published Nov. 6, 1997 Dear University Register: Since I began reading the UR in 1978, there have been a number of changes at UMM. For a brief time in the early days, you and the German Club were both voices for the silent majority on campus, the students that favored legalizing pot, consuming mushrooms, and lovin’ freely. Now, while your articles are still dominated by the above positions, you — also like the German Club —  have become increasingly alienated from the average UMM student. Last week, I tried contacting your managing editor, Kjersti Hanneman, to discuss the paper. Her status has become so elevated that I was forced to speak with one of her “people,” while she zipped away in the UR company car to wine and dine with Hollywood celebrities inside the Washington beltway. I’ve even heard that people like Kjersti in the UR hierarchy can have lower staff members do anything — and I mean absolutely anything — that they wish. Furthermore, last week’s paper was a disappointment. Your “staff columnist” that writes about his fetishes like KARE 11 News is often annoying. Last year’s great column, “I Am Not a Grouch,” was much better. Could you reprint a classic “Grouch” column from last year? Sparky from Cyrus Dear reader, We care about you, our reader, and we want to respond to your suggestions on a highly individualized basis. Therefore, we have granted and/or considered your ideas below. Thank-you for writing, The UR staff “I am not a grouch,” reprinted from the February 29, 1997 issue of the University Register: Well, it’s another Wednesday night, and since I’m recovering from yet another Tuesday night of heavy drinking (mostly cheap wine and cleaning solvents, but some Blatz thrown in out of sheer desperation) and wild sex (on the campus cable system, which has been broadcasting adult channels once again), it’s time to whip together another crappy last-minute column on what would happen if some of the greatest powers of the so-called modern era duked it out, mano a mano. • Snuffelupugus vs. Chewbacca: If I were a betting man (and I’m not, unless you count the time that I unsuccessfully wagered with a French exchange student on the weight of mucus in Gerard Depardieu’s nose. At least here in America, our sex symbols are mostly booger-free, although I personally have a thing for Trudy from The Facts of Life), I would bet on Snuffelupugus. Chewbacca is more of a fighter, since he grew up during an intergalactic battle while Snuffelupugus grew up on pacifistic Sesame Street, although Sesame Street’s been proliferated by crack in in the last year judging by recent shows. Plus, Snuffy could crush Chewbacca just by sitting on him, and a Chewbacca-driven Imperial Walker would only infuriate Snuffelupugus more. • Cory Funk vs. Corey Feldman: Without question, if Feldman even so much as breathed on KUMM’s hi-tech record and 8-track cart players wrong, Production Director Funk would whoop his ass in no time at all. Even a Feldman-driven Imperial Walker would only infuriated Cory Funk more, though the fight would still be incredibly fun to see, especially by those who have long dreamed of having chunks of guys like Corey Feldman in their morning stools. • Metallica vs. Led Zeppelin: Breaking the fight down, man by man, Metallica’s James Hetfield would cream Robert Plant, but Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page would clobber Metallica’s pansy Kirk Hammett, the type of guy that I used to beat up in elementary school before I was beat up by everyone else in the playground. Lars Ulrich, Metallica’s drummer, could very easily beat John Bonham since Bonham is dead, but Bonham might make an interesting contest for Metallica’s deceased bassist Cliff Burton; in the afterlife, Spirit Bonham’s well-documented endurance would probably defeat Spirit Ulrich, unless they were reincarnated, since then whoever is reincarnated as Mr. T would inevitably win. Seasoned Zeppelin bassist John Paul Jones would also handily defeat the novice Jason Newstead, Burton’s replacement, making the total score Led Zeppelin 3, Metallica 2. • Pamela Anderson Lee’s bosom vs. Jenny McCarthy’s bosom: Pending the result of Minnesota court case Anna-Nicole Smith vs. Grouch, my lawyer has advised me to withhold all commentary on this battle of the breasts. • Living plastic army men vs. kid with magnifying glass: Here, the living plastic army men have one key advantage: They can scatter, while the kid with the magnifying glass can only melt a few people at a time. Just to test this out, I asked a friend (alright, just my therapist… alright, just my imaginary friend therapist) to provide the movement for the living plastic army men, while I was the kid with the magnifying glass; in the end, one of the living plastic army men got stuck up my nose before I could do anything, and he might have been caused damage or something, so the plastic army people won. In real life, without the therapist’s help, the living plastic army men wouldn’t have done as well, so it wasn’t a real victory; we’ll see how well they do this weekend in my microwave. • A turkey vs. a cougar: Since a wild turkey was looking for chicks on campus recently, and since some people suggested changing UMM’s mascot from a cougar to a turkey, it only seems fair to settle the issue as Darwin intended, with survival of the fittest determining the superior animal (and PFM serving what remains from the inferior). The turkey’s beak might be tough, but the cougar is one wild cat, although this brings up another interesting puzzle: If a room were packed completely full with sheep, floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall, and a wolf were dropped through a trap door into the room, what would happen, and what animals would remain after a few days have passed? So far, the Humane Society hasn’t been too keen on my proposals, so we’ve just got to wait for the day when these great battles can be waged for real and Schlitz will no longer be a sad necessity for passing the time.