Wednesdoy, Jufy 20, 1977 THE MICHIGAN DAILY Page Twenty-One Nightmares on Memory Lane (Continued on Page 9) i'll-." She groaned. She sweat- ed. She strained to pull her enormous belly out of the seat. It was only wood, after all, and it protested mightily. 'I think," I said, "I see a stand across the street where someone else -is selling kitties. Perhaps I'll just go over and have a look-." That did it. She flew out of her seat and grabbed my sleeve. "You can't buy her kitties!" she s c r e a m e d. "They're cheap! 'iey're-" "That's right," I said, "they're only seventy bucks for the large sizes-." "But I painted all mine by hand!! She-uses craft kits!" Swiftly I reached over and scraped some pink paint off the kitty's nose. The number seven- teen clearly showed through. "Just as I thought!' I said tri- umphantly. "Paint-by-number!" "No, no, no!" she cried, al- most sobbing now. "Buy these kitties! Hers don't even have glitter glue ..." So much for Maynard Street. I then ventured out to Liberty; a street fortunately named, un- der the circumstances-for that is precisely what the so-called artists had taken with aesthe- tics. To my left, gilt-encrusted wire figurines of couples doing un- speakable things. To my right, couples in halter tops and cut- offs doing unspeakable things. I was appalled. One bearded, overall-sans-shirt clad gentleman approached me as I wended my way down the sidewalk. "Yes?" I inquired pleasantly. He motioned me to come close, and I complied; he said, in con- spiratorial tones, "I have pas- tels." "Pastels?" I echoed. He waved his hand and mo- tioned for me to follow. Around the corner, there were rows and rows of pornographic pastel drawings: "This one," he said. "This one I know you'll like." I craned my neck as he went thttmbing through the canvases. He pulled out a canvas, all done up in browns and reds, very at- tractive, really, and I compli- mented him on the work. "An abstract right?" I asked. "Quite nice-enjoyable; pleasing to the palate-hut not what I was in the market for, exact- ly-" "Look closer," he said, urging. I peered over, and suddenly the random shapes took form. It was a woman, apparently a prosti- tute, in the midst of soliciting what appeared to be an appre- ciative customer. The whore had enormous breasts. ""Like that?" he said, licking his lips..I was horrified. "I call it-A Sale of Two Titties." "You what?" I echoed hollow- ly. "You heard me-quite the lit- tle Dickens, isn't it?" "You pervert," I said, under my breath. "Pervert? I? I simply happen to be engaged in the practice of selling people what they want." "Who wants this sickening crap?" t shouted. "Hypocrite," he said, curling his lip. "I know your type. You think nothing of The Autobiogra- phy of a Flea, or the adult-read- ing section of Cominunity News- center. But honest artistic ex- pression-no, that's too much. You pig?" "I just don't care for it," I said stiffly. "What about the First Amend- ment? What about free speech? You are violating my constitu- tional rights by not buying this portrait, and denying me access to public circulation. Pig! I'll sue!" "Ytsu do that," I said, and walked awav. As I looked back down the street, he was shaking his bony fist and screaming, "I'll see you in court!" The corner of North U and State deserved no mention; a mere rummage sale, really. On East U, everyone was doing squeeze-bottle spin-art and so- cially realistic puppets, and dar- ling little trinkets that couldn't be had for under three hundred dollars. One woman was selling handmade Albanian - I didn't catch the word - garments, and they looked something like serapes. "Made from 100 per cent combed yak fur," she said, nodding agreeably as I went past. It was, as mentioned, a hot day; I went to a stand to buy a drink of some sort. They were selling a combination of pineap- ple and green pepper juice. Deli- cious. Then I approached Mecca. South University. The competi- tion booths. A treat. This is where the real high-class types hang out. I was approached by one such shortly after I stepped onto the hallowed ground. He wore a beret, had a pencil-thin mus- tache, and one gold earring on See NIGHTMARES, Page 23 Itunting for bargains all day can be exhausting, so this shopper decided to drop off for a little snooze. Graffiti-an alternative art the left (whatever that means). out to be gay. The elevator in the LSA build- ing also provides some chuckles, since it travels somewhere close to the speed of sound. The graf- fiti ranges from anger (SLOW THIS THING DOWN) to desper- ation (TOOOOO FAST). For fans of the anti-war genre, there is still a big STOP THE WAR on the back of a house on South U. and a vaguely discern- able VIET CONG WON along the side of the Union. Better catch these artifacts while you can- most places have ten year re- painting programs that will eli- minate it by 1981 or so. The Uni- versity alone spends $5,800 an- nually to gloss over the stuff. - But, you say, graffiti's not art. It's just scribbles. That's what they said about Picasso too, and a number of other geniuses. Granted, it does- n't take too much to grab a spray gun and paint DESTROY ALL MONSTERS on the side of a brick wall. But which would you rather have-a spray paint- ed brick wall or a foam-rubber- and-coat-hanger sculpture that spins on the end of a stick? e s r w t i i d f M y r " i " " r " " i " i t M 4 i " " 4 i i f " " f " s s " " " " " 4 " " " i " +i " " " " " " " " " " " " i " / *t # +l"w lf"r" i14 M ft lrl"t Af r ire'" l i f"i r fi""4 rr l+Il Oiii i!""i ai""rM iAM4"i'r MMOM1 Arf1 "Ar#11Mr !"M *t fr4Mr# f M wr " I MAXELL TAPE SPECIAL T R ff it r " 1 UDXL-I C-90 3.59 ea. UDXL-I cG9o 3.59 ea. UD-C90 2.89 . 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