Whoops, There Goes Pakistan!

Remember Pakistan? The country whose non-elected leader George W. Bush enlisted at great cost to help us smoke out Osama bin Laden even though he couldn't name said leader prior to becoming a non-elected leader himself in 2000?

Well, now Pervez Musharraf has decided that it's okay if al-Qaida and Taliban militants operate freely in Pakistan's border regions in exchange for a promise not to go into Afghanistan.

Pakistani Major General Shaukat Sultan Khan told ABC News that bin Laden would not be taken into custody by Pakistan "as long as (he) is being like a peaceful citizen."

Sleep well, security moms!

Mr. Biggs Headed for the Big House

Last Friday, ace Isley Brothers vocalist Ronald Isley drew a sentence of three years and one month in prison for tax evasion. The 65-year-old singer of "It's Your Thing," "Fight the Power" and "That Lady" also has to pay $3.1 million in back taxes to the IRS.

Isley has been suffering from stroke-related complications and kidney cancer, but U.S. Judge Dean Pregerson threw the book at him anyway, calling Isley a "serial tax avoider." Isley will likely report to a Bureau of Prisons hospital facility.

I don't know the specifics of Isley's case, nor do I support tax evasion, but isn't keeping a bankable artist locked up for that long going to cost the government lots more money in the long run?

You Just Never Know

I'm not an avid enthusiast of bondage, discipline and/or sadomasochism, or "BSDM," as we call it in the public health arena. It's an expensive hobby that would quickly leave me bereft of bowling money.

That said, I'm all about being prepared, so it can't hurt to have a safe phrase in case things start getting out of hand. Today I have chosen my safe phrase.

It's "sweet pickles."

Here's Scratch Acid In Yer Eye

My elongated feature on Scratch Acid came out on the cover of today's Chron. Some lovely illustrations accompany the story, including a band photo featuring a nude-but-tucked David Yow from back in the day. Much like Iggy Pop, whatever outrageous stunt you think of pulling as a frontman, Yow has probably already done it.

The original draft of this story was about 5,000 words, so I had to trim some good stuff. Most memorable was Hickoids singer Jeff Smith's account of how he and Yow used to greet each other in front of Club Foot by rubbing plaque off their teeth and putting it in each other's mouths. Having seen both men perform, I don't doubt that for a second.

I can't wait to see Scratch Acid on Saturday night. Scratch Acid plays around 11pm with Gorch Fock opening around 9:30. Tickets are still available, but I'd definitely get 'em in advance to be sure. Your Scratch Acid stamp also gets you into a late show by porn rap pioneer Blowfly at 12:30 in Emo's Lounge.

Hilly Michaels' "Calling All Girls!"

Here's a rare music video taped off one of the "AL TV" shows "Weird Al" Yankovic did for MTV around 1984.

Hilly Michaels' 1980 shoulda-been-a-hit "Calling All Girls" is one of my favorite videos from the early MTV era. Very silly yet totally stylish. I hadn't seen this video since 1982 until about five minutes ago.

Kyra in the Bathroom

When you're on TV for hours at a time, you don't always take off your mic when you take a break. Therefore, it's a good idea to turn it off when you leave the set. Apparently, helmet-haired CNN bobblehead Kyra Phillips forgot to do that yesterday.

While George Bush tried to put a positive spin on his administration's pathetic response to Hurricane Katrina, viewers overheard Kyra in the bathroom, chatting about men with an unidentified female colleague and deriding her brother's "control freak" wife. That's going to make for some interesting holiday dining.

Someone at CNN master control must really hate that woman.

(Via Wonkette)

Sizzling San Antonio

I spent the weekend in San Antonio with my parents in celebration of their 40th anniversary. As always, we stayed at the historic Menger Hotel next to the Alamo, lunched at Schilo’s Delicatessen on Commerce St. and dinnered at the Menger’s Colonial Room.

I’ve been going to San Antonio with my parents for their anniversary since I was a little kid. I used to sleep on a rollaway bed in their room, which didn’t strike me as conducive to romance even as an eight year-old, but that’s how it was in my compact family unit. I do have my own room now, in case you're wondering.

San Antonio is bone dry these days. It’s even worse than Austin. They’ve quit running fountains because of the drought, which has turned the Convention Center/Hemisfair Park complex into a blazing concrete jungle. I’d hope for a tropical storm if I wasn’t worried it would smash into the coast as a Category 5 hurricane.

Also, Earl Abel’s has reopened in a former HomeTown Buffet out on Austin Highway. It’s a shame developers tore down Earl Abel’s architecturally distinctive building on Broadway, at least the restaurant survives.

CNN: The "C" Doesn't Stand for Context

With large swaths of New Orleans still in ruins, it's going to be tough for the Bush administration put a positive spin on the first anniversary of the Katrina disaster, but give 'em credit for trying.

The midday news bobbleheads were all atwitter yesterday about a Hurricane Katrina victim named Rockey Vaccarella (cue Bill Conti fanfare) who showed up at the White House towing a FEMA trailer and was invited inside for an audience with our gracious leader.

Rockey was presented as just your average everyday hurricane victim - a guy who decided to roll up to the White House hauling a trailer and was granted admission. Just like that!

While Vaccarella did ride out the storm by holding on to a rope for four hours, what the media didn’t report is that he’s also a former GOP commissioner’s court candidate from St. Bernard Parish. That’s sort of important to know when he goes on TV to gush effusively about what a great job the Bush administration has done to rebuild Louisiana.

Not Doing the Popcorn

Last Saturday afternoon, a den of Cub Scouts was selling popcorn outside H-E-B. I was once a Cub Scout, attaining the lowly rank of “Wolf” before dropping out in favor of not missing ABC's Tuesday night line-up.

While I always buy cookies from the Girl Scouts, I can’t bring myself to give money to an organization with policies banning gay people from leadership positions and banning atheists and agnostics from taking part in scouting altogether. I know this sort of overt discrimination doesn’t necessarily represent the views of everyone involved with the Boy Scouts of America, so I feel bad about withholding my support for what might otherwise be an enriching experience for boys. But I’d feel even worse giving tacit support to those policies.

Hey, This Isn't Chicken

The posts are few and far between these days because I'm hard at work on a feature story about Scratch Acid in advance of their reunion show at Emo's on September 2nd. Those guys have some pretty amazing stories about what it was like to play punk rock in Austin during the Eighties.

From what I can gather, there was a lot more LSD going around back then. You still saw a bunch of big eyeballs at shows and parties when I first moved here in 1987, but I wouldn't know where to find acid today, and wouldn't know what to do with it if I did. I'm too anxious to fun around with heavy-duty psychedelic drugs.

I like to think I'm relatively balanced, but even on a good day, I can't be more than one or two tiny chemical reactions away from becoming the girl who ate her parakeet.

Grace Slick Taught Me to Count

These animated "Jazz Spies" counting segments on Sesame Street were my favorite part of the show. I remember rocking back and forth and singing along whenever they came on. I didn't learn that I was listening to Grace Slick singing until years later.

As the Seventies wore on, these psychedelic beauties were gradually phased out in favor of the better-known "Pinball" counting animation with vocals provided by the Pointer Sisters.

In addition to finding this on You Tube, I made it to ZOOM: Lost and Found last night at the Alamo Drafthouse and got to meet original ZOOMer Tommy White after the show.

All in all, a banner day indeed for reliving my television past.

Little Miss Sunshine

I saw Little Miss Sunshine on Friday night. It was the first time I’ve seen a major motion picture on opening day in about five years.

Greg Kinnear plays a failing motivational speaker who’s still using an overhead projector in 2006, Steve Carell plays a spurned gay professor recovering from a suicide attempt and Adam Arkin plays a grandfather evicted from the nursing home for snorting heroin. Kinnear’s wife, played by Toni Collette, is fraying in her efforts to hold everything together. His misanthropic 15-year-old son, Dwayne (Paul Dano), has taken a vow of silence, while his endearingly quirky seven-year-old daughter, Olive (Abigail Breslin), is determined to compete in a child beauty pageant. Despite their own collective mess of personal dysfunctions and humiliations, everyone in the family rallies behind Olive and piles into a VW minivan to make sure she gets to the pageant in California.

Despite some hackneyed plot devices, I thought Little Miss Sunshine was well-acted and quite funny. I’ve read a few reviews likening the movie to Harold and Maude (one of my all-time favorites) because of its semi-macabre, offbeat tone, but I think David O. Russell’s Flirting with Disaster might be a more apt comparison. I have a feeling it’ll be one of those "grower" movies that gets a lot of word-of-mouth business.

Upon exiting the Barton Creek Cinemark, I saw a guy in a track suit gesticulating wildly as he praised some movie like he was Quentin Tarantino. I looked again and realized it was Quentin Tarantino.

Friendly Skies, My Ass

I'm glad the Brits managed to foil the alleged terror plot to take out ten airliners over the Atlantic. I don't take anything the Bush administration says about terrorism at face value, and it's certainly not out of character for them to sound the threat alarm whenever ill political winds blow, but there's no evidence at this point to suggest this wasn't a legitimate threat.

Hopefully this carry-on liquid ban won't last forever. Those airport concessionaires selling $2.50 soft drinks beyond the security checkpoints must be creaming at the potential windfall. And even those drinks can't be taken on the plane.

I wonder how much longer will it be before one of these fundie cretins tries to blow up a plane with a kiestered explosive? That's when the real party starts. I can easily imagine taking my nonexistent kids to Disney World in ten years and having to tell them to pretend the TSA finger probe is just another ride.

Oliver Stone sure drew a great opening weekend for World Trade Center, didn't he? See ya at the movies!

Blood and Ice Cream

Good lord, I sure have been crazy for ice cream lately. Perhaps that's because it's been coming into my possession for absolutely nothing in recent weeks.

First there was H-E-B's come hither coupon for a free half-gallon of Creamy Creations. They sent these out in neighborhoods once served by Albertson's to attract displaced customers and I wound up with two since I was in between homes. I snagged half a gallon of Homemade Vanilla and what may have been the last half gallon of Poteet Strawberry for sale in the Austin area.

Then I went to the Blood & Tissue Center of Central Texas this afternoon to donate my regular pint of A-positive. I usually give on the blood bus at work, but my hematocrit count was low last week so I had to try again after bulking up on iron-laden favorites like red meat, fortified bread and raisins.

It just so happens August 7-19 is the Center's "Pint for a Pint" promotion. This means you get a pint of Blue Bell for donating blood. Not that I needed a pint of ice cream to donate blood, but it sure was nice walking into the 101-degree heat with a free pint of Peaches & Homemade Vanilla.

If you're eligible, consider giving blood. You can use the ice cream, and someone can probably use your blood, too.

We're Gonna Zooma Zooma Zooma Zoom!

I was weaned on Sesame Street, but the TV show I most identified with as a young kid in the Seventies was ZOOM. Produced by Boston’s WGBH from 1972 through 1978 (a revival was produced from 1999 to 2005), ZOOM was the only show you could tune into and see nothing but kids being kids for 30 minutes.

The show featured a forever-rotating cast of 10-to-14-year-old “ZOOMers” who dressed in matching striped rugby shirts and often performed barefoot. After all, it was the Seventies. Can you imagine trying to get a station’s legal counsel to allow children to run barefoot around a TV studio in 2006?

The ZOOMers rapped, sang, did plays, told jokes, played games and showed you how to make things. Location segments showed kids doing stuff like building multi-story treehouses and whipping up a batch of sarsparilla root beer. If you wanted to learn more, or if you had an idea for a future episode, you could write the show. A clever jingle (“Write ZOOM, Z-double-O-M.Box 350/Boston, Mass./0-2-1-3-4/Send it to ZOOM!”) drilled the address deep into your skull. Even if I forget how to eat, I’ll always remember the address for ZOOM.

I really idolized the ZOOMers. I even made my mom “invite” the ZOOMers to my fifth birthday party. Long before Pinky Tuscadero and Blair Warner, my very first TV crushes were on girl ZOOMers. I had it especially bad for Tracy from season one and Lori from season two. My parents somehow managed to get Tracy’s autograph for me at a local PBS function in Dallas, but I could never quite imagine how this girl on TV came to scribble a note to me on the back of an envelope. Even though I’d been inside a TV studio, the people on TV were still somewhat mystical to me at that age.

Unlike the Britney-era Mickey Mouse Club, ZOOM wasn’t a career stepping stone. Aside from not using their last names on the air, ZOOMers had to agree not to do any television for three years after appearing on the show. That's how serious producer Christopher Sarson was about not casting would-be child stars. One former ZOOMer that did eventually go into entertainment was Tommy White (left), who formed Boston-based punk band Unnatural Axe with Rich Parsons. They made a regional underground splash with a song called “They Saved Hitler’s Brain.”

All of this leads us up to 7pm next Tuesday, August 15 at the Alamo Drafthouse Downtown, where Tommy White will present ZOOM: Lost and Found, a collection of rare clips detailing the history of this oft-forgotten yet charming PBS classic.

Missing this would be like pushing my inner-child down a flight of stairs.

Steak 'N Shake Coming to Austin

Although there’s still no word on when the first Austin area Krystal will open, we are scheduled to get our first Steak 'n Shake at IH-35 and Slaughter before year’s end. The Midwestern chain is a bit more upscale than your typical quick-service concept, serving its trademark “steakburgers” on china 24 hours a day. You can also get that wonderful old Rust Belt standby, “Chili 3-Way.”

I remember there were a few Steak 'n Shakes in Houston during the Seventies, but they were all gone by the end of the decade. The franchise’s current, more successful foray into Texas began a few years back in Dallas/Fort Worth, where they now have 18 units.

Court Rejects Perrymandering

Yesterday's court-ordered redistricting was a tiny victory for Austin. It doesn't give the city the contiguous congressional representation it had before Tom DeLay and his dirty brownshirts in the state legislature divided Austin into three districts running all the way to Houston, Midland and Mexico, but at least the court rejected any further gerrymandering efforts by Rick Perry, who wanted to move enough of Lloyd Doggett's district out of Travis County to make it swing Republican.

Sure it's small, but the revolution has to start somewhere.

Arthur Lee R.I.P.

Arthur Lee, leader of the legendary Los Angeles band Love, died of leukemia yesterday afternoon at the age of 61. News of his death was reported on the band's message board.

Love's only Top 40 hit was the 1966 proto-punk screamer, "7 & 7 Is," but their third album, 1967's Forever Changes, was a meticulously-conceived masterpiece that has only grown in stature over the years. Rhino reissued the album in 2001 with outtakes from the "Your Mind and We Belong Together" tracking session. Lee's studio talkbox banter on the track is reminiscent of Brian Wilson's direction during the Pet Sounds sessions.

The classic Love line-up only lasted through Forever Changes. Lee stayed peripherally involved in the L.A. music scene, occasionally reforming Love in some permutation. He was sentenced to 12 years in prison for illegal possession of a firearm in 1996. During his legal troubles, Love members Bryan MacLean and Ken Forssi died, precluding any future reunions.

Upon his 2001 release, Lee took a cue from Brian Wilson and began performing Forever Changes in its entirety with a band called "Love with Arthur Lee." Despite initial rave reviews, Lee left the band in 2005. His illness was revealed earlier this year.

I'll definitely be listening to Forever Changes this weekend along with "Stephanie Knows Who," "She Comes in Colors," "Signed D.C." and several others. Lee was one of the visionary greats.

Masonic: Without Warning

As I noted in my review last month, Masonic's third album, Without Warning, is yet another solid collection of heady pop rock buzz.

The Austin quintet's record release show is tonight at the Parish. They'll be performing the new album front to back. Masonic's cover of ABBA's "S.O.S." ought to be especially tasty live.

Kim McLagan Killed in Car Accident

Some very sad and shocking news for Austin music fans. Kim McLagan, wife of Faces keyboardist Ian McLagan, was killed yesterday in a two-car accident in eastern Travis County. She was 57.

Prior to her marriage to McLagan, the former London-based fashion model was married to Who drummer Keith Moon from 1966 to 1975. The McLagans moved to Austin from Los Angeles in 1994. More recently, Kim had opened a skincare shop while Ian has been packing them in with a Thursday evening residency at Lucky Lounge with the Bump Band.

The Statesman has more information here.

A Tax Holiday for the Rest of Us

If you're in Texas and need some new duds, wait until Friday. That's when our annual back-to-school sales tax holiday weekend begins. You can avoid paying sales tax through midnight Sunday. Here's a list of what's tax-free, courtesy of Gramma Strayhorn.

Also, JenBB of Felt Up and Blue Velvet reknown informed me last year that used clothes are just as tax-free as new ones. If you see me shopping this weekend, don't get in the way of the vintage Guayaberas.

One place you won't find me is at the fancy new outlet mall in Round Rock. I suppose I'll wind up there eventually, but driving out there on opening weekend during a sales tax holiday would be just the right thing to sour me on humanity forever.

The Ballad of Charles Whitman

Today is the 40th anniversary of the UT Tower shootings. On August 1, 1966, UT architecture student and former Marine sharpshooter Charles Whitman killed 13 people and wounded 31 others from the tower's 27th floor observation deck. He also killed his wife and mother before going to the tower, bringing the death toll to 15.

In the wake of the shootings, which went on for 96 minutes, local police departments around the country formed SWAT teams to deal more effectively with high-calibered angry men like Whitman. Austin decided maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave ambulance service to funeral homes and formed the forerunner to today's EMS.

UT officially ignored the shootings for many years. While many assumed the tower's observation deck was shut down after the shootings, it actually remained open until 1974, when one too many suicides prompted UT's Board of Regents to close it. The observation deck finally reopened in 1998 under heavy security.

On Saturday, our local Fox affiliate ran a special on the shootings that claimed Whitman was "our first domestic terrorist." You can call Whitman a lot of things, but minus an established political motive to his crime, calling him a terrorist is kind of silly.

At any rate, Metroblogging Austin's Tim Trentham has compiled a plethora of links about the UT Tower shootings if you're interested in learning more about Austin's most infamous day.

Carl Monday's Not So Hot

For the record, I do not condone masturbating to online porn at the public library (unless maybe you've got it concealed with the Sunday Times), but I feel sorry for the unwitting perp in this "investigative report" by Carl Monday of Cleveland's WKYC. This guy's life was bad enough before he became ratings fodder for a bottom-feeding local TV newscast.

I just read about this clip in last week's Dallas Observer, but it aired in May during sweeps, of course.

Albertson's: The Last Goodbye

Today ended the final weekend of Albertson's massive 10-store liquidation in Austin. Just about everything still left in the closing stores could be had for 95 percent off.

There wasn't much left, of course. It's pretty sad to wander through a grocery store with mostly empty aisles. It made me feel like I was in Eastern Europe during the Cold War.

Nevertheless, I picked up a bottle of industrial strength shower spray for 49 cents and two jars of salsa for a buck each. As an American, I had to buy something.

Wal-Mart Can Kiss My Ass in Macy's Window

My friend Nikol Lohr (a.k.a. Disgruntled Housewife) moved from Austin to an old school in rural Kansas last year. Recently, after driving 45 minutes to pick up some photos at a Topeka Sam’s Club, the manager refused to make prints of this photo from the cover of her upcoming knitting book, Naughty Needles.

This sudden spurt of decency emanates from a store that sells both R-rated movies and swimwear for pre-pubescent tweens cut way more revealingly than the one worn by Nikol’s admittedly foxy pin-up model.

Apparently, the only kind of sexiness allowed in Waltonville is the mass-produced, pre-chewed variety. Haven't those pasty, freedom-hating bastards ever heard of Alberto Vargas? Without the sweet release he gave our fighting boys in Europe and the Pacific, we'd probably all be speaking German with our mouths full of sushi.

I already have plenty of reasons to never give money to the evil Wal-Mart empire, but I can always use another.

Titter in the Hole

The Ron Titter Band is back in action this Friday night at Hole in the Wall. I think we'll be pulling out a couple of new songs, too.

Headlining this bill is Karaoke Apocalypse, featuring my old pal Chepo P. and the Dead Motley Sex Maidens. If you've ever wanted to belt out a Pat Benatar song in front of a randy, beered-up club audience, here's your chance.

We go on at 10. Karaoke Apocalypse begins at 11:30 and goes 'til closing. Best of all, there's no cover and you don't have to futz with downtown.

Smello, Neighbor!

The new lair is now connected, so here we are. Naturally, I would like to make a good first impression with my new neighbors. Unfortunately, there's something in my trash can right now that is working against me.

When I moved in, there were two pounds of what I believe to be frozen deer meat in the freezer. Although I like venison just fine, I had no idea how long it had been there and I would've felt a little weird eating someone else's meat, so to speak. I decided I'd better just throw it out.

A thinking person would've thrown it out the day before trash pick-up, but I tossed it almost an entire week before my next trash day. Putrefication and teeming colonies of maggots were in full effect by Saturday morning. The side of my house smelled like someone had died unattended in the hot sun. I decided to remedy the situation by putting the offending meatstuffs in Zip-loc bags and dousing the surrounding area with disinfectant, but that was no match for the gag-inducing stench.

It doesn't seem to smell as badly today, but that's probably just a function of me getting used to it. Now I'm worried a possum is going to come along and be poisoned by the rancid, disinfectant-soaked meat, which will only compound my odor problems. And that is how I'm introducing myself to the neighborhood.

Ray Davies at the Paramount

I got sixth row seats to see Ray Davies last night at the Paramount Theater. It was a fine show. He opened with "I'm Not Like Everyone Else" and ran through a buncha Kinks klassics like "Where Have All the Good Times Gone?," "Sunny Afternoon," "All Day and All of the Night" and "'Til the End of the Day."

Austin was the last stop on Davies' first U.S. tour with a band other than the Kinks, so everyone was in good rocking form and the crowd was appropriately raucous. I'd never seen a concert at the Paramount before. I thought the ornate movie palace was about as good a stand-in for a British music hall as we're likely to find in Austin. Perhaps Davies played 2-3 too many songs off his new solo album, Other People's Lives, but to me, he's one of those artists whose prolific career grants him an above-average degree of dispensation for indulgence of that sort.

Davies is doing an Austin City Limits taping on Monday. My friend Shazza offered me a ticket, but I can't go because I have band practice. Oh well. I guess it's better for someone who wasn't at the Paramount show to go.

By the way, this is the last ever blog entry from Beetsolonely's North American headquarters on Justin Lane. It's not quite the same thing as the last transmission from Corregidor, but it's noteworthy to me, at least. I hope to be up and running at the new house tomorrow. If not, there's always free wi-fi at Dairy Queen (!) just down the street.

Rolling Stones in Austin?

Word on the street is that the Rolling Stones are playing at Zilker Park on Sunday, October 22. The date is still unconfirmed at this time, but official word is supposedly due next week.

I'm not sure if they've ever even played Austin before. We've always been passed over for Dallas, Houston or San Antonio. If they have played Austin, it hasn't been since at least the Nixon administration. Between getting an IKEA and a Stones date, I think we're officially a major American city now.

I saw the Stones back in 1989 at the Cotton Bowl in Dallas for the Steel Wheels tour. I'm not sure I'd fork over the benjamins to see them again. I like the Stones, but I can live with just having seen them once in my life.

If former Stones touring keyboardist Ian MacLagan happens to be playing out that night, though, it might not be a bad idea to show up and see who might sit in. Mac's Face-mate Ron Wood played with him at the Continental Club in Houston on the last go-round.

So Long, Crestview

It's past midnight and I've finally moved enough stuff to my new house to start living there. My next-door neighbor and I made pretty quick work of it. My back's not too sore, either.

As excited as I am to move, I'm really going to miss my cozy 700 square-foot duplex. I've done some good living here and I've learned a bit about myself by doing it alone - namely that I really like living alone. The occasional bout with loneliness is more than compensated for by the tranquility. We'll see if I can continue to pull that off in a house built for a family.

I'm also going to miss living in Crestview/Brentwood, my home base for just shy of six years. I've said a lot of "hidys" and worn out a lot of shoe rubber walking out stress along this neighborhood's tree-lined streets. There was a time when I figured I'd probably grow into one of those cool stroller-pushing, dog-walking Crestview dads I frequently pass, but my fork took me someplace else. Namely, a place called Wooten.

Jeez, I sound like I'm moving to India. Time for bed.

Sunny Ozuna: La Onda Chicano

After months in the making, my feature story on Tejano music legend Sunny Ozuna finally came out in today's Chron.

Click here to read all about the San Antonio-born Ozuna's long and fruitful musical career, from "Talk to Me" to today.

Ozuna will be playing with our own Ruben Ramos next Thursday, July 27 at Antone's.

Sweet Sweetback, Don't Fail Me Now

I think I've decided to abandon my appointment with the moving company and just partner with my next door neighbor and his pickup truck instead. He's offering to help me out just for getting him a tank of gas. Granted, that's not chump change these days, but it's a hell of a lot better than paying $275, which is what the movers were quoting.

The only things of consequence still left are my queen-size bed + frame, my 36-inch TV (yeah, it's color, beeyotch!), my formica table and my washer and dryer. The latter two may suck, but I can borrow a dolly from work to make it easier. I think I can probably figure out how to hook the dryer duct up well enough to avoid burning down the house, too.

I hope this isn't the hubris of middle-agedom speaking, but this doesn't seem like a back-breaking job from this end. Hopefully I won't be blogging about its conclusion from a prone position.

Sartin the Crab Man

Although I never got to know him when he was at The Austin Chronicle, Robb Walsh of the Houston Press is one of my favorite food writers. He knows his stuff, writes about it well and pulls no punches when they’re deserved.

Walsh's Tex-Mex Cookbook makes me almost as hungry as the gatefold of ZZ Top's Tres Hombres. His Legends of Texas Barbecue cookbook won a James Beard award.

Walsh tackled the Sartin’s Seafood dynasty last week. Sartin’s is best known for its barbecued crabs (which are actually deep-fried, not barbecued) along with some of the best family platter service on the Gulf Coast. As Walsh aptly puts it, “barbecued crab is Maine lobster and drawn butter's roughneck cousin from Beaumont.”

Barbecued crabs were invented in Sabine Pass, Texas at a restaurant called Granger’s that burned down in 1958. The first Sartin’s opened in Sabine Pass in 1972. Damage wrought by successive hurricanes and the permanent closure of Highway 87 between High Island and Sabine Pass eventually forced them out of the low-lying city at the extreme southeastern edge of Texas.

Today, there are three Sartin’s – one in Nederland owned by Doug Sartin’s first ex-wife, one in Beaumont owned by Doug Sartin’s second (estranged) wife and a third in Clear Lake owned by Doug's sister, Kelli Sartin. It's clear from the story that none of these women are particularly fond of each other.

Walsh’s story is built around a beer-fueled crabbing excursion with fun-loving Doug. A typical exchange goes like this:

“I asked him about his two former wives. His estranged wife, Emily, looks just like his ex-wife Kim, he said. People think they're sisters. Having seen a photo of Kim Lynch on her Web site, I said she was a good-looking woman.

Doug laughed and said he bought those titties - and his second wife's, too – four titties total. I reminded Doug that I was a reporter and we were on the record. He said he was just a commercial fisherman and he could say whatever he wanted.”

Good reading about good eating, indeed.

Not Good. Not Good At All.

Three kidnapped Israeli soldiers and suddenly we’re looking at something like the start of World War III in the Middle East.

Doesn’t the bombing of Lebanon’s airports and highways seem a tad bit disproportionate? Surely Israel realizes they’re creating a whole new batch of delusional suicide bombers that no security wall will ever protect them from.

The sight of our president eating spit-roasted pig in Germany as the Mideast descends into chaos is yet another unfortunate My Pet Goat moment, but who knows what’s really going on in the White House? Maybe the administration wants Israel’s hostilities to goad the Arab world into committing a telegenic act of terror that will somehow "justify" a unilateral attack on Iran and/or Syria. Given their track record, you can't help but think they're up to something.

It's a sad state of affairs when disengaged incompetence is the best thing America can hope for from its president.

Socialized Risk, Privatized Profit

There’s not much in American society I can’t stand more than those who decry "big government" while simultaneously bogarting the government teat as a private contractor.

A new report from the Henry Waxman-led congressional Committee on Government Reform, Minority Staff finds nearly 40 cents of every federal tax dollar now finds its way into the pockets of private companies, a record amount. Over 20% of these dollars wind up in the hands of just five companies. Longtime military-industrial complex poster child Lockheed Martin leads the way, but Halliburton’s share of federal pie has increased over 600% between 2000 and 2005. I wonder how that happened?

Government bureaucracy is a giant maze of inertia that often impedes efficiency, and there are instances when citizens might be better served by a private contractor. However, the Grover Norquist-style “solution” of wantonly bidding out all government functions except law and order to corporate campaign contributors just turns tax dollars into a giant slush fund for incumbents.

In the hands of the Bush regime, this socialized risk/privatized profit scheme is nothing less than a subtle form of class warfare, resulting in reduced government services for fewer people delivered by less-compensated employees with even less oversight.

Not So Perfect After All

Astute readers of this blog will recall a month-old post entitled "The Perfect Receipt," in which I gloated over spending exactly $40 at Central Market to get $10 worth of free beef.

One of the comments to this post suggested that the $10 "freebie" might apply toward the needed $40 total. I have since discovered that this is, in fact, true. You only need to spend $30 to get your $10 of free stuff.

This means my "perfect" receipt was exactly $10 from perfect. What a pisser.

There's a Sale at Penney's!

Another week, another closing sale. The JCPenney at Highland Mall is moving out at the end of the month and everything in the store is now 20-40% off. You can get some really good deals on items that were already reduced prior to the sale. I’m particularly fond of the The Havanera Co.'s line of casual tropical wear for men, which is sort of ironic since I'm anything but a beach person.

I’m also in the market for towels and linens, but Penney’s current markdown isn’t low enough to beat the prices at Target, Linens & Things or Tuesday Morning. I’ll probably go back if they ratchet the discount up, though.

Whirlwind Week

This week has been a whirlwind. After a fun Tuesday night Ron Titter Band throwdown at Hole in the Wall, I drove to San Antonio Wednesday to conduct a second interview with Tejano music legend Sunny Ozuna. I'm finally getting down to business in writing a feature story on him for the Chron. It should be coming out July 21, one week prior to Ozuna's July 27 show at Antone's with Ruben Ramos.

Otherwise, it's all move-related stuff for me. As always, the single biggest pain will be moving all my seldom-played vinyl. I should just give most of it to Goodwill (which is where I got a lot of it in the first place), but it's hard to part with an album you sort of think you might want to hear in two years.

For example, what if someone brings up "Say What You Will" by Fastway in conversation and I decide I have to hear that song again? Right now, I have a 25-cent vinyl copy of Fastway's self-titled debut album in my collection. I've probably listened to it once, and then only to hear "Say What You Will," but I'm glad to know it's there. If I get rid of it, I'll have to either find another used vinyl copy, buy the CD or download the song for 99 cents. That's no bargain.

One of these days, I'll have to start transferring all my B-list media to some sort of massive external hard drive, but that's a long-term project I'll probably still be working on 10 years from now if I'm not killed by a huge pile of falling vinyl first.

For now, better to tax the ol' lumbar and move those stupid crates one more time.

Happy Birthday, America

To my dearest America on her 230th birthday,

Wow, this marriage has really gone to shit over the last few years, hasn't it? It's like we can't even talk anymore. You're always going off to start fights you can't explain. Meanwhile, I'm stuck here at home trying to pay off all your debts.

I know I've got a few quirks of my own, but you are one wound-up bitch these days. Maybe you should take some yoga classes. At least try to stop being so goddamn noisy. Can't we go to just one Olympic event without you screaming "U-S-A!" all the time?

I suppose we're drifting ever closer to cracking this mo-fo wide open with lawyers, bombs and millions dead. But you know something? I'd still rather be with you, America. After all, I've got 37 years up in this.

Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I think our history still counts for something. Besides, I can't just shack up with France. What would the neighbors think?

We've had some good times together, America. Who's to say we won't see more? So let's just pretend like it's old times tonight. After a nice meal at Applebee's, we'll get drunky-drunk on cheap wine and dance naked in the sprinkler. Then we'll pump up the air mattress right there in the backyard and I'll do that thing with my pinky that makes you moan like a sick owl.

Despite all we've been through, you're still my favorite freak mama.

Love,
GB

Giving Myself a Toast Boost

Are you in need of new small kitchen appliances such as blenders, toasters or mixers? If so, consider dropping by one of the Austin area Albertson's stores now being liquidated.

All general merchandise at these dying stores is on sale for 40% off. Although their mark-up was too steep to begin with, the 40% discount makes for some decent deals. I bought a Hamilton Beach chrome-colored toaster with their patented "Toast Boost" technology yesterday for about 20 bucks. The non-metallic variety can be had for even less than that.

Albertson's will probably increase the discount amount every week until closing all but five of their local stores at month's end.

The Buzz on Foleyvision

My former Hey! Hey! Buffet! and Peenbeets co-conspirator Buzz Moran (center) discusses his Foleyvision productions of the Turkish and Indian versions of Superman on the most recent edition of Weekend America, which airs coast to coast over NPR. Foleyvision's Shannon McCormick, Chad Nichols and L.B. Deyo are also interviewed. To listen online, click here and scroll down to "A Superman for All Nations."

For those not familiar, Foleyvision shows movies with live dialogue, sound effects and music in place of the actual soundtrack. Buzz and his troupe did a particularly "bang-up" job with a vintage 70s porn movie at the Alamo Drafthouse a few years back. However, they wound up having to cut all the money shots at the last minute so as not to run afoul of the booze fascists at TABC.

They'll be presenting both the Indian and Turkish versions of Superman on July 9 and July 30 at the Alamo Drafthouse Downtown.

Don't Forget the Keys

Did you know that it is against the law in Austin to leave your car unattended with the keys in the ignition? This seems like a no-brainer in an urban setting, and I imagine the police would probably feel too sorry for someone who had their car stolen this way to tack on a $200 fine, but you never know.

One of the stupidest things I ever did was to leave my car unattended with the keys in the ignition and the car running. Aside from just being real excited to see the Monkees' 20th anniversary reunion tour at AstroWorld in 1986, I'm still not sure how I did it.

I believe it was during Micky Dolenz' scat-singing routine in "Goin' Down" that I realized my keys weren't in my pocket anymore. I looked around on the ground and couldn't find them. Most folks would've bolted right then, but those tickets set me back at least 15 bucks and I wasn't going to miss one goddamn second of Mike Nesmith-less Monkee magic.

At concert's end, I arrived at my car and was met by a conscientious AstroWorld parking lot attendent who'd turned off the car, locked it and held on to the keys. He didn't even make me feel like an idiot. My friends did, though.

New House Day

I bought a house this morning. I didn't say anything about it here so as not to jinx the deal, but now the keys are mine, the gag is off and the champagne room is open.

Beetsolonely's spacious new North American headquarters are a little ways north of our current location in the neighborhood known as Wooten or "The Woo," as I plan to call it. I would've considered this area North Austin when I moved to town in 1987, but I'm still south of 183, which is positively central these days.

If future posts are a little slow in coming, blame the damn lawn.

Ron Titter Celebrates America July 4

Although a lot of ya will be pretty spent from the Quintron/Miss Pussycat show on Monday at Emo's (with Pong opening!), The Ron Titter Band will be making our Hole in the Wall debut on Tuesday, July 4th at 10pm. The Meshbanes are headlining. Freedom isn't free, but this show is.

You certainly don't have to come see us, but it is your patriotic duty as an American to go out on July 4th even if you have to work the next day. If you stay home and watch TV that night, you might as well be blowing 'ol King George III.

Picking Up Where Casa Bonita Left Off

Last October, we reported on the closing of Tulsa's Casa Bonita after more than three decades of thematic family fun and some of the worst all-you-can-eat Tex-Mex slop on the planet.

Although only the famed Denver location of Casa Bonita remains open (cliff divers and all), chain founder Bill Waugh has opened a new restaurant called Casa Viva in Tulsa's former Casa Bonita location. Hopefully they are improving upon the food, but Tulsa World food critic Scott Cherry wasn't too impressed, and I trust a man whose column is called "Eat, Drink & Be Cherry."

As long as we’re on the subject of Bill Waugh, I recently found out from some Metroplex-bred friends that he is also the man behind Taco Bueno, Burger Street and the once-beloved Crystal’s Pizza & Spaghetti chain, which is now down to one location in Irving.

Photo by James Gabbard/Tulsa World

The Three Spoilers

The great potential irony of the 2006 Texas governor's race is Rick Perry emerging victorious despite a majority of people voting against him. That's how it's shaping up with Kinky Friedman, Grandma Strayhorn and that other guy on the ballot.

The impulsively cool thing to do would be to vote for Kinky. After all, he's a musician with a good sense of humor. However, those whistle stop wisecracks are going stale. I wish I could believe those "no more politics as usual" platitudes, but Friedman's campaign has done far too little to posit him as something more than a novelty.

As a pragmatic measure, many left-leaners are endorsing Strayhorn. While she would be an improvement over Perry, she is still a Republican, not a true independent. Strayhorn also has a long history of opportunistic affiliation-switching. I think she'd get more done in the Legislature than Perry, but we might like it even less.

Which leaves us with Chris Bell, whose hey-over-here campaign tells you everything you need to know about the Democratic party in Texas these days.

If the election were held today, I honestly don't know who I'd vote for. None of these three candidates have a chance unless one or more of them drops out and the stronger finisher manages to coalesce some serious anti-incumbent momentum to counter Perry's riches. I wouldn't bet on it, though.

Have You Hugged Your Pudding Today?

Approximately 20 years after forgoing the opportunity to see them play in downtown Houston for free, I forked over 30 bucks to see Sonic Youth for the first time Friday night at Stubb’s.

They definitely could’ve played longer, but they sounded great. I haven’t listened to a Sonic Youth album since 1995's Washing Machine, but the new songs off of Rather Ripped (particularly “Do You Believe in Rapture?”) were enticing as well. Perhaps there's something to those four-star reviews.

My old UT student radio pal and former roommate Greg “The Greggae Giles” Giles was in town from North Carolina on Saturday. We dropped by an early evening party at Bearded Lady Printing to see Oh, Beast! before winding up at Room 710 for their 6th anniversary show featuring Pong and Hug.

Pong delivered the solid boogie-down goods as usual along with an improved light show. There was plenty of spirited dancing throughout their set. Meanwhile, Hug’s carnival of the perverse was enhanced by two dancers who graphically enacted the song “Shit Sex” with chocolate pudding. I haven't been that simultaneously grossed out and doubled over with laughter by a rock show in quite a while.

KAAM Streams the Legends

When I was growing up, every city of consequence had a "standards" radio station for older adult listeners. The last such station in Austin, KNOW 1490 AM, signed off in the early Nineties. With more and more of its target demographic dying off, the standards format is becoming as anachronistic as drive-in movies.

Dallas' KAAM 770 AM stalwartly bucks this trend, playing Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole and Kay Starr alongside more "modern" fare by the Kingston Trio, the Sandpipers and the Carpenters. Better yet, they're now streaming their signal far beyond the Metroplex.

If you only listen to one thing on KAAM, make it Hermann Bocklemann's Europe Today on Friday nights. Bocklemann's thick German accent, eclectic music selection and slightly twisted sense of humor make for great radio. He truly embodies the "DJ as friend" approach to broadcasting.

Back Room Shutting Down

Although I haven’t been there in years, it’s sort of sad to hear the Back Room is shutting down at the end of July after 33 years. I saw the Ramones there twice and the first club gig I ever did in Austin was a Cheezus show at the Back Room in 1991.

I say "sort of sad" because I never found the venue to be particularly endearing. Set in a strip mall backing up to miles of deteriorating apartment properties, the Back Room and its East Riverside environs are a hideously-developed, crime-conducive suburban nightmare that will take years - if not decades - to restore.

But at least drinks were cheap and parking was free.

Whither Northcross?

Today's Statesman discusses the pending redevelopment of Northcross Mall, excitedly hinting at the possibility of a new Wal-Mart like that's some sort of manna.

The plan is to demolish part of the existing mall while building a parking garage and additional stand-alone retail that will increase the total amount of available space by about a third. Whatever goes into Northcross, it'll undoubtedly be more exciting than the pathetic smattering of retail in there now.

Aside from Guitar Center and early voting, I almost never go to Northcross. Actually, I did buy a flannel shirt for $4 at Beall's several months back, but that shopping experience was tainted by a nearby salesman yammering loudly on his cellphone while passing copious amounts of gas. Whatever happened to the genteel days of stepping outside for a fart walk?

Flash Floods Hit Houston

My former hometown of Houston had a nasty-but-hardly-atypical flood event this morning. Six inches of rain fell on Hobby Airport in just 75 minutes. Water rises pretty quickly when rain falls that fast. Once the bayous fill up, there's nothing for water on a flat surface to do but pool in ever-larger circles.

It's easy to wind up stranded by rising water in Houston. Sometimes you get stuck in traffic with the water creeping ever closer to the bottom of your car door.

The street I grew up would usually flood once a year, forcing us to park in the church lot at the end of the block and wade home. Fortunately, we never had water in the house.

Pissing on the Parade

This morning's Parade magazine wants men to know they'd better get married or face an early death. "Don't go it alone!" an alarmist sidebar screams.

Recent studies have found that married men tend to live better and die later than unmarried, divorced or widowed men. Getting "enthusiastic" sex on a regular basis helps, too.

Because it's Father's Day, Parade conveniently forgot to mention that marriage disproportionately benefits men and that married women have only slightly better health outcomes than their non-married counterparts. Why? Probably because they're stressing themselves out taking care of men.

I'd never impugn the goodness of either a figurative or literal "woman's touch," but encouraging men to get married so they can live longer is sexist moralism masquerading as legitimate health advice. It promotes male pattern macho dickdom while glossing over the fact that this "solution" sticks women with caregiver chores they really shouldn't have to do.

Instead of enlisting a spouse to be your surrogate nurse, why not just learn to take care of yourself?

Love on a Longer Leash?

We’ve come a long way from the days when Fort Worth mayor Amon Carter brought a sack lunch whenever he had to go to Dallas so he wouldn’t have to spend any money there.

Yesterday, Dallas mayor Laura Miller and Fort Worth mayor Mike Moncrief held a joint news conference announcing a compromise agreement that could eventually end the Wright Amendment restrictions limiting mainline jet service out of Dallas’ Love Field. The agreement would limit nonstop service out of Love to nine states (Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Louisiana, Arkansas, Alabama, Mississippi, Kansas, Missouri) for eight years, then the Wright restrictions would go away.

In the meantime, “through-ticketing” would be allowed immediately. This means you could fly Southwest from Love Field to Oakland, but you’d have to make a stop in one of the aforementioned nine states. The agreement also reduces the number of Love Field gates at 20, so nearby residents won’t suffer under grossly increased commercial air traffic.

Now Congress has to approve the deal. While North Texas legislators are likely to support a local solution, legislators from states outside the Wright perimeter may bristle at the agreement’s restrictions. Unfortunately, if Congress allows Southwest to fly nonstop from Love to any other states in the next eight years, the local agreement would require the airline to relinquish half its Love Field gates to do so. This will keep Southwest from offering Love Field nonstops to its sizable Phoenix hub.

Nevertheless, it’s a good first step toward dismantling an anti-competitive law that is no longer needed by anyone without a stake in American Airlines or D/FW Airport.

Travis Co. Farmer's Market May be Redeveloped

The Travis County Farmer’s Market on Burnet Road has long been one of the most woefully under-utilized commercial zones in Austin. Although new restaurants like Brentwood Tavern and Dog Almighty have generated some traffic recently, the farmer’s market aspect of the property is pathetic. Now surrounded by rapidly appreciating neighborhoods and young families, it doesn’t take a wizard to recognize the market’s grossly untapped potential.

Therefore, I’m heartened to hear 6601 Properties is in negotiations with the county to buy the market. 6601 is the company behind the Penn Field project off of South Congress, so they’re well attuned to relatively conscientious, outside-the-big-box development. While adding eclectic retail would be the foundation of a successful rejuvenation, it would be ideal if they could use that to attract more fruit and vegetable vendors, too.

The big “if” in the equation will be parking. As last year’s Texas Barbecue Festival demonstrated, the market’s existing lot can quickly be overwhelmed by success.

Doll Parts

Saturday's Alamo Drafthouse screening of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls at Independence Brewery was fun. Because it was being held in the parking lot of an industrial office park, I expected the heat to be oppressive, but a nice breeze and several beers kept the evening bearable. My Ron Titter Band compatriot Andy Loomis and I stayed right through to the bitter end of Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains at 1:30am.

The highlight for me was getting Erica Gavin's autograph on this lovely BTVOTD poster, which I plan to have framed very soon. I don't typically get autographs, but this was one I wasn't going to pass up. My friend Shazza picked up Gavin at the airport and was kind enough to point me out at the autograph table.

The ebullient Ms. Gavin said hello and quipped, "So, is this the hot one you were telling me about?" Although Shazza hadn't previously mentioned me as "hot," it doesn't change the fact that I was called "hot" by the star of Russ Meyer's Vixen.

I'm pretty sure I'll be babbling about that in the nursing home, too.

Miami Heat Co-Owner Sics God on Dallas

When it comes to the NBA, my team preferences begin with the Houston Rockets, followed by a tie between San Antonio and Dallas. I used to prefer the Mavericks to the Spurs, but all these years of being 78 miles from San Antonio are starting to sink in.

That said, I was quite glad to see the once-lowly Mavs beat the Phoenix Suns, but no more revved up by seeing them in the NBA Finals than seeing the Spurs there last year. Then I read that Miami Heat co-owner Raanan Katz is telling Israelis to go to the Wailing Wall and pray for the Heat.

“God can always help; we need him on our side against Dallas," Katz told Israeli newspaper Yedioth Ahronoth . "Every Israeli must support us; they must go the Western Wall and pray for us. Miami Heat is no less Israeli than Maccabi (Tel Aviv's b-ball franchise, also co-owned by Katz). This is also a group with Israeli ownership in which many Americans play."

I can understand praying for athletes not to be injured, but it takes a truly vainglorious prick to exhort the faithful to pray for victory in a sporting contest.

The Perfect Receipt

I forgot to mention that I received a $5 coupon for my next Central Market purchase of $25 or more, too.

Indeed, it was a glorious day.

A Triumph of Frugality

Being a regular customer at H-E-B Central Market on North Lamar, I receive a monthly mailer of coupons that gives me something free if I spend $40 or more in the store. Unfortunately, beer and wine don't count.

This week's coupon gives you $10 off on PGA All-Natural Beef. I think the butcher there hates me because I always ask him to give me as close to $10 of meat as possible (which isn't a whole lot when you're talking about PGA).

As I cruise through the store, I'm mentally tabulating the sum total of my purchases. This isn't easy because math gives me a stomach ache. My objective is to come as close to $40 as possible. I know H-E-B sends out those coupons with the idea of compelling people to spend much more than that, but I won't let them sucker me into buying a bunch of foodstuffs I don't need.

Yesterday, my bill came to $39.89. I felt a pang of embarrassment as I started thinking of having to hold up the rush hour checkout line by running back for one more item. Then the checker hit the tax button. My only taxable item was a $1.29 box of coffee filters, but that carried a tax of 11 cents. Amazingly, my grand total with the $10 coupon came to exactly $40.

It's too bad I didn't have music from The Price is Right on my iPod to commemorate my triumph of frugality. I told the checker I felt like I'd just bowled a perfect game. I still haven't come down.

Albertson's (Sniff): It Was Your Store

In April of 2005, this here blog predicted that either Albertson's or Randall's would be pulling out of the Austin market within the next five years.

Albertson's took a big leap toward fulfilling that prophesy today when they announced the closure of all but five stores in Travis and Williamson counties. They're taking the axe to the two Albertson's closest to me at 8716 Research Blvd. and 11331 N. Lamar Blvd. Both stores will close by summer's end. The loss of the former will really put the hurt on the shopping strip at the southwest corner of Research and Ohlen.

Although the Research store is kind of a dump, I've done pretty well with their meat department except for the time the neophyte butcher had an allergy attack while he was packing my ground beef. Hey, whatdya expect for $1.29 a pound?

Albertson's, you will be missed by...well...by some people.

6/6/06, Dude!

Happy number of the beast day, everyone. What a great time to be alive! Some folks view the forthcoming tribulations with a mix of fear and despair, but not me.

That’s because I’ll be getting a free new house and car when all the saved folks get raptured. It’ll be just like when the white man conquered America, only everything I need is already built and I won’t have to destroy any indigenous peoples. Solid comfort, baby!

Also, don’t forget that today is the National Day of Slayer. Be sure to get thine arse to the public square and blare the word of Slayer at the most ostentatious volume possible.

If a cop asks you to turn it down, scream “They’re killing our lord!” like they’re rolling that crazy judge’s ten commandments monument over your wee-wee.

Dallas' New Belmont Hotel

Back in the early Seventies when I was a toddler living at an apartment complex just off Fort Worth Avenue in Oak Cliff near the now-demolished Bronco Bowl, we’d often drive past this really cool, moderne-style Travelodge built on a cliff overlooking downtown Dallas.

This Travelodge opened in 1946 as the Belmont Motor Hotel. It was designed by Dallas architect Charles Stevens Dilbeck. As Oak Cliff fell on hard times, the former Belmont went right along with it, becoming a haven for vice.

Fortunately, the building withstood "progress" and has now reopened as the Belmont Hotel at Dilbeck Court. They’ve done a rather amazing job of refurbishing the place in a manner sure to remind Austinites of the Hotel San Jose.

The Belmont isn’t cheap, at least not by my admittedly frugal standards. Rates start at $125 (online may be cheaper), but you get wi-fi, flat panel TVs, Kiehl’s toiletries and a prime location equidistant from downtown Dallas and the rejuvenated "downtown" Oak Cliff. Not a bad choice for an upscale hipster weekend getaway.

Ron Titter Hump Day

What better way to celebrate hump day than with a man-sized dose of The Ron Titter Band?

We'll be playing this Wednesday around 9:45 at the Carousel Lounge with rollicking instrumentalists Bee vs. Moth.

As a working stiff residing on the north side, I can appreciate both the time and the venue. I've never played the Carousel before.

Unfortunately, although we're on some flyers out there, we won't be playing the Sound of Urchin/Spiders show at Room 710 on Saturday, June 10. Wednesday's show is our only date in June, so we'll try and make it count.

What a Wicked Game to Play

Licensed fashionista JenBB of Felt Up, Blue Velvet vintage clothing and new local rawk sensation Nagel has posted some fun fotos of the recent Club de Ville Spring Fashion Show.

Blue Velvet's segment of the show paid tribute to the films of David Lynch. To your left, you'll see the Wild at Heart tribute featuring the lovely Jenny Hart of Sublime Stitching as Laura "Lula" Dern and yours truly as Nicolas "Sailor" Cage.

Although the faux snakeskin jacket I'm wearing was cut for a lady, I still feel it is a symbol of my individuality, and my belief in personal freedom.

The Eggman Cometh

Scrambled eggs, all my troubles seem so far away
Now it looks as though they're here to stay
Still I believe in scrambled eggs
-Paul McCartney

If you like scrambled eggs with Tabasco sauce as much as I do, you'd better get over to your Austin area H-E-B before June 6. They have an in-store coupon right now that entitles you to a dozen Grade AA eggs for nothing if you purchase a five-ounce bottle of Tabasco original pepper sauce or chipotle pepper sauce. Seeing as how I'd buy those two things even without the enticement of a coupon, I feel this is a really fine-ass deal.

Incidentally, the good people of Avery Island, Louisiana suggest you make Tabasco scrambled eggs by adding the sauce before you beat the eggs. I prefer to just douse my eggs with Tabasco after they're cooked.

Beyond the Valley of the Rolling Roadshow

Although not necessarily his most (ahem) titillating film, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls was the late Russ Meyer’s biggest thumb of the nose toward Hollywood. Directed by Meyer with a screenplay by Roger Ebert, everything about Dolls exudes the raspberry air of a grand prank. The comic coup de grace was playing the 20th Century Fox theme during a beheading scene. At the same time, Meyer and Ebert covered the exploitation bases with contained enough sex, drugs and violence to warrant an X rating in 1969.

This summer will be a momentous one for BTVOTD fans. On June 13, the movie makes its U.S. DVD debut in a two-disc set loaded with commentary, trailers, screen tests and the like. Even more exciting is the Alamo Drafthouse’s Rolling Roadshow screening on Saturday, June 10 at Independence Brewery. Beth Garner and the Queen of Spades will play Carrie Nations songs from the movie, and cast members Cynthia Myers (Playboy's Miss December 1968), Erica Gavin (who also memorably starred in Meyer’s Vixen) and Ronnie “Z-Man” Barzell himself (or herself), John LaZar will be in attendance, too.

Now that’s my kind of freaked-out happening!

Family Sick Leave

Apologies for the recent paucity of posts. I've been in Houston for the last several days while my mom was having surgery for breast cancer.

She had a lumpectomy Thursday morning at Methodist Hospital and was back home that afternoon. The surgeon said her lymph nodes looked clean, which is good, but we're still waiting to hear back from pathology to be sure. Assuming that's the case, she'll probably start six weeks of radiation therapy later this summer.

It appears as though early detection was key here. With that in mind, here are the American Cancer Society's early detection recommendations. ACS changed its recommendation for annual mammograms from age 50 and up to age 40 and up a few years back. If you have a family history of breast cancer, your doctor may recommend earlier or more frequent mammograms.

I didn't want to write about this until I got the okay from my mom, but it certainly has been in the forefront of my mind over the last couple of weeks.

Astroworld in the Early Seventies

As the demolition of Astroworld nears completion, here's a quick peek back in time at what the lost Houston amusement park looked like in the early Seventies. The six-minute reel includes footage of the Alpine Sleigh Ride, the River of No Return (once operated by a young Daniel Johnston!), the Wagon Wheel, Le Taxi and the Astrowheel.

Clifford Antone Dies

Austin nightclub patriarch Clifford Antone was found dead this afternoon in his Town Lake condominium. Antone was 56. Cause of death is undetermined pending autopsy, but police said it appeared to be non-suspicious.

Although Antone's is no longer a blues club in the truest sense, the club was a pivotal linchpin in the development of a new circuit that showcased legends like Muddy Waters, Albert King and John Lee Hooker in their twilight years alongside then-upstarts like Stevie Ray Vaughan and the Fabulous Thunderbirds. When Antone's opened its doors at Sixth and Brazos in 1975, there was hardly any blues circuit left.

"The hardest time was right around '75," Antone told Margaret Moser in a 2001 Austin Chronicle feature. "That's why we became so close with Jimmy (Reed), Clifton (Chenier), Muddy Waters, Willie Dixon, Walter Shakey Horton, and Sunnyland Slim. Some of them had never been to Texas. Some of them no one wanted anywhere, and here's this club of kids devoted to the blues. It just blew them away."

Despite Antone's well-publicized troubles with the law - he served two and a half years in federal prison for marijuana distribution and money laundering before being paroled in 2002 - he remained an iconic figure in Austin culture. It is sad to see him go.

Photo by Kelly West, Austin American-Statesman

K-Y for the 2K

The K-Y family of personal lubricants (click through for valuable coupons!) has come a long way since the days when its overly viscous, medically-oriented jelly ruled the roost. Nowadays they're going after the higher-end water-based lube market once left to Astroglide and Wet with a wispier, more sensualized presentation.

To that end, K-Y just introduced a mistable lubricant as well as a line of massage lotions with exotic names like Paris Twilight and Malibu Sunrise. Because the constant rollout of new products is apparently the only way to keep a brand fresh, I imagine we'll be seeing even more lotion varieties in the not-too-distant future, including:

1. Bangkok Mist
2. Tijuana Taxi
3. Stockholm Syndrome
4. Minnesota Nice
5. Alone in Albuquerque
6. Hamburg Handy
7. Big D Butter Queen
8. Mississippi Goddam
9. Scranton Santorum
10. Cleveland Steam

Great Job You're Doing There, Sweetheart

Former President Bill Clinton demonstrates the gentlemanly way to grab a shapely young intern from behind at UT's LBJ School of Public Affairs graduation ceremony Saturday afternoon.

Photo by Ralph Barrera, Austin American-Statesman

House Speaker Needs Good Shaking

Somebody needs to shake the shit out of House Speaker Dennis Hastert before he explodes David Cronenberg-style and injures a bunch of innocent people.

Trying to justify his party's tax cuts for the wealthy Wednesday night on C-SPAN, Hastert claimed a family of four earning $40,000 pays no taxes.

"So you probably, if you don’t pay any taxes, you are not going to get a very big tax cut," he concluded.

In fact, if this family's $40,000 came from wages, they would've paid 7.65% (or $3,060) in payroll taxes, which funds Social Security and Medicare (and I won't even go into the regressive nature of having payroll taxes apply only to the first $94,200 earned). The $40,000 family would've also paid sales taxes, but I guess that doesn't count in Hastert's cranium.

Whether Hastert meant a family of four earning $40,000 merely doesn't pay any federal income tax is ultimately beside the point. What's important is that the Republican leadership doesn't believe wage earners should get a tax break because wage earners "don't pay taxes."

Climb Aboard the L.A. Time Machine

As the nation's prime repository of Mid-Century commercial kitsch, greater Los Angeles is home to a boatload of nearly-extinct restaurant types such as Googie coffee shops, spaghetti houses, French dipperies and exquisitely decorated food palaces like Clifton's Cafeteria (pictured here).

Although many of these restaurants have been torn down and others (such as the last Brown Derby building) face demolition, Los Angeles Time Machine has a comprehensive listing of still-operating L.A. eateries and bars built before 1970. Plenty of photos, too. This is great stuff.

One of these days, I'm going to go out to Los Angeles and just drive around looking at stuff like this.

Don't Feed Waffles to Animals

There was a bit of excitement early last Saturday morning at the Smokey Park Highway Waffle House in Asheville, North Carolina when a bunch of whites got into it over immigration with a bunch of Hispanics.

“The two groups were jawing back and forth with each other over citizenship issues and whatnot,” Asheville Police Lt. Wallace Welch told the local paper.

As the Hispanic group drove away, someone in the car fired a gun through a plate glass window. One man in the restaurant sustained a bleeding arm from either flying glass or a richocheted bullet.

A quick listen to the amusing, Cops-worthy 911 call made by this man offers a good indication that the whole mess was fueled by copious amounts of alcohol. In the South, not being able to tell the difference between Waffle House and Huddle House is like blowing a .22 on your breathalyzer.

I don't care about what plot of soil you arbitrarily entered this mortal plane on, what ethnicity you are or what god you pray to. Any man who can't sit there and eat his motherfucking waffles in a reasonably pacific manner should be stripped of the right to call himself a man, for he is nothing more than a savage beast with a driver's license.

My Little Turn on the Catwalk

If you would've told my 15-year-old self that I would one day take part in a fashion show, I would've accused you of being high in a friendly way.

Having emerged from an adolescence of such gross sartorial ineptitude, I'm especially giddy that JenBB of Felt Up and Blue Velvet reknown asked me to take part in tomorrow night's annual Club de Ville Spring Fashion Show. I get to hang out backstage with models and everything. I'll also get to rehearse, which should minimalize the chances of me falling off the stage.

The show features fashions from several Austin boutiques, including Flipnotics, Estilo, Legs Diamond, Shiki, Upstairs, and, of course, Blue Velvet. The whole thing starts at 8pm and admission is $15. Or you can attend the VIP reception at 7pm for $40. All proceeds benefit AIDS Services of Austin, which is a mighty fine cause indeed.

Tickets are available at Blue Velvet, Club de Ville, Pink Salon, Innu Salon and all other participating boutiques.

Soup Nazi Invading Dallas

Al Yeganeh, whose Soup Kitchen International store in midtown Manhattan was the inspiration for Seinfeld’s “Soup Nazi” episode, is now going nationwide via the new Original Soup Man franchise. The first Texas location is opening this summer in Dallas at the newly-expanded NorthPark Center.

If you go, here are the rules:
1. Pick the soup you want!
2. Have your money ready!
3. Move to the EXTREME left after ordering!

There's also a list of rules for media inquiries, one of which is not to mention the N-word. Although Yeganeh understandably resented having his house rules likened to National Socialism on national TV, he apparently has no qualms about parlaying that association into big bucks. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…

My 500th Post!

I was intending to post a get-out-the-vote reminder yesterday for today's election (polls open until 7pm!), but I wound up being waylaid by a nasty stomach bug. This pretty much erased an otherwise picture-perfect spring Friday for me, but at least I'm starting to come out of it in time for Mother's Day.

I wish I had something more exciting for my 500th post, but frankly, I'm just happy not to be doubled over with nausea anymore.

James Brown!

I saw James Brown at Stubb's last night and was pleasantly surprised at how much I liked the show. It wasn't just an opportunity to bask in collective reverence. Although his band does most of the work these days, taking plenty of extended instrumental breaks, the Godfather still seems to be in command of the stage at age 73. Even without luminaries like Fred Wesley and Maceo Parker in tow, the band landed those funky breakdowns like they knew a fine awaited if they didn't.

As for me, I'll be glad if I can still mow the lawn once a month at age 73.

A Short Term Sperm Berm

Researchers in Los Angeles are testing a hormonal contraceptive that suppresses sperm production while allowing men to recover fertility after 3-4 months. Although it is still years away from market, an injected or implanted male contraceptive might be just the ticket for guys who want to avoid impregnating anyone without resorting to the big snip. The downside is that it may create a disincentive to using condoms, which could lead to higher rates of HIV and other STDs.

Ron Titter Band Thursday!

Looking for something to do in Austin this Thursday night? Well, how about pouring yourself a nice warm jar of The Ron Titter Band?

We'll be playing the book release party for Josh Frank's Fool the World: The Oral History of a Band Called Pixies around 9:30pm at Club De Ville. We even learned a mystery Pixies song for this show, so I hope it doesn't hail on us.

After that, you should go to Beerland at midnight to see a rare performance by the Sexy Finger Champs with former bassist Rebekah Whitehurst and current bassist Ernie C. Ernst in attendance.

Then you should go ahead and take Friday off because the man owes you one, dammit!

The Hard Hat Riots

On May 8, 1970, four days after Ohio National Guardsmen killed four students and wounded nine others at Kent State University, protesters in New York City were set upon by angry construction workers screaming things like “Love it or leave it!” and “Kill the commie bastards!” So began the "Hard Hat Riots."

There was at least one contemporary news account of workers being offered bonuses by their contractor employers for taking time off to "break some heads." Interestingly, several of the workers came to the Wall Street demonstration from the nearby World Trade Center construction site.

Although the Kent State shootings are generally accepted as tragic today, there were many contemporary law-and-order voices that heartily approved of them at the time.

Into the Purple

You know the purple part of a severe thunderstorm on Doppler weather radar? Well, I just got done driving through that shit a little while ago. Not a good idea, kids.

Things were getting pretty bad as I approached 45th and Lamar. I almost pulled into the health department parking garage to wait it out. I flipped on KVET (the only radio station in town that pays enough attention to weather) and their transmitter was cutting out. Sheets of rain were blown at me by gusts of wind in the 50-60 mph range, but I was only about 10 minutes from home, so I kept going.

The hail started coming near the intersection of Grover and Brentwood, which was conveniently blocked off by a fallen limb. My brakes locked up as I skidded to avoid it. Fortunately, I managed to get underneath my carport before any serious damage occurred. If that's what marble-sized hail sounds like when it peppers your car, I don't want to find out what baseball-sized hail sounds like.

If I ever drive into the purple again, it sure as hell won't be in a car I own.

Lapdogs

Although the history of the American mainstream media’s complicity in our falsely-predicated war with Iraq is still unfolding, this thick excerpt from Eric Boehlert’s Lapdogs: How the Press Rolled Over for Bush provides a good overview of the cowed post-9/11 mentality that allowed the Bush administration to get away with it.

America suffered a mass nervous breakdown after 9/11 and the Bush administration cynically took full advantage. While we grieved and reeled, the mainstream media fell down on the job like a scared child at the feet of its daddy president, dutifully reporting the administration’s misinformation about WMDs as fact and scaring us into buying useless plastic sheeting and duct tape.

Meanwhile, Afghanistan got relegated to the day stage and whoever was responsible for the anthrax letters (remember those?) remained at large.

Gone Daddy Gone

I did a brief interview with Violent Femmes bassist Brian Ritchie yesterday morning in advance of their upcoming Austin show at Stubb's on May 18.

Like so many chronically unmotivated, alienated and unsexed high school kids who fully expected to be dead of nuclear war before age 30, the Wisconsin-based trio's self-titled first album was a big-time touchstone for me. If I would’ve known how many ohter kids wore out copies of that album, maybe I wouldn’t have been so alienated.

I first heard Violent Femmes in 1985. The album was two years old then. My buddy John picked me up in his beat-up VW bug and told me he had a tape of this band I just had to hear. We cruised down lower Westheimer in Houston listening to “Blister in the Sun” and “Add It Up” over and over again. Gordon Gano’s articulation of adolescent rage and longing is perfectly pitched, but Ritchie and drummer Victor De Lorenzo’s folk and jazz-alluding rhythmic arrangements are no less important in ensuring the album’s classic pedigree.

It took more than a decade, but Violent Femmes eventually went platinum. To this day, it’s still the only album to sell over a million copies without ever appearing on Billboard’s top 200 albums chart. Slash Records couldn't afford the hype, so almost everyone who bought the album learned about it via word-of-mouth until the X-monikered commercial alternative stations started playing the Femmes during their mid-Nineties "flashback lunch" hours.

I'd put Violent Femmes in my top ten albums of the Eighties, right up there with X, Prince and the Minutemen. The Femmes could’ve continued on in that style, but starting with Hallowed Ground (which has its own set of devotees), they’ve continued to evolve in far-reaching ways. Ritchie’s solo albums are out there in Sun Ra country. He’s actually a master of the Japanese shakuhachi flute, too.

Quiet on the Austin Front

I made it back to Austin late this afternoon just ahead of the isolated thunderstorms. After being surrounded by activity all weekend, my abode now seems much too quiet. It sure was nice seeing the Aussie wing of my family again. We really have to do something about Australia being so far away from here.