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March 20

Mike Oseroff tolerates media overload and protesters.

By Mike Oseroff

My day began like any other. The alarm blaring. My mouth dry. Cereal in a bowl. I had almost forgotten the madness that had been rushing through my head the night before. The anxiety. The excitement. The hint of fear. The anger. The cynicism. I had tried to wash it all away with a good night’s sleep. But when I reached for the paper, it all came rushing back. War. Staring me in the face. Poisoning my Special K. Sections upon sections of bad news. The TV was no different. It was all a bombardment of information. Anchormen and writers cramming it all down my throat. Not letting me chew or swallow any of it. Just shoving slabs of it into my system until I was sick. I needed some refreshment, and quickly, so I pushed aside the front page, grabbed the sports section, and headed out the door.

The ride to school was not much better. Protest groups surrounded me. Stuck their anti-war stickers on my shirt, placed their flowers in my hair, blessed me with their prayers. Hippies told me to take off my white shirt and put on a black one. It was ridiculous. I had to laugh. I felt like these people were almost cult members, not so much protesting for their own reasons and values, but pushing their values onto me instead. They didn’t just want to stand up for what they believed in, they wanted to recruit others and persuade me to join their merry little band.

Then there was school, where a so-called “Die In” which had been planned for a week took place in the courtyard. Instead of walking out of school to protest, students crawled into fetal positions and lay motionless in the courtyard, pretending to be innocent casualties of war. I knew 3/4 of the kids would be out there for no particular reason. I saw numerous students pick up their cells with calls from their friends, telling them to come lie down and “chill,” instead of go to class. So it seemed kind of pointless, and I went to first period.

Class, as I should have realized, was no different from the overload the TV was throwing out. Talking heads blabbed on in whole class discussions, making their opinions known, each one trying to sound more knowledgeable then the next. It almost seemed like a competition. What did these kids want to prove? Congratulations, you are more up on current events then anybody else. Your prize is at the door. C’mon now.

By second period I was burnt out and pretty damn sick of all the war talk, so a few others and I listened to the Cal game on the radio and continued filing out our NCAA brackets. I needed a break from it all, and the college basketball tourney was a sweet oasis to this tiresome day.

By lunch I was a wreck. Okay not really, but I sure was not amused by the countless groups waving signs and cops galore patrolling downtown Berkeley. One lady tossed me a picture of Dubya with devil horns and the overused phrase, “No Blood For Oil” printed on it. I could only smile. This whole thing is madness.

So now I’m here at Youth Radio. The TV is blasting CNN with more updates, more analysis, and more crap. It has been only 24 hours since old Bushy made his speech yesterday, and already I can’t wait for this pandemonium to end. I’m tired of these pushers, throwing their flowers and propaganda on me. I’m tired of these fake activists, protesting for no reason. I’m tired of these smart-asses, showing everybody up.

War and the bombardment of media is bad enough. Don’t make my day any worse.

— Mike Oseroff is a sophomore at Berkely High School.