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BOOKSTORE PASSES BUCK It is well known that school books, especially textbooks, are ridiculously overpriced and revised almost every year. The bookstore, in what seems to be an effort to ease student outrage, has been giving out pamphlets titled “WHY Do My Textbooks Cost So Much?!” This printed PSA is absurd, because the underlying message is “please don’t blame us, blame the professors because they choose the books and the publishers because they put the books together.” It is this “don’t shoot the messenger” mentality that helps to strengthen a horrible system that has been going on since, as the pamphlet puts it, 1930s when text books cost $3. According to the pamphlet, on average, 65 percent of the sticker price on new books goes back to the publisher, mostly to cover the book's development and normal business expenses. The author gets 11.8 percent in royalties. The freight company shipping the books gets 1 percent. This leaves the bookstore with 4.1 cents (before taxes and after various operating costs). Also, ancillary items like CD-ROMs and other materials that are shrink-wrapped with the book do not cost students extra and, in most cases ,the publisher does not offer the book separately. Most publishers require that the book and the extras must be returned together and if the shrink wrap is broken, the set can’t be returned at all. This would be a problem for the bookstore sending these books back if they actually need the extras to resell. But because they do not, the bookstore will make a profit and if they buy them back, they can sell them again with or without the extras and make an extra profit. The pamphlet also lists five tips that are supposed to save you money. Some tips are helpful, but most make one feel like Homer Simpson. One advises you to keep your new book in pristine -not new- condition until you are sure you are going to be using it and buy used books when available. Whatever helpful advice the pamphlet might provide, it gives students a peek into this dreadful system and does not address how to fix the problem.
e-mail: editorial@theguardsman.com
WAR ZONES SPELL BIG BUCKS FOR THE POOR
Will $20,000 cash give you the chutzpah to go to war? Do you think the war in Iraq is justified? Is President Bush doing a good job? The answers to these questions are your own. Depending on what you think, you might or might not pay attention to the U.S. Army’s newest strategy to seduce you. The Army is so desperate to up enlistment that they are offering $20,000 to recruits. It’s called the “quick-ship bonus,” for those who want to enlist for at least two years and start basic training within the first month. Interested parties must sign up by Sept. 30. The loss of confidence in our nation’s leader is an obstacle to recruiting people to fight a war the president is determined to win, although practically no one believes it is justified — even those who initially thought so. In today’s world, with the growing disparity between poor and rich, perhaps $20,000 is reason enough to convince someone young and naive to go on a seemingly life-long adventure. Some people believe some wars are legitimate. It is ironic how we praise ourselves to be the most intelligent species on Earth because of our great achievements, like going to the moon. Sadly, after thousands of years of existence we still have not learned how to understand each other. Patriotism sounds good and fills you with pride. Youth, innocence, low income and even no income are a good combination to get young ones to risk their lives. Not surprisingly, most recruits come from low-income families. It is hard to ignore the corporations who benefit from the war while people die in it. But the corporations are not paying $20,000 per recruit: we are, not through our will, but through our taxes. e-mail: opinions@theguardsman.com DILIGENT STUDENTS DON'T WASTE TIME DURING SUMMER
According to the FBI’s Uniformed Crime Report, 786,545 were arrested for marijuana related charges, an increase of almost 200,000 since 1995. The conflict has only increased in the decade since the Compassionate Care Act created something of a legal umbrella protecting the infirmed, as well as the casual user in need of protection from his or her government. In the Bay Area responsible citizens can go about their business of procuring cannabis with a veil of safety unheard of in most places. California marijuana users have a rare obligation compared to pot smokers elsewhere in the United States. When California voters passed Proposition 215, a line was drawn in the sand. Scarcely a day passes without news of federal raids on cannabis clubs and farms. Is the lack of public outcry typical stoner apathy, or have we overestimated the great democratic measure? Is it time to protest, or to roll a fatty and read “The Burning of Rainbow Farm: How a Stoner Utopia Went Up in Smoke,” while kicking back in the house that gentrification built? The man has been busy, but what have the positive people of San Francisco been up to? How many of you who are reading these words smoke, eat or otherwise consume marijuana? How many of you hold a cannabis card? You don't have to read an editorial to figure out how to protect your rights. Otherwise, being charged one day might sober you up.
Faculty Poll Yes: 4 out of 7 What do you think about the campus police chief quitting in response to the board's refusal to arm campus police?
BY ELIZABETH SKOW Ah the fall semester has begun. New pencils, lost-looking students and lunch at the roach coach — the seasons of the campus wax and wane, but in my reality, there are some repeating themes. The things that never change: The dream about walking into an exam for a class I forgot to attend, fog so thick and soggy it oozes and trying to remember where the %*&#$@ I parked. That last one is the worst. When I first started at City College, I thought I was the only one who habitually lost my car. Here is what happens each day: I get to school and drive the Staples-Hearst grid, careening around block after block until I find a spot big enough for my silver four-door economy car. When I find parking at last, I rejoice and praise the parking gods. I jump out grab my crap and run to class. One hour or 12 hours later I emerge blinking like a vole, no memory of where I parked. Then it becomes clear that everyone has a silver car. Here is how I know I’m not the only one: I was running frantic and vole-like up and down Judson Street searching for my car one night when I ran headlong into another space cadet who had also lost his car. “I don’t know how I could possibly forget. I’m not usually absentminded, I am so embarrassed, but I can’t seem to find my car. I thought I parked it right over…is your head OK?” he sputtered. I smiled inquisitively, the kind of smile I’d give a person standing in front of their own WANTED poster, and edged around him, gaining momentum. I didn’t intend to be rude, and perhaps I should have commiserated, but only ten feet away, glittering grimily was the dim beacon of my car.
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