FOR YOUR EATING PLEASURE

Harvard Dining Services' recent attempt to print nutritional information about all items it serves has drawn mixed reviews. Some find the tabulation of fat, carbohydrates, protein and calories a useful yardstick, while others decry these "bites" as nasty barbs that are incompatible with eating enjoyment. We at Dartboard feel that the new program would meet with universal acclamation if it were to imitate another popular campus rating system: namely, the CUE guide.

"Turkey Tetrazzini

1/5 of all ingesters praise TT for its salty warmness. However, a significant minority dissent, warning that TT will repeat on you. 1/2 say no preparation is necessary to appreciate TT, but 1/4 report that some experience with Pep-to-Bismol is helpful, though not required. All things considered, more than 1/2 of respondents recommend TT, calling it a thoroughly tolerable introduction to turkey-based entrees."

A TALE OF TWO ENTITIES

Sometimes the little things tell a story best; in this case, the first story is about Harvard's less-than-convivial spirit. Until recently, pinball was a relatively popular past-time in a River House which shall remain nameless. But the arrival of a new game heralded perpetual crowds and a lengthy waiting-list. The machine broke down after two days from the strain of overuse. The game? You guessed it, "Star Trek: The Next Generation."

The throaty warble of Deanna Troy urging players to "shoot again" was simply too much for socially starved Harridans to resist. Weeks later, students still helplessly feed dollar after dollar into the coffers of Woburn Vending for the peculiar satisfaction that comes from Jean-Luc Picard whispering digitized encouragment.

The second story is about American quality control. After the innocent pawing of Trekkies rendered the games in worse shape than a breached warp-core, a handy technician came out to fix it. Once the dazzling frieze of the Enterprise outrunning the Borg was relit, die-hard Trekkie pinballers breathed a sigh of relief and returned to their habit. Alas, their joy was premature; the technician was no Jordi. The first ball launched came to a dead stop, as if stopped by the Enterprise's own ample shields. But a closer inspection revealed the true culprit-the technician, ersatz hero, had left his miniature screwdriver under the glass.

REINVENTING BUREACRACY

While Harvard's own Al Gore '69 claims to be re-inventing government, Harvard itself seems to have enlisted the service of an equally renowned thinker to design its bureaucratic structure: Rube Goldberg.

Let us trace a rather simple request through Harvard's Goldbergian channels. A junior realized that she didn't have an up-to-date copy of her transcript, which she needed for an application for her House's nomination to a fellowship. The fellowships tutor suggested that the House office, with its capability of calling up unofficial transcripts, would surely be able to oblige The office, on the other hand, confirming that it indeed had the ability to do so, demurred that it was not allowed to print out an unofficial transcript. "But," replied the staffer with the cultivated courtesy of a Harvard bureaucrat, "you will get an unofficial copy in your registration packet." When said transcipt was not in said packet, an inquiry at the Registrar's table was met with a puzzled look: "You were misinformed, Ma'am. Try Garden Street." After shuttling between several commodiously appointed offices in the conveniently located Registry, a rather friendly bureaucrat summoned the transcript on his computer screen, but also claimed to be barred from printing it. "Try the House office," he suggested.