And we used to sing Shakra la la la la la la la la la te da
This is, simply, a plea to Mr. Ruff to fulfill his duty by fisking Shakra’s farewell column. Sure, it’d be two weeks late, but, man, he’s reached self-parody! Let’s be done with it! Witness:
I could have taken more women’s studies classes, taken more African dance and drumming, Japanese literature courses — I could have taken Urban Farm every term. If only …
It’s uncanny. I used to make jokes that began like this.
Is this guy serious? I mean, honestly, he uses every bad brain-dead Eugene space-cadet hippie cliche in the book. I’m beginning to think there is no Shakra, instead there is a comedic and satirical genius mascarading about in a dreadlock wig and extremely shabby clothes. We must know his true identity, and I nominate the OC to launch a full expose. Who is the man behind the dirty, smelly mask?
I’ll get to it this weekend… thanks for saving it for me, sir.