Luke Hashiguchi

People have often mistaken Luke Hashiguchi for a tall, Welsh prince, a worker at the local grocery store, some girl named Jessi, and the boyfriend that he is not.  He has been mistakenly mistaken for that creepy guy in the corner of the bar, a paper plate, and one of those “Frito Scoops!” corn chips.  He has even been looked upon as a bowl of orange jell-o, a tool, and (God forbid) an indigenous member of the town of Cincinnati.  If you’re lucky, you might even see him misconstrued as a rock star, Buddha, a large burning fire (because not all fires burn), a prison warden, a lovely photograph, and last year’s janitor.  Perhaps, on a slow day at work, he is incorrectly seen as a “Body free of dust; Mind free without a care” (Han Shan), a member of the new Jedi Order, your malfunctioning Canon Bubble Jet printer, and the weakest link.  Unfortunately for him, he’s also been improperly addressed as that unknown Pokémon, the punch line to one of John Houser’s poop jokes, a refreshing and tangy cup of fruit punch, an entrée from J. Alexander’s overflowing with deliciocity, and that headache that just won’t go away.  When the planets are aligned just right, he’s been unacceptably identified as that one romantic song by Jeff Buckley you can’t stop listening to, the lint in someone’s pocket, a chip off of Darth Vader’s block, “that British guy,” a walking target, and that blanket that is fresh out of the dryer.  Erroneously, he’s been perceived as the latest TOURNAMENT EDITION, another brick in the wall, a sucker, Dr. Dre, and your mom. These are just many of the things that Luke Hashiguchi, a tall, dark, half Japanese, half Italian, and quasi-attractive Cleveland native in his junior year as a psychology major, is not.

So what is this… mystery… this enigma… this… delicious piece of Kung Pao Chicken they call Luke Hashiguchi?

Beats the holy hell out of me.  Why don’t you go ask him and find out?  I actually don’t give two laces of a paraplegic’s shoes.