On a recent day, my biggest worry was whether I could find time on a meter near the student union.

I wanted to avoid an added cost to my cup of coffee. That’s all changed within the last 24 hours.

Yesterday, my brother was deployed. Brought to you by Stratego of the oil rich-and-famous. He’s a husband, father of two, you know the drill.

I tried being angry, but the situation is so absurd. To think my brother was sent to war by the same guy who once traded Sammy Sosa away from an already sucky baseball team.

May 4 is also approaching and I cannot forget a group of college students who found their way into history when their trek to lunch across campus was mistaken as an anti-war riot and they were shot by national guardsmen at a place called Kent State, my old stomping grounds. Thankfully, we are far removed from the oppressive tone of 1970 when a conservative president bulldozed individual freedom and intimidated scores of people protesting the war in Vietnam. Er right?

As much as I am nostalgic about the 70s and miss hippies, I don’t think protesting wars should just be for hippies anymore. Furthermore, South Dakota has the lowest hippie population per capita in the United States, not counting original hippies who we fondly know today as the status quo.

Whatever happened to dissent in a democracy, be it carrying a sign, firing off a letter to the editor, or picking up the telephone?

All seem to have gone the way of the Democrat, Dennis Kucinich notwithstanding.

As the death toll rises in Iraq, who will stand up and say enough is enough, starting the dialogue to bring our troops home? Our leadership has failed us. The common citizenry is fearful of being perceived as unpatriotic. The year 1970 is punking us all over again sans Ashton Kutcher.

The first Turkish President Mustafa Kemal Ataturk once said, “Where there is no freedom, there is death and destruction.” Ataturk’s wisdom sounds like Bush’s battle cry for Iraq. It may eventually be the epitaph of our post-Patriot Act democracy, unless we are willing to keep our own personal freedoms alive and well here at home.

Death and destruction will continue until we are willing to explore the ultimate possibility of peace. The alternative is a 10-year presence in Iraq fueled by the 18-year-olds draft carded with a one-way ticket to quagmire. This might mean that “we the people” take the lead where our government has been performing so poorly as of late. Break out the signs, write a letter, pick up the phone and speakup. Bring them home.

Like Bob Dylan once said, “Don’t follow leaders, watch your parking meters.”

For those of you returning in the fall, good luck finding a spot close to the student union. Who knows, maybe they’ll have a Starbucks drive-through by then. Until fall, I wish you peace. Say a prayer for my brother and for them all. Yurtta Sulh, Cihanda Sulh.

Chris Briddick is a teaches in the College of Education and Counseling. Reach him at William_Briddick@sdstate.edu.

It’s March Madness!

What happened to the University of Kentucky?

Thankfully, at the writing of this piece, my old school Vanderbilt remains at the dance, much to the disbelief of alums and common citizenry of the SEC alike.

Go Dores!

But the Blue Grass state is not just known for fielding really great basketball teams.

A few miles down the road from Lexington there is an often-overlooked roster of sorts, awaiting another heated competition, a different kind of March Madness if you will. In fact, if you wanted to have a tournament, Kentucky might be seeded #1 again going in.

I am talking of course about a tournament of weaponry. You know Weapons of Mass Destruction? Those elusive nasty explosives that were going to get Dubya re-elected providing they could be located?

Just outside of Lexington is the town of Richmond, Ky., home of Eastern Kentucky University, another not so shabby basketball program and next door neighbor to the Blue Grass Chemical Stockpile.

The BGCS would be our best bet should a worldwide Final Four competition ever involve chemical weapons.

The BGCS has M55 Rockets, some 51,716 of them weighing 553,360 pounds filled with GB-Nerve gas; 17,733 M55 Rockets weighing 177,340 pounds filled with VX-Nerve gas; 12,816 155mm Projectiles weighing 76,900 pounds and filled with VX-Nerve gas; 8-inch projectiles, all 3,977 of them weighing in at 57,660 pounds, filled to the gills with GB-Nerve gas; 155mm Projectiles of HD-Blister — good ol’ fashioned Mustard Gas — 15,492 of ‘em at 181,260 pounds, hardly lethal but enough to make entire cities feel as if they have been maced from head to toe.

Barely worth mentioning are the M56 Rocket Warheads, all 24 of ‘em, weighing in at a measly 260 pounds stocked with GB-Nerve gas and the M56 Rocket Warheads, all 6 of ‘em, weighing in at a scrappy 60 pounds stocked with VX-Nerve gas.

When all this madness settles down, let’s remind our politicians that WMDs in anyone’s hands, be it an evil dictator or a superpower democracy, are bad, bad things.

The good news is that there is talk of disposing of them, but the government’s idea of that is a large incinerator and so far the people in that immediate area have been resistant in signing on to that plan.

Can’t imagine why they would oppose incinerating Weapons of Mass Destruction in their own back yard?

When our troops are back home and out of harm’s way, let’s make it a point to remember that while they didn’t find WMDs in Iraq, the Blue Grass state has WMDs to burn … well not exactly but you get the idea.

It kind of sets a bad example to have almost a million pounds of this stuff in one location (there are other stockpiles across the nation) and to bomb another country where not a one of these has been found.

Enjoy the rest of the madness March brings.

Perhaps April will bring peace and discovery of our own hypocrisy.

The four horsemen of the apocalypse are approaching faster than a reality television character can disrobe in a hot tub. It’s election season!

The Janklow fiasco and national conservative antics aimed at taking down Tom Daschle have all eyes focused on South Dakota elections. Prepare for the frenzy and national media circus erupting soon in our tranquil state:

*Plaid. The candidates will sport enough of it to kilt the entire cast of Braveheart II.

*Months of “prairie values” rhetoric. Nobody else in the world has a work ethic, centric attitudes or cares about their families except us. We don’t want to be lumped in with those Godless “rural values” folk in Minnesota or the Children of the Corn demographic from Iowa.

*Lots of outside money. After November, though, it goes back to being called “pork.”

*Right Field, Left Field zealots. I have a great collection of their previous election brochures but I have my own brochures ready to give them this year.

*Herseth. She is back! First name pronounced “President” as in “President Herseth,” but she’s gotta start somewhere.

*Local news anchor identity crises. Radical changes in clothing, hair styles and hair colors will abound in an American Idolesque scramble for national recognition.

*Finger pointing accusatory ads. Bring on, or rather sling on, the mud! Ordinary citizen testimonial ads. More suck-up per second than an eight-pound Orek.

*Media interviews of the general public.

*Working Man/Woman interviews. If C-Span or Fox hijacks you leaving the feedlot, two requests: 1) get out of your truck and 2) pull your jeans out of your rubber knee-boots.

*Expert Interviews. Academics, please leave the bow ties at home. Worked for the late Senator Simon, isn’t working for Tucker Carlson.

Women experts, just do what it is you do best regardless of what you wear. Get in there and keep the good ol’ boys honest. Thanks for smartening things up.

*Student involvement. College students, it is a great time to coat-tail a politician so you can get a taste of real power. Try to avoid the use of taboo words such as: “dude,” “sucks,” “totally,” “ain’t” or particularly the word “party” used as a verb in your conversations with the power elite.

Such words give pundits hives and lead those in charge to feel that you aren’t mature enough to inherit their mess. Vote.

I leave you with a generic commentary we can all memorize just in case any one of us is selected to speak on behalf of we, the people.

Play to the camera as it pans back, a tear forming at the edge of your eye.

Look out across the open field and say, “It doesn’t matter who gets elected because as a new day dawns over this prairie, life goes on. People go on.”

Peer back into the camera. “We, (opening your arms in a sweeping gesture) South Dakota goes on.”

And we will.

Let the games begin.

YEEEEAAAAHHH! (with apologies to Howard Dean).

Chris Briddick teaches in the College Education and Counseling. Comments on “Faculty Corner” may be sent to collegianmanagingeditor@yahoo.com.

It’s that time of year again. Seniors lamenting about getting the hell out of Dodge.

Soon that disturbing commercial will reappear, the college graduate climbing into a truck full of livestock headed for Nebraska.

Aside from our smirking wish that the guy in the commercial is a USD grad, there’s great sadness in watching some of our best and brightest leave. It’s a sinister brain drain conspiracy no doubt underwritten by major U.S. cities.

Advice to those who leave though, keep your sense of humor. You will get a tremendous amount of ribbing about being FROM South Dakota. I Jackrabbit-guarantee it!

Be proud and explain our subtle differences with regard to places like the east or west coast and the sprawling major metropolitan areas in between.

Here are a few things to remember: