Slick Rick: Show Him The Money

"If Rick Perry is for something, and there's a lot of money involved, it's a cinch that one (or more) of Perry's pals is involved up to his neck," writes Paul Burka on his Texas Monthly blog. True dat. As he goes on to quote from the Houston Chronicle:

Former U.S. Sen. Phil Gramm, a friend of Perry's, is handling discussions for the proposed lottery sale, a spokesman for Gramm's company acknowledged.

Gramm is vice chairman of UBS Investment Bank, which has been advising the governor on the proposed privatization of the state lottery. Gramm was a federally registered lobbyist for UBS last year.

Ray Sullivan, a lobbyist registered with the investment firm in Texas, worked as a spokesman for Perry several years ago. Sullivan is now in business with Michael Toomey, Perry's former chief of staff.

Toomey said he does not represent clients with lottery-related interests, and he added that Sullivan does not work on lottery-related issues for UBS.

And it just gets better. Seems that Perry's own son is working for UBS too, the DMN reports. "You have to give Perry credit," Burka writes. "Nothing embarrasses him."

I Need To Get One of These

A cool Toadies poster from one of the upcoming reunion shows.

Could Godzilla Really Exist?

A surprising amount of serious scientific thought has gone into the biology of my favorite movie monster, Godzilla. “Godzilla is meant to be something like 100 m tall and between 20,000 and 60,000 tons in weight (his size fluctuates in the various films). Of course lots of people who like doing sums and talking about cubes and so on have used the mathematics of scaling to show why - duh - Godzilla couldn't really walk, stand, or even exist,” writes Darren Naish on the Tetrapod Zoology blog. But it gets better from here:

How does Godzilla generate radioactivity? Apparently its stomach has mutated into a new organ: the plasma gland. Radioactive particles rise from here to be expelled via the mouth during combat, and excess radioactivity is also passed into the dorsal scutes at the same time 'not unlike the overflow guard in your ordinary bathtub', apparently (according to here: this is where the adjacent image comes from). Thanks to its plasma gland, Godzilla continually generates new radioactivity as a source of power, discharging the excess via the scutes and a duct leading to the mouth. This also means that Godzilla doesn't need to eat, and that must be a good thing when you weigh over 24,000 tons. There are other speculations on Godzilla's biology, including on cell structure, and on the mysterious substance known as Regenerator G-1 and allowing him unparalleled regenerative abilities.

Plasma gland. That’s what I’m talking about!

But, a more disturbing piece from this blog is Giant Vampire Bats: Bane of the Pleistocene Megafauna.” Yipes! El Chupacabra!

Romo Rocks Out

Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo sings Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" with Mr. Belding from Saved by the Bell and the Heavy Metal comedy act Metal Skool. Yes, really. Thanks, Unfair Park.

Old 97s Notes

First, Murry’s a dad. Second, Calvin, my friend Russ’ dog, almost bit off the man parts of one Philip Peeples (left), Old 97s drummer. Seems Philip showed up early for a party at Russ’ and when little Calvin decided on an extra friendly greeting. Bad dog!

What's The Worst That Could Happen?

A great read from Slate on Kevin Durant’s NBA future and how many ways there are for NBA teams get it wrong with players whose talent transcends one position.

Two Design Greats Check Out

A couple of interesting obits today:

Edmund C. Arnold (pictured above), a journalist who in the 1950s revolutionized the layout of the American newspaper, died on Feb. 2. Sez the NYT:

When Mr. Arnold took his first fresh look at newspapers, many had long rejected the vigorous graphic displays common in the turn-of-the-century papers. He believed that the prevalent designs, which often featured monotonous narrow vertical columns of type and large horizontal headlines, had been foisted on papers largely because trained typographers and designers were not usually involved in the layout decisions, which were made by editors working directly with printers and compositors. He pushed publishers to give designers and typographers more influence, to move design out of the typesetting room and onto the drawing board. He also developed ideas like horizontal (and modular) layouts and encouraged the use of varied graphic elements to draw the reader’s eyes.

Thanks, mon frer. I have a career thanks to you.

Also, the great Hans Wegner (pictured below), the great Mid-Century furniture designer, went to the big workshop in the sky on Jan. 26.

East Dallas Showdown

Kind of a funny little pissing match between the Observer’s Jim Schutze and the DMN’s Rod Dreher over gentrification in the old East Dallas.

Personally, I think Schutze is the best thing in Dallas journalism – an attack dog that goes after the sacred cows in Dallas government and isn’t afraid to say the emperor has no clothes. Dreher, on the other hand, is a self-described “crunchy conservative” – I mean, what the fuck is that anyway? That's a term that makes about as much sense as “compassionate conservative” or “extraordinary rendition.” Dreher loves pillorying Schutze as some knee-jerk liberal hippie wacko who stands again anything new because it’s not “cool.” Sez Dreher:

Sneer at yuppie gentrifiers if you like, but come on, was it better when these beautiful old Craftsman bungalows were falling down, and anybody who could afford to leave was lighting out for the suburbs because of the crime and disorder?

But is that really what Schutze is saying? Is he really pissed off because he hates the thought of people renovating crack houses and turning them into a proper place to live?

What kills everything, bleaches away the soul of the city and sends the children away behind pied pipers, is sterility. And Dallas has a huge sterility problem. Scrubby-scrubby-scrubby!

Dreher quotes from a column I wrote a long time ago as saying the city needs a solid middle class. I still believe that. His point seems to be that I have contradicted myself. I say consistency is the mind of small hobgoblins.

About this much I have never strayed: What we do not need is the kind of cleanliness, neatness, safety and security that reproduce the vibe of the gated communities to the north of us.

Dreher’s pretty proud of himself for being a gentrifying yuppie (and I really, REALLY, don't mean anything pejorative by that) who is bringing a neighborhood back from the dead, to which I say good on ya. Dallas and Fort Worth need more of this. Gentrifying yuppies aren’t necessarily a bad thing. We need more people not giving up on urban America. Except when they buy two 1,500 sf houses, tear them down and build a 10,000 sf Tuscan villa monstrosity. Or worse, buying a whole block for a gated enclave that is more Plano than East Dallas. That’s sort of an anti-neighborhood thing to do – a big middle-finger to all the neighbors. That is what they are fighting against in Little Forest Hills and other neighborhoods around Dallas and Fort Worth.

I love Mid-Century Architecture. I love the Ranch House. Drive down Preston Road between Forest and Royal in Dallas you see 2000sf beautiful ranches being bulldozed to put up 10,000sf faux chateaus. I look at those and I feel like the crying Indian in the Keep America beautiful commercial. But I know no one will cry for people who sell their houses for $400,000 to tear down. However, it is a symptom of a problem: Dallas has no problem razing its architectural heritage (like, um, here) in the name of what's new and now, and quite frankly, antiseptic. Scrubby scrub.

But why jump all over Schutze's ass for pointing out that some of us don't want to live in Disneyland? Why wage another "culture war" battle over this? Fact: Dallas has a sterility problem. Deal with it.

Gov. Goodhair and HPV

Did Slick Rick Perry create a constitutional crisis with his executive order on HPV? Texas Monthly's Paul Burka thinks so."If a governor can legally do what Perry is attempting--establish a program that spends money--the balance of power between the executive and legislative branches will be forever altered."

And you thought he just wanted to give a nice little kickback to Merck (sixth item).

More on the W Library

The Observer's Jim Schutze really nailed a forgotten (by me at least) aspect of the W Library flap -- Presidential Order 13233:

The first, most difficult piece of this is Presidential Order 13233, which effectively reverses the presumption underlying the 1978 Presidential Records Act of a basic public right of access. In asserting a contrary right of permanent privilege, George W. Bush pointedly expanded the reach of this new privilege to include the entire Bush dynasty—his father's papers not only as president, for example, but as vice president.

It's an outrageous reach. Scholars and archivists around the country are beginning to suggest that SMU makes a whore of itself if it accepts the presidential center without first insisting that 13233 be vacated.

Imagine future scholars trying to write the history of Iraq War and not even being able to have unfettered access to the President's papers? For a look at the right way to do it, look at the LBJ Library in Austin. Would Robert Caro have been able to produce his work without the type of access he was allowed to Johnson's archive? Now try to imagine a scholar who may have a less than deferential approach to W's legacy trying to access the archive of this current adminsitration? Keep moving, buster. Nothing to see here.

Still, I'm an optimist. This administration prefers to work in the shadows. They believe they can avoid unwanted scrutiny forever. History judges these men cruelly, and undoubtedly will again.

Gone But Not Forgotten

Jeff Liles wrote a moving and accurate obituary for Bill's Records. The bottom line: in the old days before the Interweb and the mainstreaming of alternative music, you had to work your ass off to find something different. Bill's made that easier for lots of us. Thanks, Bill.

Also, there was this cool story about Stanley Marcus:

These days, tears come to Bill Wisener’s eyes rather easily. He hopes that people like Jerry Haynes and Trini Lopez – regular customers, no kidding — will find him in the new location. He misses folks like former Longhorn Ballroom and Yellow Belly Drag Strip owner O.L. Nelms, former airline exec Clyde Skeen, legendary architect Albert Frey and his dear friend Stanley Marcus.

Before Marcus passed away, he called Bill one afternoon and asked him to come to his home the next morning. Stanley Marcus then gave him his entire lifetime collection of old 78 rpm records. Bill gets emotional when he thinks of the gesture.

W Goes To College. Or Not

Slate has an interesting overview on the George W. Bush Presidential Library flap at SMU. One thing that I think is lost in the article is the real issue: the think tank. This is where most of the opposition comes from -- why should a denomination that takes strong stands on social justice issues like, well, just take a look here -- why should this denomination have its flagship university affiliated with a think tank that will support positions in direct opposition to the tenets of the church?

Tom Waits, Live from Orphans Tour

Spinner.com has a whole boatload of live Tom Waits songs from last year's Orphans Tour here and here. One of my favorite Waits song from the tour was "Falling Down". Enjoy!

More on Molly

Mi amigo Mike Blackman (left) had a very nice rememberance of Molly Ivins in the Startlegram this morning. Mike's a talented writer, an even better editor and an even better human being. I remember when he hired Molly back in 1992, she said something to the effect of how could I say no to Mike when he came riding in to Austin on his Harley with his long hair and black leather jacket. How indeed, Molly.

Ken Bunting recalls that in Mike's piece this morning: "She was one of a kind, with a Texas-sized presence about her that was totally devoid of pretense. I'll never forget our trip to Austin to convince her she wanted to come to work for the Star-Telegram. We practiced our sales spiel over and over, trying our best to perfect it. But she told me many times she was sold the moment you walked into the Oasis restaurant wearing a leather jacket and no tie. She knew right away you were the kind of newspaper editor she wanted to work for." Mike was, and still is, a cool breeze.

Anyway, Mike made me laugh this morning when he described the challenge of editing Molly:

I finally got Molly on the phone, hemmed and hawed and cajoled and groveled and finally, after all the agonizing and sputtering, knowing how proud she was of her word choices and their impact, said something like: "Molly, I just want to be sure we want to say 'dildo' in the lead. I'm a little worried ..."

Mike also remembered how he introduced Molly to one of Tarrant County's most eminent Republicans, Richard Greene.

After picking her up at the airport, I swung by the auto dealership where then-Arlington Mayor Richard Greene worked. Mr. Republican himself -- think really tight underwear. As conservative as the political assembly line ever produced. But a straight shooter and good guy.

What the heck, I thought -- what poetry for Molly's first introduction to be to one of the Star-Telegram's most prominent detractors.

"I wouldn't say I was stunned," Greene recalled last night. "Let's just say I was surprised in the extreme."

The meeting lasted about 20 minutes. After each got over a mite of unease, they carried on like, if not long-long friends, cordial acquaintances. Both were gracious and good-humored and genuinely appreciated the incongruence of their encounter.

I remember thinking: Molly and Star-Telegram readers might just do all right together.

"Even conservative Republicans have to admit that with her use of words, her use of the language and her commentary and criticism, she gave Texas an identity," Greene said. "She helped the whole country understand Texans.

"I will always carry the memory of that meeting with me."

Nice words from Richard, who is a man as gracious as his comments. Nice work, Mike. Molly would have been proud.

Gopher vs. Longhorns?

New Minnesota football coach Tim Brewster wants to schedule my Longhorns. I say bring it. I'm always read for a trip to the Twin Cities.

Kevin Durant = Beast

BON hit the nail on the head about Longhorn hoops phnom Kevin Durant "The NBA rule has essentially forced an NBA pro to play college basketball for a year, and we, as fans, couldn't be happier. Durant does it with such ease and with such passion, it's impossible not to fall in love with him." Wish he could stay another year, but that ain't happenin'.

Not a News Flash

Won't suprise anyone, but Deep Ellum is dead. But when it comes back -- as it inevitably will -- what will it look like? Go to State-Thomas and Mockingbird Station and you'll get your answer. I was sort of partial to the seedy, underground 1980s Deep Ellum that housed the Theater Gallery. The 1990s Disneyfied Deep Ellum kind of sucked. But I have no doubt that the new 2000s-2010 Deep Ellum will be even worse. Nothing authentic, rather just like anyplace else.

Bill's Update

Bill's Records will open ... when Bill damn well feels like it according to Unfair Park. “It’ll be open when I’m there,” Bill tells Unfair Park. “And I’ll be there at the end of the week.”

Molly Ivins, R.I.P.

First, Ann Richards, now Molly Ivins, gone. One of the great old Texas liberals from when Texas liberal didn't sound like an oxymoron. Funny line from the NYT obit: she once said that Dallas was "the kind of town that would root for Goliath against David." So true.

My one Molly story: When we both worked at the Star-Telegram, I once rode in an elevator up to the newsroom with her. She didn't come to Fort Worth much, she usually worked out of her house in Austin, but she was in for some meeting. I remember being surprised to see her and how rumpled she look. She was a large woman wearing a blue dress with pantyhose that had a tear in them. You wouldn't think that this was a big-time national columnist, but if you have ever worked in a newsroom, you know there are lots of people who look like they assemble their wardrobe at Goodwill. But, no matter how disheveled she may have looked, she had a warm, friendly smile. We chatted for a half a minute on the elevator then went our separate ways. Thanks to my good friend, Mike Blackman, for hiring her. Cheers to another friend, Carolyn Bauman, for the beautiful photo above.

You can't ever get to know anyone by reading 20 column inches a couple of times a week, but you can get glimpse of their soul. Molly was a Texas original in the tradition of William Cowper Brann, smart as a whip and funny as hell, not afraid to try and hold the powerbrokers accountable (yes, that you we're talking about W) with her mix of reason and wit.

Fred's Burns ... Again

Public Service Announcement: Fred's burns again. World Wide Fred says it's a minor one. Let's hope they get online again before I need a ribeye in chipotle butter. NOTE: Re-re-opening scheduled for Feb. 12.

Rhett Miller Update

A little blurb on Rhett Miller from some California paper. Evidently his label tanked and his latest record is pretty much nowhere. But he keeps moving forward. I feel bad for him. You put him and David Garza in the same room and you will have some harrowing tales of record label woe.

Definition of a Slow News Day

The Startlegram had this headline: "4 towels, ashtray taken from Motel 6." Are you freaking kidding me? I thought I had stumbled on The Onion. How about this headline: "Area Man Knows Why Newspapers Are in Trouble."

Little Debbie

I've been off the hook busy with moving and work, but in my meager spare time, I've been vegged out watching Lost in Space with the little one. I always felt sorry for Debbie the Bloop. Poor chimp had to run around in that silly-ass furry hat.

I Think It Would Be FUN To Run A Newspaper

Michael Wolff makes a case in Vanity Fair that the patriarch model (or Billionaire option) may be the best chance newspapers may have to survive.

Here’s why he think that’s the case:

In essence, news, or publicity, that true currency of our time, is worth more to newsmakers—and every billionaire is a newsmaker who associates with other newsmakers—than to investors (and perhaps even to news consumers). So at the end of the day theirs will be the winning bid.

For journalists, who as the industry has contracted have become ever more ethically self-righteous, this is the ultimate nightmare scenario (save only for going out of business itself). To be owned and operated by somebody who has juice in the game—who might get value out of what the paper writes or whom it writes about and how—contradicts the whole point of contemporary journalism.

And yet, as my billionaire recognized during my brief visit, there is, too, a mutuality of interest—of sensibility even—between billionaire and journalist. Newspapers may be absolutely ending, but people within an industry, any industry—and these billionaires, accustomed to being written about, are as much involved with newspapers as the people writing about them—are the last to be able to see its absolute end. (Whereas for people outside the industry, especially outside the newspaper industry, especially among the growing majority who don't read a paper at all, the end seems to be almost inconsequential.) It's impossible to believe that something that defines your life, something that exists as big as life—like, say, an American car—will just cease to be. (This kind of denial is one of the things that make industrial decline such a glacial process.)

Basically, it comes down to newspapers as a fashion accessory for the rich. When Gulfstream jet or a private island isn’t enough, buy a newspaper. That’s scary enough. What’s really scary is this: is it really possible that newspapers would cease to exist?

Obviously, the Golden Age of Newspapers is over – the days of 100 percent market penetration will never come again. But can communities exist without newspapers?

Wolff compares newspaper unfavorably to utilities “personality-less, reliable, bureaucratic, and, until very recently, throwing off lots of free cash flow. In this public-utility age of newspapers, the institutional blandness which resulted—reporters themselves, once clever and disreputable, became something like public-service employees, seeing themselves with the beleaguered virtue of schoolteachers—helped turn newspapers into a medium for old people (newspapers are for people who remember newspapers).”

Sad but true. People these days want some sizzle with their steak. They want to be entertained. Thanks to the Internets, that’s easy. But can you really be involved in your community if you don’t know what’s going on in your community?

I’m just askin’.

Tom Waits Poured Me a Bourbon

Found this on the Eyeball Kid blog, a comic based on a true encounter with Waits by cartoonist Ellen Forney, from her book I love Led Zeppelin.

So Much Time I've Wasted

I've obviously been looking at fonts the wrong way. Who knew Gill Sans could be so alluring?

Robert Solomon, 1942-2007

This just in from my friend Joel:

Hey, If you're receiving this message, you're a Longhorn, so you might have heard of, seen in a Linklater movie, or taken a course from Bob Solomon, a legend in UT's philosophy department. He died a week ago. He was famous on campus for existentialism course and the annual symposium he hosted when I was there. In my experience, he was incredibly entertaining, provocative and generous, all great qualities in a teacher. Here's the Statesman obit/story.

I've also included the link to his appearance in one of my favorite films - Richard Linklater's Waking Life. It really changed the way I look at existentialism and prompted me to do a lot more reading. I didn't take his class at UT, but I wish I had.

Club Clearview ... Gone!

Club Clearview #1
Originally uploaded by Michael Ingrassia.

Unfair Park reports Club Clearview is done, over, shut down. I guess that is a little bit of a disappointment, but hey, when was the last time I was there? Like freaking 12 years ago? Deep Ellum has the problems, and this sure won't help.

Tom Waits on World Cafe

Haven't had a chance to listen to this yet, but here is Tom Waits' most recent performance on NPR's World Cafe. The setlist:

"Falling Down"

"Nirvana"

"Home I'll Never Be"

"Long Way Home"

"Army Ants"

"Tango Till They're Sore"

"Tom Traubert's Blues"

"Murder in the Red Barn"

"Trampled Rose"

"Bottom of the World"

"Falling Down" is one of my favorite all-time Waits song. "Nirvana" is one of my new favorite. Can't wait to listen.

Flickr Fun

Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth
Originally uploaded by andrewlmurphy.

Found this photo of the Modern Art Museum and kind of liked it.

I Don't Know How I Missed This

Prada Marfa
Originally uploaded by rkeys23_3.

Evidently Prada Marfa has been around for over a year and I haven't heard about it. At first, I wasn't aware it wasn't the real deal. But, as everyone else is asking, where does art end and advertising begin?

But what I like about it is it just doesn't make sense. Because of that, it's fantastic.

Mancrush Alert

Vince Young is the NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year. Hook'em!

As my wife once said, if Vince Young and Neko Case have a child, that child shall rule the world. Or at least my world.

Remembering John

I went to a funeral on Christmas Eve for my friend John Reuler. That's him and his wife of 61 years, Sunny, back in 1946.

I've never been to a Jewish funeral, but according to the custom, John had to be buried the next day in a plain wood coffin. As I stood in the cold rain at the Temple Emanu-El Cemetery, I thought this was kind of odd because John wouldn't want his friends and family standing out in the rain. But the elegant simplicity of the service was very John. It was a true celebration of his life. I was thankful for the chance to stand in the rain to have a chance to say goodbye to a friend.

John looked kind of like an elderly Robert DeNiro with a crooked smile and his pants hiked up practically to his armpits. That's John below in 1984. When you met him, he always treated you like a long lost friend, like you were just the person he had been waiting all day to see. Even though he was in his eighties, he still came to work every day at his little office down the hall. In theory, he was liquidating his real estate holdings. In reality, I think he just want something to do. He had suffered several strokes and falls, but he couldn't be kept down. He always recovered and came back. He was a tough guy.

I used to help him with little things. Computers vexed him. Most of his software and hardware was 1980s vintage, but I would help him with little problems from time to time. Once he gave me a Tootsie Roll for fixing his printer. Another time we had to fix something on his Buick.

Once every couple of months, we'd go to lunch at Luby's with his pal, Barney. I would try to get John to talk about himself, but to know avail. He graduated from West Point in 1945 and still had the diploma hanging on his office wall. "Don't look at that!" he said when I tried to steal a glance at it one day. I tried to get him to talk about his Heisman Trophy-winning classmates, Doc Blanchard and Glenn Davis -- Mr. Inside and Mr. Outside. Or about his time flying B-24s and B-17s. But he didn't want to talk about it. Maybe it didn't interest him or his memory had faded. But he loved to talk about his wife, whom he called She Who Must Be Obeyed.

Today, I did a bit of Googling and found John's West Point autobiography (it starts on page 385 of the PDF). Among other things I learned about John:

He lived in Switzerland as a child in the 1920s and attended French-speaking boarding schools. When he returned to the U.S., he had to repeat second grade because he could only read French.

He came from a prosperous family, but they lost everything in the Great Depression.

He also attended Duke University and the University of Minnesota before attending West Point and later studied nuclear engineering at the University of Chicago.

He was one of the 16-man honor guard for the funeral of Franklin D. Roosevelt.

While serving in Germany after the war, he was appointed Defense Counsel for a black enlisted man accused of murdering two white enlisted men. He was able to prove the man acted in self-defense and the board found in favor of the defendant.

What an amazing man. He was irrepressibly upbeat and always positive. As his West Point yearbook described him, "The possessor of a naturally friendly spirit towards others, John's inborn qualities have made lasting comrades of his many friends. His ability to analyze and solve any problem caused many of us to seek his counsel and advice. His personal problems were never too great for him to give his time to the helping of his brother cadets. This exemplifies John's typical unselfishness and love for his fellow men. To those of us who knew him and lived with him, John will always be a fine officer."

I'm honored that I got to call John my friend. I'll miss him.

Picture for the Day

My brother-in-law sent this to me. Nice.

Best of 2006

So shoot me. I was laid out with the whatever-has-been-going around hacking and coughing for the past week and I didn’t get around to posting my top albums and songs for 2006.

My problem with putting together these lists is this: half the stuff I want to put on the list is actually from 2005. And a lot of stuff is from 1995. Or 1985. I’m just running that far behind. And then there’s the stuff I never even get around to.

Then there was the stuff I was disappointed in: like the Yo La Tengo and Medeski, Martin and Wood. But I won’t dwell on that.

Here are my lists. But to bottomline it for you: It’s all about Neko.

My Top 10 Songs
1. Neko Case – “Hold On, Hold On”
2. Gnarls Barkley – “Crazy”
3. Cat Power – “The Greatest”
4. Broken Social Scene – “Superconnected”
5. Badly Drawn Boy – “Born in the UK”
6. Tom Waits – “Nirvana”
7. Camera Obscura – “Lloyd, I’m Ready To Be Heartbroken”
8. The Decemberists – “O Valencia!”
9. Rhett Miller – “The Believer”
10. Asobi Seksu – “New Years”

My Top 5 Albums
1. Neko Case – Fox Confessor Brings The Flood
2. Badly Drawn Boy – Born in the UK
3. Tom Waits – Orphans
4. Broken Social Scene – Broken Social Scene
5. Rhett Miller – The Believer

10 Albums I Wish I Had Listened To
Stuff I’ve heard bits of and liked but didn’t get a listen in ’06:
1. Bobby Bare Jr. – The Longest Meow
2. Midlake – Trials of Van Occupanther
3. Band of Horses – Everything All the Time
4. Bob Dylan – Modern Times
5. Gnarls Barkley – St. Elsewhere
6. The Black Angels – Passover
7. Beck – The Information
8. Mew – And the glass handed kites
9. M. Ward – Post War
10. Josh Ritter – The Animal Years

David Garza on iTunes

I don't know how to do the linky thing for the iTunes, but go to the iTunes store and click on their new iTunes Latino store. They've put David's song "Stylee" on as their free single of the week. I was hunting about and I also saw that Patricia Arquette put one of his songs on her celebrity playlist. Props to Joel for the tip.

What Fresh Hell Is This?

The long march that is my house remodel continues.

It was looking like everything was going to be wrapped up by today. That was until my most most recent plumbing contractor (plumber the fourth for those of you scoring at home) discovered a leak and a water pressure problem that may or may not cost me out the ass.

Anyway, I'm talking this problem over with my current and very loquacious plumber and his equally talky son. I get on my phone to tell my contractor to get over quick. Because nothing can happen until my contractor arrives, I am stuck in this conversational vortex with these two plumbers.

My wife and I get the life story. We get everything from Japanese cuisine to hard water to powerlifting to demonstrating martial arts moves. This goes on for like 45 minutes. And I'm thinking a couple of things:

1) Am I paying $100 an hour for this torture?

2) I've got to be nice and listen because I want this guy to fix the leak quickly and not charge me out the ass.

3) This is proof that God has a sense of humor.

Anyway, my contractor finally shows and we devise a strategy. But then this morning, I see this in the New York Times and wonder, Am I just being an insular jerk? Especially when I saw this quote:

“You have a lot of people who are so caught up in their frantic lives and deadlines that they think that any form of extraneous conversation that can’t be used to help them in some way is a waste of time,” Mr. Miller said.

Hmm... I'm as willing as anyone to listen to some plumber's crazy-ass story or martial arts demonstration, but sometimes, these things veer into the realm of get-me-the-hell-outtahere. Maybe my patience is just frayed by this whole process. Maybe I'm just a selfish a-hole. I'm secure in my shallowness and can deal with either possibility.

Merry Christmas!

Jazz Comes Back To Cowtown

Swingmeister Ricki Derek and his pals are opening up a jazz club called the Scat Jazz Lounge in downtown Fort Worth's Burk Burnett Building, which also houses Jubilee Theater.

According to his Web site, the Scat Lounge will be "a classic venue featuring live jazz and a great mix of recorded, old school tunes. No beer signs, no tv's and no juke, just a cool lounge for drinking and enjoying. Similar to NY's Smalls or The Village Vanguard, Scat will be downstairs with a cozy, big city feel." Ricki and his partners expect to open in early 2007.

Michael Price of the Fort Worth Business Press recently had an interesting take on the Jazz History of Fort Worth.

I'm looking forward to the Scat Jazz Lounge, if only for the fact that I won't have to drive to Big D to catch Ricki's act. Bring it.

One thing I'm wondering: is that Ricki on the latest Lotto Texas radio commercial?

This Is What Fell On Tom Waits

During Tom Waits' appearance on The Daily Show earlier in the week, the ceiling of the men's room collapsed on him before the show. Not a few tiles, the entire freaking ceiling!

Like School In Summer ...

Aggies have NO CLASS!

Coach Fran apologizes for the late hit on Colt McCoy from the post-Thanksgiving debacle against A&M. I'm sorry, but this would have been more forceful if it had come out, say, a week ago.

Yeah, I'm not happy about losing a game to the Agoids, but they played a much better game. They were more physical, they made fewer mistakes, they deserved to win. Hats off to you.

However, my problem is this: when a player is seriously injured, you don't celebrate, you don't dance around like you are happy about. You take a knee, show some class and show some concern for the well-being of the other player. That's not how the Aggies reacted. They danced around and acted like they were happy that they sent a guy to the hospital. That's funny. Earlier in the game when an Aggie player went down, the crowd got quiet, put their Horns up, and clapped for the young man when they helped him off the field.

I know that injuries are a part of the game, but cheap shots are not and neither is bad sportsmanship. I want my best 11 to beat your best 11. I want players to hit hard and play fair between the whistles. If someone for your team gets hurt, I'll clap for him as they help him off the field. I want him to be OK. Playing college football is the fulfillment of a dream for so many kids. Most of them won't play on Sundays, but they have a chance to get an education and have a better life. Nothing is sadder than watching a player's career end because of injury. No one deserves that.

Fran could learn a few things about football from Mack Brown. Winning -- and losing -- graciously would be a good place to start.

I Don't Even Know What To Say

One of my annual client obligations is attending a national leadership conference for one of my clients in the health care industry. All this entails is sitting around all day with a bunch of doctors listening to clinical discussions, about half of which I understand. Then I perform my magic and turn these into newsletter articles for this company’s newsletter.

I’ve been doing this for about six years now and one thing they always try to include is motivational speaker of some type. I freaking hate these guys because I look at them as hucksters. These guys come in, crack a few jokes, spout a few clichés gleaned from the business book du jour and pick up a nice check.

Anyway, my client usually brings one of these guys in soften up the docs for the all-day beating about to ensue. The guy they had this year really ripped it for me.

He’s this mid-fiftyish white guy who is telling us about how his Marine drill sergeant dad kicking his ass made him a better person and how it will work for you too. The part that got me was this:

He picks up this little American flag. “I take this with me wherever I go because I’m proud of this flag and I’m tired of people running down the flag.”

Wild applause.

Huh?

I don’t know what country he lives in, but I live in the reddest part of the reddest state in the Union and I don’t see anyone running down the flag here. I just see flags in front of lots of houses and flags on every freaking SUV right next to those stupid yellow ribbon stickers. It’s not like the Republic is teetering in the balance around here.

But it gets better.

He then talks about how he’s tired of the media running down the proud American fighting man and he gets thunderous applause. You’ve got to be kidding me?

Here’s a great example of those damn libruls at the LA Times running down the American fighting man.

Here’s another great example from my friend Tom Pennington. He’s been to Afghanistan and Iraq several times. He’s got more combat experience than W or Dick Cheney and he doesn’t carry a gun, only a camera. The same for my old college friend John Moore who hasn’t been afraid to show the war up close and personal.

Never mind that more journalists have been killed covering Iraq than World War II.

What kind of chance do we have as Americans when people don’t want the truth? Journalists put their lives on the line to get the story and are doing just as much to defend the American way of life as any soldier. The Founding Fathers seemed to understand that a free press was essential for democracy, but somewhere along the way, that’s gotten lost.

A Message from Bill

I wouldn't be so presumptuous as to call Bill a friend, but I've met him a time or two. He's written an essay in the Star-Telegram about his favorite book, A Message To Garcia.

Take a moment to read it, because although he's talking about someone else, he could very well be talking about himself -- although he would be far too humble to do that. Bill exudes character and integrity like a Frank Capra hero, and, if anything good can come out of Iraq, it will be because of dedicated professionals like him.

Sound Grammar

NPR catches up with Fort Worth's Ornette Coleman.

Guitar Hero

Funny little Unfair Park item on Clark Vogeler, former Toadies and Funland guitarist who is now nominated for an Emmy for Project Runway.

Now here's my Clark Vogeler story:

I went to see Dale Watson at the Sons about, oh, 10 years ago with my friends Joel and Mary. Mary brought this guy who she used to date freshman year at UT. So we're hanging out in the bar downstairs, shooting pool, having a beer, making small talk, when I ask this guy what he does.

"Oh, I play guitar for the Toadies."

Clark Vogeler.

Now how do you top that one?

Identity Crisis

Mark Cuban says newspapers do "dumb-ass shit." Well, I couldn't agree more.

Actually, Mark is very right on about what's wrong with newspapers -- they don't know what they have or how to adjust to an online delivery platform. The process will be painful, but most newspapers will make it through because they really are indespensible. They can make themselves more so by good writing and reporting.

Day of Reckoning

Forget the mid-term elections and Iraq, global warming and all the other burning issues of the day, Slate has gotten down to dealing with one of the largely ignored topics that we must resolve RIGHT FREAKING NOW: who was the greatest rock band of the 1980s, R.E.M. or U2?

The article reminded me of something from those days. "Either you loved U2, or you liked them fine. Either you loved R.E.M., or you hated them." I liked U2 just fine, but I LOVED R.E.M. I remember buying Fables of the Reconstruction when it first came out in the summer of 1985 and listening to it over and over. Those were the days when finding anything "alternative" was like going on a secret mission. You had to drive to some record store in Dallas like VVV or Metamorphasis or Bill's to find the stuff half the time. The only way you could hear it on the radio was to tune in to KNON or George Gimarc's Rock and Roll Alternative.

And, of course, if you were listening to R.E.M and not, say, Night Ranger or .38 Special, then you were pretty much considered a freak. But when you would tune in to Shaggy on KNON and hear "Driver 8" or "Green Grow the Rushes", I always felt a little less freakish. The music was somehow healing.

To quote the article:

For all of their ambition, in the 1980s, R.E.M.'s music was willfully obscure. Much has been made of Michael Stipe's mumbly lyrics, but it wasn't that you couldn't make out the words of early R.E.M. songs—you just didn't know what the hell they meant. Neither did the band. "I still have no idea what that song is about," Stipe writes about "Pilgrimage," and bassist Mike Mills says the same about "Gardening at Night" (while drummer Bill Berry claims it's based on a euphemism for peeing along the side of the road during an all-night drive). The lyrics could mean anything, and therefore they meant everything, weighted as they were with mystery, resonance, and passion. "It's not necessarily what we meant," writes Mills, "but whatever you think." A friend once gave his sister, for her birthday in 1988, a complete collection of R.E.M. lyrics, painstakingly hand-transcribed from repeated listens to the songs. Were they right? It hardly mattered.

Even R.E.M.'s "political" songs of the era, like "Fall on Me" or "Exhuming McCarthy," are tricky to parse. "Fall on Me" could maybe be about acid rain, or maybe air pollution in general, or maybe, uh, missile defense? Whereas U2's political songs of the 1980s are a little easier to work out: "Pride (In the Name of Love)" is about Martin Luther King Jr., for example, and "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" is about Bloody Sunday. Stirring as those songs are, there's very little a listener can bring to them; they are Bono's take, not yours, unlike "Fall on Me," which, for me, in 1987, was a deeply personal song about the crushing whatever of existence.

To me, the music I listened to then made the crushing whatever of existence a little easier to bear. And know some of that was the oppressed, adolescent worldview that has always been and always will be. But I still listen to R.E.M. today. Fables is still on my turntable at home right now. And I do take issue with the article in one regard, I though Around the Sun was a great album. Michael Stipe is a little less obscure than he used to be, but the lyrics still seem as malleable as ever.

So put me in the R.E.M. camp. No offense, Bono. Love the debt forgiveness and red iPods. I guess I just lean more toward elegies than anthems.

Thanks, Kinky!

Kinky says thanks, but we are the ones who should thank him. Kinky, you made a bunch of Texans proud. Thanks for everything.

Is This For Real?

Scarlett Johansson covers Tom Waits! Believe it! I guess I am the last person on earth to hear this. But this blog's photo of Scarlett (NSFW) makes it worthwhile.

Tom Waits Coming To A TV Near You

Tom Waits will appear on Letterman on Nov. 27 and the Daily Show on Nov. 28 to promote his new album, Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers and Bastards.

The early buzz on the album is fantastic and based on the MP3 posted on the Anti Records Web site, I can't wait to hear the rest of it.

Five Lessons I’ve Learned This Fall

I’ve been flying under the radar for most of the fall, busier than ever with work. That’s good because it has kept me distracted from the travails of a home purchase and remodel that seems like it will never end. Now that I am in a position to come up for air, I want to apply some of this hard won knowledge.

Lesson 1: You can lead a client to water but you can’t stop them from pissing in it. Sometimes a client is bound and determined to take a good idea and completely fuck it up. You can explain your position, give them good reasons not to do it and gently nudge them – all to no avail. And that is why God invented Martinis.

Lesson 2: It’s never the problem you expected that bites you in the ass. I swear I thought those were hi-res photos. I had no idea that my plumbing contractor would take a job in Saudi Arabia in the middle of the project. I swore that mailing called for pre-sort.

Lesson 3: I would join any club that would have me as a member. I’ve gone door-to-door for Kinky Friedman. I’ve made sandwiches at the Presbyterian Night Shelter. I worked a booth at my daughter’s elementary school carnival. I’ve taught Sunday School. I have tried hard to be a good citizen. But I just plain suck at it. It doesn’t come easy, I’m selfish, and I think these people deserve better than me. In my heart, I’m just a crusty old bastard who hates everybody.

Lesson 4: Remodeling is as hard as people say it is. It takes longer, costs more money and frays your nerves more than you expect. I’ve bought existing homes, built a new home and remodeled an old one, and this is by far the hardest.

Lesson 5: Lawyers have nothing on contractors when it comes to being evasive. You can ask a contractor a direct question, like “When will you be finished?” and get a completely inconclusive response. Where do these guys learn this? I only hope that bin Laden didn’t use a contractor to train his guys in interrogation techniques, because no amount of waterboarding will get an answer out of those guys if so.

Red State Blues

A slice of partisan cheese from my friends Russ and Jill.

This Is Why I Am Voting for Kinky Friedman

According to Rick Perry, aka Governor Goodhair, you are going to hell. It's not enough that has taken record amounts of "contributions" from companies looking to "influence" legislation. It's not enough that he consistently puts his personal agenda and party politics ahead of education. It's not enough that he cost poor children in the this state hundrend of millions in healthcare dollars. He wants to send all of those non-Christians to hell, too.

This is Texas. I wish I could say things would be different on Wednesday. But they won't. Kinky is right. This state is morally bankrupt, and you need only to look at the Governor's mansion to see why.

Shale and Farewell

The Barnett Shale and Fort Worth made it into all the news that's fit to print. And it only took them four paragraphs to make a Beverly Hillbillies reference. Dicks.

Evidently, most in Fort Worth are worried about their houses blowing up. No. I'm more concerned about who owns the freaking mineral rights under my house, because I don't think it's me.

Scenes from the Maul

Well, my Longhorns didn’t fare too well on Saturday, but I’m strangely OK with it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m the same irrational prick who has broken a few remote controls across the years. But I just didn’t think my team played that badly. They made a few mistakes and didn’t execute when they needed to. Bottom line: the best team won that day.

And I got to say, I haven’t had a better time at a football game, maybe ever. Yeah, the Rose Bowl was great, but I was so damn nervous that it was hard to enjoy it before the game. This whole past weekend was great. A couple of random thoughts:

Saw Dave Alvin at the Continental Club on Friday night and was blown away. I’ve been a big fan for years, but have never seen him before. He played a bluesier set than I would have guessed, but he pretty much own Merle Haggard’s Kern River. And when he plays Fourth of July … all I can think is, man, that’s the best rock and roll song ever.

Another band I saw at the Bevo Blvd tailgate was More Cowbell. The lead singer is this guy I only know as Crayon from the Hornfans.com Web site. Not exactly Dave Alvin, but a lot of fun and a great band to get drunk to.

Everybody loves Mike’s Burnt Orange Chuck Taylor’s

Met a lot of nice Buckeye fans and didn’t see one burning couch. Met one guy who was going back to Bermuda. “My wife was pissed because there was a hurricane coming,” he said. “But this is No. 1 vs. No. 2.” Now that’s college football.

Met another Buckeye fan named Josh who was incredibly nice (and drunk) who said he’d never had more fun at an away game. Glad you had a good time!

Ran into some funny Georgia fans who said, “You guys have class. You’re nice to these Buckeye fans. We’d just be jerks to them.”

The only fight I saw was two Longhorn fans getting into it. Quite a scrum.

Matthew McConaughey, Matthew McConaughey gets some shit from some Hornfans, but I think the guy is good for the program. He's a superfan living the dream. And if I had a chance, I'd do the same thing.

Earl Campbell can’t walk anymore.

Eddie George was cool enough to stop and get his picture taken with a cop.

I had a great brisket taco from a street vendor at Fifth and Congress.

I also saw the most interesting looking girl while I am eating said brisket taco. She was probably 15 and wore a UT t-shirt and camoflage shorts. But what was fascinating was she had long blond dreadlocks and light green eyes and was communicating in sign-language in what looked to be an argument with her friend.

Venison sausage with jalapenos and chese esta yummy.

Thoughts on Labor Day

An interesting take on Labor Day from the Washington Post. Or, why the minimum wage has stayed the same since the mid-1990s while CEO pay has grown exponentially. Or why the median income in North Texas has decreased since 2000 and the number of those living in poverty has increased. Or, in a nutshell: Dear American Worker, You're screwed. But you should vote for me because I'll make you safe. Love, W.

When will America wake up?

I'm Done With August

Why does August try so hard
To hoist itself on its own petard?
-- Purple Avenue by Tom Waits

Ah, August, a kidney stone of a month. I hate August, or should I say, I hate this August. I’m tired of it. It’s hot, about 185 degrees today, as it has been for every day I can remember. No rain. People are in a foul mood. It’s ugly.

The news is horrible. I can’t hardly listen anymore. So, as August swirls the bowl toward its inevitable conclusion, allow me to say good riddance. We don’t need you. Bring me the first crisp breeze of September. The State Fair and stroll down the Midway with my daughter and a Fletcher’s Corny Dog. Give me UT football and the fading light of a fall afternoon. Give me the smell of a fireplace and falling leaves. I’ll even take the bitter memory of 9/11 again for the fifth time. Get behind me August. I’m through with you.

A few thoughts on August from Slate, including an idea to take the month down to 10 days. I’m all for it.

Horse Sense

Former Dallas Cowboy Jay Novacek published an op-ed in Monday's Star-Telegram opposing HR 503 to stop the slaughter of horses. I've heard these arguments before and I'm not sure I believe them.

Another S-T op-ed on Wednesday summarizes my feelings better:

Of course, if you accept the slaughter industry's line of argument, we would have no laws against any form of cruelty. The dogfighter or cockfighter could just as readily invoke this principle in defense of his own depravities. The argument further unravels when you realize that there are already good federal laws -- including the Horse Protection Act -- that forbid the harming of horses for profit. In fact, historically, it was rank cruelty to horses that first inspired our state laws against cruelty.

If we are going to slaughter horses like this, why not do the same with dogs. Other parts of the world eat dog, so why not export them for food also? Funny how no one makes that argument. To me, dogs and horses are the same -- noble creatures who deserve better.

Johnny Cash Reconsidered

Slate asks the question can Johnny Cash's late works be considered great art and schlocky at the same time? My first though is that even though he was covering Neil Diamond and Depeche Mode, his last recording had a gravitas that can only come with time and experience (much like the work Tom Waits is doing now -- and yes, I know I am delinquent in posting by thoughts on his Chicago show two weeks ago. I'm busy and I want to do it right.)

Yeah, even when Cash is singing Personal Jesus, it's not schlock. He adds a dimension to the song that I had never considered before -- it's much more personal. When Cash sings it, it sounds like he means it. The Depeche Mode version is good, but it just makes me want to have another drink.

And when Cash sings U2's One, he takes that song to a whole new level. He took what may be the best song U2 has ever done and completely owns it.

I'm still waiting for my friend Johnny, the world's biggest Cash fan, to weigh in on this. He did, however take in Rosanne Cash's set recently at the Newport Folk Festival and highly recommends her new album, Black Cadillac. Boston ... er, not so much.

CHEZ BEZ: I Can Die Now. I Saw Tom Waits At The Ryman.

CHEZ BEZ: I Can Die Now. I Saw Tom Waits At The Ryman.After reading this, I am all geeked up to see Tom Waits in Chicago on Wednesday!

Sucks Doesn't Suck

A defense of sucks from Slate which includes theis gem: "Sucks is the most concise, emphatic way we have to say something is no good."

Agreed.

And in that spirit, I offer you the most creative usage of this work, when Homer Simpson described a team as: "The suckingest bunch of sucks who ever sucked."

Opera Diva Schwarzkopf Dies

Elizabeth Schwarzkopf, one of the great sopranos of the 20th Century, went to the big opera house in the sky. If you haven't heard her interpretation of Strauss' Last Four Songs, do so immediately. It will bring tears to your eyes.

Rational Exuberance

Tony Bennett turns 80 this week and the New York Times printed an appreciation of his work that included an interested contrast of Bennett and Frank Sinatra:

Careers that last as long and have been as distinguished as Mr. Bennett’s have something to tell us about collective cultural experience over decades. It has been said that Sinatra’s journey from skinny, starry-eyed “Frankie,” strewing hearts and flowers, to the imperious, volatile Chairman of the Board roughly parallels an American loss of innocence. As Sinatra entered his noir period in the mid-1950’s, his romantic faith gave way to a soul-searching existentialism that yielded the most psychologically complex popular music ever recorded. Following a similar arc, the country grew from a nation of hungry dreamers fleeing the Depression and fighting “the good war” into an arrogant empire drunk on power and angry at the failure of the American dream to bring utopia.

Mr. Bennett is something else altogether. A native New Yorker and man of the people, he never strayed far from his working-class roots in Astoria, Queens, where he was born Anthony Benedetto. Although he came out of the same tradition of Mediterranean balladry as Sinatra, he retained the innocence and joie de vivre of his youth. Disappointment is not in his vocabulary. We don’t go to him for psychological complexity, but for refreshment and reassurance that life is good.

Believing in the power of art to ennoble ordinary lives, he sings what he feels with a rare mixture of humility and pride: humility in the face of the daunting popular-song tradition he treasures and pride that he is recognized as its custodian. Gratitude and joy, gruffness and beauty balance each other perfectly in singing that has grown more rhythmically acute with each passing year.

Stop The Slaughter!

I am sad to say that even in the great state of Texas, places exist to butcher horses to export their meat as food -- one of the three in the U.S. is right here in Fort Worth. This is wrong and must stop. Please write Congress to stop this slaughter now!

H.R. 503, The American Horse Slaughter Prevention Act has been reintroduced in the US House by Congressman John Sweeney (R-NY), Co-chair of the Congressional Horse Caucus, Congressman John Spratt, Jr. (D-SC) and Congressman Ed Whitfield (R-KY). In the Senate. S. 1915 has been reintroduced by Senator and veterinarian John Ensign (R-NV) and Senator Mary Landrieu (D-LA). Last year in the House 228 bipartisan Members of Congress cosponsored the bill, let's reach that number again.

Seems All American. Who could be against this? Well ...

"Why is Congress rushing to pass legislation that creates many problems and solves none?" said House Agriculture Chairman Bob Goodlatte, R-Va., whose committee has managed to block proposed bans for years. He called the effort "emotionally misguided" and derided the "very wealthy horse owners pushing this legislation" without regard to those who would lose the only financially viable option for disposing of unwanted horses.

What Makes a Good Bad Movie

Chuck Klosterman writes about the most overhyped movie ever, Snakes on a Plane, in the latest Esquire:

Defending American Values

Sen. Lindsey Graham says what I've been thinking and what many, many people seem unable to grasp (from NYT):

While some other Republicans argue that terrorists do not deserve legal or human rights, Mr. Graham has insisted that only a system grounded in the fundamental rights of the military code and the Geneva conventions will affirm the reputation of the United States abroad and protect American troops when they are captured by enemies.

“What I’m trying to do with my time in the Senate during this whole debate we’re having is to remind the Senate that the rules we set up speak more about us than it does the enemy,” Mr. Graham said in an interview. “The enemy has no rules. They don’t give people trials, they summarily execute them and they’re brutal, inhuman creatures. But when we capture one of them, what we do is about us, not about them.

“Do they deserve, the bad ones, all the rights that are afforded? No. But are we required to do it because of what we believe? Yes.”

Exotic Dining

And I thought my lunch wasn't sitting well with me ... little did I know.

Kinky Q&A

The Kinkster talks about immigration, gambling, education and the de-wussification of Texas in this summer's issue of the American Interest.

Steve's Got Issues

Steve's Got Issues is the name of my Mid-Century Modern antiques concern ... or should I say my out-of-control avalanche of cool stuff and debt. I exhibit at Lost Antiques at 1201 N. Industrial Boulevard, Dallas, TX 75207 (214.741.4411). Need a lucite coffee table? Got it. A 1930s dental drill? Got that too. 1940s Robsjohn Gibbings step table? Yep. Plycraft recliner? Fully restored. Murano glass chandelier? Rewired even. You want it? I got it. I don't got it? I'll get it.

It's run by Joey Edwards who is possibly the coolest human being in existence. He has a couple of dozen vintage motorcycles for sale, as well as Art Deco and Machine Age furniture and fixtures and on and on. Come by and check it out!

Oral History

Christopher Hitchens can write about anything and make it interesting, even when it is something as tedious as defending W on Iraq. However, give him an interesting topic, such as, say ...blowjobs ... as he does in the latest issue of Vanity Fair, well, watch out.

Personal History Goes Up in Smoke

Dallas' Arcadia Theater was a former movie theater, vaudeville house, nightclub and porn theater. But I knew it as the the place where cool bands played back in the 80s. The Arcadia and years of memories burned to the ground on Wednesday, 20 years to the day from the Siouxsie and the Banshees show I saw there.


I found the ticket stub to the Siouxsie show and some other stubs, too: The Lords of The New Church and Lyle Lovett.

1 Liter of Diet Coke + 5 Mentos

Equals fun. Multiply by 100 ... click here to see.

Play Ball!

Played softball for the first time since college. I didn't suck as bad as I thought I would. A list of my accomplishments:

My first time playing third base -- ever

My first strikeout since college

My first hit and RBI since college

My first sports injury -- ever.

Sprained my ankle sliding into third. Hurts like hell today, but I'm up and moving around. Between that and various scrapes, cuts and bruises, I look like someone went caveman on me. But I still had a great time in delayed adolescence kind of way.

The Polyurethane Jungle

Years in the making, The Polyurethane Jungle is finally complete. It's a dark tale of the gritty reality that is the day-to-day stuff of a toy's life -- a tale broken dreams, redemption and hardcore toy-on-toy violence. Please view, enjoy and tell your friends.

Living The Dream

Clay Harvey, a 21-year-old from Mesquite, finished second in the Legoland Model Builder Search national competition in Carlsbad, Calif. He's next in line to become one of the guys builds recreations at Legoland. I only wish I had know before they had this little contest. Talk about a dream job.

Leftover Stories to Tell

A tribute performance of Spalding Gray's work begins in New York this week. Gray's suicide was devastating -- of course suicide always is. However, Gray always seemed so amiable in his performances, like a friend who would always be there.

Writes the NYT:

"The show also captures what brought so many fans to Mr. Gray in the first place: a voyeuristic glimpse into the life of a wayward WASP, someone willing to unstintingly report on his own weaknesses and neuroses while using them to create an incisive portrait of relationships, sex, therapy, politics, ambition and family. And he was reliable: always seated at his desk with a shimmering glass of water, always ready to tell a captivating story."

Tempus Fugit

They've finally done it! Those bastards have finally done it! They've invented the alarm clock that will run away from you.

Bill Lives!

Bye-bye Coit and Spring Valley. Bill's Records and Tapes, a Dallas music institution for decades, will not be riding off into the sunset soon. He's just moving to the Southside next to the new Poor David's.

Francois!

The new Wes Anderson American Express Ad I guess qualifies as the first new Wes Anderson movie in a while. It's pretty funny. Plus, there's another essay about why it takes so long for him and his contemporaries to roll out movies.

There Will Be Music Despite Everything

NPR gave us a wonderful little feature on one of my favorite poets, Jack Gilbert.

Last week, my daughter read a Gilbert poem at her elementary school poetry slam. Hope you like it:

Horses at midnight without a moon
by Jack Gilbert

Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods.
Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.
But there’s music in us. Hope is pushed down
but the angel flies up again taking us with her.
The summer mornings begin inch by inch
while we sleep, and walk with us later
as long-legged beauty through
the dirty streets. It is no surprise
that danger and suffering surround us.
What astonishes is the singing.
We know the horses are there in the dark
meadow because we can smell them,
Can hear them breathing.
Our spirit persists like a man struggling
through the frozen valley
who suddenly smells flowers
and realizes the snow is melting
out of sight on the top of the mountain,
knows that spring has begun.

Typerotica ... Um, Wow.

Now, you would think The Virtual Typewriter Museum would be a little bit of a snooze. I mean, I love typewriters as much as the next guy, but come on

Well, I was wrong.

Turns out there was a lot more going on that just stenography and a little light clerical. There was some down and dirty going on back in the day behind the old Underwood. And this is the tame stuff. Wowza!

If more museums were like this, we wouldn't need topless bars.

There's even a book about sex and typewriters! That kind of research is almost -- almost -- enough to make me go back to grad school.

Some Last Words About Buck

I was thinking about Buck Owens today. I’ve been meaning to write something about him since he died recently, but my thoughts hadn’t come together yet. I still don’t know that they have, but I figured I’d take a shot anyway.

The music of Buck Owens was about sheer exuberance – you can’t listen to his music and not smile. It’s like the old CCR song about sitting on the back porch and listening to Buck Owens. The sound of his guitar generates an emotional response.

It’s too bad that most people will only remember him for Hee-Haw, a magnificent piece of pop culture cheese that seems almost surreal looking back on it. The man was a guitar virtuoso who managed to blend many opposing musical tangents of the 1960s into the Bakersfield Sound, a sound as American and relevant as bee-bop.

When you compare him to Johnny Cash, another mega-entertainer of his generation, they may have shared the genre but their art was substantially different. JR Cash was more of a poet fueled by anger and pills and it’s easy to trace an arc of redemption through his life and music. Buck isn’t quite so complicated. He was more of a pure entertainer and was more of a Horatio Alger story of a poor boy making good. He just wanted to put on a good show and make a little scratch.

Perhaps a more apt comparison would be Merle Haggard. Both Buck and Merle were products of the Dust Bowl and the Okie migration, but where Merle would continue to dwell on this in his music, Buck just kept steaming forward with good-time Honky-Tonk music. The music of Buck Owens wasn’t about rage or introspection, it was the great American postwar music of laughter and forgetting.

Maybe the lack of deeper themes will keep Buck from assuming his rightful place in the pantheon of country music gods. Now maybe he’s not a poet the way Johnny and Merle are, but if you listen to the bridge of Foolin’ Round, you will hear a caliber of American poetry that would humble Walt Whitman.

Godspeed, Buck. We’ll miss you.

We Are All Little Before Him

I have a new hero. His name is Eric Harshbarger and not only does he do cool Lego Skylines of Fort Worth (pictured above), he does Lego sculptures of Milhouse Van Houten, Dean Cain, and Conan O'Brien. Check him out!

Thinking of Walt Whitman

April is National Poetry Month and I am looking for a poem for my daughter to read at her elementary school poetry slam. And I stumbled on a poem by that grand old man of American poetry, Walt Whitman. It's totally not appropriate for the occasion but thought provoking nonetheless, especially the end:

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?
What do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.

All goes onward and outward. . . .and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

Walker Evans Wannabe

I'm giving it my best shot here. I took this in Marfa last summer.

I Like This One The Best

Abbey Road
Originally uploaded by Digger Digger Dogstar.

It has a cool Paint By Numbers quality.

All You Need Is ... Legos?

Sgt Peppers Lego Hearts Club Band
Originally uploaded by Digger Digger Dogstar.

Not quite as cool as the Lego Aircraft Carrier, but cool nonetheless.

Come Fly With Me

The ring-a-ding spirit of old time Vegas is alive and well in Dallas thanks to one Mr. Ricki Derek. Ricki and his 15-piece band launched their first attempt to channel the spirit of the Copa at last Saturday night's Supper Club and they were successful -- mostly.

Ricki is an unbelieveably charismatic performer who doesn't possess a voice as rich as Ol' Blue Eyes but his stage presence establishes him as the real deal. He nailed it Saturday when he covered my favorite Bobby Darin song, More. He has star-power and makes you believe he could hang with Frank and Dino. And his band was as dead-on as any of the Nelson Riddle orchestras from the Capitol Records years. And although he stuck with a vintage set on Saturday, he's not above a loungy cover of The Doors' People Are Strange or The Church's Under The Milky Way.

All this was hosted at Victoria Hall next to Tucker Restaurant. The place gets its name because it is housed in an old Tucker dealership, but thankfully it's not an automotive-themed TGIFriday's monstrosity, its tastefully done with lots of wine bottles and wood paneling. I suspect the food is pretty good, but the meals didn't reflect it at the Supper Club. Food was lukewarm, hors d'oeurves were MIA, the servers surly. And the band overwhelmed the space and conversation was hard to come by. Ricki's six-piece outfit would have done fine. And I would have preferred to eat first, then see the show.

I'm hoping they get the bugs worked out because this is an idea whose time has come.