California Tech, v. 77:31, June 4, 1976

JUNE 4th, 1976/ISSUE NO. 31 TROLUNG STONED Co-Lan RATURE 1901 EVERYTHING TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 31 TRODUNG STONED "All the nudes that fit" Leering and Frothing • by Dr. B. S Humpson Editor Etaoin Schrdlu Senior Editors Curved Lye Dick, All Hell Nerd, Smutty McCrocked Associate Editors Mojo Wire, Fred Logs, The Big Nuke Mg X Grignard, J.O. Ester, Quasimodo III Davy Caldaway, St. Nick, Schlock Coward Fast Cars & Fast Women Craig Irrational Affairs Desk Bunter S. Humpson Contributing Editors The Big Z [Books], Pam Erector, Steve Ovaltine Anal Silvervein, Gravel 'n' Clay Pool Foyer Florist, David H.T. Rivet & Son Master Beatty [Food], Yumi Masticated [Religion] The Brothers W, Banana Nose Beer Mug Assistant Censors Big Ed Bleechy, Ken Reap, Chess Checkers, Over Hard, McDonalds Le Roi, Scoop Grommit, Burnt Well Editorial Staff Forged Son, Swab, Goosh Lewd, Kraut, Bricklayer, Oscar Art Destroyer Hrld Brwn (sic) Chief Daguerrotyper Davis Triwheeler Picture Editors Slice-a-fester, Roll-a-fester Special Projects C.Y. Achmet Production Coolie Enri ("Yokahama") Furballs Art Production Staff Print-a-fester, Load-a-fester Camera Craig Bones, Bob Bust, Rick Feelmen Oabia Geria, My Lay, Bare Knockers Zone D Ng, Davis Chancre, Kenneth Yushitame Beat-Me-and-Eat-Me Chrissy Publisher J.J.C. Marksman Associate Publisher Asskiss Ink Advertising Director Rump Roll National Slave Director Brass Ramsbottom Sales Representatives New Guinea: Beaver Busch Lost: Cynthia Claptrap Chickamauga: White Unoshot Santa Domingo: Buster Maidenhead Crculation Urector Wain's Dick & Son Subscriptions Director Uss Piss Sir Bail Skipping and Refuge Thigh Trail Blackmail Richard P. Yellow Forged Documents Bride Atthe Altar Finance As little as possible Our Women Nancy Rae, Nathalie Anne, Rachelle Crew Evelyn Louise, Ann Michelle, Pam Huntsberry To the Lucky Few Offices Hut 4, Camp 3, Mandalay Peninsula Tel Tappata-Tap-Tap-Thud Mobile Zero, Borders of Rhodesia Tel Nobody 2 Honor Code Road, West Point Tel on everyone else 69 Strasbourg, Alsace Lorraine 1215-105-51-39-18-29 Callushorny BVD Pas da-dinna, Callushorny 96969 The whirring, humming, burping machines in our offices of pubication are spewing, beeping, and clacking busily away even as these words go to press. Those of us who labor long and drearily to bring you the latest on the trolling scene are, as ever, doing our best and brightest to make just one more issue work. Herein you careful searching innumerable hours of fruitless endeavor and disillusioned pasteup, behind-the-scenes interviews and midnight oil. Yes, Gentle Groupies, this is truly not our newspaper, but yours (like it or not). Read it, and treasure its mellow yellow pages ad infinitum. This small communique buried oft between the lines of contents is our way of letting you know we are really here and really care about tuna, Taiwan, and your dog getting enough cheese. Ohmigod, if you could only see the lack of apathy in our offices! The utter respect for our small, but loyal herd who read each week the masthead, who look eagerly, nay, salivate, over the contents of our ears! (Earwax and all....) Truly, this is a rag printed with sweat and blood and uncountable other nasty vile substances, to say the least..... Pardon me? What?..one of our diligent cub reporters interrupted me there with an issue of vital importance. It seems the hotline teletype (ASR33, only the best for us), direct from our correspondents abroad, in the hostile nether regions of Outer Mudd, began clattering noisily but moments ago, bringing us a tale dire consequences, or so it seemed, and many run-on-sentences. ...yes, fans, it has finally happened! The quake-writers of Shaketown, the swinging capitol of Outer Mudd have sold a million-killer, and will soon be receiving their first Gold Strip-Recording! The title of their smash single: "Richter Never Had It So Good". But back to the less quivering elements of this friendly personal informal straight-from the-editor's-typewriter (bet you thought I was gonna say ass') space-filler. Where was I? Where am I? Huh? Wha? Ah, yes, it would seem correct at some point in this soliloquy that I convey our plans for our next thrilling journalistic exercise. Well, fans, we've had our reporters and assorted informants and cutthroats out and about looking for scoops and tidbits, and you know what, they haven't found any! It seems that things will be quiet in the trolling biz for a while-- either that, or all of the supercalifragilisticexpialidocious gee-whiz super-good-guys 1 told you about way up above are sitting on their duffs or making out with their girlfriends or something, but they sure as hell haven't coughed up any leads! Looks like we might just have to shoot the lot of them and cease publication (and pubication) for a while, like over the summer maybe, and see what we can dredge up from the depths then. Rumor has it that a number of young new stars are about to hit the Pasadecency trolling scene. Some of them. guaranteed, are just not gonna be right for the big-time biz, and maybe we can like slurp-siphon-them-off-con-them-into joining our little operation..... In any case, we seem to have been able to scrape up the energy and costs, not to mention the copy, for one more go at it.... inside this insidious, no, pardon me, incredible issue are lots of great inside stories by those-in-the-know about trollbiz today. To wit, we have from the celluloid brain of Quasimoto a bunch of questionably quaint reveiws of what's happening in the movie ... Meatty, our eating expert, returned once more (miracles abound!) from a foray into the Wilderness-Out-there with open mouth and long commentary on the state of organic edibles in and around town. Our nose on the third floor threw together a series of Random Notes, and the ever-alphabetic XYZ (not his real name) said some things about Southern California women, one of whom is on display for your prurient interests somewhere in these sticky pages. Can you recognize the belly-button? .. Even our fingerworn typist, review of Daniel Levon, got into the act, doing a smash Elton John's super-successful concert- for-the-huddled-masses at Caltrans' Wedding Cake Ampitheater. Oh, and of course, we've got record reviews from Stoned Rock, our regular writer on the subject.... So, trolls, try to keep your hormone levels under control as you browse through these libelous layers of lexigraph. Forget that (just like us) you have something more important you really should be doing.... T.A.G. Anything Else You Can Find Yourself The contents of Trolling Stoned eitner in whore or part, it are in mable of reproducins own devices. All rights red legal. TuOLSACE 0OU ROW aUOMAC au issue responsibility. The contents of this should in no way be construed with reality. Mail subscriptions, address changes and adjustments to Trolling Stoned, Box, Gravel, ZZ 00000. Cover Lettering by Guy Miller This edition published June 4 for burning in the streets June 2 to June 16. Centerfold Photo by Ken Yoshida Concept by Al Kellner Postmaster mail any form resembling 36-22-36 to Caltech. issue Dateline Burpbank! Join the World Wide Church of Quantum Mechanic МІКОЛАО Read the exciting Book of Rotations! Hear the secret Gospel according to St Ruddock! The Last Rites : Jaws, Godfather, 2001, Clockwork Orange, BTVOTD, Last Year in Marienbad, Casablanca by A. Lester Quasimodo I1I Trolling Stoned Film Editor Despite and gallivanting hearsay that the cinematic arts are dead at Caltech, the Truth will Out! Or set you free. or what- ever... few barbaric sallies and sullies at barbs the upcoming filmie season: The ASSKISS films will continue their unperturbed sequences of fulsome ambience and importuned indif-terence. under the obdurate direction of the duly elected Rapturity Director. Since the holy inception of the stu- dent body run flicks hy Burskie, in the days when cretins were cretins and coele-canths roamed the carth. the ASSKISS films have provided our decadent. half-animate audience with a never-ending sequence of brash Hollywood mediocrity and drivel, overpowering the senses of the viewer with a sense of austere repugnance and an over- powering need to regurgitate on the stairwell of Baxter. Ah yes, well do I remember those happy Friday nights, collapsed drunkenly in the very Lecture Tall where. previously that week, had diligently ab- sorbed humid load of knowledge in Fe 11 lecture. eating of the fruit of academic excellence! Relaxing "n the very same seats of knowledge. watching the celluloid scenes of cinematic superficiality unfold before me, on the silver screen of golden Technicolor (100 narrow for Cinema- scope)!! This season, the Rapturity (or Rapacity ... one forgets the formality of titles) Director has chosen a veritable diarrhea of recent lollywood productions. rented from Skunk Films. Ine., at exhor-bitant iten only a gravid mongoose would accept: Jaws (1975) is a brash. daring psychoanaly tie work. marked by brilliant insights into the id and superego of a typical Fastern American sea creature. Whose unhappy childhood and adolescent traumas have created a state of profound orality and obses- sive-compulsion. The prota- gonist is incapable of curbing his appetite. seeking an outlet for repressed homosexual tendencies in the oral expression of all-consuming desires. This leads to the disruption of the protagonist's total ecosystem. Moreover. the unhappy hero finds himself involved 10 almost psychotic degrees with tetish of astonishing magnitudes, leading to intense complications in his relations with others. Spurning the solution to his problems in psychoanalysis, the unfor- tunate protagonst becomes yet another victim ot Beha- viour Modification therapy. Well photographed, with stunning lighting and composition in the sequences dealing with the contlicts of the oral phase obsession. The Godfather (1974), a neo-realist "slice-of-life" view. of happy Sicilian peasants in their lifestyle of communion with the good earth. Clockwork Orange (1972), a distressingly poorly photographed documentary essay on the evolution of the Russian language in the popular argot of middle-class Lithu-anans. 2001: A Space Odesser (1971), a Margaret Mead-ish. shallow anthropological inter-pretaion of the evolution of the waltz. illustrated quite nicely on the sereen by what appear to be phallie symbols and female orifices. Exces- sively Jong. with undo attention to technical detail. Berond the Valler of the Dolls (1969) is a brilliant exercise in cinematie composition and form. The perceptive viewer is overcome by the brilliance of director Russ Meyer's visual acumen and subtle color thematies. Proponents of the auteur theory will readily recognize that Meyer, creator of other major works of our time, such as Supervixen and other produc tions, has the makings of a pantheon auteur of our times. Moving on to less popular and TOTe black-and-white topics, the Cinematush season. TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4. 1976 as envisioned by the current management. promises to be one of the most indolent and fulsome Cinematush. as any jaded junior will tell you. is the anonymous artsy-fartsy organ of cinematie chiaroscuro which leeches off the Caltech each Saturday week 10 present evengs of cheap black-and-white, wretchedly subtitled (spoken in obscre greasy languages like Slovenian and Outer Mongolian) films which simply reck of Culture and Literacy. Some of the offerings of this season's Cine-matush offerings: Female Trouble (1974). directed by the redoubtable John Waters, is yet another in a line of comedies touched with social criticism. The protagonist, a three-hundred-pound transvestite named Divine, is portrayed in various stages ot her development. from childhood abandonment through gang rape through acid-throwing victimization. An edifying and instructive til for teenager and child alike. Last Year in Marienbad (1961). directed by hotshot and stud young Alain Resnais. is indistinguishable from its companion piece. Frudless Summer. Hypnotic and enthralling in visual detail and camera angles. it suffers from too much in the way of surfboards and Beach Boy mUSIC. The waves at Marien- bad, 1 am told by Manhatten Beach-ers who ought to know. are among the best in the world. Casablanca (1943). Michael Curtiz's essay in Oedipal con-fict and resolution stands as a landmark in Americal psycho-cinematies. Bogart's portrayal of in Oedipal chitd in conflice between the forbidden desire for the mother-figure (Ingrid Bergman) and his fear of the competition of the father is a classic in psychological stress. Seven Samurai (1955) is Akira Kurosawa's clever Japanese imitation of that great Americal Western classic, The Mugnificent Seven. Tajima's second cousin, Tosh Mitune, as a hairy protagonist. Through a Glass Darkly (1961). Ingmar Bergman's probing documentary about four people on an isolated Baltic island who observe a total solar eclipse. A Cinematush special showing: the film made of the Grateful Dead's big series of Winterland concerts in August of a few years back. Also to come: Solaris, if the Commies give us a print for less than a thousand bucks. Tips for aspiring frosh: How to become Rapturity Director of ASSKISS films: be a Page Boy. How to join Cinematush! be a lacquer Mole. or grow your hair long and act like an expert on surrealism. How to become a Cinema-tush projectionist: drink Carls-berg beer, the beer which made Niels Bor famous. How to become reviewer for the film Trolling Stoned: lie around chairs and stare at the sky. Meatty's Maw McGuire's Horse. 10073½ STP and rancid cranberry Ventura Blvd. at De Soto Ave. juice. If you have to eat here, try The first thing one notices about the Horse is that it's the New York Sirloin and Baked Potato ($4.50) and say shaped very much like a your meditative reflections (is stomach on the inside, but that O.K., Justice Douglas!] after eating here one realizes As one might expect, the that it must be the lower meat has been from intestine. complete with indi- MeGuire's Horse that probably gestion, appendicitis, hemorrhoids. ald died ot Savalon few The place is a nauseating combination of decades back. The Steak and Lobster Combination ($8.00 is western. medieval, and garish disaster that makes the stvles with a good deal of Hindenhurg look like small Early Gauche thrown in (up?) time. The shellfish used must for bad measure. have been shipped here in a The interior decorator was vat of turpentine via a slow blind, drunk. stoned, or some boat from linear China. It's SO combination thereof: mushy it is often mistaken for the dining (!) room looks like sour cream and gets smeared a blend of King Arthur's on the powdery potatoes. The bathroom and a honky-tonk Gremadine of Beet with Ber- cathouse. Some of the "note- naise Sauce ($4.50) is even worthy" features include fake worse: the TaW meat wooden chandeliers with red drowned in a slimy goo that candles in them (also fake), tastes like salt, horseradish. and a filthy stained glass salt. mud, and salt. The meat depicting three apples, a glass itself has a funny (hah!) of beer, and a chicken shown medicinal taste: when laying an egg from the rear. drowned with the soggy toad- Lawrence Welk bubble music stools it's reminiscent of the exeretes from every corner. time you had your tonsils out. making private conversations The rice is so gluey you can nearly impossible. Whatever blow three inch bubbles in class this place may have ever it. had has long since disappeared Dessert is no improvement. through the cracks in the The "fruit ices" seem like walls, the splits in the ceiling. hunks of snow gathered from and the holes in the base- "round fire hydrants: the fruit boards. The atmosphere is as pies have a congealed scum on romantic as a dying mule. top of the sour fruit mixture The maitre d' then leads which has probably been you to a dusty booth (read boiled for months. For real cell) and shoves you behind a amusement have the "Peaches Lilliputian table covered with Flambe" a troupe of kev- what looks like a surplus stone Cops comes forward (Confederate) army tent. AI- with great pomp and sets a ter taking one's chances with bowl of soggy, shriveled fruit the insulting menu, one is in front of you. Their ring "escorted" to salad bar, which leader then douses it with takes up about a furlong and cleaning fluid and lights it. May even look appetiving He's usually spilled more on from fifty paces. But at closer the table than in the bowl, range one notices the brown and usually sets the table lettuce, green bananas. and alight. After beating out the blue (no kidding!) tomatoes. flames with his shoe. he The jello has melted and run murmurs a slight apology and onto the floor, the beans have slithers away. sprouted, and the cheese Little else can be said in could be mistaken for a piece polite society. If you really of the moon. The dressings want a laugh, try the place, add insult to injury, about as but bring your own hurp bag. bland and greasy as possible. Tell them Harold sent you, The blue cheese tastes like and watch them scratch their rotten milk with sand in it, heads in amazement. and the oil and vinegar is like - Meat The NASA/ French Connection Your Stoned traveling Trolling correspondent was granted an interview with Dr. Bowden, an upcoming young scientist presently employed by NASA. Dr. Bowden's re- putation has chiefly from his designs of come experi- ments in space that would be of a rather curious. if not bizarre, scientific nature. TS: Dr. Bowden. You are one of the staunchest sup- porters of the NASA budget. Don't think that would be better spent by diverting the funds to examining problems here on Earth? Dr. Bowden: Why must it be a choice? I have devised a sertes of experiments that deals with both. our search for knowledge in space. and our approach to social problems at home. TS: Oh really? Could you disclose some of these? Dr. Bowden: Certain. Everybody agrees that our prisons are overcrowded. that the prisoners are given no meaningful work when inside, Secrets of Nassau and are not rehabilitated when leaving. Right? TS: Go on. Dr. Bowden: Well, my plan is to use convicts who have little chance of being released soon to assist in tests of a somewhat "high risk" nature, and in flights that would have been otherwise Get the picture? unmanned. TS: Uh... Not really. DB: Then picture this: a confessed baby muncher volunteers on condition that if he survives, he'll be set free, presumably not to continue munching babies. He is hur- riedly flown to the Cape, where an old Mercury capsule awaits him. Once in space-any of a number of experiments may proceed. Right now, our concerns rest primarily on the •Can man question survive in vacuum? And if so, for how long?" To find out, we merely open a door in the capsule and wait. TS: My God! Won't air be a problem? Bowden: No, though the lack of it might be. TS: How could you get a prison to thing? agree to such The Doctor: The prison's only requirement is that we don't put the any pressure. under TS: Don't you find sacrificing human life a steep price to pay just to watch men die in a vacuum? Doe: But that's not the only experiment! Next on our list, we plan to jettison the convict to measure the probabilities of unassisted re- entry. TS: But what about the heat? Prof: Don't you listen? I already said, he survives, he's a free The cops won't bother him a bit. TS: Not that heat. I mean the prisoner himself, won't he get heated? Bowdio: Angry? No. Most likely he'll be very relieved. As we figure it, he'll be thanking his lucky stars that he's not the amputee we plan to send inside an atmospheric probe to Jupiter. TS: Dr. Bowden, I find your ideas cruel and un- justified. What possible benefits could we gain by these experiments? Herr Doktor: Don't you see? Once we are convinced that surviving in a vacuum is impossible, and unassisted re-entry is unlikely, we could build huge orbiting prisons in space. No escape will be possible. Imagine it! No riots, no tunneling out, no sawing through the bars, no swim- ming to the mainland! TS: Well, at least the experiments will be over. The Brain: Nonsense! To continue interest in these experiments, I'd personally offer a reward to any prisoner who successfully escapes. TS: That should make you popular. Dr. Bowden: Of course. Then we wouldn't even have to tell them that "Escape is strictly for Bowden." Captain Fantastic in Beckman Action Elton John Beckman Auditorium Pasadena, California April 31, 1976 awe at his rather unusual attire (A Hart, Schaffner and Marx business suit), the King of Rock and Roll broke into "Crocodile Rock", its tender by Daniel Levon Breaking a long tradition of showcasing only artists with no popular appeal or drawing power, Beckman Auditorium, that cozy powerhouse of the entertainment world, surprised its regular patrons with appearance by Elton an John (otherwise known as the lat-ter-day Elvis). Only the $75 per ticket price prevented an overflow crowd from being even larger than the confines of The Big Wedding Cake. As soon as the crowd, including a few older citizens who had come expecting to watch a travelogue, were seated, the house lights dimmed for a moment. hush fell on the crowd, fortunately injuring Suddenly, the no one. audience saw (or, didn't see) a blinding set of lights illuminate the center of the stage, focusing on the figure of the one and only ELTON! As the crowd gasped in strains bringing tears to the eyes of all. This opening (and the 36 kilowatts of speakers used by him and his band) left the crowd blown back in their seats. As a few returned to consciousness, Elton they saw rip open, the business suit, revealing a set of se- quined tights, a day-glo cape, and a skin-tight top with a big red E on the chest. Now realizing that it was the REAL him that was performing, the crowd laughed with glee as he rushed over to the keyboard and began his rocking ren- dition of "Your Song". The concert went on for what seems like a few mi-nutes, although it must have been hours. The incredible medley of "Indian Skyline Pigeon" Sunset- was a good 35 minutes long, what with the long instrumental solos. In response to audience demand, he performed most of his older songs, commenting that most of his newer stuff was TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 garbage anyway. This led to "Tiny Dancer", "Burn Down the Mission", "There Goes a Well-Known Gun" and many others that left the crowd begging for more, and getting it. Then, when it seemed that the excitement of the audi- ence had built to an incredible peak, he carried it up with him to an incredible musical climax: an entire medley of Neil Sedaka songs! As an even further surprise, Tony Tennille (or however you spell it) stepped up out of the audience and joined him The Captain (not dragging fantastic) with her. Elton and Tony sang for another half hour, with the audience screaming in ecstasy the entire time. The amazing accoustics of Beckman brought out all of the beauty of the Sedaka songs, and tears to the eyes of the strongest-willed. It was thought that nothing could possibly top this section of the concert, but as the Captain and Tony left the stage, Elton announced the last medley of the show would be one specially prepared for a local appearance. As a special salute to Caltech and JPL, he would conclude the with "Rocket Man" and the newly rewritten "Madman Across Baxter". And just sure enough, Baxter is where ended the evening. Except for the minor incident with a fish eating the spangles off of his glasses, the evening ended perfectly. a post concert rare interview Elton answered the question on everyone's minds: what caused him to pick Beckman after such other concert sites as Dodger Sta- dium. His reply: "Well, (drip, drip) find where else could you such an intimate place with such unusual accoustics (splooosh) And, besides, was the only auditorium in the world (plop) where the ceiling matches the sequins on my cape!" Bippity-Bop the Real World by W. A. Xyx Those Monica, fraught with hazards who have the for-to be undertaken only at six tune to live in the golden land the morning, and the of California, where the surfers' wave stretches on end- southward roads to Hunting- ton Beach and beyond ... the lessly towards infinity and the glorious sun shines endlessly on golden deserted seashore tanned infinitely path to La Jolla and the screwable women, will SOON notice ultimate beach campus at UCSD where naked California palpable distinction between girls stroll around an endless tha Southland and the North strand populated with seagulls Country. and hang-gliders ... Somewhere between In, the North, all the Gaviota Pass and San Simeon fucking bridges are closed to lies a transition between these bikes. To get from Berserkeley two regimes of world. As a to the City, you have to go Trolling Stoned correspon- dent, one IS behooved to by way of Hewlett-Packard undergo exposure to these and all those fucking nerd double-E places on the Penin- two extremes of thought and sula climate. Those who are restric- The Pasadena Police are ted to one pole are fortunate reasonably cool dudes, who (or unfortunate) indeed. smile resignedly at bonfires In the South there are and suchlike activities (but beaches. Not merely beaches, don't let them get you for. oh my little droogies, but surf, breakers, body surfing, traffic violations on bikes.. then they turn into exquisite sun-tanning, glorious pigs). golden sunsets; tall, blonde- The Alameda County haired, gorgeously and volup- sheriffs are called the "Blue tuously browned girls at the Meanies" for ample reason. beach, Coors, bikeways, long In the South, one can strands of fine white sand for guzzle beer to one's delight: lying in; and at Manhattan Bud, Oly, Mickey's, Tuborg, and Hermosa, row upon row or if you have connections, a of volleyball courts on the little of the old Point beer. sand for pursuit of the perfect In the North, it gets too spike, the headlong dig, and the perfect doubles team. fucking cold to drink anything cooler than In the North, there are rains, and Snap-E-Tom. if you try to go rocks and stupid shit along running, your fucking Adidas the shoreline. There are skin- get wet and end up stinking ny, pale, insolent wenches the apartment up. Or it snows who run around in furs and and you can't ride your bike overcoats. There 1s to campus without being Berserkeley, full of dog shit, blinded by the whiteness and panhandlers, murderous heroin getting hit by a truck. There addicts, asshole Hare Krishna people who make noise at are faggots on all the street corners, looking for blow jobs, seven in the morning on or there are Black Muslims or • Saturdays, and cold weather Jesus freaks pushing with rain where a man can't product their you. get a decent tan even in the fucking on Hare Or the Krishna are summer without freezing his trying to sell you something balls off. about the Perfect Masturbator In the South, there are or something. Or your apart- endless opportunities for long ment gets trashed by the bike trips; the road to Wilson, Weather Underground. Or the the more ambitious loop of nares bust in while you're state Highways 2 and 39, the cooking up a batch of brow- Forest Highway leading eventually to Lake Isabella. the nies. Or you have to take physics lectures with a bunch complicated path to Santa of total nerds from MIT. the stimula fusion reactor. - Like a thousand physicists, urging a proton to let loose- Now you can reach a level of excitation that only months ago was unheard of. A magneto hydrodynamic vessel with spasmodically pulsed laser stimulation, scientifically patterned to massage and caress two protons to the ultimate act of fusion. Send for your sample today: Lawrence-Livermore Laboratory, Dept. K.J-7,114 Manhattan St., Livermore, CA 94395. TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 Leering and Frothing at Caltech by DR. BUNTER S HUMPSON al over on are as proud. I knew a fellow back at my house who had devised a quantitative synthesis that exceeded even this and I gave them the methods as we were departing. I wandered past the Tech office on my return trip and hit the provisional stash of commercial I kept in the desk drawer as I read the mail. daily Some asshole was wri- ting in about pouring water the raunch flicks during decompression chambers se- cond term. I felt that one good fuck was all this little piece of frigidity needed to turn her on to both men and cocks. The rest of the mail consisted of the usual bullshit press releases. One PR com- pany was busy huckstering yes on three propositions and no on two others - a complete sell-out to cash when com pared to their personal views. Which just goes to show that cash will buy any thing. Ex- cept maybe Boom-Boom's tits and twat. I thought of all the money that we were going to make that night by selling the triffid my co-editor had picked up. As I returned to my room thoughts Talover the dominance of the Physics department and it occurred to me that the only voice the undergraduates have in all that vast physics department is through that Shirley Temple of the fourth floor whom the Big B (as we affectionately know him) is balling the slit off of. It seems that they began discussing particle physics (shades of Jimmy Carter and he wound up showing her all his particles as spermatozoa. What else can you say? I got back to my room and found the triffid sucking away on my co-editor's piece of manhood. "Did you get the photos?" I snapped at him. "Of course," he moaned as she went round the crown with the tip of her tongue and he almost splattered her nose. I nodded approval and headed for the medicine cabinet where I found some Shitz and broke open a six-pack. Dinner wasn't until six-thirty and I felt like getting my rocks off. I headed for the shower — a place a friend of mine beat off frequently. I felt the surge of orgasm as I chewed on the seventh button I had taken with me. All my dreams were of HB watching with an agonized face as I desecrated the hair of that luscious humanities prof referred to earlier. Then who should appear at the door but the Big B himself? "What's up, taco?" I shot at him. "Hell of a bummer this afternoon. I had to see my 137 prof about my homework and he gave me only one alternative - an oral exam or fail. I thought about it for a long time as he bragged about them calling him Big Ben at the Athanaeum Bar. He stood up from behind his desk and I TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 realized what he meant by an oral exam and by Big Ben all at once. God, I'd have sworn the dikes had broken when he came. My mouth and stomach could barely contain the jism of mathematical formulae that shot from his symbol of manhood. I did, however, pass 137." few After reading the last lines some lackey has suggested that they're going to take me to the nearest Col. Sander's and deep-fry me. Bullshit. I stumbled down to dinner and watched some Oriental twat trying to massage the super-troll of the house into a hard-on. Ignoring this, 1 took a seat when the waiters cried and began to shovel down the crap that the food service called nutrition. Personally, I what is we didn't have dinner, we could get rid of overweight people and the custom of cleaning because people are starving in West as an- alized that I was making an announcement. My lackeys at however, quickly table turn. I acknowledged the saving as I sat down and the fellow to my right passed me a joint of Hawaiian. I toked deeply before passing it to the where my room- triffid up for the night of hooking. be many a year before I ever before I chugged off the rest Bacardi into my house mug. 1 Probably all they would care foggiest what really happens The time had come for the first of the presidential aspirants' parties. I headed down to my car with my co-editor and the triffid. My co-editor's car was the most non-descript thing about the entire parking lot. He called it the Flaccid Flounder, but I thought the appellation of mashed minnow to be a hell of a lot more appropriate. He fumbled in his pants - one of those European styles with buttons all over the pockets and fly - for the key and LEERING AND FROTHING AT CALTECH finally got the back door open. I tossed the triffid in and heard the solid thud of metal against flesh aS she began moaning. "What in God's holy hell do you have in that back shit. She's lying on top of my carbine." fuck do you want with a of the Beaver's juices. Get the "Got to get her pants off," an expanse of Levi's and can't get them off her." I stood the early evening light until he draped the Levi's over "Asshole!" I screamed. "O- presidential aspirant with some twat's Levi's stinking of Christ, I was staggered. I knew my room mate liked weapons, but this was ridi- culous. I mean, there was enough stuff in that trunk to start a complete student riot. Carbines, magnums, shotguns, dartguns and a cross-bow. 1 didn't even bother to open the case labeled "White Phos-phorous," really knowing him, it was. couple of appropriate epithets crossed my lips shrugged the whole thing off and threw the last carbine and the Levi's into the trunk. If they catch you with an arsenal like that they lock you up for a long stretch. I didn't. care. The whole rap for the trunk shit was his if we were stopped, or at least that's all I could remember of California law through my addled mind. I sat down in the passenger's seat as he passed me a half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey which I only perceived as half-full and did my best to attack. 1 sliced open a grapefruit from the glove compart- ment - nes led in only four or five felonies might add and munched the golden fruit as the lights of the street rolled by. We had left the freak sanctuary of the campus and were stuck out in the middle of the straightest houses of San Marino. The car soon stopped rolling as I eyed a driveway that was choked with middle-income cars of established faculty types. The one nice thing about the flaccid flounder was that it didn't make any pretensions. It couldn't do anything. You had to crank like mad to get the rear window to do anything, the cigarette lighter didn't work, and the radio was stuck in a single station from Long Beach that sucked grapefruit at its best. None of this middle-income automatic shit partially for us. We drove a nothing car and were proud of it. Up from this, we would only ever purchase a Moby Dick - should we ever be'so inclined. I opened the door and headed for the party with my co-editor in tow We had almost reached the front door before I became aware of the Wild Turkey still in my hand. I tossed it over the hedge and heard it shatter on the • driveway next door. A garbled California Tech had the doorman licking out my boots and I steamed into the thick of the boredom. The stereo was playing a most droll song and I had difficulty seeing why anybody would want to pick this fellow as president. Duti- fully (this entire eventless day had yet to produce a story) I raided the sandwich bar for sustenance and shook some acid out onto ham sandwich. tution Having my the consti- of an encrusted ship- wreck is very useful. Time to find out which faculty wives are sleeping with which faculty members. That's not in the least bit sexist if you've ever been around this campus for more than, say, four hours. Just long enough to realize that the only reason half the students go to see their advisors is to hope they're out and get to spend some time staring at a ChemE secy's amalgam of protoplasm. know one guy that went for a week, deliberately times picking he knew his advisor wouldn't be in. Fucked up campus. I don't know why I go on with this. Every week I burn myself out hoping that a legitimate news story will materialize and spend my time lying around at faculty events in which the most news- worthy item is the color of the Nobelist's tie. Still, in about ten minutes one of my supers will be pounding on my door for my assignment and weekly my pre- eminent desire to avoid confrontation with Academic Standards and Honors will drive me to finish this for those GPA-saving three units of A+ from Lit 15.... After I downed the sandwich I plowed into a group discussion with a glassful of Bacardi Anejo to provide the strength needed to stomach the unmitigated bullshit. occurred to me that it would be polite to remove Hanoi-mirror sunglasses my and let the appearance that I'm civil prevail for at least a few minutes. I left them on. The faculty types were running on at the mouth about the merits of the presidential aspirants. The aeronautics prof to my right kept eyeing the wife of the physicist to my left. watched his eyes run up and down her body as she shifted back and forth in her chair, strategically baring parts and bits of her tits and thighs. All a disgusting mish-mash of white meat that would fuck like a rabbit but never know what White Rabbit was Jesus, those boys in the Tech office will never understand this. At any rate, one prof was babbling about the greatness of Caltech as a research institution and another was agreeing with him and said that as far as the faculty were concerned, all the under- graduates could go to hell and stay there. (Quite strong language for a man of that sort.) The physicist began com- plaining about the inade- quacies of the required physics courses and how all the biology and chemistry majors instead of learning physics like they should. They weren't atypical among this faculty group. The undergraduates are the parasites of Caltech, the people that are driving the institute broke and causing oh SO many embarassing situ- ations with no quality. Shit. redeeming The faculty wives have to have a source of fresh sperm somewhere and dear hubby's research institute might as well provide six inches for her while he's away for six hours over some obscure journal article It was time to stick my ass out to be chopped up. "Isn't the Caltech greatness of propagated through the students who are trained in these portals every year?" I fired first. "What?" The physicist looked up with surprise that someone should speak such blasphemy about gospel truth. I tried to tell what he was drinking from his breath as I continued staring. "The greatness of Caltech is propagated through publication of outstanding research in the most prestigious of journals. Undergraduates provide nothing to the institute except albatrosses for the necks of professors intent on frontier-of-the-field research." I felt a few minor explosions going off in my head and thought about the beard in front of me that kept changing colors. "And how many grad students did you sodomize to get enough data for your most /Cont. on 11/ TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 RECORDS R SIEG WIRD UNSER SEIN/ Feeling Good Tommy James and the Fondels In this new release with the Fondels, Tommy James probes in to, the depths of your erogenous zones. While parts of this record are hard to handle, most of it will cause tingling and tremors up your spine and will excite you through pulsations designed to cause your heart to Tommy flutter. uses those fingers of famous his to best advantage while playing the organ in the song "Touch and Go." This song, like the rest of the album, is good for some cheap thrills, but after a while it tends to rub you the wrong way. Muzac For the Masses The Jefferson Tricycle The Jefferson Starship, em- barrassed by their last effort, have decided to attempt to change their image to fit their music. Marty explained it to me thusly: "We found that our Starship albums appealed strongly to Muzac operators and tried to arrange a contract with one of the major Muzac outfits. Unfortunatey, the officers were scared our off by Starship image. We have simply decided to change our name so that our music can spread throughout the dentist offices of America." At long last it seems tht the Jefferson Whatevers have found their place in the world. Back from the Grave The Allman Brothers It looked like it was all over for the Brothers. Capri-. corn was breathing down their necks for a new album, but none of the guys were there to record it. Butch's back was still bad, Dicky, Jai Johnny, and the doing others were busy disco album in Nashville, and Greg was quite busy with his Methadrine treatments as well as his new job as head of the Food and Drug Administration. Things were becoming rather morbid so it was decided that Duane and Berry would be resurrected. This accom- plished, it was felt that some vocalists could be used, so Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison were unearthed. Having gone this far, it was decided that Jimi Hendrix on guitar and Pigpen on keyboards would add the proper touch of decadence. Thus they were called forth. At this point, the band tried to dig up a good drummer, but the best they could manage was Pete Best. They did happen to resuscitate Cass Elliot, however, and she was put to excellent use as a bass drum. This album is a pleasure to listen to. The band members show more life and vitality than any live rockers around. "Revival" is done in a particularly poignant style and "Ain't Got No Time To Waste Away No More" is also chilling. This is a band that we'll surely be hearing from for a long, long time. After all, as Duane commented, "They can't kill us if we're already dead." Passed Out The Floors This record is a new low for The Floors. Most of the tracks are pure trash that would be better off if swept under a rug. The disk, itself, has a disgusting yellow glow from wax build-up and is scuffed by numerous heel marks. In fact, the only place where The Floors shine at all is on their hit single, "I Love It When You Sit On Me." Blown Away T-Styx The recent merger of the bands T. Rex and Styx has produced a hard-hitting act called T-Styx. Their new album wields a high quality brand of music that is best described as potent. It usually only takes a couple of tracks before the listener is over- whelmed. The best song is "Toking in the Smokehouse." A listen to this selection will certainly cure what ails you. An elaborate preparation process makes the album a bit expensive ($16 and up), but the highs produced during its are preserved far longer than in a normal disk. Next Week: Turntable Reviews The Beatles' Meat The Beatles By Stoned The Beatles are back and bigger than ever! It's hard to believe but John, Pole, George, and Ringo have re- coupled. To say the least, it's a relief to Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public who can now rest assured in the knowledge that their young daughters are no longer corrupting themselves to the likes of David Bowie or Mick Jagger. Mrs. Public was heard to exclaim, "It's de- lightful to see those clean-cut British lads again." The Meat album features remakes of old Beatles' tunes. All of them are exciting but a few really stand out. These include "All I've Got To Do (Is. Play With My Wazoo)." "Not a Second Time (The First Weren't Worth a Dime)," and "It Will Be Long." Those inocent young cubs also let it all hang out in "Mary Had a Little Krishna" (written by Ron Palody), "Till There Was You My Pet Rock Had To Do," and "I Want To Hold Your Buns." John Lennon gave us the inside scoop on the reunion. "Actually," he said, "we were never apart. We'd been crazy to split it up with us getting all that money and class lays, not like Yoko, every night and twice a day. Then that bloke Paul got himself cracked | up in a cabbie. Doctor said it would be years 'fore he would be alright so I spread those Paul is Dead rumors and people were so happy to find he was alive that they didn't notice that it was an imposter without a twit of talent, Now that the real Paul is ready again, we're back to old times. Only we shan't be touring for a spell since Paul is still a bit of a mess. needn't The young lasses worry, though, be- cause he can play as well as ever with the three fingers he's got left and his tool's just fine. Man, we've been through some hard times, but I knew we could stick it out." 10 TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 Wanted: Workers to help in construction of Millikan Memorial Rand Random Notes "It's going to be a straight commencement, no another notable in the same crap," field, disagrees. said Harold Brown producer/ BAGEL director of this year's semi- The concert. "We felt Physics Department that last year's production was in- was denied tenure yesterday. BAGEL appropriate, and we received a The leam of Dean and lot of complaints about the Fuller, who did an extensive light show and the lowering of tour in the area last year, will the elephant. Personally, not be thought that the costume for uniting in the near the elephant was appropriate. future. Rumors of a possible concert came about because This year will feature Jenijoy (Boom Boom LaBelle doing of the rerelease of several of their singles abroad, notably her now classic Lenny Bruce "I've Got Those Chalk Dust imitation, immediately after Shoulder Blues. the Benediction. "There's no chance of a get BAGEL together although we're still Rumors that Monty Fuller. Python's Flying Circus will friends." said "Ah Brock, take over the administration are blatantly untrue states that... are you sure about stated Dean. Hardly Mortal, figurehead for BAGEL that organisation. "The People are still talking about the bizarre vandalism of position offered the group," Peter Fay's office. According states Mortal "is actually one of to relatively minor impor- investigating detectives, tance. Hardly more important someone broke smashed the legs in of and all of than, say, the Humanities Fay's chairs with what appears department." Total salaries for be, in police terms, "a the group should amount to blunt movie projector". Tough less than six figures, according luck, Pete. to Terry Gilliam. BAGEL Rumor has it that David Smith intends to remove the 110-foot yacht that noW resides in his office and use it to form a university. "It's about time we had a university in the Los Angeles area." BAGEL Sandy McCorkadale ad- mitted yesterday that his attempts to form a newspaper have been a failure, but that this will not deter him in the future from trying again. Nobody associated with the paper agreed. states Smith. Bob Huttenback, Beny and the Jets Ramo-in-the-Round Denapasa, Califortia Whenever By Ron Sandy For weeks preceding their West Coast premiere, rumors about this weird and wonderful new flying. group had been After the release of their album, called Album, which achieved gold record status three hours before it was announced, Beny and the Jets have been going nowhere but up. Even so, it seemed like an eternity before they arrived here for their largest house to date, a date in wondrous Ramo. When Beny and the Jets came on stage, a mere two hours after the announced curtain time, the audience was on pins and needles, for which the upholsterers of Ramo profoundly apologize. In any case, the house lights went down, the stage lights went up, and there, wonder of wonders, was BENY! Six-feet, three inches tall without her electric neon platform boots and purple dayglo mohair jump suit, Beny easily dominated the stage. With the afore- mentioned accoutrements, the effect was staggering, espe- Beny a Blast cially when the Jets played a few chords amplified on their 48 Scheffer Special amps, breaking glass three blocks away. Since this was during their medley of Kenny Rankin hits, most of the audience was visibly stunned. When they really cut loosewith their Blue Cheer-Led Zeppelin set, the survivors applauded for several minutes. Most of all, there was Beny. Beny! She's really keen! Standing there, a living mixture of Janis Joplin and David Bowie, excitedly twisting solid steel bars as she sang, burning up her nervous energy while singing before a packed house! The Jets, frantically playing all of the songs in their repertoire simultaneously, at ever-increasing volume! They're so spaced out!! To describe this concert as anything but a unique experience would be a lie. This is one performance that you just have to see for yourselves,! since no review can give you, the full feel. So go on out and get your tickets right now for the next local appearance of BENY (and the Jets, too, of course). And remember, you read it in this magazine! Marina, to be built on Millikan Pond Site Paid eight-hour day, four hours of coffee breaks. All work must be supervised, supervisors work eight-hour days, with four hours of coffee breaks staggered with those of workers. Apply at B$G Headquarters - any cafeteria. / Cont. from 6/ recent frontier-of-the-field publication?" I smirked and wondered if he was going to lash out at my face or kick me in the groin. I didn't have a chance to see either as the wife of somebody (at the insistence of our lawyers) suddenly appeared in front of with her right hand passing me a drink and her left hand groping for my belt-buckle. I let her tow me out of the room while the faculty types behind me grimaced and fell to disparaging undergraduates once again. The actors by their pre- sence always convince me, to my horror, that most of what I've written about them until now is false. It is false because about them with steadfast love even now, while I write this down, this, too, becomes false) but varying ability, and this varying ability does not hit off the real actors loudly and correctly but loses itself dully in this love that will never be satisfied with the ability and therefore thinks it is protecting the actors by preventing this ability from exercising itself. (Kafka) At any rate, that eminent engineer's wife towed me by the belt-buckle and by the smile On her face up to a bedroom in a far wing of the house. I walked into a plush Spanish motif and collapsed on the bed, waiting for the horny little faculty wife who had brought me up to strip down. Just my luck, there was a pack of matches on the night table; enabling me to roll some fine Colombian up and start toking as I watched her strip down and, of all the stupid kinky things in the world (this IS for serious degenerates only) she opened the curtains. I had a clear view down across the courtyard now into the lounge where the party was in progress. She took a couple of tokes and then went down on my cocked carbine. She sucked. I mean, her paucity of pulchritude couldn't have blown a feather off of a clean dry frictionless surface if she had to. So I sat there staring down into the lounge and watching the eminent engineer holding court while his wife tried her best at oral sex - failing as miserably as he failed his students after their orals. Seeing that this was going nowhere, I worked a yellowjacket out of my shirt pocket and gently slipped it into her mouth. She gulped it down eagerly as 1 muttered something incredible about it being an contrceptive. She zapped out 1n about three minutes and laid back on the floor. I had the courtesy to jerk-off onto her dress SO she'd think she was as competent as my lackey's sister in Yokohama. I staggered out into the hall and felt a great sickness coming on. One of those that you get with mace, but wonderful heaving feelings this was clearly not going to be that wonderful dry variety that mace gives you. I ducked into the nearest powder room and left the remnants of my day's nutrition all over the stack of JACS by the john. 1 swear that I don't know if they could ever wash those journals clean or not. This brought me sufficiently a- round to wonder where my cohort in this editorial madness was. I worked down a back stairway spooking the shit out of some servant and found my way out onto the street. Co-editor was standing sip- ping Bud and toking Thai stick by the car. I could see some pillar of the community prof busy eating out the triffid. I took the joint for a few tokes. "She shown any signs of coming out of it yet?" "No. Just lies there and responds to all the explosions in her mind's pleasure centers. God-damn profs think they're ultrastuds by the seems to be way she enjoying them, little realizing that all their tongues and fingers go to nothing except providing peripheral drug." stimulation for the "How much have we made so far?" I eyed a balding head bobbing up and down in the soggy bush country. "Five-hundred at my last count. They're eating it up, to use a phrase." A car turned the corner and rolled past us as 1 stood rooted the pavement with fear. My Co-editor hadn't moved. "What the shit are you up to? Don't you realize that if that had been a cop we'd be dead now?" He burped. "Do you really care?" | envisioned myself spending the next six years editing a prison newsletter and grunted something about moving on to next party. The balding prof had finished and we shut the doors as the car rolled off Co-editor passed me some PCP and I rapid use of the dear Angel's Dust. Somewhere this is all going to end. Some finals week it has to all come crashing down with enough force to wipe out my GPA and my status at Tech. The mind bends in the most awkward of ways after one has been up for seventy or eighty hours. I mean that you quit thinking very directly and the only thing of importance is meeting that story deadline. I missed one midterm this term and didn't get to see the prof until five weeks later. I wasn't in both a straight and concious state until that much time had elapsed. Needless to say, I stuck the midterm sideways. Some fucking Camaro roared past us on California as we were doing a piddling eighty. My co-editor, with all his macho style rolled into the joint in front of him slapped a magnet on the rooftop and flipped the CB radio over to siren. TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 LEERING AND FROTHING AT CALTECH I was dimly aware of wondering where the world was going as we hit 120 chasing the Camaro down California with the white light Mashing a fitful epileptic four times per second and the siren screaming. took another snort of the PCP and forced the triffid to take some as she appeared to almost be coming out of it. The Camaro finally pulled over and we plastered gravel from the street all over his windshield. A few minutes later, co-editor noticed that the Camaro had pulled over and we slowed to a re- spectable 55 as we looked around for the PPD. A few blocks later we pulled up at the second party. was surprised that my driver could find the curb, let alone bring the flaccid flounder to rest beside it. We smoked a DET joint and both headed into the party. I noticed that the sack of grapefruit in the rear seat was looking awfully de-pleted. This party promised to keep the faculty in a lot more grass and ass than the previous candidate. objective about this, but when my ded up to me and passed me a glass of tracing associative mechanisms on the breasts of the young thing with maybe interest in the undergraduate turned. There was nothing but to enjoy myself, despite the making itself felt. I sighted a bird Correspondent (God bless the faggots Honors) had frequented and puttered shark imitation. The science community will eat one alive in social events even if one has the research lab in the world. I knew that siceping with the right people was the surest ticket to grad school; nothing comes to those that deserve it. She seemed amenable to my presence and 1 babbled on for a while about what a dull day it had been —all the while preserving myself in hopes of regaining a few sparks of sexual desire (or rather perfor-mance) lost carlier in the evening out of courtesy. I had passed from the Royal Salut through to Cutty Sark before I felt the embers stirring and she was more than ready by then. We tittered our way down one of the wings. It seems that every house in San Marino has the central area surrounded by wings of bedrooms - all put to very good use in the course of a party. This party was nO different from all the others. Just because a man is the world's foremost on fluid dynamics is no reason to think he's lost his sexual prowess. Not that I'm the world's foremost proponent or expert on fluid dynamics, it's just something you live with. We carefully opened the door to the first room on the right at the top of the stairs (scene of so many literary events) only to hear some well-known group theoretician moaning knees" "Down your and gesticulating to nobody in particular. We quickly shut the door and headed for the next room, where a "From here on down you're the perfect picture of young manhood" heard in the hall kept us from breaking in on a PhD candidate. We finally found an empty room with a quite adequate waterbed and set about some serious degeneration - stuff that's illegal in forty states in the union and the church retains quicky excom- munication for. I popped two amyls from my pocket and we each snorted one. Ah, the wondrous pick feelings that can one up and loft one away once pleasure on tap.... But why am I writing all this? Those lackeys and coolies in the Tech office have no desire to hear the witless babblings of my sex life. Besides, everybody has already read about Fatty Arbuckle. Her grapefruits didn't take me down, they only took me up beyond belief. I was feeling just right when the door opened and a group of faculty types came piling in obli- vious of me and of the head I was receiving at that time, They just wanted to light up some THC acetate direct from the labs of Noyes and who was 1 to argue? So I spent the next time interval I can remember passing the pipe around to the prof that taught me all about Schrodinger's equation and term values. Highs make strange bedfel- lows. I figured I had to find a story somewhere, despite the fine party going on. I pawned the girl off on the chemist's organ and descended the stairs to talk to the Presidential aspirant. This aspirant was wedged between Nobel- penn physiss ration couple administration heavies. I stuck my face in and muttered something about the Tech. Pretty weak credentials in that kind of country, but I had no choice. I reached out to shake his hand and found another God-damn beer can wedged in the middle of my palm. I swear, the things become attached to me like leeches at all the wrong times. I grunted and tossed the can into the trash while the aspirant made small talk with the physicist. I couldn't tell who was kissing who any- more. I think it was a matter of mutual affection. I picked some Jose Cuervo from a passing waiter and hunkered down to asking some tough questions; my tape recorder whirring and clicking in anticipation of hard news. "What's your position on undergraduates at Caltech?" The physicist reclined, letting the aspirant battle off the rabble before getting on with the important ass-kissing. "Undergraduates are one of the important and vital as- pects of Caltech. think everybody here would agree that this statement iS made without reservation." He glanced around at the nodding bigwigs. The physicist kissed a little more ass. I have to keep using that term, I mean, the American Dream would just be too much to use for something that trivial. After a couple of minutes of shitting and hemming and hawwing and bullshitting through stock phrases he came out with the key statement that will sum up this terrible affair and let me get on with what else was on tap. He said "Undergraduates tend to let themselves fall apart here and I want to stop that." There you have it. We fall apart here and that has to be stopped. I grunted something about how and as he wandered through gibberish about studies I wandered off to the sandwich bar. He didn't have the faintest idea how to help under- graduates. One would think that after all the surveys and studies and case histories one would be able to accurately diagnose the real problem and cure it. Fat chance. So while side moans for more women and others moan for more work as cures, I'll just sidle over to the sandwich bar. I found some chicken sandwiches and hassled the servant to know whether or not it was kosher. I didn'y really care if it was kosher or not, I just wanted to hassle the hired help. She puttered around and kept looking for someone to bounce me. The same thing had happened at the last Thank God I'm Jewish party I had gone to. Bozos had muttered something about my not having a number tatooed on my arm while my acid-loaded head had plainly seen it in wonderful orange ink. Co-editor was shaking me for awhile until I realized it was him and that he was after something. I shook my head and could feel the edge of the acetate coming on. "What the fuck," I muttered. "Out at the pool, the fucking God-damn pool." He tugged on my sleeve and I followed him out, idly wondering why he wanted me to go swimming. When I got there he turned to me with a look of helpless fear on his face. "Look!" he cried. stared at the pool and became aware of a woman swimming around in it. "So what the fuck. Some person swimming around. If that's the best story you can find you might as well forget about Lit 15 and try some other profession, like maybe legitimate science "Idiot," he cut me off. "Can't you see who she is and what she's doing." I stared at the pool and began to realize, much to my chagrin, that it was the wife of the presidential aspirant. "Maniac!" I cried. "What the mother-fucking shit have you done!" I stared at her wallowing in the water. "I just gave her a sheet of blotter acid and now she's motoring around in the pool thinking she's a God-damn tughoat." He sagged to the ground and watched the wife of d presidential aspirant tugging a garbage scow out to sea. I felt my mind exploding and came within an inch of my sanity of freaking out. I had to get a grip on myself. This was San Marino and this was a distinguished company. The jury of my peers would lock me away for good if they found out about this. already saw the DA calmly asking Mrs. Aspirant if "You had any idea why these two students tried to slip you these illegal drugs?" "Mercy Sakes no. I did, however, have a very strong feeling that it was for something terribly terribly amoral. I could feel fear and repulsion running all through me when they approached me." Whoa. I'm still here at poolside. Gotta do something. People inside might come out and see this thing. "Get her out of the I'll find an empty room „Pool. "How the shit am I going to get her out of the pool?" "Make like a supertanker." I kicked him in and instantly regretted it. I forgot about it, the previous notwithstanding, as I saw him come partially awake. He had been hitting the ether and if he'd still been up I'd have had a mess on my hands that all the poop-scoops in the world couldn't handle. By the time I came down from finding a room he had her out the diving board - lying there muttering about having to be in dry-dock. We carried her up a back stairwell while we were both singing White Rahhit. This could be very bad, 1 thought, as we trundled her into the room and locked the door behind us. "Do you have any downers on you?" He fumbled through his pockets and came up with some reds and a packet of smack. We shoved the reds into her mouth and tried to make her swallow with varying success on each try. ransacked my pockets before I found a syringe. I was going to be fucking impressed either he or 1 was straight enough to make the injection. I lit a match to sterilize the needle and sucked mish-mash up of the pseudo- solution he had prepared. The actual injection turned out to TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 LEERING AND FROTHING AT CALTECH be fairly easy and we edged way out of the room - hoping she'd never remember either of us. Once the door was shut it took us about thirty seconds to reach the flaccid flounder and get back on the road. There was, thankfully, only one party with faculty types left, but there was still virtually news story. We swerved suddenly to the side of the road as co-editor streaked the side of the flounder with vomit. When we had arrived at the party, it was quite clear that the bulk of the event was over and that the aspirant had flown the coop with his wife. But the party that was still in progress, at the home of this distinguished Altadenan, was clearly worth our time. Despite every muscle in my body seeming latch, tight as a rusted I headed down the hallways immediately, searching for that sondrous room that would take me away from Caltech forever. It is (to describe it figura-tively) as if an author were to make a slip of the pen, and as if this clerical error became concious of being such. Perhaps this was no error but in a far higher sense was an essential part of the whole exposition. It is, then, as if this clerical error were to revolt against the author, out of hatred for him, were to forbid him to correct it, and were to say, "No, I will not he erased, I will stand as a witness against thee, that thou art very (Kierkegaard) poor writer." The room I finally stumbled into had a single Oriental girl with long black hair working over a hot plate. 1 sniffed the air and realized nutmeg was afoot. What the hell. She beckoned me over and I sat down beside her. We both drank down the liquid and shoveled that god-awful residue into ourselves. After that came the agony of keeping the crap down. drifted around the room for almost an hour totally obli- vious of her as I tried to get the overwhelming sensation of wanting to vomit my viscera out of my system all over the My body was all shot to hell as I'd been up these past four days now and the mid-morning hours were once again rolling by. The sensa- tions coming from my right leg were totally different from those coming from my left leg and the images that kept spinning my head around are indecribable. I have to give my co-editor credit for being able to drive the flaccid flounder anywhere without getting us both killed, or worse, busted. But nothing will ever stop the pursuit of news, so 1 began to rummage through the stash under the front seats for something that would bring my system up for this last party. Co-editor grunted (popular form of communi-cation, that) and pulled a glass vial from under the steering column. "Just take a very small amount, like a single taste." | couldn't place what the devil was in the bottle. "Adrenochrome," he said. 1 whistled. That stuff only comes from one place and that meant dealing with some pretty weird people. I eyed him questioningly and he just muttered something about friends in Kerckhoff. Who was I to argue? I whipped out a toothpick and dabbled just enough of a drop to make me feel as if I had an electric cattle prod up my ass. The effects came on very rapidly. sky. Eventually I was up, and found her up too. A mere eighty or ninety hours on, now I had really shot my self full of it and I felt the sensations of my head take ovCr as sexual fantasies ex- ploded all along my pleasure centers. When you come to the end of all this bent and twisted prose, you reach the only real part of it, but you never realize that. More than all the academia and all the drugs, the thing here that has bent me more than anything else has been all those oriental women. I mean, they really send me out of my mind and there's nothing I can do about it. 1 mean, what if I ap- proached one and just went totally off the deep-end? One doesn't talk to one's dreams. one tries to only experience them But I can never experience them because before experiencing comes one must maneuver through all the difficult stages of unknowing tension. That would simply be too much for me. I just write about them and accept them if they come. The ones most admired, of course, never but then the usually stay away too. Worst Nutmeg is a real turn-on and as I lay making love to her I thought I was going to die of cestacy. Each and every little sensation lasted for hours and my mind synthesized the music to back up the entire incredible hap- pening. The final surge and orgasm seemed to last for hours and I could feel the sweat of her body beneath me as 1 ran my hands through her hair. I still had to write some kind of fucking news story for my three units, but I couldn't think of what angle to attack the entire affair from Co-edi-tor was probably as wrapped up down the hall as I was here and I had no desire to disturb him I felt as though I could spend eternity just lying there running hand through that long black hair and stroking the wonderfully soft flesh. So there. After several dozen score gossip- mongers have already chewed the meat over and broadeast it to the world, you have it directly from the horse's mouth. 1 like oriental women. Fine. Now we can all put down our weaknesses and our open admissions and go to a neutral corner. We might know a little more about each other now, but it isn't going to do any of us all that much good. It's just a little more pleasant because it's a little more honest. My dreams will remain untouched in through reality sheer fear of des- troying them. Items pre- dicated on what might be will wither in agony if a negative from reality is ever cast on them Come, come. To our neutral corners and a sane return to the story line. It turned out that co-editor was not as happily ensconced as I was and hauled me down to the flaccid flounder as the first streaks of the rosy- fingered dawn came out. 1 couldn't feel any difference between the bed or the concrete walk or the car. Back the the keyboard was attacked and I plowed through these lines to make the deadline - my fingers descending into velvet jello and then re-emerging as it occurs to me that another letter might like its position on the sheet of paper. The clock is displaying an ungodly morning hour now and the boys at the office must be waiting just for me. Frankly, it doesn't matter who the institute president is. The third floor of Millikan is going to wither away before it considers undergraduates on an equal footing with any other part of Caltech. The faculty meets again this morning and I'll have that written up for next week. At last they came into a maze of dust, where a quantity of people were tumbling over one another, and where there was such a confusion of unaccountable shapes of beams, bulkheads, brick walls, ropes, and rollers, and such a mixing of gaslight and day-light, that they seemed to have gotten on the wrong side of the pattern of the universe. (Dickens) It's time for breakfast. challenge you to break my World Record for the most miles traveled in 30 days on skates by fraternal siamese twins." TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 Rarely has technology served clams so well. The Clamshell 4002. If safety in your home is important to you, it should begin here. The Clamshell 4002 is a fully automatic shell which exhibits a level of defensive ability unequalled in the field of shellfish dwellings. Its tangential tracking of clam diggers at low tide permits rapid detection and escape. An acknowledged masterpiece of shell engineering. Bivalva & Oyster Bivala & Oyster of the Indian Ocean, inc., 515 Survival-of-the-fittest Road, Madras, India The CALIFORNIA Tech Volume LXXVII Number 31 Published weekly except during exam. ination and vacation periods by the' Associated Students of the California Institute of Technology, Incorporated. The opinions expressed in all articles are strictiv those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the editors or of the corporation. Al contributions become the property of The California Tech. cditors-in-chiet Al Keliner Carl Lydick Sandy McCrocodile Business Manager Ken Kroll Managing Movies Books. Food • . Henry Fuhrmann Lewis Hashimoto .. Dave Zelinsky Dick Beatty Gregg Staff Writers Brown, David Callaway, Joe Esker, Judy Greengard, Rock Howard, Nick Smith. Cub Reporter Pam Crane General Staff Flora Boyer, Gavin Claypool, Steve Oualline, Alan Silverstein, Dave Sivertsen, Steve Wake, Gregory White. Gregg Photographers Bone. BODby Bus, Rich Feldman, Gerry Laib, Ken Li, Barry Nakazono, Chiu Yuen Ng. David Weinshenker, Chris (Mach-1) Wheeler, Dave Print This) Wheeler, Ken Yoshida. Circulation Wayne Dickenson The California Tech publications offices are located in Winnett Center (105-51), California Institute of Tech-nology, Pasadena CA 91125. Tele phone: 795-6811, x2154. Printed by News-Type Service, 1506 Gardena Avenue, Glendale CA 91209. Second Class postage paid at Pasadena, California. Subscriptions $1.50 per term or $4.00 per year Life Subscription How They Finished The following is an excerpt from Dr. Fred Shair's report, as chairman of the Freshman Admissions Committee, on the results of this year's admissions proceedings. We appre- ciate his assistance in preparing it and his kindness for allowing us to print it for your interest and stimulation. It should be recalled that the primary goal of the freshman Admissions and Com- mittee the Admissions Office is to field a high-qual-ity freshman class of reasonable size while staying within the financial aid budget. In order to reduce the financial impact of the freshman class upon the upper class with respect to "Gift Aid," we increased the "self-help" from $500, $800, and $1300 to $2000 for all students regardless of race, creed, color, or national ori-gin. When all the "dust had settled." we found that high-quality freshman class of reasonable size is coming and that we stayed well within the budget we had set. Some details and comments are given below. Our overall acceptance rate was 60.3%; this is the highest it has been since 1971. Last year's overall acceptance rate was 57%. We were aiming for a May class size of around 230 in order to aim for a class size of 220 in October. For example, last year we had a May class size of 234 and ended up with 222 in October, 1975. Such decreases are due to deferrals and permanent losses. Cur- rently, we have an incoming class of 234; at this rate, we will probably end up with a class of around 225 in Oct-ober, 1975 This year we have 24 women in the incoming freshman class as compared to 18 last year and 21 the pre- ceeding year. Sure, we wish there were more women in the incoming class, but I hate to think what the number would have been had not Louise Saffman, Ruth Ann Mullen, and Barbara Brown done what they did. Incident-ally, I believe that increasing the number of qualified women in our freshman class is one of our highest priorities. It should be noted that making Caltech more attrac- tive to everyone (including women) is not only of intrinsic value: such con- structive action also improves our chances of attracting more women in the future. There are five foreign students with nonpermanent resident status in the incoming freshman class; we had only admitted of 11. However, only one the seven students admitted who are not currently in the U.S. accepted our offer. It would appear that students from many countries such as Canada and several from Western Europe could and should shoulder the same financial burden as do U.S. students. However, top stu- dents from other places such as Hong Greece, Kong, Taiwan, and Turkey need special financial consideration; possibly Caltech from graduates a specific foreign country who now live in the U.S. might be willing to help set up a special scholarship fund to aid top students from their original country to attend Caltech in the future. This year our "Gift Aid" was awarded solely on the basis of financial need. The more linancial need of a student, the more Gift Aid he or she was promised. The result of this policy was such that fewer students received Gift Aid (80 as compared to 125 last year); but those who received Gift Aid received (on the average) $160 more this year than last. The Freshman Admissions Committee "spent" 84% of the money we as our budget. Last year $202,674 was awarded to the incoming freshman class; this year we "spent" about $144,000. (The budget we spent this year was $171,000.) Consequently, the Freshman Admissions Com-mittee, the Financial Office, and the Aid Admissions Office can take pride in the fact that we have helped minimize the impact of a very difficult financial situation facing the upper-class stu- dents. Certainly much more needs to be done with respect to the admissions of women, minor-ities, and foreign students. However, I do not see how anyone could be very disappointed when one recalls the pessimistie predictions made by several persons regarding what might have happened. But this year's success should not in any way suggest that we should permit the amount of "self-help" to increase much past $2000 in 1976 dollars. It is very likely that we were operating very close to a precipice; if we are forced to increase the freshman "self-help" much past $2000 in 1976 dollars, the outcome is likely to be quite disappointing. TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 Erhard Is For Real Last of the Kudos Dear Greenie, Judy (Judy Greengard, or "Greenie"), found your column on Werner Erhard's lecture last week very interest-ing. Your reaction to Werner is one l'd like to speak to, having had it myself at times. Having heard Werner talk quite a number of times and having taken the est Training, perhaps 1 can clear some points up for you. First, I want to acknow- ledge you for summarizing the talk in some detail and with a fair degree of accuracy, which saves me the trouble of doing it and I appreciate the almost complete separation of your opinion from your reporting. If I may restate your main problem with the talk, would be that you believe that Werner spent much of his time saying meaningless things following "meandering trains of thought" and that for you his ideas seemed cloudy and that his intention felt more in the direction of seeming impressive and of selling some-thing. When 1 first read your arti-cle, I was puzzled and disap-pointed, as to me Werner's talk was satisfyingly clear and particularly devoid of trying to sell fact, the est Training. In following the question "Where can I give my $250" to take the training, Werner didn't take this prime opportunity to sell est or even just to give out information that might facilitate taking his Training (and since I knew essentially everyone in the audience involved with est, I can guarantee you the questioner was not a plant). In any case, would like to share my thoughts on why some of his talk may have been cloudy or seemed meaningless to a few people. To do so, I would start with some concepts that seem to me related to some of Werner's notions. Everyone has a view of re- ality, a system or model through which he interprets input. For example, to me that blob of light over there is a chair, and I predict if i sit over there I will be supported, or a more emotional example. if someone yells at me. I assume it is their intention to have me feel bad. Statements or symbols refering to experiences outside your model are heard as empty or nonsense. Statements about green to a green color-blind person may be to him without real reference or substance. At times, it would be useful to expand or alter one's model, to allow for the reality of something previously inconceivable or non-sense. For me, I have found this the true particularly about ways 1 emotionally spond to people. For example, expanding beyond the model that makes angry the only possible way for me to be towards my girl friend when she is angry at me, is very valuable to me. The problem is that just conceiving of an expansion does not enable it. A color blind man can hypo- thesize the experience of green, red, and yellow, but if someone switches the spatial order of the lights on a traffic signal, the temporal order of the lights he sees and the behavior of the other drivers might be to him confusing, paradoxical, upsetting, and e-ven dangerous. His friend's explanation, that green proceeds yellow proceeds red and so on will seem obvious and to miss the point. The color blind person will probably think this temporal order has been changed, as he identifies the colors by position on the signal. The degree to which he adapts is a function of his willingness to alter the assumptions under his belief system (i.e., top e-quals red). Even with this wil-lingness, the absence of the experience of color will prevent spontaneous adaptation to change in the future. For a moment, consider the interesting possibility that he somehow obtains the ability to experience color, but has no willingness to alter his model, that he has an investment in "being right" about the way he has viewed reality. In any case, some state- ments that are associated with est and Werner that are often regarded as either obvious, nonsense, or sales trickery are "what's SO IS what's so", "Now is all there is", "You cannot change the present", and "You are responsible for the way all things are". There is an experiential aspect analogous to the experience of green behind these statements that I have been aware of since I took the est Training. Although I have found I can explain the way I use these statements in the way you can explain green, I have been frustrated that the explanation did not create the experience 1 have. When 1 say "You are responsible for the way all things are", , many hear "You caused it all and are at fault for everything, good or bad or some think that 1 am saying something mystical about your "soul" or "being" acual. causing all things to hap-pen. To me, the experience of the statement can be as clear as the experience of green, without explanation. The closest explanation I can give is that you experience all things through your model of reality and therefore, inherently, the nature of the universe you perceive is in some part function of you. A problem is that we stay convinced of our awareness of reality as reality which works against adapta- tion of our models in satis- fying tions. and appropriate direc- The concept that the na- ture of the universe you live in 1s al least a function of your model of it is fairly easily arrived at. However an experiential sense that you are in some way author of reality is more difficult to come by. It is my opinion that this sense is one of the results of the est Training. I must note the danger of accepting this notion without having the experiential aspect of it. A kind of pseudo-logic follows that goes "I am author of reality and can step in front of a truck," because "Trucks are only the mind-and nOt real." Smash! In my observa-tion, the est graduate is in some cases more adept at avoiding trucks and may in fact make the paradoxical statement "Trucks are only in the mind and very real!" What I would like to propose is that the cloudiness or pointlessness of some of Wener's talk to some people may in fact be a function of their particular model of the world, or at least of their model of the nature of com-munication, in the same way that much of a scientist's lee-ture may seem so to a lay au-dience. I do not fault this at all. think, however, that there is a value in giving much consideration to this bility. I do know that when Werner talks about various phenomena of consciousness; he has often been accused of "mystery" by myself inclu- ded, until I was able to observe the phenomena, at which point I could see that the sense of mystery was my own creation and not Werner's, and that in fact he does his best to strip the mystery from what he knows but is unknown to many. I would like to take a mo- ment to point out a few things to you, Judy. First, You don't need to appeal to Psychology Today to find out about est and how its graduates feel there are about 50 at Tech and JPL. I personally know more than 500 est grad-uates, and it seems that less than 1% find it useless or de-bilitating. I know personally two psychiatrists and one psychologist who have taken est and it is their personal and professional opinion that the experience is very valuable. I only know one professional person out of many who has a concern that the might training be harmful, and that person hasn't taken the train-ing. Est is not a cult of the walking wounded, in my 0- pinion. If it is, it's the first cult made up of 88% college educated, and 40% with graduate or professional education. I personally would be very curious if I saw very bright and highly educated people interested in what I had perceived as "nebulous mum- blings, apparently on the basis of their impressive sound." Further, there was no video- tape being made, and about ¼ of the audience were non- Techers they were from JPL. I could count less than 15 non Tech/JPL est graduates pre sent at the talk. As far as the question/answer section, asked Werner to limit it to 15 minutes because he had an engagement directly after the talk, and because he had answered about 45 minutes worth of questions at his noon talk in Winnett. Either way, he certainly didn't avoid answering questions about est. Although his talk was not a-bout the training, exactly ½ of the questions were, and he spent 7 of his 15 minutes answering them. Judy, I don't want you to feel that I am against your reaction to his talk as in fact I am clear that it is perfectly valid and ethical from your viewpoint. What I would ask you to do is give some consideration to its possible source and to the likelihood of other equally valid reactions. Ken Marton, Graduate Student, Behavioral Biology The California Tech Letters to the Editor: In lieu of a review, let me thank publicly all the members of the Caltech Glee Clubs, their officers, directors, the individual cast members, Olaf F., the pianists (both performance and rehearsal), the guys at Beckman, Jerry W., husbands, lovers, wives, mistresses, the IRS and the custodians for the lovely job they did on The Lowland Sea in this year's Spring Concert. With admiration and affection, luv, Shirley We cordially invite Caltech students and faculty members to bank with us. Complete banking services including: Automobile Financing Bank-sy-Mai Certificate of Deposit necking accounts Coilateral Loans Drive-in Banking Escrows Foreign Banking Letters of Credit Home mocernization Loans Life Insurance Loans Money Order. Night Depository rersonal Loans Real Estate Loans Safe Depcsit Boxe Savings Accounts Travelers Checks Trust Dorices U.S. Bonds Auto Banking Center ut Colorado and Catalina Office, 1010 East Colorado and Citizens Commercial Trust & Savings Bank of Pasadena, hours: 9 to 4:30 daily; 9 to 6 Fridays PASADENA Head Dirice: colorad Molorado and Catarina oft e: 1018 E. Colorado LA CANADA La Canada Office: Foothill and Beulah Citizens Commercial Trust & Savings Bank of Pasadena CLASSIFIED ADS HEADING EAST? We need someone to drive our car to the east coast: Boston or Vermont area. Gas and destination nego tiable. Call 287-3019 Don't Delay Book By Phone New Flights To Europe (379+) South America (315+) The Orient (499+) New York (189) Hawaii (189) Long Duration and o/W flights still available Im- mediate phone confirmations call collect Westcoast- Student Travel Counsel AVCO Center 10850 Wilshire LA 90024 213 475-6865 Skilled machinists with exper ience in building science research instruments. Please send inquiries or resumes. Attn: George Lesch. Science Services, room 1, Science 1, University of Oregon, Eugene. Oregon 97403. Phone: (503) 686-4684 Do you want to buy or sell a house; lease or rent an apart ment? or would you simply like a no obligation appraisal? Call Loretta Keller; Office The William Wilson Co. 793-8111 x312; Home- 794-8921. TWTYTW - OWl? To the horror of everyone stopped for ASCIT elections, (except seniors), the adminis- for great and wondrous things tration proceeded to announce happened while the above an estimated 8% increase in polling took place. tuition scheduled to take The Feds, got involved in effect in September, to be paying student salaries, and an further compounded by a new undergrad financial aid an- Work/Study pro- gram started up, allowing the nounced later in the year. In administration to bump the response to inquiries self-help ligure up to about regarding the continuing emptiness of two kilobucks, and thus rape Millikan Pond, over those among us who Physical Plant admitted that, maintained a good GPA in under their care, the pond had hopes of getting a greater sustained severe cracks and proportion of gift aid. now had to undergo costly Meanwhile, in the con- repairs. Finally came the GREAT tinuing saga of the Senior Oak, Physical Plant added a SCANDAL: an article ap- retaining wall to keep the dirt pearing under the byline of C. away from its crown and give Y. Achmet brought to light it a few more years of life. the fact that Dr. Jenijoy Then there was the Decom- LaBelle had, despite great pression Chamber affair, in efforts on her part, been which a certain disgruntled denied tenure and made the undergrad decided to destroy front page. There were, unfor- an eight millimeter movie tunately, some factual errors projector because she did not in the article, and the ques- approve of the movie being tion arose, "Who is C. Y. shown with it. Apparently Achmet? As more articles concerning Dr. LaBelle not satisfied with the destruc- ap- tion she wrought, she de- peared, it was disclosed by McCorquodale that C. manded space in the Cali- Y. fornia Tech in order to Achmet was his pseudonym, further enforce her values on and that the original article the Caltech community. was based on information he The IC decided to change had received in an "anony-parking policies on the Olive mous phone call (heavens to Walk, Watergate)." This led but didn't follow To a through on the decision, vigorous campaign against Ricardo Gomez decided to McCorquodale as he made his intervene with the decision- bid for re-election as Tech making process. Editor in the ASCIT elections. In a grotesque parody of In the first heat, Gromley parliamentary procedures (no became V. P., Robert Chess one thought of tabling the got the purse strings, Bert motion), the IHC voted to Wells took the Director for completely abolish the gag Academic Affairs post, Ken rule with Fleming. Ricketts, Rousseau became Director for and of course Ruddock dissen- Social Activities, Okubo look ting. Sic semper tyrannis. over as Activities Chairman, As mid-April passed, it was and "No" became the Tech Editor. "No" was later dis- noted that 55 females had been admitted to the in- qualified for not being an coming freshman class, ASCIT member, and conse- statistic deflated by an abys- quently a runoff for Tech mally low acceptance rate Editor as well as for other among them later. offices had to be held. A hue-and-cry started up In the first runoff, Bielecki with regard to an article became President, Ed Rea published under the byline of took over as MIC chairman, Ngapuhi on the subject of Westover and Fisher became abortions, and thus began his Directors at Large, Tom demise as a Tech columnist. McDonnell became ASCIT sec- Who says the Tech isn't retary, and Chris Sexton took responsive to the demands of office as BOC secretary. The the student body? team of Lydick, Kellner, and A blow to all who looked McCorquodale was unable to forward to the occasional defeat the team of Groat, reasonable Baxter Art Gallery Hilton, and Lockett, but exhibit was struck when shortly after the runoff, it was learned that funding for Lockett took a leave, an act the gallery which generated more animo- had run out, sity between the two camps. perhaps never to be re- Finally, in a second runoff, plenished. Sic transit gloria. winning by a margin of about Throughout third term, a ten votes, Lydick, Kellner, conflict developed between and McCorquodale became the Tech Editors and the IC, editors. But, my droogies, culminating with the IHIC think not that the world withholding the minutes from BEAT OFF IN THIS SPACE TROLLING STONED, JUNE 4, 1976 15 publication and the Tech criticizing the excesses of the IHC. In other ways, too, the term came to a bad end; there Is evidence of premed-type cheating in biology labs, stolen assignments in 95, EE13 and 14, and last but not least, a breakdown of the Tech staff. Yes, once again a major part of the editorial staff is about to retire, the Tech needs a Sports Editor, an Entertainment Editor, a Features Editor, and a Managing Editor. And worst of all, there won't be any frosh to suck into these positions for another three months. Hold Those Anchovies! Reminder that the Pizza Party is Saturday (that's to-morrow, if you are reading this on time), June 5 at 4 p.m. in the Ricketts-Fleming courtyard. Hold The Pickles, Too! the time you all get back in the fall, there will be a Burger King on Colorado Blvd., just northeast of campus ways. Something should be done to thank them for the John Denker Memorial Stab McDonald's Where It Hurts Scholarship. Keep it in mind. RE-Election!?!?!? The Ford Campaign looking for students interested in working on the presidential bid for reelection. Those interested (and willing TO overlook the fact that most people won't be voting for Ford other than as a first time, and thus, not as reelection) can get further information by visiting campaign headquarters at 721 E. Green, or by calling Scott at 796 4384. Sport of Submission! Anyone wishing to submit sports team writeups for the Big T contact Mike Schwartz, 10 449 Dabney, x2171 8314 as soon as possible. at the ICE HOUSE PASADENA 24 N. Mentor Reservations Phone 681-9942 MUSIC and COMEDY Now Thru Sunday THE BURGANS RICHMOND SHEPARD DAN MURPHY Guest Lackey David Frye ANG'S NN 1500 E, WALNUT (1 Bi East of Hitti PASADENA 生園 GENUINE CHINESE DISHES Family Style Dinners LUNCH • BANQUETS • FOOD-TO-GO Specializing in Fried Shrimp CHOW MEIN • CHOP SUEY OPEN 7 DAYS NOON to 10:30 PM Gall 449.9772 Engineering majors appreciate ArtCarved construction. RING DAY ANOTHER EXTRA FROM THE HOT THROBBING RIVET! An ArCarved College Ring is built to last a lifetime. It's made by a fine jewelry company with a reputation for craftsmanship and quality. The same company that makes the world's best-selling engagement and wedding rings. Now ArCarved has designed a rig especially for your school. Come in and see how you can personalize your custom-made ArCarved ring with the School of Engineering insignia, your class year, degree and initials. JUNE 9 THE CALTECH BOOKSTORE That's when the ArtCarved representative will be here to help you select your custom-made college ring It's also the day you can charge your ArtCarved ring on Master Charge or BankAmericard Any dav s the ddy to save on a gold ArtCarved ring $10 if you pay in full, $5 if you pay a standard deposit. College rings by ART ARVED World-famous for diamond and wedding rings 容 The CALIFORNIA Tech olume LXXVII Number 31 Pasadena, California Friday, June 4, 1976 FINAL One Of The World's Great Newspapers Sixteen Pages Schoenfeld Concert Conce featuring variety of chamber music. including wind instruments and piano in addition strings, will be given by the Caltech chamber music classes of Alice and Eleonore Schoenfeld Sunday (June 6) at 3 p.m. in Dabney Lounge on campus. The concert will include three piano trio selections by Ludwig von Beethoven, and is free and open to the public. Caltech's Division of Humanities and Social Sciences is sponsoring the concert. The performers are students of the Schoenfeld sisters, who are internationally known concert and recording artists as well as teachers and coaches. Alice Schoenfeld is an accomplished violinist and her sister, Eleonore, a widely known cellist. Some of the students on the program are Caltech faculty, students and staff members. The Beethoven piano trios will feature Hancock, pianists Helen Kathleen Kong and Doug Rabin. In addition to Beethoven the program includes chamber music by Benjamin Britten, Darius Milhaud, Josef Haydn and Wolfgang Mozart. (Good old Wolfie!) The Schoenfeld sisters have coached many group winners in the Coleman competitions, in which outstanding artists of the Southern California community are selected. That Was The Year That Was - Or Was It? Along about September, the Frosh arrived and learned from the Tech that a major part of the editorial staff had resigned and that the Tech needed a new Sports Editor, an Entertainment Features Editor, a Editor, and a Mana- ging Editor. They also learned of something called a gag rule, found out that they were going to be rotated, and that the cross-country team had lost its first meet, all as they were being taken from Tech to Camp Fox in order to become oriented to Tech (?). Once at the camp, they adjusted quickly, and managed several oceanings. The Frosh and upper- classmen rearrived at Tech at about the same time the next week, only to discover that the social phones had been ripped out, and that the triumvirate of McCorquodale, Mojo, and Yoshida had seized power in the Tech offices pending a special election for Tech editors. As the special election passed, plans for installation of a Wide Area Telephone Service (WATS) line surfaced (thus sidestepping the ques- tion of what to do for the people who now no longer had access to cheap for the immediate phones area by offering a bribe, as it were, to people from out of state. The of Yoshida, elected retaining junta. McCorquodale, and Bielecki were Tech Editors, thus two-thirds of the Little of major import occurred during the next couple of weeks, fact brought home to everyone as the October 31 issue of the Tech turned to be an eight-pager, with pages four and five totally blank. In the field of intramural athletics, Page and Fleming interhouse softball and began gearing up for swim- ming competition. Shortly afterward, as stu- dents went to pick up their permanent Tech ID cards, they discovered that Graphic. Arts had managed one of their more impressive screw-ups and produced a gross amount of rejects in their first run on the cards, thus taking a big bite out of the Institute's expected 50% savings on the cards. On the lighter side of the news for six, that week (on page be precise), it was announced that a lesser big T had appeared on a nearby water storage tank, being one hundred feet high and covering thirty-six hundred square feet. In addition, the cross- country team took fifth place in the conference (how they placed in the argument, I don't know, though I suspect they're better in arguments than in conferences). As the middle of November hove into sight, the real world made three attempts to invade Caltech, one in the guise of a kidnapping investigation (the alleged kidnapping being no more that the swift and sure stroke of the Black Hand). Two other invasion attempts were launched by the Pasadena Fire Department, one to break up a party in Dabney House, said attempt being thinly disguised as an effort at tire prevention (they put out he Darbs' bonfire). In thei other attempt, they were forestalled by Caltech Security even before they got to campus. As late November ap- proached and the spectre of finals loomed in the rapidly diminishing distance, students became increasingly aware of the new Millikan Library hours: said edifice closed its doors (after ejecting anyone inside) at one o'clock in the morning, right in the middle of prime snakes, snaking time for trolls, et cetera. No action was taken by the students at that time, nor as longer hours become more and more a matter of historical interest is any action very likely. And lo, as the rainy season failed to come to pass, Interhouse did. As one wandered through the houses, one could be mugged in Fleming (wherein one could also see a satire on rotation), attend a carnival in Ricketts, gamble (as always) in Blacker, visit Ruddock (temporarily dis- guised as a Mississippi show-boat), watch knights do battle (in one instance with mugger from Fleming gone bersein, pyrotechnic display in Lloya, dance at the Dabney House Disco, or ride on the Page House White Horse and Rail Road. Yet more time passed, and the Mudeo was held, still without the rains that forgot Interhouse. The Frosh won, demonstrating their abilities in their natural element. Interhouse swimming com- pleted the ahtletics of the term, with Fleming leaving the other houses in its wake. Shortly thereafter, finals ceased to loom and got down to the business of smashing GPA's, permitting the term to grind to a halt, using assorted frosh and upperclassmen as grist, leaving the Frosh a bit wiser, and everyone possibly a little sadder. Darbs and random pot- heads returning to Tech in January returned to a state where possession for consumption of marijuana is now but a misdemeanor. rather than felony tion, at the judge's discre-as was previously the case, a change little which made or no difference to Techers anyway. At the same time, rumors that the PPD was planning a change in its policies regarding the de facto sovereignty of the Caltech campus sent various perpetrators of petty crimes scram- bling for confirmation. They discovered that there was no change in PPD policy, and vice returned to Tech. Slowly, very slowly (it took all of the first five minutes after 6:00 p.m. on registration day), awareness dawned that the WATS line was now operative, giving rise to lines in front of Fleming reminiscent of gas stations during the oil embargo. [Cont. on 15/ Bye, Love. 88 94114