always was taught to lead by example and I always thought that the police worked on the same policy. But when you see things like this current tragedy, you have to wonder if that is the example that we really should follow.

MewithoutYou’s New Album Utterly Mystifies

Paul Smith - The Corsair

“Why not be utterly changed into fire?” asks Aaron Weiss, the lead singer of mewithoutYou, on his band’s fourth studio album, it’s all crazy! it’s all false! it’s all a dream! it’s alright.

The question is posed repeatedly at the close to the awesomely epic track, “The King Beetle on a Coconut Estate,” which tells the allegorical fable of a king from a beetle community who sends his insect denizens out to investigate a recent fire in their kingdom—the fire representing the mystery of divine providence.

Each beetle returns to the king burned and defeated, unable to comprehend the enigmatic blaze, prompting the king to investigate the fire himself. He boldly heads directly into the flames, but rather than dying, the king becomes one with the fire—one with that holy mystery.

The lyrical content to this song was inspired from a story told by the Sufi mystic Bawa Muhaiyaddeen in his book “The Divine Luminous Wisdom: That Dispels the Darkness.”

If it is not yet apparent, mewithoutYou’s new musical outing is definitely not your typical album —and neither is it a typical mewithoutYou album. Produced by Brian McTear and Daniel Smith (of Danielson), It’s all crazy… in many ways marks a grand departure from their earlier work, though fans with a careful ear probably assumed the band was slowly headed in this direction.

Gone are the heavily distorted guitars and screaming vocals of albums past in favor of a brashly bizarre freak-folk indie-rock concept album of epic proportions. This change in direction may be off-putting to fans of their former visceral angst-laden style, but for those willing to give the new stuff a chance, their growth as musicians displayed on this album is truly remarkable.

MewithoutYou has at times been labeled a Christian band (though Weiss rejects this pigeonholing), and the fact they put out albums on the religious Tooth & Nail record label does little to dissuade such characterizing.

However, while the band does explore themes of a religious nature, this new album actually has far more references to Sufism (Islamic mysticism) than it does Christianity. In fact, the album gets its title from a parable in another book by Muhaiyaddeen, “The Golden Words of a Sufi Sheikh.”

Many of the themes explored with the lyrics may not be immediately accessible—but, then again, great art rarely is. And one does not necessarily have to agree with Weiss and company to appreciate the artistry exhibited.

But there is no denying that Weiss’ ability to coalesce an innocent children’s-book sensibility into deep esoteric and existential ruminations while still soudning like a campfire sing-along is rather mind-blowing.

Take this line from the song “Fig with a Bellyache” as an example: “The camel in the desert took a ship across the lake/ while the fish in search of water found a fig with a bellyache.” One could spend hours trying to decipher the symbolism in just this one stanza.

So it takes some time to fully digest this meticulous storytelling filled with theological parables and animal fables which sounds like a mix between Aesop, Dr. Seuss and Walt Whitman. And those with the patience will find a lyrical talent rarely matched in music today —though Weiss’ actual vocals may be an acquired taste for some.

Yet, beneath all the profound themes and prolific lyrics lies the music —a roaring mix of folk measures matched with raw multi-instrumental rock that perfectly harmonizes with the lyrical themes.

Many of the songs are structured around an acoustic guitar rhythm which builds to crashing crescendos filled with horn sections, pianos, accordions, violins, flutes, pounding drums and haunting choral chants.

The musical arrangement features a diverse style that seems reminiscent of the horns and lyrical melodies of Neutral Milk Hotel, the playful childlike whimsy of They Might Be Giants, the grandiose choruses of Arcade Fire’s first album, and the warbling, fist-pumping folk-rock epics of Bright Eyes —all while still maintaining an elegance and energy wholly its own.

The end result is an album so powerful, unique and mystifying that it is certainly a contender for album of the year—and just may go down as a modern classic.

So perhaps Weiss should have stopped screaming long ago, because he has learned to speak volumes with restraint.

Ultimately, the band has finally found that alchemical formula where the music and lyrics have become one with that holy mystery—and now with this amazing new album, mewithoutYou has been utterly changed into fire.

Grade: A

PJC student heads local poetry group

Paul Smith - The Corsair

It was October of last year; PJC student Patrick Hudson sat alone inside the End of the Line Café waiting for his friend, former PJC student Andrew Gartman, to join him. They were to discuss how, together, they would implement Gartman’s idea for creating a local poetry group.

Gartman never showed that day. A few days later, Hudson discovered that Gartman had died of complications due to AIDS.

Fast-forward a year, on Oct. 6, Hudson, 18, again sat inside the End of Line Café, only this time, he was not alone.

The café was brimming with an eager crowd ready to watch and participate in what has become the most popular poetry scene in town. It was poetry night at End of the Line Café, a regular Tuesday-night event organized by Hudson and put on by his group, the New Poets Society.

Though the original idea was conceived by Gartman, Hudson shared the same enthusiasm for poetry and desire to create a local group. So, Hudson sought to make it his duty to bring such a group into fruition.

“It’s always been a passion of mine, as far as writing the poetry goes and sharing,” said Hudson. “But, I really wanted to try and diversify the poetry community.”

And the readings have attracted a very diverse group of poets, indeed.

While the Tuesday night readings at End of the Line are certainly open-mic (meaning anyone with the desire can sign-up to read the night of the event), there is also a growing crowd of regulars returning each week with new material to present or to watch others read their work.

Tuesday night, Oct. 6, featured an eclectic mix of poets of all different ages, races, backgrounds, and poetry styles stepping up to the stage.

John Fravel, 61, read a poem about three troubled men in a hospital.

A passionate girl, and PJC student, who went by the name Iceiz, boisterously fired off several poems from memory dedicated to her girlfriend which were filled with ruminations on the nature of love and being a woman.

Trevor Griffith, 21, a philosophy major at UWF, sat down in a stool as he read two lengthy poems overflowing with vivid imagery and dreamlike plays on words.

Alex Borgella, 21, a psychology major at UWF, read a comical poem about a barber called “Lack-Hair Of,” which he stated was written in a manner inspired by Lewis Carroll.

Quincy “Q” Hull, 39, did a poem about the scourge of police brutality.

And several other poets also got up on the stage, each with a style uniquely their own. The raw sense of emotion and kinship on display this night was palpable.

“There’s a real sense of community here that’s hard to find in the real word,” said Fravel, who recently became interested in writing poetry after his wife, Annie, survived a brain aneurism. He found the medium as a cathartic way to express his emotions, and found the New Poets Society as the perfect outlet to express his newfound passion for poetry.

Hull, who is also a member of the Still Black See Artists and Writers Guild, described what he appreciated about the New Poets Society as “their love for the original art form in itself.”

“They haven’t taken it outside the original art,” said Hull. “It’s just the pen, the paper and the reader. They haven’t deviated outside of where it started from.”

“I wanted to inspire people to start writing poetry again and to take it as a serious art form,” said Hudson. “A lot of people, who started coming to the group and had never written poetry before, started writing poetry.”

Hudson has also tried to make the New Poets Society about more than just live poetry readings.
For instance, every month the group has a poetry contest with the rules being announced on the first Tuesday of the month. On Oct. 6, Hudson informed the crowd of the new contest rules: to write a poem that must be titled or start with the line “PS—Pensacola.”

The contests are sponsored by Open Books, a non-profit, volunteer-run bookstore here in Pensacola. The winner each month receives a certificate for a free book.

This month’s contest was all part of a creative process leading up to the group’s one-year anniversary on Dec. 15, where, among other acts in celebration, they plan to release their published book titled “PS—Pensacola” which will feature poems from the group. Proceeds from the book sales will go to Open Books.

And in keeping with making the group about more than just poetry, near the end of the readings on Oct. 6, there was also a brief discussion of Victor Demarius Steen, 17, who was recently killed after being struck by a police cruiser outside of Sluggo’s. Details of a vigil to remember Steen were announced by a few members of the group who were also involved in the planning.

Hudson’s group has definitely carved a niche for itself, not only in the local poetry scene, but in the community at large. People seem to attend the readings to be a part of something bigger than themselves, while also exchanging art and ideas through friendship and poems.

“It’s a great social event,” said Stijl Calhoun, 18, who was instrumental in helping Hudson get the group off the ground after Gartman died. “[I come here because] I like hearing what my friends have to say. There’ are a lot of great lines here; they know what they want to say and they say it.”
“I’ve met a lot of really important figures in my life through this group,” said Hudson. “A lot of my favorite poets I’ve met because of this.”

“This is the nucleus of how we learn to know who each other are,” said Hull, “by expressing ourselves through this thing called poetry.”

Tuesday night, Oct. 6, ended with Hudson on stage as he read a poem of his own, a piece celebrating individuality that featured the line, “similarity is the best path to invisibility.”

The New Poets Society is in no danger of such a fate, because when this diverse group meets each Tuesday night inside the End of the Line Café, no one is invisible.

“Brutal Legend” Review

Wade Manns - The Corsair

Brutal Legend
Produced by Electronic Arts and Double Fine Productions
Genre: third person action, real-time strategy
Rating: mature (blood, language, suggestive themes)

Jack Black is one of the most entertaining and unique actors on the Hollywood scene today; he started work in the comedic band he founded alongside Kyle Gass known as Tenacious D, and his career only went up from there. This is his first videogame, and if it’s any indication, he will be in high demand in the field of voice acting for many years to come.

The story of this game is a rather unique one: Eddie Riggs (voiced by Black) is the world’s best roadie, best at not being seen doing what needs to be done behind the scenes. One day while preparing the stage for an extremely weak hair metal band to which he is attached, something… interesting happens, and his blood somehow gets on to an enchanted belt buckle; what follows is an extremely surrealistic experience, in which Eddie is transported to a sort of alternate universe based largely around heavy metal and the battle between it and hair metal.

Through a combination of his axe which he finds early on, the Separator, and his “axe,” his guitar named Clementine, Eddie cuts a swath through his enemies, and electrocutes or immolates them due to the added magical power this new realm gives his guitar. He’ll need these abilities, as well as help from several supporting characters, such as the Forge Master (voiced by Ozzie Osbourne), to upgrade his attacks, his weapons and his hot rod, the Deuce, and the Kill Master (voiced by Lemmy from Motorhead, whose last name is Kilmister), to heal his allies in combat.

Along with the action, there is a real-time strategy element in which you can command your units to attack or defend various targets in the completion of your missions. You may also go down into combat during these sequences, as well as take them on in multiplayer with or against several other people at once.

With the good must come the bad; thankfully though, Brutal Legend doesn’t have much of that. Sometimes it’s difficult to micromanage various tasks as is often the case in real-time strategy games, but it’s not too big of a deal. Also, poor Eddie can’t jump! This is a glaring omission, but it’s not game-breaking in the least.

The visual style of the game is based on classic heavy metal album covers, complete with grand, metallic monsters and epic, wide landscapes. The modeling of Eddie Riggs to look like Jack Black is accurate if slightly caricatured, as is that of most other characters I’ve seen. The soundtrack is filled with classic metal tunes, and the voice acting is some of the best I’ve heard in games recently.

I strongly urge you to go pick this up if you haven’t already; if you’re a big fan of heavy metal music, or of games in general, you will not regret it! A solid five stars!

Pirates overcome Gulf Coast Community College

Lindsey Chavers

Published: January 24, 2006

The men’s basketball team gained a much needed win against Gulf Coast Community College on Jan. 17 with a 93-68 victory.

PJC gained the lead early and went into the second half with a 10-point lead.  The Pirates managed to keep the Commodores at bay with a strong offensive attack. 

“I didn’t think we played very well really early,” said Head Coach Paul Swanson about how his team played, “but we got into the flow and got some confidence back.”

Thanks to three consecutive successful shots by Luis Buther in the beginning of the second half, the Pirates increased their lead even more.  PJC finished the game with two 3-point shots by Miles Taylor and Audrius Zukauskas.

“I think it was a good win for the team,” said Durrell Baker, who made a flashy slam dunk near the end of the game.  “We played hard and together.”

This win puts the Pirates 10-11 for the season and 1-3 in conference games.

“We wanted to be 2-2 at this point,” said Swanson.  “We wanted to win all our home games, but we have our confidence in shooting back now.”

PJC was aided in their victory by a game-high 25 points from Miles Taylor.  Sasha Parghalava added 15 points, fourof which were 3-point shots, and Vernon Carr helped with 13 points and 8 assists.

“We get to enjoy this win,” said Swanson.  “But it’s quickly a part of history, and we’re moving on to the next one.”

‘Freedom Writers’ an inspirational movie

Ashley Porter

Published: January 24, 2006

Freedom Writers, starring Hilary Swank, is about a first time teacher taking a risk and teaching the un-teachable in a school surrounded by gang violence in Long Beach, Calif.  The film was based on the inspirational true story about a group of kids that overcame great obstacles and learned to get along with one another through the teachings of Erin Gruwell. 

The movie is a piece of each teenager’s life brought together in the classroom.  They all learn together that if they apply themselves that they can succeed even though everyone has told them they can’t. 

Although the movie is mostly about the kids, of course the teacher has to overcome her own obstacles as well.  After being told repeatedly that she would not be granted books or funding for trips, Erin decided to go to the school board and request permission for a field trip to a Holocaust museum. 

Going to the museum is the obvious turning point for all of the students; they all find out that what is happening in each of their lives is no where near as awful as what happened to the victims of the Holocaust.  By the end of the movie each of them has done a complete turn around in their lives and they are prepared to battle anything that stands in the way of their future.

This movie is definitely one of the best inspirational dramas I’ve seen in a long time.  It is a story of courage and hope even in the darkest hour of our lives.  The way that the film uses history to influence the future is absolutely the best technique I’ve ever seen. 

Erin Gruwell is a truly inspirational person and has even started a foundation, known as the Freedom Writers Foundation that is dedicated to teaching kids that they can have an impact on their community by applying themselves in the class room. 

For more information, visit the website www.freedomwritersfoundation.org.

Caution wet floor

Published: January 24, 2006

Water, tissue paper all over the floor, stains and smells are all things to expect from most of the PJC restrooms.

However, there are a few who are able to somehow maintain a clean environment. Some examples are the music department (building 8), the art department (building 15), the business department (building 10), cosmetology department (building 12) and last but not least, the administration building.

Some of the reasons these buildings might be cleaner is simply because not as many people pass through those buildings as say for instance, buildings 1 and 4. Most of those buildings have the same people in them semester after semester; so maybe they try harder not to make a mess.

Let’s face it though, we are all supposed to be adults here. I mean come on we are in college. There is no excuse to throw tissue paper on the floor, or write obscenities on walls. We should take pride in our school and respect it as well as respect ourselves.

If you were at your house you would not throw your tissue paper on the floor, and females, you would not throw your personal trash on the floor. Then why would you do it at your school, where the majority of you probably spend most of your time anyway? 

According to Dr Isaac Brigham vice president of planning and administration, part of the problem has been that PJC custodians were understaffed because the salary rate was not enough for part time employees.  Recently PJC was able to increase the salary by $1 and are currently close to being fully staffed.

There is also talk about renovating some of the older restrooms like in the student center.

Hopefully with these changes our restrooms will improve but, we still have to do our part as students to help maintain a clean environment for everyone.

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