By JOHN JAMES MARSHALL/Designated Writers

My biggest question is this — only $20 million?

Congrats to LSU for building the Taj Mahal of locker rooms to the tune of 20 (very) large. Good for them. Could have gone to $200 million and I’d still be applauding. Obviously, they are using the build-it-and-they-will come philosophy, without the cornfield, in search of 5-star athletes as far as the eye can see.

All privately funded — some by large checks written by former players — so let’s start cranking up the iPods from our personal charging station.

The outrage has been predictable. Every nay-sayer has an response that falls into two or three categories. Leading the charge has LSU school of mass communications professor Robert Mann, who once upon a time was a light-hitting pitcher on the Shreveport Journal softball team (as well as editorial writer). Bob made a snarky comment about the new locker room and caught hell about it. “Meanwhile, across campus, I vacuum my faculty office with a Dust Devil I bought at Walmart,” he tweeted.

(Quick point for Professor Bob — I believe it’s a “Dirt Devil.” A “dust devil” are those tornado-looking spirals that move across dry areas of land. We are taking off points for that on your next quiz grade.)

Actually, the negative comments, though many are misinformed, are fine. Hating things in the Comments section has become the national pasttime. It’s OK to point out that there aren’t a lot of “sleeping pods” on Louisiana’s college campuses these days, except for those in the LSU locker room.

“Our facilities are disintegrating from the inside out,” said University of Louisiana System President (and personal friend of Designated Writers) Jim Henderson said when he first got the job.

So instead of pushing back on the LSU locker room, how about pushing the state’s lawmakers to do something about it? There’s that cash cow known as legalized sports betting that is voter approved and ready to roll out. But our boys (and girls) in Baton Rouge put the kibosh on that.

You’re talking to a guy who has no interest on betting on the Mariners-Royals game, but there are plenty of people in this state who do. And you’d be amazed how many Dirt Devils that could pay for.

By DON WALKER/Designated Contributor

Along the lines of asking someone, “How are you?” in passing, or asking the spouse, “How was your day?” when she gets home from work, our days are ripe with meaningless small talk banter.

“It’s hot!” someone said to me in the parking lot at work.

“Yes it is,” I said, but in my head I was thinking, “Nothing I can do to fix that!”

“Looks like rain,” someone said later as they looked out my office window.

“Yes it does,” I said, though again in my head, I thought, “No one ever says, ‘It looks sunny!’”

(Like the TV weather forecaster – err, meteorologist — always says it’s partly cloudy. Doesn’t that mean it’s also partly sunny? Yet you rarely, if ever, hear the weather man say, “Tomorrow’s going to be partly sunny.”)

Even friendly salutations like the “Good morning!” or the “Have a nice day!” I hear frequently as I’m getting on and off the elevator at work are common throughout the day. I’m not a curmudgeon. I do reply in a like manner with, “You too!” or a “Same to you.”

“Have a good weekend!” is common on Fridays.

“Ugh, it’s Monday,” someone will say at the beginning of the work week, as if recognizing I’m in a shirt and pants instead of the T-shirt and shorts I wear on weekends.

“Have a nice lunch!” Chew on that one for a moment.

Some banter is simply an acknowledgement. Someone will say, “Don” as they pass my office.

“Bill!” I’ll say in return.

“What’s up?” When that’s asked just in passing I have a hard time coming up with an on-the-spot answer. “Not much,” I’ll say. But something’s definitely up because I’m going one way and they’re going another. I suspect at least one of us is up to something.

At the grocery store checkout line cashiers routinely ask, “Did you find everything OK?” And I automatically say, “Yes,” but in my head I want to say, “Um, yeah, just OK.”

Last night at dinner, my wife was enjoying roast beef and French fries.

“How’s the roast,” I asked.

She said, “Tender.”

I thought about that for a second and I said, “That’s pretty much the benchmark on roast, isn’t it?”

She said, “Why do you say that?”

I said, “Well, if I asked you how’s the roast and you said ‘crispy,’ that would generate quite the conversation. Who wants crispy roast beef? But when you say, ‘tender,’ what else is there to say about it. I’m having fish. If you asked me how’s my fish and I said, ‘flaky,’ well all right then. But if I replied, ‘moist,’ then we’ve got a situation going on.”

“By the way, how is your fish?” she said.

“It’s flaky,” I said.

That hung in the air for several seconds.

“How are the fries?” I said to her.

“Hot.”

We finished our meals in silence.

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