Print Edition: September 18, 2013
“May cause cancer”
It seems we have an unhealthy fixation on what may cause cancer. We’re always looking for something to blame: deodorant, microwaves, potato chips, cell phones. I once saw a cancer warning on a set of cymbals. Even being tall might increase your risk, according to the Canadian Cancer Society.
Two in five Canadians will get cancer in their lifetimes. One in five will die from it.
We can certainly lower the odds by adopting healthier lifestyles; avoid toxins, wear sunscreen, quit smoking. But I do this to make the most out of life, not because I’m freaking out over every ‘may cause cancer’ scare.
Because that’s what it boils down to: a scare. There’s no conclusive evidence you can get cancer from Facebook, or musical instruments, or not brushing your teeth often enough.
Yes, cancer is scary. Death can be scary. But in the end, we all die, and putting out a new cancer scapegoat every week isn’t going to change that.
Humanities home a hole in the wall
On September 3, the UFV administration gave us a humanities room in box D3070. As the ribbon-cutting administrator put it, “The Florentines had a public square, now UFV humanities students have their own public space to debate.”
It wasn’t a public square. It was a closet with a cake in it. A cake that told us, “Home for the Humanities.” We were asked to believe, as the cake commanded: we, valued humanities students, were home.
A fellow student explained the upside: now we can talk politics without pesky science students getting in the way. Fair enough, but I don’t want to research in a bubble—or a beige box—hidden in the bowels of D building.
We don’t need this little space for humanities students. We should be working on spaces that foster dialogue between disciplines, not a cheap trick to boost department egos.
What we need are more workshops for job hunting, writing workshops for academics, and textbooks in the library.
I tried to write this from D3070, but after following the winding path of signs I was greeted by a locked door. The room sat empty at 11:41 a.m.
Rape chants on campus
When I first heard about the FROSH chants going on at St. Mary’s University, I was shocked, but figured it was the East, and things would be different here on our coast. Then I heard about UBC’s Sauder School of Business spreading the same misogynistic chant.
These chants have been spread to new university students for years. Do these students not question the chant, “N is for no consent,” as they yell it? Why are people all of a sudden realizing the message they are perpetuating?
Rape culture.
Rape isn’t new, but the culture surrounding it that afflicts our society is the topic of every other conversation in the media right now.
So like the moral panics of old, these FROSH chants are being highlighted at a time when society is particularly fiery about the topic.
Yes, steps are being taken to shut them down, but if they were free to continue for years before everyone knew, what’s to stop them from staying in FROSH weeks, or worse, evolving into something more damaging?
I trusted you, Canada Post!
According to an RCMP report released this week, criminals are shipping guns, grenades, and a truly spectacular amount of drugs into the country.
Using Canada Post.
At first I was shocked, and angry at anyone who has used—nay, abused!—Canada Post by putting illegal items into the mail. But then I thought about it. Who’s really at fault here? Gangsters, who (after all) are using the system for the purpose it is designed for, or Canada Post, who is obviously opening people’s mail?
Canada Post, I think you owe some criminals an apology – not to mention anyone who has used your service and trusted you with letters, parcels, and a variety of random objects over the years. As I happily put packages into the mail over the last decade, was I naïve to assume that no one would discover their contents but whom they were intended to reach? For shame, Canada Post! What if one day I want to send a friend or relative a rocket launcher; what am I supposed to do? I can’t fax it. Surely you don’t expect me to Fed-ex it?
