Newspaper

The real story: A brief history of The Koala (so far)

The Koala is back.

It's 1985 and we're still alive and kicking. Who would've thought it? When the AS gave us $400 in 1982 and said, "Make a funny paper and we'll think about giving you more money," few thought we'd survive. But our trial issue was alright--not hilarious--just kind of amusing. Interesting enough for the AS to fund us for the rest of the year and wish us well.

The original idea for The Koala came from a fifth-year senior named Josh Harris. Harris dropped the idea in the lap of A capable campus journalist, Tim Pickwell, and then jumped off a cliff. That's what we figured anyway, because he was never heard from again. (Actually, that's not true: once we were doing layout and old Josh came in and started up with a bunch of crap about "our" paper. Like he had anything to do with it. We gave him dirty looks until he left.)

Pickwell was in charge of the paper through most of the first year and established a lot of what you see in each issue today: party reviews, free personals, college reports. He surrounded himself with capable people that also happened to be his friends--myself, Bill Fish, Karen Costello, Pete Newman--all Clairemont High School alumnus. Together we put together a newspaper that we thought was pretty funny. And people were picking it up and taking it home. They might have thought it was stupid, maybe used their copy to line the birdcage, but they were picking it up, and we couldn't have been happier.

When Tim won an AS Council position, the Editor-in-Chief job was given to Bill Fish. Fishey, as he is called by several people of little consequence, immediately named me, Chris Harrington, a Co-Editor, claiming, "Associate Editor is kind of a bullshit position anyway." The position became known as "Chiefly Editors."

With Bill and I in charge the paper gradually changed to fit our personalities. Less entertainment, more humor. Everything was for a laugh. Wrestling at Mandeville, David Letterman, stuff like that. Eventually, a blue-chipper named Pat Janowski (female) started hanging around a lot and that's when things really started to get out of control. A tri-editorship evolved and every Thursday Bill, 'Chris and Pat would stay up all night and put together The Koala. The interesting thing was that none of us really cared much about the administrative part of the newspaper. We didn't like to make calls, set up meetings, check the budget, keep on top of supplies. We liked to sit around late at night, think of stupid letters to the editor and giggle a lot. We were having a hell of a lot of fun, but the paper was, like I said, out of control.

No History of The Koala would be complete without mentioning the Birdcage Review. For two years we shared an eight by eight office with the literary magazine and our tumultuous relationship is well documented. We were in different kharmas. We ate their food, they stole our waxer. We left the office unlocked, they stole our flats. We forgot their messages, they stole our bordertape. We jammed a paperclip in their desk lock, they stole our phone. But somehow we both managed to put out our publications and have a good time in the process. Any material too silly for the Birdcage was left on our desk, and likewise all the pseudo-intellectual crap in our mailbox was passed on them. Last year we shared an office with the Model U.N. and while none of our supplies were missing, something else was. When you went into the office their was no eucalyptus bark on the walls, and nobody willing to discuss the meaning of "essence." This year we have our own office and members of the Birdcage are always welcome. They may be asked, however, to empty their pockets before leaving.

When The Koala began it's third year last fall, Bill and Pat were, both gone. Bill trying to graduate, and Pat in France. Tim returned from the AS and put the administrative part of the paper back on solid ground. Tim is one that works hard so he won't have to work hard later. On the other hand, I am one who likes to fuck off a lot and then do all the work on one night. We ended up with a perfect balance--enough organization to make things easier, and enough disorganization to be silly.

So now you know all about how The Koala came to be. Well, almost. In the midst of these changes in personel and philosophy, have been contributing individuals without whom the paper could not have Survived. Writers like Mark Diamond, Patrick Duffy and Ted Chough. Characters all. A guy like Dave Mueller, who organized the first Koala movie, "Monty Python's Life of Brian." A production manager like Kim Overman, who can make any mess of copy look like a newspaper. Typesetters like Teik Francis and Kay Zuanich. All people that have worked hard, put up with a lot of crap, and not been paid a cent.

And now it's 1985 and we're all ready to go. Is it stupid to once again ask for your help and input? Well, we really want it. Come by the office and see what's going on (room 210, upstairs in the student center). Eat lunch. Have a Mountain Dew. Look at all the stupid shit on our walls. Whatever. But if you do like the kind of stuff we're doing, come by and be a part of it.

The Obnoxious Perspective: Don't drink the water in the toilet of Europe

by Patrick S. Duffy, XVIII

Europe. It beckons, it calls with a mighty, mysterious power seeming foreign to those who don't understand. Why all the hoopla? Well, first of all, Europe is the origination of many of our roots, and offers cultures sickingly un-American (although this is mainly an advantage). Secondly, Europe is a big place, and offers many sights and adventures for the energetic traveler. However, Europe is not simply another excursion to a vast entertainment extravaganza, which is why it is sometimes necessary to remind wide-eyed tourists that Europe is "smaller than the United States, but larger than Disneyland". This continent is the collection of an impressive array of cultures and people, offering many new things to those with an open, de-Americanized mind. You'll see and experience all of these wonderful things - at least until you enter Italy.

Italy is not the Europe that Germany, Holland and Switzerland are. A visit to Italy justifies each and every Italian joke. Period. As one enters the country, one may decide to make a pit stop and "make pee action", as our trilingual tour guide so poetically articulated. One expects to find the usual toilet. However, what one finds many times in Italy is a simple, unceremoniously decorated hole in the floor, bordered on two sides by grooved porcelain where it is assumed one places his feet. This is fine, and even a little interesting, until one discovers that these grooves are caked with sticky matter strangely similar to dried urine. Then one looks around the simple stall and discovers that it hasn't been cleaned since the heydey of the Colosseum. It's not too bad for guys, because they can just stand there, much as they would over a bush. However, the girls have a much more difficult time, as one conversation intimated.

"So, what did you do?" I asked a typical female on our tour.

"It was DISGUSTING, but I really had to go. So I had to take off my pants so they wouldn't get that 'stuff' on them, and my underwear, and squat.""Was the door locked?" I asked, with mock apprehension. "What if someone walked in and saw you, and started laughing?'

"I just don't know", she commented, before hitting me.

But the real question of the day was, if the Italians went to all the trouble of bringing in plumbing, then why the hell didn't they just order a damn TOILET from Crane or something? BECAUSE THEY'RE ITALIAN, was my justification. It was all so simple: they're Italian! Well, this miraculous discovery of mine soon became a universal rationalizaton for all the other strange, and mostly backwards ways the Italians do things. One might assume a trip to Italy would mean GREAT pizza. Nope. They make the worst pizza on the face of this earth (except for the Greeks). Pizza is an AMERICAN invention, and they obviously feel too proud (for what, I don't know) to follow the likes of Filipe's or Round Table or whoever, to make a decent pizza. However, they do make excellent pasta. The best pasta dishes in the world are in Italy. The only trouble is getting it after ordering it.

Most pasta places in Italy are outside cafes located on a piazza or perhaps by a canal (in Venice or Naples). This is actually quite nice, until you find out at the end of your first Italian meal that there is a cover charge from 15-25% for the "privilege" of sitting outside. Never mind that there IS NO INSIDE. And never mind that we sat by the door, and could hear every conversation of those standing in line wihtout even attempting to eavesdrop. Let us also ignore the fact that they'll bring you more bread when you finish each basket, and then charge you $4.00 for it. The one good thing about Italy is that the wine is quite good, and cheap. It should be cheap, beacuse you can't drink the water. What else do you drink??