DSL One day two mice ventured forth to nibble on cheese left out in the kitchen. The family cat spied them and gave chase. The mice ran as fast as they could, but the cat was gaining on them. Suddenly one mouse turned around and faced the cat. "Woof woof, arf arf arf!" said the mouse. The cat came to an abrupt halt, turned tail and ran away. "See", said the mouse to his friend,"It pays to know a second language" author unknown Quote of the Week Who is God? "God is not god. God is dog backwards. God is the great spirit within you and I, and Christ, and Joan of Arc, and Buddha, and Krishna, and oogala boogala and the anteater of the universe." Tippy-A-Go-Go Thanks Adi The graphics of Anena and The Beatles that have appeared in this and previous issues, were contributed by 10 year old Adi Nokiani. Johnston, Bill Day, Santa Claus’ Disclaimer: The opinions ex- pressed herein do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Other Press.Submissions may be edited for clarity and brevity and so as to conform to the Canadian Univer- sity Press Statement of Prin- ciples.No submission of a racist, sexist or homophobic nature will be considered. College goes Private To The Editor: This is addressed to you as an applaud totheAdministration’s move to make Douglas College autonomous from the B.C. govern- ment. My letter is intended to point out the tacit advantages of this bold move toward autonomy. In the upcoming year Douglas College can look forward to a greater degree of freedom in the selection of courses and course content. This freedom is seriously hampered currently by the govern- ments secretive policies on struc- ture in education. These policies will be brought down by the move to autonomy, because the College will no longer be restricted by them. New, more liberal courses will be added to the calendar as the col- lege is able to break free from the yoke of the B.C. governments regulations regarding qualifica- Congratulations To the Other Press, The Douglas College newspaper, The Other Press, has been "the talk of the town” lately, and for good reason. Many moree students are reading the paper on a regular basis. The newspaper has undergone an upswing, to become an informa- tive and imaginative weekly edi- tion which can only be credited to the hardworking, inspiring people that so thoughtfully create the Other Press. The newspaper is in- deed interesting and enjoyable to read. I would like to congratulate the members of the Other Press for their superb work. I look forward to many more inviting issues. Thanks for a great paper. Sincerely, Rick Shepherd Executive Secretary (on behalf of the Douglas Col- lege Student Society) tions and quantifications of teachers. These courses will in- clude a new section in sex educa- tion that is not strictly restricted to the nursing program, as the current regulation of the government. There has even been talk of a sec- tion in Enthalopology; which is a strictly black listed subject in the opinion of the B.C. government by Bill Vanderzalm’s specific request. Funding for this new move to autonomy is coming from the cor- poration MacMillan Bloedel. Mac- Blo is going to match the Govern- ments funding dollar for dollar plus 10 percent. The company is doing this in order to improve the forestry sections percentage of women and the quality of training that they recieve. This will cut the financial um- bilical cord with the government and ensure that the autonomy of the College is unquestioned. This will also guarantee that the College can not be legislated into a position where they must follow the govern- ment guidelines; Douglas College will become a private school. The actions of MacBlo are in response to a campaign that was started in the United States by several major corporations; that is corporate universities. MacDonald Douglas, a major aero-space cor- poration, has started its own private technical institute. Also the forestry industry in the U.S. has funded its own agricultural in- stitute. This raises questions regarding the morality involved behind this dubious corporate backing. If cor- porations sponsor higher education there must be a return on the balance sheet somewhere. What will happen to education for the sake of education. Will all of the people that go to university be sucked into the trap of corporate servitude. Sincerely, Chris Fredericks Unity Wins Fight Kleco, Kleco(thank you) for this honour and opportunity to make the opening comments in a book about an island which has been a great part of our lives. Meares Island is now known both nationally and internationally, largely due to a gallant fight, fought together in strong unity by two very different cultures-native and non-native-for a common cause. We believe in living in peace and harmony with nature and life itself. An immediate spinoff from Meares is unity, the ability of our two cul- tures to work together, which is a greater start for future generations. Meares Island, home to my people the Clayoquots for thousands of years without a break, lying just west of the national park known as Pacific Rim, forever hold its long history, its tradition and its long history, its tradition and its beauty. Once roamed and ruled by such great and well known native leaders as Chief Wickaninnish among others, their descendants still occupy Meares Island in our traditional native way of life, living and breathing clean air and most important, gathering of native seafoods and medicines yet unpol- luted by any large industries. Meares Island can also be viewed from the village of Tofino lying south of Meares, where many thousands of visitors each year visit our territory. I again thank you all for your loyalty and cooperation and your continued support. Together we have won the first battle, now we must go on and win the war. May the Great Spirit be with us | all and guide and give us strength and the wisdom to always do right and harm no one. I remain In brotherhood, Moses Martin Elected Chief of the Clayoquot Peoples: April 1983 - April 1984 Foreword to: Meares Island Protecting a Natural Paradise He checks himself out in the mirror, a nightly ritual. Suck in the gut, go through the repetitions of well rehearsed facial masks. He shaves, blow dries his hair, camouflaging dis- cretely the spot that’s thinning. Finished, he stands and stares into the mirror, his gaze assesses the finished product. Forty-five, never married, no home (keep it light), a Duster (Shit! It can really lay rubber). The phone rings but they hang up; it always seems to be like that on a Friday night. He grabs a twenty-six from the cupboard, pours and downs the first drink and then drains a second. A warm feeling of euphoria sweeps over him and fills him with bottled excitement. With a slight missed step he moves to the door and stops to take one final look in the hall mirror. He gives him- self the thumbs up signal, "Good times tonight". "Good night dear" he yells ‘into his empty apartment. His voice echoes as the door slams shut. Excitement, anticipation fills him as lhe nears the club. He finds himself so Catch the Dream anxious he can’t seem to park the car fast enough. There is a slight stagger now in his gait ass he moves towards the crowded doorway. "I know everybody in this place" he say’s silently to himself, as if to reassure his mounting insecurity. The music assaults all five senses, numbing his perception. The lights are low, allowing him to hide bits of him- self in the darkness he would like to for- get. The stage lights blink rhythmical- ly with the beat of the music. It hyp- notizes with promises of seduction and pleasure. He moves across the crowded floor to his place -- where he always sits -- and orders the drink he always drinks. From this spot he views all and waves to people as they come and go. He watches a woman on the dance floor; her face exquisitely perfect, her eyes flashing from the reflection of the lights, her long soft blonde curls cas- cading down her back. Her dress clings to each curve; her hips a promise of such sweetness. She looks his way and coyly flashed a smile of tempting soft- ness. - He powers back two more - He then moves through the crowd towards the dance floor, but he’s too late. She walks out the door glancing at him quickly over her shoulder. Was he too late? Would she have been the one? He moves back to his table and orders a double. By now the fantasy has taken hold. He speaks of big bucks and dreams of business, a white picket fence and a woman to love him. He wants it all and he’s going to get it. The few who still listen believe it to be true and for the moment he has hope for the future. Heslips back into his chair comfort- ing himself in his belief that the dream is real. Suddenly lights! His eyes tear and he supports his body by holding onto the table. He lifts his gaze from the floor to watch overly made-up women with drawn faces, wearing cheap gaudy dresses, push past him. Each of the women holds desperately to a man’s arm they have just met. Tonight he will fulfill the dream of a love they never found. Blue smoke clings to the walls and hangs like a halo around the fix- tures. The furniture is tattered and torn and cigarette butts and dumped glasses lay strewn across table tops and carpet. The bouncer knocks past him like he isn’t even there dragging a mop and pail through the bathroom door. The stench assaults his nose and sobers him like smelling salts. His untucked shirt hangs loosely exposing his rotund physique, and the hair so precariously placed earlier now exposes a receding hairline. He shuffles out alone into the night just as he had come in. The greet- ings of the early evening from so many friends are not there for the good-bys. He is alone. But for a few hours he was somebody and he had hopes and dreams for the future. As he stands in front of his car he sees the cascading head of blonde curls. He watches for a moment as money changes hands. She turns and gives him a haughty grin. The streetlight gives her face an eerie quality. Her mascara is smudged around her eyes and her lipstick is smeared across her cheek. - The fantasy is dead - He sits in his car and gropes for his bottle. This time he isn’t drinking to get started, he is drinking to forget. He sits | resting the almost empty twenty-six be- tween his legs as tears stream down his face. He is alone and empty and can’t seem to find that perfection in life he has been so desperately seeding...per- haps he’ll find it in his dreams.