Written by Jessica Ardrey
You just got out of chapel. You make your way to the Stu, but slowly, mind you.It’s not like it’s Monday and you have to fight your way through the Java City crowd with some brass knuckles and a glare with a license to kill.No. It’s Friday-Friday-gotta-get-down-on Friday. You meander toward the mailboxes, chicken biscuit in hand. That’s when you see the stack of brand new issues of the Bison, hot off the presses.You pick one up, and you scan the front page.Then what do you do? You turn to Dr. Michael Claxton’s column. It’s OK. We know. We’re journalists. That means we’re truth-seekers. And the truth is that Claxton kills. Of course I don’t mean that literally. I’m not trying to have a libel case on my hands. However, it is quite fun to think of Dr. Claxton as a sort of nighttime superhero, a syntax vigilante whose nemeses are bad grammar and poor spelling and whose utility belt includes an Oxford comma and a thesaurus.Alas and alack, no spandex. What I meant was the fact that Claxton’s columns are wildly popular. People love them and people love him. Have you even stopped to wonder why mustaches are so prevalent on this campus?The man’s a storyteller. His writings are insanely entertaining. They always make me laugh, but that may have to do with the thought of a 10-year-old Claxton as a grumpy elf in green tights. Watson, I believe we’ve found our trace of onset superheroism.Not only is he funny, but he legitimately makes you feel like you’re invested in his stories, like the fact that you probably cringed at least once during his column this week that you undoubtedly read before this one. They’re thoughtful, meaningful and extremely well written.Duh. English professor.Yeah, he does that, too. He spends most of his time teaching (awesome) English courses. He only writes for the Bison on the side. And for free.What, you thought there was money in writing? That’s cute.Speaking of cute, we can’t forget the stud duo Cliff and Clax, arguably the best thing to happen to 9 a.m. since B. Chris and #chapeltweet. Each week they would get on stage and rock the mic with their musical stylings a la dorm jokes. Clearly, they’re rock stars. Someone needs to get those men some Ray-Bans pronto.So here’s the thing, bros and bettys. We need to come up with some ways to honor good old Dr. Claxton.Maybe everyone in his classes should wear an exotic tie to their respective classes on Monday. Honestly, the number of neck fashions that man possesses is extraordinary.If you don’t like that idea, perhaps you should declare a metaphor (and/or simile) day, in which you relate every happenstance to something extravagant. I actually did this for fun one day sophomore year, so I speak from experience when I say that this is actually surprisingly fun.But beware. It can get out of hand really fast. The next thing you know you’ll be comparing your dwindling DCB to the disappointment of El Dorado.Maybe I’ll just make a coffee table book out of clippings of his columns. I’ll call it “The Serial Stache.”Or maybe I’ll just make a dress out of them.Let’s face it. He is one happening dude. The man. The myth. Michael Claxton.JESS ARDREY serves as the opinions editor for the 2010-2011 Bison. She may be contacted atjardrey@harding.edu
