I have two topics this week (count ’em, just two).

First is the tragic deterioration of authoritative respect for the canons of tradition due to every college student. This is demonstrating itself in the increased enforcement of public intoxication laws.

The second is the totally insensitive invasion of personal privacy that is supposed to be dead in our enlightened, politically correct times, and how I reacted to it.

If you see a profound, perhaps even cosmic, connection between the two — I did that on purpose! I manipulated prose and vocabulary in such a way as to illuminate and reveal the deep, sensitive message trying to find expression! This is otherwise known as writing.

If, on the other hand, you see no connection whatsoever — one of two things may be true: you missed it, and you could try reading this again. Or, there wasn’t any real connection! On to public intoxication.

What the Ames Police Department calls public intoxication is actually college tradition in disguise, isn’t it? Isn’t it every college student’s parent-financed right to get stinking drunk and be a hazard to people, property, lawn ornaments, shrubbery, and the good night’s sleep of those people not having as much fun as they are?

Revered College Traditions and Experiences (what you’re paying for?):

Kneeling behind a bush to lose, and trying not to fall into, that which you have worked so hard to get in there, not to mention paid your hard-earned, or hard-borrowed, money for.

Browning. This is sometimes done in groups and often ripens into competition to ‘brown’ the largest, or most inaccessible areas. This is mostly a residential activity. Definition of Browning: the yellowing or ‘browning’ of shrubbery, expensive or otherwise, preferably on private property. Typical verbal defense if apprehended: “It’s people’s own damn fault if they plant a stupid bush right where I’m gonna be when I gotta whiz.” (Note: ‘hit-points’ are awarded among some groups for targets behind bushes.)

Relocation of Lawn Ornaments. The people in charge must have forgotten that this is a time-honored practice dating back to the ancient Greeks. Where do they think all those pieces of the Parthenon went? Usual verbal defense: “*@#* ’em if they can’t take a joke!”

Relocating lawn structures does have physical and psychological risks, however. Participants often suffer from pulled muscles and/or hernias, which in turn cause mental distress because you can’t remember that you thought the 95 pound concrete lion statue would look better in a yard 14 blocks away.

Disregard of tradition on the college campus is just one example of the lack of social awareness in the ’90s. There are also people who think they have the right to not be a health freak without fear of social disfavor.

You see, someone recently asked me a question that evoked an unexpected response. I had to hesitate before answering. I felt like one of those people hiding in the shadows on the Frosted Flake commercials. I felt uncertain, uncomfortable, guilty, and – invaded. Who would ever think that something so mundane could be so completely personal and private? How did this become a matter of social attention?

They asked me what I had for breakfast.

It’s difficult enough to be honest these days, but it’s even worse if you’re a complete coward, and I felt awkward and confused. I think I am definitely a by-product of our publicized, marketed culture.

Television commercials tell me what I should be eating for breakfast. Popular mentality encourages setting good examples of adult eating habits. And I say to those people eating Frosted Flakes or jelly rolls in the dark: Stand up and step into the light! Let me be the first to say it, for like old Georgie Washington, I cannot tell a lie.

I would chop down a cherry tree and I wouldn’t do it for the bark that all that ‘good stuff’ is made out of. I would do it for the cherries, and then I’d make syrup out of the sap. Think about it – they sell us Captain Crunch when we’re kids, and then dried weeds as adults!

Here is my confession: since I am not a “Breakfast of Champions” person, my breakfast usually leaves a lot to be desired as far as any kind of value. Typically, I feed on the sweetest, easiest junk available. I accompany this by the only staple, or constant, in my breakfast diet — a nice cold Coke. Having at least one foundation element that I can then build the rest of the meal around helps promote an illusion of routine to the breakfast dilemma.

If I weren’t such an honest person, or such a coward, I would have proudly implied that I always have some disgustingly healthy thing. Because to tell you what I had implies an image, and it would be biased by social assumption.

Anyway, here it is: I had Grape Nuts for breakfast.

So, I got lucky…

Final note: For those of you who are experiencing a glow of edification that will follow you around all day, and that has rekindled your fervor to protect drunk students and Captain Crunch addicts everywhere — you will be the confused, but smiling, faces I will see today.

For those who may be forming a hit-squad because you can’t believe anyone should get paid for this – my address is: Box 719, Mangrove, Bolivia. But I’ll be on vacation for awhile.

Thought for the day: I was a fantastic student until I was ten, and then my mind began to wander. —Grace Paley