Sandwich spouts off

Jon Burstein's column has been cancelled this week and his column space has been devoted to an "alternative" columnist. A really "alternative" columnist a pastrami on rye sandwich with mayonnaise, lettuce and tomato. Its views may shock you and open your eyes to the injustices of a world. Or they may merely make you hungry.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking a column by a pastrami sandwich is a little strange, a little "out of the ordinary." That's because you are conditioned to think that way by the mass media. Well honey, sandwiches exist and they exist in all different shapes and forms. So sit down and prepare yourself for a little deli-style logic on some recent events at the University of Arizona.

First, this whole flapadoodle about that Playboy ad in the Wildcat. Hmmm . I'm not down with the objectification of women (for I am a sandwich and have no sexual orientation), but I wonder why people are suddenly complaining. Every day in the Wildcat, students see advertisements of long, luscious sub sandwiches with the works designed to send them salivating to the nearest sandwich shop. Dammit, it makes me feel like a piece of meat. Wait a minute, I am a piece of meat. Never mind the last paragraph.

Spring Fling is this weekend. Ahhh . Spring Fling. It gives thousands of Tucsonans the opportunity to say, "I shouldn't have eaten (fill in food item) before I got on the super-ultra twirlie merry-go-round." One day I'm gonna throw my own Spring Fling. To enter, you'd have to give me $20. Then I would have you eat two half-cooked hot dogs and spin around in a circle for 15 minutes while the RUN-DMC tape I picked up for $1.29 at Bookman's blares in the background. By the way, where did the Spring Fling committee find Sandra Bernhard? I'm thankful they didn't pick Roseanne (for if they did there might have been one less pastrami sandwich columnist in the world), but still .

Did you know that there's a conspiracy going on at this school? No, I'm not talking about the vegetarian whole wheat sandwich who was unjustly imprisoned for protesting Mt. Graham by sitting on a table in Louie's Lower Level for three days. No, I'm talking about the student government conspiracy. Here's an article that was written by a Wildcat reporter that never appeared because the "powers that be" stopped it. Learn the truth:

A half-eaten ham sandwich filed a surprise appeal of the ASUA presidential elections yesterday, only to be devoured at his press conference by the ASUA president-elect.

"Even though I didn't run for president, I decided to appeal the results anyways because that's the thing to do with all ASUA elections," said the sandwich to a standing-room audience in the Student Union's Cactus Lounge. "By the way, have you noticed that out of all 11 offices, not one of them is filled by a sandwich? Do you think that's sheer coincidence? Yeah, I thought so."

The sandwich said he hoped to get more students involved in student government and also end the selling of sandwiches and Oscar Mayer Weiner's Lunchables in the Student Union.

"When you go to the Brown Bag Lunch Counter, you see lunch. But I see my brothers and sisters being oppressed, compressed and digested!" stated the sandwich. "If elected, I will go up to the seventh floor of the Administration Building and say, 'Hey Mr. Man, departments are getting cut, good teachers are getting screwed, squirrels are choking on garbage, sandwiches are getting eaten and the kids just wanna rock and roll!' "

In the middle of the sandwich's fiery rhetoric, ASUA president-elect Ben Driggs burst into the room. The wild-eyed Driggs grabbed the sandwich and began shoving it in his mouth.

Within a matter of seconds, the sandwich was gone and Driggs let out a monumental belch of triumph. The belch's meaty smell sent three nearby reporters to the University Medical Center.

"I was horrified," said someone who requested anonymity. "Driggs was like this wildebeest or something. He and his ilk must be stopped, but he may already be too powerful. You aren't going to use my name in the newspaper, are you?"

Noah Lopez, media arts junior, was assured that his name would not be used, nor would his address of 45052 E. Broadway Blvd. be published. He often leaves his bedroom window open during the day and his closet is a convenient place to hide.

ASUA elections commissioner Mike Harter said, "Well, the sandwich had a right to file an appeal because everyone deserves due process and all . but hell, the sandwich is gone and I'm saved a lot of paperwork."

When asked to comment on why he ate the sandwich, Driggs bared his teeth and snarled, "It would have been better with a little Miracle Whip."

Several militant sandwich groups have vowed vengeance against Driggs.

"We will not rest until the ham sandwich's death is avenged," said a spokessandwich for SUB, Sandwiches United Brotherhood. "Next time, Driggs eats a sandwich, he better watch out. We just might bite back."

Some of you may also be saying to yourselves, "Pastrami, your self-righteous attitude and misplaced anger exemplifies the stupid letters that the Wildcat occasionally receives."

You know what I'd say to those individuals?

I'm not the one who has just read a whole column by a self-righteous pastrami sandwich.

Should the pastrami sandwich stay as a columnist until the end of the year? Well, it's up to you to decide. Flood us with e-mail or letters concerning the pastrami sandwich. Or, call 621-7579 and say, "I like pastrami!" or "That pastrami is bad!" This is interactive journalism, baby!

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