Public eye sores
A quick look around the University of Arizona will reveal a host of artistic ability.
However, a closer look will expose the travesty that shames both the designers and artists who create this work.
What may be an enigmatic pulse of a spray can or a mere swift flick of a felt pen leads to the sacrifice of thousands - if not millions - of taxpayer dollars.
Walls are repeatedly repainted to cover the work of the culprits. Employees are hired to waste time scraping gum off of trees and peeling stickers from floors.
Most importantly, however, it causes the tragic death of someone's artistic expression at the hands of fools.
Why do some feel the desire, or need, to disgrace the rest of the world? Quite simply, it is the jealousy stemming from their personal lack of accomplishment in life.
Why else would somebody feel the need to spray paint their name on the side of the Memorial Student Union? It certainly is not a testament to any pride for the university.
No, it is a deep-seeded belief that passing traffic will look at the crudely painted designs and actually recognize and admire the creator. These unintelligent human beings are not only misguided, but motivated by both envy and disrespect.
If designers wanted the names of these insignificant members of society, they would have included them on the freeways, hallways and other elements of our world.
Some actually have the audacity to claim that graffiti is an art form. If destruction and vandalism are noted art forms, then how should violence and war be viewed?
Graffiti is a lesser form of prejudice.
It involves one, or as in some cases, many persons who destroy the personal expression and creation of others. They effectively remove the meaning of one art form to display their own.
The true testament to this "art form" is that it mainly occurs on the stalls of bathrooms and freeway underpasses, quite possibly two of the most disgusting art galleries known to man.
Graffiti is also an addictive drug that claims the souls of so many. One look at a sticker on the bathroom door will show the mindless conversations of immaturity.
In one bathroom stall, underneath the message "For a good time, call Carl" is a dubious response "I did and he sucked."
Above the sink, cut deeply into mirror, are the initials of some disrespectful heathen. Quite a sad commentary on the state of this pathetic person and his immature friends.
Do these people have anything else to do? Can they not even go into a bathroom without cutting their name into the counter-space or walk by a building without leaving their initials?
The lack of understanding and respect will most likely continue as long as their are felt pens and spray paint cans.
It is not that one should really care, but it is difficult to avoid when it stares right back at you as you wash your hands.