July 2010


Dear Dean Cordle,

I am writing in regards of Assistant Professor Mike Adams.
I am a Christian and I have spent the last many years involved in interfaith dialogue and social justice actions.
I am shocked by the recent developments and statements made by Mr. Adams. I have familiarized myself with his writings online and his statements on those he sees as ‘heathens’.
I was almost convinced that the ideas he espouses were made by another using his identity online–for they were so full of bitterness, slander, obstinance and rancor. Knowing that he has contact with young people at all let alone a university is frankly frightening.
I do not believe that it is outlandish to say that he seems imbalanced and in a very unhealthy state of mind. I am worried for the learning atmosphere of UNCW and the ability for all students to attend his classes without fear of reprisal or character assassination.
I know that Mr. Adams is not reflective of the integrity and high standards of your university. I do hope that the administration of UNCW will be able to use the full extent of their authority to ensure that an environment of civil, measured discourse is maintained and that all students can feel safe in class and on campus.

Contact Dean David Cordle at UNCW
cordled@uncw.edu

These here passages scuttled from the fern-green lovely “Lolita” are chosen almost at dart throw. Any Lolitian sentence reproduced by a million typing monkeys would be just as miraculous as the next.

“Actually, she was at least in her late twenties (I never established her exact age for even her passport lied) and had mislaid her virginity under circumstances that changed with her reminiscent moods. I, on my part, was as naive as only a pervert can be.” p. 27

“I now wondered if Valechka–by now shedding torrents of tears tinged with the mess of her rainbow make-up,–started to fill anyhow a trunk, and two suitcases, and a bursting carton, and visions of putting on my mountain boots and taking a running kick at her rump were of course impossible to put into execution with the cursed colonel hovering around all the time.” p. 31

“I discovered there was an endless source of robust enjoyment in trifling with psychiatrists: cunningly leading them on; never letting them see that you know all the tricks of the trade; inventing for them elaborate dreams, pure classics in style (which make them, the dream-extortionists, dream and wake up shrieking)…” p. 36

“Sometimes I attempt to kill in my dreams. But do you know what happens? For instance I hold a gun. For instance I aim at a bland, quietly interesting enemy. Oh, I press the trigger all right, but one bullet after another feebly drops on the floor from the sheepish muzzle. In those dreams, my only thought is to conceal the fiasco from my foe, who is slowly growing annoyed….I pointed Chum at his slippered foot and crushed the trigger. It clicked. He looked at his foot, at the pistol, again at his foot. I made another awful effort, and, with a ridiculously feeble and juvenile sound, it went off.” p. 49, 299

“…all along our route countless motor courts proclaimed their vacancy in neon lights, ready to accommodate salesmen, escaped convicts, impotents, family groups, as well as the most corrupt and vigorous couples. Ah, gentle drivers gliding through summer’s black nights, what frolics, what twists of lust, you might see from your impeccable highways if Kumfy Kabins were suddenly drained of their pigments and became as transparent as boxes of glass!” p. 119

“Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me; try to discern the doe in me, trembling in the forest of my own iniquity; let’s even smile a little.” p. 131

“The underworld was a world apart: there, heroic newspapermen were tortured, telephone bills ran into billions, and, in a robust atmosphere of incompetent marksmanship, villians were chased through sewers and storehouses by pathologically fearless cops (I was to give them less exercise). Finally there was the mahogany landscape, the florid-faced, blue-eyed roughriders, the prim pretty schoolteacher arriving in Roaring Gulch, the rearing horse, the spectacular stampede, the pistol thrust through the shivered windowpane, the stupendous fist fight, the crashing mountain of dusty old-fashioned furniture, the table used as a weapon, the timely somersault, the pinned hand still groping for the dropped bowie knife, the grunt, the sweet crash of fist against chin, the kick in the belly, the flying tackle; and immediately after a plethora of pain that would have hospitalized a Hercules (I should know by now), nothing to show but the rather becoming bruise on the bronzed cheek of the warmed-up hero embracing his gorgeous frontier bride.” p. 172-3

“…even at our very best moments, when we…silently stared, with other motorists and their children, at some smashed, blood-bespattered car with a young woman’s shoe in the ditch (Lo, as we drove on: “That was the exact type of moccasin I was trying to describe to that jerk in the store”)…” p. 176

“I believe the poor fierce-eyed child had figured out that with a mere fifty dollars in her purse she might somehow reach Broadway or Hollywood–or the foul kitchen of a diner (Help Wanted) in a dismal ex-prairie state, with the wind blowing, and the stars blinking, and the cars, and the bars, and the barmen, and everything soiled, torn, dead.” p. 187

“a last minute kiss was to enforce the play’s profound message, namely, that mirage and reality merge in love.” p. 203

“She hardly glanced at the famous, oddly shaped, splendidly flushed rock which jutted above the mountains and had been the take-off for nirvana on the part of a temperamental show girl.” p. 241

“A change of environment is the traditional fallacy upon which doomed loves, and lungs rely.” p. 241

“We rolled all over the floor, in each other’s arms, like two huge helpless children. He was naked and goatish under his robe, and I felt suffocated as he rolled over me. I rolled over him. We rolled over me. They rolled over him. We rolled over us.” p. 301

All quotations are from:
Nabokov, Vladimir, The Annotated Lolita Alfred Appel Jr. editor. (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company. 1955)

HipHop still ain’t broke unlike everyone else!

If you’re needin’ mass cajones I am mas sabor
like empty bowled Oliver Twist I’ll have you beggin’ for more
I’ve got more bling, arm wings, and shingles than straight up Zsa Zsa Gabor
If rhymes were grains of sand I would be Episode IV
Just a poorman’s street ranter flippin’ beats like flops and burgers
Just a simple kid from Minnesota a scruffy lookin’ nerf herder
and I got an alphabet soup of beats like Sue Grafton’s got murders

I’m ice cold as a Klondike bar and as cool as cool ranch
I set the sex ed gold standard like the Golden Girl’s Blanche
So if French kissing ain’t your thing we can go closed mouth
but if tongue wets your whistle let’s lingua franca down south

Like Michael Keaton’s got White Noise I’m bringing the static
my rhyme’s electric like GE or Harrison Ford in Frantic
I’m outta this world like Marlon Brando you might scream that I’m ‘Stella’
other MCs are sea cows and I’m an outboard propeller

I’m sweet as a sleeping kitten or spoon o’ Nutella
I gots mad furs on my back like I’m Glen Close’s Cruella
I got more rhymes than Dalmatians and Arabian Nights
And I’ll shockya like Khan, a Cuckoo’s Nest, or Ben Franklin’s kite

I shrug off guff–showering down lines like dandruff
I’ll do an unplanned handstand got more ‘ands’ than an ampersand

My serpentine lines writhe in rhymes spit mad truths like Delphi
kickin’ Ides of March 24/7 much more madder than Hyphy
I’m a rhyme philanthropist got more 12 bars than felons 
I’m handin’ out a beat down of lyrics like straight up Carnegie Mellon
My lines will make you soar– like Kitty Hawk in flight
My lines tighter knit than thighs to lycra or Kit to Knight
My lines ride up like camel toe while wack haters play possum
my ride gots more side to side than a corpus callosum

That’s right!
HipHop still ain’t broke unlike everyone else

Life is cruel kids. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t look good doing it. I’m talkin’ ’bout style baby! Living large in a dizzing cacaphony of evolutionary forces can be daunting but with the right moves and really tight jeans you’ll not only be surviving, you’ll be thriving!

Share this information with your fellow gang-members and keep it from rival gangs for it will breed certain success in your living and maybe even your breeding. How do you know that this information is only for the most hard boiled badasses dead-set on not gettin’ dead? Its written. Who else still reads except for tough as nails end-of-the-world survivalists who want to be able to read the labels on the tin cans stored in their fallout shelter?

Get the most out of life and pass on your ultra strong genetics to the next generation as quick as possible! Preferably with that really hot new foreign exchange student.

Poisoning
Hey kids! Like duh! Poison is totally gross unless its diluted just enough to give you a kickin’ buzz. Have you been poisoned? Oh oh. How do you know the difference between dying and seeing The Truth? If you’re asking that question, my guess is that you’ve had just the right amount of LSD.
Some poisonings are worse than others. Food poisoning from Taco Bell is one thing, but food poisoning from Taco Bell on a date can feel fatally embarrassing! Ogh! If you’re poisoned call the National Poison Hotline at 1 800 222 1222.

Being Home Alone
Being at home without any parents around is the best thing that can happen to you as a teenager but it can also be very dangerous. Most teenaged fatalities occur when teens are left to their own devices and have ample time behind closed doors to masturbate unfettered by the bounds by society, common sense, human civility, or safety. When I was fifteen and my parents left me alone all weekend while attending a funeral in Iowa, I nearly eunuched myself.
Its important kids to remember to use the Safety Protocol of Rubbin’ One Out: Blisters are cause for pause.

Being Approached By A Stranger
Remember when going home with a stranger to carefully note the streets and landmarks around the motel to which they’re bringing you. This will help you know the closest Chinese Take Out place to suggest.

Snake Bites
Ouch!

Now you’re armed with the most dangerous weapon: knowledge.
And most of you are armed with the second most dangerous weapon: STDs. But we’ll cover that subject later.