Wood Man
My parents bought me a video-game console for my
sixth birthday or so. One of the first games
I played for it featured a little blue robot who
zoomed around and saved the world from a mad
scientist's army of evil robots. Mega Man was
the pint-sized hero's name, for those who know of
him, and the one foe he faced that baffled me to
no end was Wood Man.
Wood Man. Wood Man bounced around and threw leaves
at Mega Man. At the time, this "power" baffled me
a bit. After all, the mad scientist had made seven
other robots, robots who attacked with steel saw
blades, pillars of flame, typhoons, electrified
boomerangs, and even time itself! So what good, I
wondered, was a robot that threw leaves, albeit
leaves the size of the little hero's head?
I forgot about Wood Man for a decade or so until
one windy day last fall. I was late to class, as
usual, and was running to a Calculus exam in
Marston
Hall when a great gust of wind rose, sending a huge,
freshly-raked pile of dry, golden oak leaves at
me. And as the sharp-pointed edges of the leaves
raked across my face, I remembered how many times
the blue protagonist had succumbed to Wood Man, and
I suddenly realized that the guys at Capcom Software
must have known a thing or two I didn't about
villainy.
I bring this up because it again windy here in Iowa,
and the little piles of leaves scattered across the
foyers and lobbies on campus here reminded me that I
forgot to share this story last year.
In other Iowa State news, there have been a number of
debates on campus lately. Being a former debater and
current debate judge, I try to go when I can; so far,
however, nothing I've seen matches up to the spectacle
I witnessed Monday night. The premise: a debate on
same-sex marriages for LGBT Student Awareness Week.
The participants: a top-circuit gay rights lawyer
who has enjoyed a 90-minute session in front of the
Supreme Court and a local legislator who, as the
student
newspaper's write-up put it,
"has
successfully argued against gay rights in his work as
a senator for the past five years." Knowing
that the only real arguments against same-sex
marriages stem from either homophobia, usually veiled
in religion; or "the natural order", a phrase
which has spawned another closely related phrase,
"naturalist fallacy"; and also knowing that any
politician to debate such a position against such
a skilled opponent would either have to be far
too crafty to be stuck in Iowa or a damned fool.
Now, having seen State Sen. Steve King in action,
I wouldn't say he was a complete moron. He made some...
a decent point, and managed to not make a
complete ass of himself. When his opponent and the
audience questioners would not allow him to vilify
gay rights groups, and the moderator (a professor
of sociology) went after his claims about "how a
healthy family is structured," he went to the "God
hates fags" card. Nothing he said after that point
made much sense, and watching the rest of the debate
was a bit like witnessing a great carnivore, tired
of toying its prey, go for the kill. The skull caves
in, the flesh is cut, and the feeding ensues.
None of this, of course, was in the media write-up,
as the Daily's writer/photographer left after the
first fifteen or twenty minutes, as usual. No mention
will likely be given in the Daily of tonight's debate
about morality between Hector Avalos, a religious
studies professor, and some sort of traveling
preacher named Tom Short. In an interesting, though
dated, article for Secular Humanism, Avalos describes
himself as a "former
Pentecostal faith healer." Short, meanwhile...
I'll just call Short crazy and point you to
his
response to National Gay/Lesbian Pride Month.
Crazy bastard. I would bet that the exchange
between these two was pretty spirited, though.
665 words should be enough for now. In closing, I would like to point you again to the Peeps/Hidden Treasures thread on Boards of Omaha, where I will be posting updates on what may become a veritable Peeps saga! Stop by, sign in, and share your thoughts on cheap Peeps, pirates, and the dirty, dirty mouths of the French.