U. Florida should heed city laws in post-BCS revelry

The Editorial Board understands that college students will be, well, college students come Thursday evening.

Two days from now you will diligently trade in your notebooks for Natural Light, and laptop for lemon drops.

Unless you go to UF, how often does your football team make the championship game, anyway?

While we’d all like to be in Miami to see the game in person, staying local is easily the second best option.

From beer pong to ice luges, Gainesville (sorry Norman) will prove to be a mecca of partying, debauchery and if things unfold as we expect — celebration as the Gators take home the BCS championship.

We realize everyone celebrates in their own unique manner. Many students will descend upon University Avenue for peaceful rioting, while others will gleefully buy rounds of shots for complete strangers at Gator’s Dockside.

The Editorial Board asks that you pay careful attention to Gainesville’s laws and refrain from relishing the victory by starting a bonfire. Don’t end your night early by getting arrested for having a 12–foot–flame burning in your backyard. Even worse, we would hate to see you make a poor decision and ruin everyone’s fun by spending the evening in the hospital.

Run around campus proclaiming your love for Tim Tebow or ascend upon Florida Field and pretend you are Louis Murphy catching the game–winning touchdown.

You still have a hankering for fire? Tune in Thursday to see Percy Harvin burn corners and Jeff Demps smoke safeties — a bonfire for Oklahoma’s BCS chances.

No Mercy: Post–BCS hangovers don’t matter to Machen

Apparently reaching the pinnacle of the college football world doesn’t mean much to UF President Bernie Machen, who seems to think championships are as commonplace as players like Oklahoma’s outspoken Dominique Franks.

As Thursday’s BCS National Championship Game looms, the Editorial Board advises you not to make the trip down to Miami — unless of course you don’t mind suffering the consequences in the classroom.

Past years have seen a kinder and more sympathetic Bernie advising professors not to punish students for missing class the day after the game as they travel home or recover from celebrating on University Avenue.

With excellence becoming synonymous with UF athletics, Machen has refused to extend a grace of sorts to students as current plans for Friday call for business as usual on campus.

We as students can’t help the fact that UF happens to start its spring semester earlier than many other schools — heck, our opponents don’t go back to class until Jan. 20.

The Editorial Board isn’t expecting a major shift in the academic calendar – just a mutual understanding that we might not be in class on Friday.

Is it too much to ask for the opportunity to enjoy in the success of our team without having to worry about the academic repercussions?

Sharing in the success of the UF football team should unite the administration, staff and students – not cause a divide. We are talking about the first Friday of the first week of school, hardly the week before finals.

It’s never too late for a new year’s resolution, Bernie.

Blackwater contractors worst case of Bush cronyism

Ever since the U.S. — err, George and Dick — strong–armed its way into the Middle East under the guise of the tragically flawed Bush Doctrine, Blackwater has reaped the vast financial benefits of government contracts.

Are they construction contractors, truck drivers or, dare I ask, peacemakers? Sure they are, if upholding peace constitutes using illegally acquired assault rifles to open up a can of whoop–ass on a group of 17 unsuspecting, unarmed and utterly harmless Iraqis in Nisour Square. Not to mention many of these weapons ended up on the black market in the streets of Iraq.

It’s hardly shocking to see Republican cronies turn a blind eye to protect the mercenaries who are part of the good ol’ boy network — until now.

News out of Salt Lake City on Tuesday finally shows a semblance of accountability as five Blackwater guards face charges of manslaughter for their aforementioned actions in Iraq.

What boggles my mind is how these men continue to avoid owning up to their actions as they seek to circumvent the law by surrendering in Utah.

Why did they decide to surrender in Utah when the case had already been assigned to a judge in Washington, D.C.?

Clearly more cunning than compassionate, Blackwater’s henchmen seek to exploit Utah’s reputation as a conservative state in hopes of having their fate determined by a group of their “peers.”

How do I define peers in this case?

Try right–wing, George–W.–Bush–worshipping, reduced–alcohol–beer–drinking, warmongering Republicans who will have them back on the streets of Iraq ready to kill before you can drop the “elect” from Barack Obama’s title.

Blackwater’s “soldiers of fortune” must have been facing nothing short of a torrent of danger to result in ending the lives of hoards of innocent people…right?

No hero shoots a victim who has his hands raised above his head in an obvious sign of surrender. There is no bravery in firing upon vehicles fleeing the scene in an effort to avoid any hint of further conflict.

Hell, why do you think the U.S. has such a piss–poor image abroad? Anti–American sentiment stems from our government holding every other country in the world to a fastidious standard while our daily course of action reveals an utter lack of adherence to any law.

President Bush, you wonder why you will go down as the worst president in history. I laugh as you scramble to assemble a crack–team to spin the last eight years in hopes of giving your legacy a scrap of credibility.

Sir, your work here is done. Turn off the faucet — there is no washing the blood off your hands this time. Nixon had his plumbers and we all saw how that turned out.

While our country’s leaders continue to play camp run–amok in the waning hours of a failed admi

Transition to new school hard, lonely

When people search for the cause of a problem, the last place they generally look is in the mirror.

Maybe my willingness to stereotype and open my column with a cliché reveals another problem I ought to add to the ever–growing list.

The last few months have been some of the most trying times of my life as I’ve attempted to adjust to my new existence as a graduate student.

What I am dealing with now truly pales in comparison to some of the “real” problems I have faced in my lifetime. Monday marks the fifth anniversary of my father’s death — nothing short of a sucker punch to the gut. No high school senior should have to face the prospect of burying a parent.

There is no big crisis currently bogging down my life: No immediate family member battling cancer, no parent facing unemployment or friend struggling with substance abuse. Instead, I am left to be selfish about the shortcomings in my own life and to dwell on the fact that I am deeply alone living in Gainesville as a graduate student.

I never realized what a privileged life I led as an undergrad until my time at the University of Maryland had passed. Sadly, I can recall family members and older friends warning how seemingly overnight I would be walking down the aisle to receive my diploma. Simply put, I failed to grasp the importance of living in the moment.

I didn’t know what to expect when I first arrived in Florida. I never expected things would be the same as they were at Maryland, where I lived, ate and attended class with my fraternity brothers. Maybe electing to live by myself was a bad idea. A nerdy roommate, or even a messy one, would have been better than having no one to talk to sans making a call on my cell phone.

Things have been rough from the start: I found myself striking up conversations with cashiers, even going so far as to break up my shopping list over a few stores with hopes that I would meet new people.

How’s that for candor?

You don’t need to tell me to get off my fat, lazy ass and stop feeling sorry for myself. I’m just in a position where I really don’t know what to do. Maybe I expect too much out of a friendship. Maybe I set my standards too high when looking for a friend. Or maybe I’m just not nearly as fun or interesting as I perceive myself to be.

I look around the classrooms of my graduate courses, but I fail to see anyone who is similar to me. Sure, I talk to some of my colleagues on Gchat or Facebook, but it’s hardly what one could deem a genuine friendship.

To be fair, I have found myself on the cusp of friendship, only to act overbearing and expect too much out of the still–budding relationship. Unrealistically, I want my newfound friendships to mimic those I enjoyed just months ago as an undergrad.

Grad school has me on the fast track to E.D. and senility, but all I want is for my life to unfold a little bit more like “Entourage.”

I hardly fit the typical perception of a grad student: I rock Jordans; I can still date undergrads without it seeming creepy; and I toss academics to the back burner more often than not.

So, what are you doing this weekend?

Handouts won’t save auto industry

As Detroit descends upon Capitol Hill desperately seeking a handout to rescue the flailing automotive industry, we must consider redefining the American dream.

Let’s be honest — does any child in our country grow up aspiring to be underpaid and overworked as a union member slaving away for one of the Big Three automakers?

The notion of the American dream is so amorphous, even for those struggling in the 313, as we live in a land where anything and everything is within the realm of possibility.

Instead of Congress opening its coffers to the greedy and manipulative failures that have driven the automotive industry into the ground, funds must be allocated to the workers who will be most negatively affected by the sector’s demise.

I am not talking about handing out checks a la Hurricane Katrina so workers can go on alcohol–fueled gambling binges in Vegas but rather so they can secure their financial futures and prepare for a career–transition.

American cars of yesteryear were nothing short of engineering excellence. Wax nostalgic for a second, and conjure images of the Camaro and Mustang in their heyday — the embodiment of American muscle. All red–blooded American teens worked two part–time jobs with hopes that, one day, they could be the envy of the neighborhood, too.

Such exhilaration and attachment evoked by these vehicles no longer exists, as the current Mustang sorely lacks the punch of its predecessors and a new Camaro hasn’t graced the pavement since 2002.

We can no longer kid ourselves into believing that the Ford Taurus is a viable alternative to the Toyota Camry or that the Chevy Aveo garners the same credibility on the street as the Honda Civic.

Rather than continuing to make a mediocre product for a higher cost than our foreign competitors, we must embrace the idea that the best course of the American automotive industry is to admit defeat and reallocate energies elsewhere.

What would a huge bailout package do for the industry other than delay the inevitable — another day in Washington a few years down the road asking for another handout?

Let’s fairly assume for a second that many of the people who are working in Detroit car plants would rather be doing something else if given the opportunity.

There is a laundry list of reasons why these workers ended up in their profession: They may have been too poor to attend college, forced to work to support their family or grown up in an environment where no other option seemed viable.

Giving the auto workers funds necessary to advance themselves through education would be a resoundingly wise decision by Congress. This second chance at the American dream would open up doors that never would have existed for many of these people.

If the government decides to aimlessly donate billions of dollars to the leaders of the auto industry, it might as well leave it in an unmarked brown bag on a Detroit park bench and hope to find it there the next day.

Our country cannot be so quick to blindly hand out money without a calculated plan for success in hand. We must rethink the distribution of funds to help those with the highest stakes. The death of the automotive industry cannot mean the demise of the American dream.

The future for more than a million people lies in the balance pending Washington’s decisions. A continued reliance on the quid pro quo nature of doing business in D.C. will spell nothing short of disaster for the masses in our nation.

Bye, bye, Miss American Pie.