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Show s P9 Wtdntday, February Eight 18, 1987 National Potato Lover's Month spotlights spuds February is best known for its holidays, such as President's Day and Valentine's Day, but it is also National Potato Lover's Month. The lowly potato has taken a lot of abuse over the years. It's been called "starchy" and "fattening" and has been taken off the menus of those trying to lose weight. But though it is a starchy vegetable, the potato is far from fattening. A medium potato has about 1 10 calories, no fat, no cholesterol and very little sodium. skin lies a It's easy to love a potato. Inside that fiber-ric- h delicious meal that provides 50 percent of the recommended daily allowance of vitamin C, 15 percent of vitamin B6 and iodine, 8 percent of thiamine and iron and smaller amounts of other minerals and vitamins. The National Potato Promotion Board out of Denver is paying its tribute to the potato by issuing "Potato Lover's Month Kits," w hich are being distributed to food service and consumer audiences. A number of promotional ideas as well as "Tina Tater and the Potato Lovers Band," offering music for potato lovers, are included in the kits. In the past, these kits have produced a number of ideas across the nation that have helped to promote the potato in its deserving light. Some of these ideas include "Spud Days," where students and staff come dressed as their favorite vegetable; potato bars; potato lover's stories and a prize winning song, "I'm Looking Over a Baked Potato." Tina Moulton The fine art of clowning is not all fun and games By Dory Donner Chronicle staff writer To some, clowning around is serious r in Uj rsmwri f Si) business. Clowns are serious about making other people have fun, and in having some themselves while they're at it. Lamar Williams, a Grand Master Clown who teaches Clownology I and II at the University of Utah, has been making people laugh for more than 40 years. To become a Grand Master, a clown needs to have been hamming it up for at least 25 years, and to have won first, second or third place in national competition. One of Williams' specialties is balloon sculptures. He has won several competitions with such creations as a gorilla. The idea is to create something a judge will recognize and "to perfect yourself so you don't have oddballs," he said. Williams said his success comes from discovering what makes his audience happy. When he started out there was no one to teach him the tricks of the trade, so he used to sneak into circus tents to watch the clowns put on their makeup. "The old time clowns were selfish," he said. They did not want to share their secrets one-ballo- if ' Chronicle photo by Boone Xiyyo Pros and cons of bus ridin' While some University of Utah students fight traffic or trudge up hills to reach campus every morning, others take a relaxing bus ride on the UTA. Ofcourse, taking the bus has drawbacks, too. For instance, students who ride the UTA must stand outside in the cold and fight for seats on crowded morning buses. on with beginners. But this professional secrecy didn't prevent Williams from developing his talent. By watching other clowns and improving upon what they did, Williams refined his own act. Now that he is successful, Williams, who is 60, docs not want to be selfish. He believes an important part of clowning is sharing with others. That, he says, is w hat makes a good clow n someone who has an ability to share himself and a desire to learn. Of course, giving others a chance to learn also benefits Williams because someday, when he can't clown around himself, he'll be able to sit back and watch his students. Students in his class are about three to five years ahead of those who go it alone. Williams beginning class teaches the basics of juggling, balloon sculpture and simple magic. Students also learn about doing makeup and putting together a costume. In the advanced class students these skills and on work on fine-tuni- ng developing a character. The character they choose might come from a particular talent they have or from a personal fantasy. Students also learn about clowning in the community. Williams focuses on "around-hom- e clowning." This teaches students about visiting hospitals and working in parades. He said officials appreciate clowns who have been trained. "There's more to being in a parade than just skipping down the street," he said. Clowns do not have to starve for their art they can actually earn some money. In addition to circuses, birthday parties and continued on page nine Kent Anderson and John Pecorelli 1 The intrepid explorers file another one is not the ferocity of the beast of prey that requires a moral disguise, but the herd "It animal with its profound mediocrity, timidity and boredom with itself. " Friedrich Nietzsche. Our visit to BYU was little more excursion into. the very than a two-hobowels of a stifling and spirit-chillipolice state. Everywhere we looked, we saw repressed sexuality, stunted mental pop machines and growth, caffeine-fre- e overly-nic- e people trudging about in a somnambulistic state, a sort of spookyhappy daze. The prim and matronly parking attendant gazed glassily at us out of her cramped and toiletless power stall. She realized we were foreigners. Her bulbuous and pompous expression, highlighted horribly by a maze of tangled and twisted wrinkles, caked in make-u- p, contorted itself into a smile now and again. But it wasn't a pleasant smile it was the smile of a sadistic and merciless parking dictator gone mad. "Welcome to BYU, boys," she hissed. Our eyebrows raised innocently. Thus we learned that 40 miles to our south is a dank and dour campus, mired firmly in the misconceptions and raging paranoia of the Spanish Inquisition. ur ng We stepped out of the car, testing the earth beneath our feet. It seemed heated and turgid, as if all of Provo's misguided sexual energy had welled-u- p like a distended, puss-fille- d boil about to burst. It was an Orwellian nightmare of monstrous and immense proportions. Wre were at once confronted with the freshly-washe- d visages of empty-eye- d pseudo-Christia- n, spiritual and CIA washouts. Their penny-loafesuits shined like so much spittle in the afternoon sun. And they demanded to LIGHTER SIDE know what "unfashionable, long-hairscum" we thought we were and why we were there. Pushed to the limits of our already dwindling patience, we snapped back, "Don't you know anything, you backwards and repulsive, anally -- fixated We're the Berkeley Debate Team." And so we left them, still squirming in the residue of our overpowering intellects. We made it to the Cougareat (a sort of feeding ground for the lowing human herd of the Y., complete with troughs and salt licks). For anyone who hasn't seen Soylent Green, here's what the food ed ?!? sprawled across huge, pulsating globs of melted industrial waste. The glossed-ov- er eyes of the counter help made our wait in line all the more intolerable. They seemed unable to acknowledge the existence of members of the superior race. They ignored us for what seemed like hours and, finally, cried out in shrieks, "Oh! Did you want something??" Resisting the urge to maim, we retorted bitterly, "No, you idiot!! We just like to watch!!!!!!!!" She gained vengeance, however she served us BYU food. Seated at the table, we were approached by a young man who looked lost and confused, but in a different way than everyone else on campus. Dressed like a poor man's Billy Idol, he attempted to speak with us. We shunned him. He was an inferior. Another gaggle of co-eapproached us, asking us who we were. We sneered elitistly, "We are members of the cast of 'Godspell,' of course." We showed them the crucifix wounds. They fled in a frenzy of church-inspire- d terror. Herds and herds of ungulate-lik- e humans lumbered past, their heads swiveling from side to side, all the while whistling the theme from The Andy non-orgasm- rs neo-pagans- was like: lumpy, pasty sour cream ic ds Griffith Show, and muttering vows and testimonies to the unflichingly enforced, quasi -- theocracy the Mormon Church. But we had had a mission: To uncover the whereabouts of the bodies of the two BYU students suspended last year for reporting the ghastly amount of cockroaches in the Cougareat. People, when asked, would freeze up in fear and mutter something about a debilitating bladder-contrproblem. Soon, we knew we were being watched. We abandoned any and all hopes of uncovering anything approaching truth in this festering and fetid bog of confusion. Our only thoughts were of escape. So, fellow members of the superior race, fellow thinkers of original thoughts, we brought this report back, this block of stomach-churniinformation, in hopes of infusing some sense, however small and crude, of justice, and revenge, and destruction, for the sake of the dreadfully repressed, intellectually undernourished and emotionally exploited Y. populace. We should indeed, we must do all we can to annihilate the Orwellian nightmare that is BYU. ol ng |
