Issue 9

Charlotte Kupsh
Undergraduate/English

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that I’m an American. Sure, I talk with zeal of the day when I will be able to leave this country forever, and I cherish the image of my forthcoming expat-hood, and sure, I’ve taken a swipe or two (or three thousand) at my fellow Americans and their various habits and ideals. But the truth is, this is a great country, and I’m happy to be here. Now, let me tell you why.

I’m happy to live in a country where I have the freedom to say what I like and, within reason, do whatever I like. If I want to barricade myself in my house for weeks on end, order groceries delivered to my door, and refuse to answer the phone, I can do that. If I wish to emulate a raging nymphomaniac and have safe and consensual sex with every red-haired person I meet, I can do that. If I love Justin Bieber so much that I wish to post on numerous websites discussing everything about his person and his music and the chances that he’ll marry me, there’s something wrong with my head, but I can do that!

We’ve got a pretty good deal here in America. There are some rules we have to follow, but, for the most part, they’re not difficult. We have so many privileges, and all our fair country asks in return is the pain of taxes, once a year. We can choose not to participate in the governing of this country, or we can choose to make it our life’s devotion. We can encourage our foreign friends to visit us here, or we can take extended vacations out of the country. We can even criticize the country and call for improvements.

(We also have to fill out the census. That could be grounds for a rejection to the whole “This country is great” deal, given the intensity with which the census advertises on television. Whoops.)

I’m thankful that I live in a country in which getting a divorce is allowed and even commonplace -- I’m thankful even that divorce is commonplace, not because I relish the thought of the love two people share dying, but because I understand that, sometimes and sometimes inexplicably, it just does. I’m very thankful I can lie around in my underwear on a Sunday morning and yell “Oh my god!” while watching an episode of Doctor Who without being fined or otherwise punished for not honoring the Sabbath and taking the Lord’s name in vain.

I’m eternally glad that this country allows, nurtures, and encourages intellectual talent, invention, and discovery. It’s wonderful that other people can go out and research anti-bubbles and change the world with what they make from sheer brainpower, because god knows I could never do that. I’m glad that there are people out there who get excited at the thought of working with money. I need a calculator to add anything with more than one digit, and I will never stop rejoicing that there are millions of people in this country who are smarter than I will ever be, and can make life simple for those of us who often find ourselves rather numerically and scientifically challenged. I’m so grateful that these very smart people can understand how cells divide and know the inner workings of the digestive tract and can take large amounts of knowledge and apply them and figure out that there is absolutely nothing wrong with the hypochondriac who frequently takes over all mental functions of my brain and drives me to the hospital, certain I am on the brink of grisly death.

I am thankful that in this country, we have doctors and scientists and medications that can fight cancer. I’m proud that this may one day be the country that finds a way to end the spread of tragic diseases like AIDS. Friends, I’m happy to be an American, and I’d like to take some time here to consider what is means when a member of this nation proudly declares it to be the greatest country in the world.

The greatest country in the world. In the world. The greatest country.

It’s worth consideration, at least.

Over 50% of Americans under the age of 65 are either ineligible for or have significant difficulties finding insurance within the institution of privatized healthcare due to preexisting conditions alone. Without the healthcare benefits provided by their employers that are enjoyed thanks to an act formed in 1996, every other person you see today would be unable to pay for any significant healthcare expenses they are likely to incur in their lifetime.

In this country, we have the best medicine and the greatest hospitals and the very best, most educated doctors. Our hospitals, technology, and innovation stand as a shining beacon to the rest of the world as a model of what they might become, of the health and well-being they could bring to their citizens if only they could stretch their arms toward the future and reach just a little further --

The greatest country in the world.

We proudly look on times when our nation was tried, put to the test against a slew of evils and repelled them. We are capable of casting out the corrupt and allowing peace to fall. Our system is untouchable, and there is no need to fear. Corrupt communists, slave-driving Soviets, and any who stand as a threat to freedom will not come here because we are better than that. I believe all these things just as much as any other American. I have faith in this country’s potential and this country’s power. I mean every word that I say here.

(It pains me to see the way words are overused. They lose their meaning and we cease to pause and think about the meaning of a phrase or sentence when we have heard it before. I wish there were a way I could speak and use the string of words I am about to type for the first time, but there isn’t. My call for a belief that what I say is written with utter and absolute emotion is all I can do.)

It breaks my heart that the greatest nation in the world has the power to save a million lives but instead sits and does nothing. It breaks my heart. It makes me angry and so frustrated that I cannot speak to voice my thoughts, but more than anything else, it hurts as though it is a physical pain. How can we do this? How can we stand and deny millions of people -- wonderful, average, brilliant people -- the medicines and treatments that cost almost nothing to give? How can we look on as people are dying from a problem that is well within our power to remedy? How can we call ourselves great when people die every day from problems that our doctors can fix in their sleep? How can we sit in front of people who have committed no crime but the living of an average life and tell them that we will not help them, that the benefits of our great nation stand to be reaped only by those with wealth? How can we let them die?

Though I am often slow to express it, I am amazed every day by the power and honor of this country. One of the best things I have ever done is allow it to amaze me. Of all the things in this world and this country that inspire me, today I stand in awe of one single thing: that a group of people -- whose profession it is to help the cries of constituents reach the floor of government and to make the best decisions possible for the good of the people and this nation -- have so perfectly painted a picture of greed and evil that common and average people are moved with so great a repulsion that they can find no other relief but to scream at the top of their lungs in a single, great uprising against a movement having the sole purpose of giving them something for absolutely nothing in return. I stand in awe of the great influence held by those who have convinced a great part of this nation that to be given good and decent care for no cost at all...would be the worst abomination in history.

We are, without a doubt, the greatest country in the world.

Dustin Hahn
Undergraduate/Creative Writing

She shut her locker, no longer able to look at the brightly colored books or her own reflection in the mirror. Sighing, she leaned her head against the metal exterior, her crouched position rather odd to anyone who saw her. It didn’t really matter who saw her though because it wouldn’t change a thing. Standing up, she brought her book bag over her shoulder and moved out into the sea of shuffling bodies that rapidly flowed towards the exit. The final bell had rung just ten minutes before and the halls were still clogged with activity; people headed to clubs and sports, some to musical practice or band lessons, but the vast majority just trying to escape. She slipped away from the crowd, into the open air of the commons, finding it easier to weave in and out of tables and chairs than cranky teenagers. Before she could disappear back into the crowd at the far end, a voice called out, “Bailey! Wait up!” She turned, her dusky chestnut hair flowing around her in a wide circle, giving the impression of excitement. Nonetheless, her eyes held a picture of slight boredom, or perhaps simply null of emotion. Even the sight of her boyfriend smiling as he approached her didn’t change the fact that she was slowly going insane.

Finally catching up to her, flashing a toothy smile before leaning in and pecking her on the cheek. It was cold and she assumed if felt the same to him. He pulled back to stand up to his full 6’ height, a small look of concern on his face showing through the now forced smile as he questioned, “How was your day, babe?”

She gave him a small shrug and turned towards the exit. He quickly fell in step with her as she replied, “It was alright, Eli… just school, ya know?” Her less than happy answer caused Eli to frown. That had been happening more and more since their senior year of school had started. It was understandable when some people have problems adjusting to change, whether it’s just starting a new school year or a death in the family. The thing was, as long as Eli could remember, Bailey had always been happy and excited for school and her future. She was always looking forward and never letting herself get down, over anything. That had changed however, as her emotionless actions now shone clearly from day to day.

They made their way out of the building, passing through the metal detectors in silence. No one cared if you brought a gun or knife out of school; the problem was when people brought them in. Eli had passed through first and politely waited for her just outside, his closed jacket attempting to keep out the cold January wind. She followed out a minute later, and much to Eli’s dismay, her indigo eyes were downcast to the ground, her own jacket open and flinging wildly in the wind. A year ago, she would have skipped up to him to give him a kiss, her eyes full of stars, and he would have called her goofy and zipped her jacket up for her. Now however, it was all he could do to slip his hand around her little finger when they walked together. Likewise, it was all she could do to not slap it away. As they walked, he held her finger as such, turning to the music wing of the school’s parking lot. That was where they parked, day in and day out, right at 7:00 sharp. Eli was happy some things had stayed the same this year.

Upon reaching their cars, they separated to put their bags away, and after doing so, Eli quickly walked back to Bailey. She had put her key in the door and had turned it, but that’s as far as she got. Her head had slowly tilted to lean against top edge of her car, her breath fogging up the top of the wind with each exhale, giving Eli a momentary look into her clouded mind. He reached out, putting his hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch at the touch. She raised her head to glance into Eli’s eyes. They showed his worry and she hated that she was the cause of it, but didn’t know how to make things better. Something was just… missing in her life, and she couldn’t find it. Tears formed in her eyes, but she blinked them away with a prayer that Eli hadn’t noticed. He had however, and his arms wrapped around her, placing her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair gently, patiently waiting and trying to give her all the support his heart had for her. A moment later, she pulled away softly, but Eli held her at arms length, looking caringly into her eyes. He was about to speak when she cut in, saying, “I’m so sorry, Eli… I just… I don’t understand anymore.” The tears now flowed freely as she took a step back, leaning hard against her car, and out of his grip.

His heart cried to her and she knew it. She couldn’t believe what she was doing to him after everything he had done for her. He never gave up on her, when she couldn’t explain her anger and depression, when she didn’t do anything but sleep her weekends away. He should have given up long ago, but even now he pulled her back into his embrace. His lips met hers, this time spreading warmth through her body, causing her to feel her first feeling all day long: passion. She felt love for him. She didn’t know how she couldn’t with all he had done for her and been through with her. But none the less, the feeling was fleeting, because when the second kiss came, the acid in her stomach found a new way to make her nauseous. Before the third kiss came, she couldn’t bear it any longer and would turn her head away, as she did now. His lips found her cheek, cold and lifeless to his touch. This is how it always happened, three and out. Eli took a step back, rubbing her arms with his hands. He looked down to her, no smile, just worry, and then whispered, “I love you… please don’t forget that.”

She nodded slowly and whispered it back. She wanted to mean it, and a part of her did love him still. He went back to his truck, got in and revved up the engine. He pulled out before Bailey had even gotten into her van, passing by her and blowing a kiss before cruising off. Finally opening her car door, she slid into the driver’s seat and put her bag on the next seat over. The keys slid into the ignition on their own, as they did every day, and her forehead once again, as every day, rested on her steering wheel as she breathed in and out, a panic attack quickly consuming her. “I’m going to explode,” she murmured to herself, wondering what she was missing. “I need an escape.”

The key turned. Immediately her CD player clicked into action and the beats of trance and rave coursed through her entire body, vibrating each and every single cell. The bass was incredible, bringing her to another place, and she was finally able to physically take a deep breath and cease her raining eyes. As the song continued, she put the car into drive and slid out of the parking lot. This was what she lived for; this is what she wanted. It’s what held her grounded and kept her alive. In such moments, nothing else mattered: just the synthetic noise that gave her warring mind a temporary peace.

(comments are always welcome in my email and please be sure to continue reading in the next issue of The Flip Side!)

Steven VanDeLaarschot
Undergraduate/World Politics

Normally I would write about something political, but this time I decided to finally vent my frustrations with The Spectator, our student newspaper. I have been alternatively disappointed and frustrated with the Spectator due to its numerous and continuous failings.

The thing that frustrates me the most about the Spectator is their exclusivity when it comes to the Op-Ed section. The last few issues of the Spectator that I have looked at have their Op-Ed sections filled entirely by the Spectator staff. There has not been a single piece published that has come from outside the Spectator. I have tried getting my own work into the Spectator and it is incredibly frustrating. My last attempt was last semester before the midterm election when I found out that several conservative groups were attempting to suppress college student and minority voting in Wisconsin. I will put the full article I typed up for the Spectator in this article for the Flip Side so that it can be read.

This article I wrote for the Spectator was not pure speculation or conjecture or a baseless attempt to put down Republicans or conservatives in general. I found information and provided a source. After I submitted my article to the Spectator I received no reply and the issue I had hoped to see my article in was printed without it. I tried again and was told some fact checking needed to be done by Spectator staff and received no word about anything after that. My article was never printed. Needless to say, I was pissed.

Since then I’ve been told by people not affiliated with the Spectator that my article may have been too controversial, but that just makes me angrier. Newspapers are supposed to print things to keep us, the general public, informed and controversial issues are hot topics that people should know about. If people running a newspaper are scared of controversy they shouldn’t be running a newspaper. Reporters, newspapers, news media of every sort are supposed to be willing to run controversial issues and keep the public informed on things that run the gamut from commonplace and boring to bizarre and in your face and controversial. It was Thomas Jefferson who said “Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.” 1

Now there are some people who have said to me that the Spectator is a student newspaper and not done by professionals, so (though not explicitly stated) we should hold them to a lower standard. That is understandable and I will admit to not expecting something along the lines of the New York Times, but that’s not quite it for me. I would appreciate from the Spectator some actual copy editing before they print their weekly issue because our student body president is Dylan Jambrek, not Derek Jambrek. A simple glance through the article he was mentioned in would have spotted that and any confusion could have been cleared up by checking the Student Senate website (www.uwec.edu/studentsenate).

That is not an isolated incident just the one that sticks out the most in my mind. I don’t really think it would be that much to ask if we ask the Spectator staff to do their jobs and not focus on writing for the Op-Ed section and seeing their pictures in the paper. There are people who like to write for the Op-Ed section, but just never seem to get in despite the Spectator setting up a meeting every semester near the beginning of the semester to gather people who might like to freelance for the Spectator and put their names on a big list. The problem there is that if someone freelances they work for themselves, not the Spectator. They just happen to send in something every once in a while. Also, at the beginning of the semester not everyone knows whether they want to write for the Spectator or not, it might just come up on a whim halfway through the semester.

So here is what the Spectator did not print:

Democracy is so well ingrained into the American public that elections are very often taken for granted by just about everybody, including students. Unfortunately, our democratic values are being undermined and subverted by such groups as the Republican Party of Wisconsin, Americans for Prosperity-Wisconsin, and organizations associated with the Tea Party movement. I was outraged to hear this due to the fact that by doing this, these organizations are essentially cheating when it comes to winning the elections and getting into office.

Democracy is about the voice of the people, what the voters want to see when it comes to the direction of our country and who the voters want in office. The media narrative about the 2010 election cycle is that Democrats are going to suffer heavy losses, quite possibly lose their majority in the House and maybe even the Senate as well. There are several factors playing into this, such as the historical trend for the party in power to lose seats in midterm elections, but I am not trying to argue who will win in November and who will lose.

What I am saying is that Republicans, or at least certain conservative organizations, are so desperate to defeat Democrats that they are willing to break the law to win. A group by the name of One Wisconsin Now has uncovered “a coordinated plot by the Republican Party of Wisconsin, Americans for Prosperity-Wisconsin and organizations in the so-called Tea Party movement targeting minority voters and college students in a possibly illegal ‘voter caging’ effort for voter suppression.” 2 Their claim is backed up by audio tapes of various members of these organizations speaking in detail of how they can block voters from voting on election day. In one of the audio tapes, a member of the group can be heard shouting “hallelujah” as the plans are discussed, specifically when it is mentioned that the Voter Protection Act was blocked.

This is deeply troubling, it is almost what one would expect to hear coming from Third World dictatorships that use fraudulent elections to legitimize their governments. Voter suppression is un-American in the extreme. It makes me wonder how democratic, how republican, these groups are if they are unwilling to use the democratic process that has made America unique ever since its declaration as an independent country.

Democracy is about the voice of the people and a republic is about voters selecting representatives to serve in government. How corrupt are these people if they refuse to fight a fair and legal campaign, how American are they really? What happened that these conservative groups feel they cannot win an election legitimately? How is it that they feel they need to suppress the voice of young voters and play dirty? Elections are supposed to be about getting more people to vote for your candidate than the other candidate and having as many people vote as possible.

Why is this election suddenly about suppressing the voice of the people to get a narrow agenda pushed into Congress? When we hear about our most infamously corrupt president, Richard Nixon, we aren’t told about how Nixon suppressed voters. Not even Nixon did this, he got inside the other campaigns to mess them up, but he didn’t suppress the voters and the democratic process itself. Nixon only played the system, the Republican Party of Wisconsin, Americans for Prosperity-Wisconsin, and these Tea Party groups are trying to destroy the system.

Sadly, or outrageously depending on how you look at it, this isn’t even all of it. Aside from voter caging efforts, Republicans and conservatives are claiming that early voting is a plot by Democrats to subvert democracy. They are sending out warnings not to vote early. Early voting is simply voting before election day and is perfectly legal. The truth is that Republicans are now willing to lie and cheat to win this year’s elections.

What is going on with this country? When did American citizens start believing that subverting democracy was a good idea? I don’t. If the elections don’t turn out the way I want I’ll be disappointed and frustrated, but I won’t say that they’re illegitimate. I’ll respect the choice of the people even if I don’t agree with it and that’s an American tradition, the American way.

No matter what they say, those people who subvert democracy and suppress the voters are un-American, pure and simple. These conservative groups claim to fight for America, but that is an oxymoron when they are willing to subvert the very process and institution that America is built upon.

When election day comes around, get out and vote! I won’t tell you who to vote for, just vote. Show those conservative groups that your voice matters!

Sources:
http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/t/thomasjeff101434.html (1)
http://www.mediaite.com/online/progressive-group-alleges-gop-and-tea-party-effort-to-suppress-wisconsin-vote/ (2)

This One’s For You

Dustin Hahn
Undergraduate/Creative Writing

You stood up and gave your speech,
Gave your reasons, said you believed,
But then again, i’m not surprised,
You do whatever it takes to be accepted,
So lets hope your booze never runs dry.

I Thought

Matt Novacek
Undergraduate/History

at first i thought you were there for me
but i began to think it was just a lie
perhaps this was when we were meant to last
or maybe this moment was just meant to pass

when i thought you were right
you proved me wrong
when i thought you had me
you let me fall

but this is out of hand
and i cant control what i do
here was where you told me a lie
here was where ‘we’ turned to ‘I’

when i thought you would help
you tore me apart
when i thought you saw me
you turned your back away

then i thought we would last
yet now you’re history, my past
but now i speak up to be heard
watch your back heed my word

History, Maaaaaaaaaan

Drew Briski
Undergraduate/Undecided

Looking to the past for answers to the future
Not wanting to be content always wanting more
The people cannot stand it, they want to get away
The professors teach them how to live
If I do not listen they will be punished
The authorities in the world think they are correct
When a revolt happens the revolters are called wrong
What revolters do is for their best interests
They want to get away from the tyranny of the man
Other governments should stay away
The history buffs will contemplate why it happened
Making up reasons far from the truth
The new order will be the same as the last
No difference except for who is in charge
They force the history writers to change the past
Make them look like heroes
They never look forward never wanting to change
Without compromise the cycle will never end

The Haiku Herald Vol. X

Ashly Curtis
Undergraduate/Creative Writing

Kayla Johnson
Undergrdaute/Political Science & Print Journalism

eighteen-day riot;
look at those Egyptians walk
beat it, Mubarak

Call in the Guard, Scott
Keep those workers in their place
Cutting the fat, right?

New York rep Chris Lee
gettin’ ladies on Craigslist
nice myspace picture

Tunnels

Chris Tassoul
Undergraduate/Criminal Justice

we’ve seen
tunnels running through our minds, buried deep within our souls,
teasing us with freedom bright, tying us apart as one
when the rain is in the vat when the tombs become too much when the stats are all aligned, & you’re captive in a room
where the ceiling is the floor & the doors are twelve feet up but you think you got a plan you plan to sell yourself once
more when the sand ignites like paint when you’re it and can›t hit back when the cry fucking caves in spill some coffee on the
carpet & you’ve got yourself a stain
feel the bitter haze of a.m.
feel the cage that is your brain.

Lisa Brancaccio
Undergraduate/Journalism

February 10, 2011

Dear Diary,

I have a serious social-networking crisis going on in my life. I used to spend every waking moment on Facebook, creeping on people I hardly know, stalking guys I wish would love me, and judging all the girls that deserve to be judged. Now, though, instead of rushing to Facebook when I open up my laptop in lower Davies in between classes, I rush to...DUN DUN DUN...Like A Little! Don’t go assuming that I’m hoping someone will post about me, because that’s not the case. It’s quite the opposite actually. I’ve sort of made Like A Little into my own little game. I post about made-up, semi-real people. For example, right now I am looking at a Male, Brunette on Water Street. We made eye contact in front of the Pioneer and I thought you were super cute. Then the comments come. “what were you wearing?” “what time was this?” “were you wearing a blue coat?” No, motherfuckers. I was at home in my bed, writing my diary entry. I feel like I’m providing a feel-good service for any guy that walked by the Pioneer today and made eye contact with a girl. It’s how I give back to the world and it’s much more rewarding than finding pictures of my ex with his new slut of a girlfriend.

Adios.

Michael Seaholm
Undergraduate/Computer Science

“The Nile, forever new and old,
Among the living and the dead,
Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled.”
-Glenn Beck

This is a story about Longcoat. A man with a coat so long, legend has it, that the area under its curve is infinite. Or maybe not.

It was a tempestuous evening in the Valley of the Kings. A fierce storm whipped and lashed across the ancient rocks, making inscrutable markings on their weathered surface. The air was thick with dust, like a Swiffer that had been wiped across a stack of Led Zeppelin vinyls. Longcoat stood there atop the Great Pyramid of Giza despite it being 300 miles away from his present location, his eyes completely unblinking in sheer defiance against the vast quantities of particulate matter hitting them. He had been observing a very specific building in Cairo somewhere between 4 and 304 miles distant for the last seventeen years without respite, but for a man like Longcoat – if you could even condescend to call him something so vulgar – this was all just par for the course. This land was his ally, and not even all the sand in the word blasting his corneas to powder could convince him otherwise.

Realizing that perhaps it would be more conducive to his investigations to move closer to his target, Longcoat leaped forward off of the pile of smoking rubble formerly known as the Great Pyramid, his eyes gazing off into infinity. Even though he is the closest thing to the personification of Death ever viewed by human eyes, Longcoat was still hindered by the real-world limitations of distance. It took him a full six minutes to reach his destination, and he had to do a backflip in order to generate enough negative momentum to come to a perfect halt just micrometers from the hotel door. As he did so, one of his feet traveled so fast that it exceeded the speed of light, went back in time, and kicked the nose off of the Sphinx. The nose itself, propelled by God only knows how many forces, was sent further back in time and ended up destroying all life on Mars. Although Longcoat was unaware of these proceedings in the present, he felt the unusual twinge of a smile grace his countenance for an impossibly brief instant before he entered the abode.

Longcoat literally walked through the door and took careful note of the receptionist at the far end of the room. She looked up from her papers, and Longcoat was given immediate pause; although he was well-acquainted with the drive infamous to his gender – he was, after all, the quintessential red-blooded American male – Longcoat’s forays into sexuality often ended with the female party experiencing a total existence failure. As a precaution, Longcoat tried to put on a sneer so as to make his face less handsome, but unfortunately this gave him a sort of Billy Idol charm that only served to amplify his masculine visage. Predictably, the poor woman was reduced to smoldering ash out of sheer sexual tension. Longcoat proceeded toward the elevator like Mister Rogers on meth, which is to say totally unfazed.

The elevator, rather than being torn asunder by the roaring leap of a man whose legs could provide more expedient transport to his destination, was left intact as Longcoat took the opportunity to think about his mission, something that he hoped would never become a habit. While it is true that the American government is the possessor of the greatest intelligence community in the world, that did not necessarily mean the top brass entrusted Longcoat with all the details; in fact, the entire description of his mission was written on the back of a Greetings From Lake Wobegon postcard, which stated simply, “EGYPT”. The comedic antics of Garrison Keillor aside, Longcoat found the whole affair confusing, but only because he was unsure if the letter Y acted as a vowel in this circumstance. It never crossed his mind to question his orders; Longcoat did not need something so frivolous as facts to conduct a mission.

Upon reaching a completely arbitrary floor, Longcoat whipped out his trusty revolver and shot the locks off of all seventeen doors even though most of these were not in his immediate line of sight. The doors swung open like the thighs of a disillusioned housewife, and Longcoat proceeded to check each one after his own fashion: 7, 6, 3, 13, 7, 15, and so on. Although he was not a mathematician – a truth for which Longcoat thanked God every day – he could not help but notice on his 53rd passthrough that one of the doors was not labeled with a number at all, but rather a large green sticker depicting a certain illegal plant, practically torn from the cover of a high school composition notebook. Longcoat stared at this strange sigil for several hours before he remembered that the door was wide open.

Longcoat stepped inside with the caution of a child tiptoeing through a living room scattered with Lego blocks. It was common knowledge that cannabis users were the most despicable creatures ever to walk the earth, ahead of even child molesters and puppy-destroying robots. One false move and everybody in the hotel would go up in smoke (although, to Longcoat’s way of thinking, it was quite possible that they were all terrorists anyway). He rounded the corner into the living area only to be caught in a strategically-placed trap so clever that Daedalus could not have come up with one better: Longcoat’s foot was apprehended by an open pizza box with cheese stuck to the top. While this was less than nothing to one such as he, Longcoat was simultaneously assailed by a dense fog that clouded his vision. Blinded, Longcoat waved his arm threateningly into the haze, causing the roof and the dozen floors above his current level to slide off into the parking lot. The starlight dissipated the smoky snare as expected, and Longcoat grinned like a bishop as he got a first glimpse of his formerly formless foes.

An indescribable ass-whooping that could be heard the world over thus followed. In the aftermath, passersby could only stare in mute shock at the craggy pit that was once a mediocre-star hotel and the man-god that stood at the center of this fresh apocalypse. Rustling among the debris, Longcoat came to a most disturbing conclusion: the men that he had just ended were not reefer-maddened homocidaires as he had previously suspected; the copious amounts of smoke billowing from the living room was the result of the inhabitants immolating various literary classics in the celebrated spirit of book burning. Longcoat’s heart skipped a beat, and all of Egypt sank into the void in response.

Immediately after, Longcoat received a transmission from his commanding officer directly into his earbones. “Good work, sir,” said the general, saluting the air just in case Longcoat could see him. “With your help, the riots in Egypt have finally ceased. President Mubarak will be reinstalled once the land becomes habitable.” Longcoat nodded silently and with conviction. He was wholly unaware of whatever riots the general had been talking about, but as long as a friendly leader was present in the region his mission was complete. In triumph, Longcoat sat down on a blackened rock and waited for things to return to normal.

And so, Longcoat remains a sentinel watching over the freedom of the world, but only when the government decides that it is convenient to do so. Even now he is piercing the very soul of malfeasance, dissent, and the totally inane with his unrelenting stare. That is the way of Longcoat.