bad metaphor

I have been neglecting coverage of Lawrence area crazies these days. I still don’t think anyone can top Dennis, who bicycles around downtown in little girls’ clothes and professes a deep love of Sheryl Crow; or Precious Love, who warped into our town from the early 70′s, wearing a violet beret, and waves peace signs at people (and has been occasionally known to tell some of their impending doom: “you’re going to die today!” all with a big grin and peace sign, of course). Or the Honk for Hemp guy, who is the most dedicated political protester the world has ever seen – he’s been waving his sign on the corner of 11th and Mass every weekend since I moved here.

Enter White Owl, the latest addition. He’s a sixty-one year old Vietnam Veteran who apparently came to campus to study the effects of Agent Orange (apparently functioning as both researcher and subject). Previous to that, he used to hang out in Westport and dole out musical advice to all who would listen, before being driven out of Kansas City due to a house fire. Following the trajectory of crazies, White Owl took up ranting and raving on Wescoe Beach, the same venue that has hosted many a right-wing preacher. Except White Owl’s message isn’t about hating homosexuals and condemning liberals, Muslims, sorority girls, sexually active people, and higher education in general – he’s more about vague pledges to peace, love, and Jayhawks.

Oh yes, the Jayhawks – one thing that sets White Owl apart from any other garden variety aging hippie in Lawrence is his no. 1 fan status. Traditionally hippies don’t care about sports that don’t involve lobbing sandbags with your feet, or a drum circle. White Owl, in contrast, has become the unofficial mascot of the successful football team this year and was present at every single game, hooting and hollering along with the frat boys and their dads.

The other thing that makes him stand out is his recent engagement to a younger woman. Much younger, in fact – she is twenty-two years old. Making an age difference of thirty-nine years. Now I know age supposedly ain’t nothin’ but a number (as long as the bottom number is above age of consent, of course), but damn. He’s old enough to be her grandfather.

Well, okay, he’s way old and she young, but she’s an adult. Yeah it’s a little weird, but whatever.

Then this tell-all interview came out. The child bride speaks! So what are her opinions on life?

On education:

“I am not really planning on continuing [school] next year. I don’t really feel I need to get a degree because I am not sure what I would use it for. I don’t really feel it is right for me to get a piece of paper so I can tell people I am capable of doing something.”

On religion:

“Somebody in the Old Testament wrote that we should be in constant prayer. Our relationship is all about God, and his blessings in our lives. The reason my past relationships aren’t there is because God has to be at the center of a relationship. He is at the center of my life, and if he isn’t at the center of other people’s life, like daily, in their thoughts and words every day, then I don’t want to be with them.”

On their romance:

“I was at Target and he would come and visit me while I was working. One day after work I called my friend Laurel, and I told her ‘At the risk of sounding completely insane, I think I am supposed to marry this guy,’ and she told me that I was insane. I drove over to his place and we were talking. I knew he was feeling bad because I knew he didn’t want to push anything on me, but I knew how he felt about me. I told him my phone conversation with Laurel and he fell to the floor. It was really cool.”

How sweet! Oh, and they are saving it for marriage, but soon after the big day they plan on having lots of babies. Yep, on his (social security) income of course, since she won’t have a job or earning power due to her lack of education. Honestly, if I didn’t see photos of the two, or know that they were hippies, I would have totally dismissed her as a “Math is Hard” Barbie, future Republican politician’s wife, based on these quotes.

Bizarre crypto-conservativism notwithstanding, I wish them all the best. My friend and I have plans to crash the wedding (well, they did say that it is open to all), document and take photos. We may just witness the birth of a new 21st century cult!

Congratulations Stephanie!

At the end of a nail-biter finale episode, in which sour-faced villain Lisa seemed to be getting the winner’s edit, sanity prevailed and the more consistently strong competitor took the gold. Hoorah! I do have to grudgingly admit that Lisa cooked her ass off during the final, and her tom kha gai actually looked quite delicious. Still, if she’d pulled it off and won, after being in the bottom two for the past seven straight episodes or whatever, it would have been the biggest upset in Top Chef history. Upset, as in the audience being upset and burning down the Bravo studios. Luckily, the chef with the best overall record as well as personality won. To think, Stephanie was so nervous in the first episode that she couldn’t stop shaking, and now she is Top Chef!

Sadly Richard choked at the end, but in a way that still retained his respectability. He, Stephanie, and the others (yes, probably even Lisa) will surely get tons of business from this experience. Overall it was a great season, and between this show, Anthony Bourdain’s travel show, and Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares, I have been inspired to cook more and experiment with new kitchen techniques and foods. If only I could afford smokers and liquid nitrogen vats…

Once again, Lisa fucked up badly, but benefited from someone else screwing up even more. Not only that, but she further justified audience hatred by petulantly whining to the two (real) top chefs: “I know you’re sad Antonia is going home but the least you could have done was congratulate me.” YOU SHOULD NOT BE THERE, LISA. But, like Richard said, congratulations on your fucking bronze medal! (bleeped by the Gladware network, of course).

The caliber of the two other chefs, Richard and Stephanie, is so much ridiculously higher in comparison that they should have no problems beating her. But dammit, someone who has been in the bottom for the last six straight challenges should not be in the final three. And I now have the fear that Lisa’s insanely good luck will somehow carry her to the title of Top Chef. Like maybe Stephanie slips on a banana peel and breaks a leg, dropping her main course on the floor in the process. Or Richard’s fauxhawk catches on fire.

It did warm my heart to see Dale back, working with Stephanie, and then my warmed heart sank when Dale screwed up and left the main dish out of the cooler all night (pork, definitely something you never ever chance!). This error would have sunk a lesser chef, but Stephanie, with the help of Dale (who felt really awful), pulled it off and made some of the stronger dishes of the night. Go Stephanie!

When I came into work this Monday, I noticed that the stairs by my office were taped off, with bright red police tape instead of the usual “Caution: Wet Floor Signs.” Thought nothing of it, until one of the janitors mentioned that the fire marshall was in the building, telling people to stay off those stairs. Apparently there is some structural damage and they’re going to work on it over the summer. Sure, okay, whatever.

The next morning I noticed, in addition to the red tape, obnoxious pink flyers placed on the steps, admonishing potential stair goers. “By order of the Fire Marshall, access to these stairs are forbidden until further notice.” Maybe somebody was too lazy to walk over to the other stairwell, and ducked under the tape?

By yesterday morning, they had zip-tied a huge plywood beam across the entrance to the stairs and put more pink flyers down. That’s when I thought it started to get a bit ridiculous.

This morning when I passed it, there were yet even more pink flyers taped to the beam. I am not sure this is good for the structural integrity of the stairs. How many more mountains of flyers and wooden beams can it take before it collapses? I know they are concerned about our safety, but I can’t help but feel that they are insulting our observational abilities. Who knows, maybe they really need all this to prevent the more absent-minded math professors from walking up to their doom.

I’ll update tomorrow if I see a bouncer in a loud pink uniform stationed in front of the stairs.