Stanford boasts many academic luminaries, none more luminescent than Dr. Phillip J. Randolph, the world's foremost theoretical architect. The Chaparral was lucky enough to share an evening with Dr. Randolph at his Menlo Park home.

Chaparral: Did you design your house? What kind of house is this? It's nice.

Dr. Randolph: Thank you, but no, I did not design this house. Theoretical architects do not actually design structures for purposes of construction. Incidentally, my home is a villaminium.

Chaparral: A whosawhatzitcock? A shamadingaschlong?

Dr. Randolph: Yes, it is a mouthful. A villaminium is simply a house in a group of houses that is owned by a company that oversees the upkeep of all the lots.

Chaparral: My grandma lives in a place like that. They oversee her upkeep.

Dr. Randolph: It's a bit different than that.

Chaparral: Just kidding. She's dead. But seriously, does it ever hurt your feelings when all the other architects are like, "There's my hospital," or "That pavillion over there is one of mine."

Dr. Randolph: No, I am a theoretical architect and very proud of my designs. They are not realized in steel and concrete, but are significant all the same.

Chaparral: Do you ever try and pull a, "That building is mine," and the real architects go. "Where?" and you go, "Oh, you just missed it. My structures are 'unassuming.'"

Dr. Randolph: No—

Chaparral: But in "theory" you would?

Dr. Randolph: Please...this is

Chaparral: You look like you would. What if it were raining, and I were to wear this blueprint on my head? Would that ruin the whole thing for you? If your theoretical architecture became a practical hat?

Dr. Randolph: I don't think you're making the least attempt to understand my work.

Chaparral: Do you like my theoretical pants? [drops pants]