Students have heard enough of Coulter
Two weeks ago, Michael Peters wrote an opinion which said the students protesting Ann Coulter should “give Coulter a chance.” In a sense, he is correct. No one should protest a person if they are not familiar with the individual’s views. However, I strongly disagree with his implication that those of us walking out on the Feb. 18 are doing so because we refuse to listen.
I am walking out precisely because I have been listening. I have read portions of several of Coulter’s books and have listened to a few of her interviews. As Peters mentioned, she is a best-seller and obviously wields some influence over people, and for this reason, I have paid attention to her arguments.
They are, in my opinion, absolutely horrific. As Peters said, she is a “shock jock,” referring to Muslims as “ragheads,” saying in interviews that she supports racial profiling and asserting that women should not have the right to vote.
But aside from her excessive use of offensive language, Coulter also habitually distorts facts and takes quotes out of context. Therefore, the very foundation of her arguments is comprised of fallacies, not to mention hatred and ignorance. Additionally, she regularly dodges questions and insults her interviewers whenever they disagree with or challenge her.
If I was less familiar with Coulter, perhaps I would stay for the duration of her speech and engage her in a question and answer session. If a conservative speaker with a factual basis and openness to debate came to campus, I unquestionably would engage in conversation with them.
How can someone engage in a meaningful discourse with someone whose arguments rely on shutting down any ideas that do not exist within their own framework? It is not the liberal students on campus who are opposed to open discourse: It is Coulter who is opposed to open discourse. Therefore, those of us walking away from Coulter will be walking to the Brower Student Center to hold a constructive political discussion free of hate speech since Coulter will not be providing this kind of forum herself.
I honestly am disappointed that the College Republicans have invited someone to campus who is known to be hostile to the very type of discourse that educational institutions encourage. Furthermore, I find it horribly tasteless that they then proceed to condemn the students who voice their opposition in a way that Coulter renders necessary by not allowing for legitimate debate and discussion.
We are not walking out because we refuse to hear Coulter. We are walking out because we have had quite enough.
Ludacris ticket line was misleading
As I rolled reluctantly out of bed at the ungodly hour of 9 a.m., I reminded myself it was for a good cause: Ludacris and Lupe Fiasco. After arriving at the Brower Student Center, I was pleased to see the ticket line extended only down the ramp and around the corner. This was a gross miscalculation. The line continued up the stairs, around the second floor, and I finally ended up somewhere between Green and Bliss halls.
Then began the waiting. The seemingly endless game of stop and go. The pleasure of waiting was augmented by the constant discussion of how waiting in line sucks by the “Where are my Uggs and Coach purse?” females behind me.
Around three hours into my wait, I encountered a period in my life that I like to call “overreaction.” As my patience, growing thinner by the minute, was dangling by a thread, I noticed a group of men cutting in line. Now, I know that in third grade line cutting was not only tolerated, it was a legally recognized line maneuver. But that was in third grade.
I appointed myself line marshall. After nearly accosting one man, successfully depriving him of his coffee beverage and sharing a few expletives, I realized my attempts were futile and went back in line to sulk. I could not compete when his argument for line cutting was so astute.
“Everyone is doing it,” he said.
As I neared the front of the line and could smell fresh Ludacris tickets, I thought about either running down the line waving them at the poor, unfortunate souls that still had to wait in line, or christening them by rubbing them all over my hairy chest. I chose the latter. I would like to thank the College Union Board for making this the worst experience ever.