The Hate Lady

The Hate Lady is not a bag lady. He has a home in a proper building, I'm pretty sure. His trip is to put on a dress and rouge, designed to clash well with his tan wrinkled face and bedraggled salt and pepper hair and beard. He usually also wears some sort of sensible pumps with knee highs sagging around his ankles. The effect is shocking to the uninitiated, but I find it a reassuring sign that I'm back home.

The Hate Lady stands in Sproul Plaza at UCB, ready and willing to exchange a hale and hearty "I HATE You!" with any and all comers. If you ask, and he's in the mood, he will tell you his philosophy:

"I hate those people who use that four letter word: L-O-V-E. I won't say it. Those L-O-V-E people are horrible. They've hurt me on more than one occasion. I don't trust anyone who uses that word. They're lying. I think it's more honest to admit that you hate me. I hate you."

He seems to have plenty of time during the day to spread his message.

Sometimes when he's busy, talking to someone or doing something, his heart's not really into it, but on a good day you can get the loudest most heartfelt "I HATE You!" from him. All you have to do is walk up and say "Hate Lady, I HATE You!" and he will respond in kind.

I'll never tell him, but I just love the hate lady.

- Paul Kilzer, alt.buddha.short.fat.guy, 13 May 1996