Blue Bells Ringing

When Kate got home from work last night, I not-so-nonchalantly foisted a box of Blue Bell Pop & Fudge Bars into her hands and suggested we enjoy a couple of banana fudgesicles while discussing supper plans.

Unbeknownst to her, I’d spent my lunch hour surrupticiously opening the Pop & Fudge box from the back, removing some of the frozen confections and placing an engagement ring inside the box before resealing it with semi-concealed strips of packing tape.

I'd also placed a semi-frantic call to Russell Korman Jewelers the night before to make sure the ring wouldn’t be damaged by being in the freezer for a few hours. The lady who answered the phone assured me that a few hours wouldn’t hurt. The conversation that followed went like this:

“Just out of curiosity, what are you planning to do?”

“Um, my girlfriend really likes banana fudgesicles so I thought I’d surprise her by putting the ring in a box of banana fudgesicles and resealing it.”

“Oh...well...good luck with that!”

This was the first time I had voiced my plan out loud to anyone. I didn’t realize how ridiculous it might sound to some people until right then. I could only hope Kate would appreciate it.

When she noticed the ring amid the pop and fudge, I dropped to one knee, pulled a dozen roses out of the cupboard and asked Kate if she’d grant me the privilege of becoming her husband.

I’m very happy to report that she said yes.

The Rock Agenda

Lotsa stuff going down on the musical front. The Ron Titter Band plays its final show before going on hiatus this Saturday at the Continental Club. Our guitarist David Wyatt is going on paternity leave, so this is your last chance to get a Titter fix until the spring of 2008.

We’ll be going on at 9:45, followed by David’s acclaimed Queen tribute band, Magnifico! The night closes in a Neilward mood with the seductive, sequined growl of the Diamond Smugglers. Admission is $10 and costumes are encouraged.


Then on Tuesday night at Beerland, I’ll be joining members of Oh, Beast! and the Awesome Cool Dudes in a Huey Lewis tribute band called the New Drugs. With Pataphysics as Hall & Oates, Diamond Caverns as Roky Erickson and the Jazzus Lizard as the Jesus Lizard, this show promises to be stronger and harder than a bad girl’s dream.

P&K Grocery Shuts Doors

Austinist reports that P&K Grocery at the corner of S. 5th and W. Mary has closed down. That’s too bad. Kate and I occasionally enjoyed walking over there from her old apartment for a delicious breakfast muffin or a Cuban press sandwich that was one of the best in town.

Unfortunately, P&K’s limited epicurean grocery selection and attendant high prices ensured only those wildly unencumbered by financial constraints would actually shop there on a regular basis. Despite spiraling property values in Travis Heights, there aren’t many South Austinites willing to drop $5 for orange juice just for the privilege of bragging that they don’t shop at H-E-B.

Buenos Fotos

This is a house down the street from our hotel in the Palermo Viejo area. I like the way the yellow contrasts with the blooming red flowers. It's spring down there, ya know?


Here's me trying to look cosmopolitan in the condo-crazy enclave of Puerto Madero on the swampy banks of the Rio de la Plata.


Kate wanted me to take a photo of her kissing this statue of a famous Argentinian Grand Prix driver whose name escapes me. In my attempt to frame Buenos Aires' Microcentro behind her, I totally lost the accompanying race car.


The beautiful green slopes of Plaza San Martin in the Retiro neighborhood were a prime necking spot on this sunny afternoon.


Kate took this cool shot of the art deco Kavanaugh Building (which was the tallest in South America for many years) through the barely budding trees in Plaza San Martin.


Here's Kate on the giant Buquebus ferry that took us from Buenos Aires to Colonia de Sacramento, Uruguay in about an hour.


Overlooking the Rio de la Plata in Colonia. We were only there for a couple of hours, but it was a nice, quiet respite from the city.


Me striking a hipster pose on the legitimately hip balcony patio next to our room at Casa Alfaro.


Upon our arrival back home, I had no choice but to strip off my clothes and wrap myself in the green cellophane wrap you get at the Buenos Aires airport to foil would-be luggage thieves. Kate had no choice but to take this photo.

Ciao, Argentina

Well, Kate and I made it back to the good ol’ U.S.A. on Saturday morning with minimal fuss. After having an oversized tube of sunscreen lotion in my carry-on bag through several security checkpoints, the Department of Homeland Security finally confiscated it in Houston right before our final flight to Austin. I actually noticed I still had it in my bag when I was in Buenos Aires, but I figured I’d take my chances on getting it back home.

Despite having to be at the Buenos Aires airport four hours prior to our 9:50pm departure (not a bad idea, as the pre-board security measures there were a bit non-intuitive), we made the most of a mild Friday afternoon by languidly poking about the Palermo Viejo one last time. As I turned the key to our front door, it was a bit hard to rectify that I’d been happily immersed in a bowl of dulce de leche on a South American street corner not 24 hours earlier.

Our grand total of beef-based meals at parillas turned out to be three. How I wish we had such reasonably-priced and perfectly-juiced cuts of steak here in the States! Nevertheless, one cannot live on steak alone. The massive wave of Italian immigrants into Argentina at the turn of the 20th century means you can get some of the world’s best pizza and gelato in Buenos Aires. We wound up having an excellent Moroccan dinner on Thursday night, too.

I’m not sure when I’ll ever make it back to Argentina, but I wholeheartedly recommend B.A. as a warm, friendly alternative to the dollar-crushing Old Country. If I do make it back, I’d like to get out of the city to explore Patagonia, Izagu Falls and the wine-growing region around Mendoza.

Click here and here to read Kate's musings on B.A.

Greetings from Buenos Aires

Welcome to the very first Beetsolonely blog entry from the Southern hemisphere.

I'm writing you from the communal computer in the lobby of the Casa Alfaro B+B in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Kate and I came down here last Saturday via Continental's 10-hour flight out of Houston. Despite the length of the flight, the jet lag wasn´t so bad because we were only two hours ahead.

We spent Sunday strolling through San Telmo, where tango orchestras set up in the streets and antique stores brimmed with wares. That evening, we dined at our first parilla (La Casera) and ordered way too much bife de chorizo. Although the menus at each of the parillas we've gone to have been pretty much the same, each savory cut of Argentinean beef has had its own unique high points. Morton´s and Ruth´s Chris have nothing on the everyday neighborhood parilla in Buenos Aires.

We hit the Recoleta on Monday and walked through the rich folks´city of the dead, which was a fine contrast with the nearby Biblioteca Nacional - a brutalist-futurist monstrosity that was built on the site of Juan and Eva Peron´s former residence after an oppositional regime razed it.

Tuesday was a smog-choked subway ride into the Microcentro (B.A.´s central business district) and Puerto Madero, the city´s refurbished wharf district where expensive condo projects now reign supreme. The hustle-and-bustle of downtown B.A. is similar to what you might find in any huge metropolis, but the neighborhoods just outside the Microcentro all have their own charms. I´m very partial to Palermo Viejo, the barrio we´re staying in. The tree-lined streets and corner stores evoke a real sense of place, though there are plenty of boutiques and fancy restaurants, too.

Today we took a ferry boat across the Rio de La Plata to Colonia de Sacramento, Uruguay. Colonia is an old Portuguese military settlement turned resort town. It was nice to get away from the big city for a few hours.

I´m not sure what we´re doing tomorrow because our flight leaves at 9pm and we have to be at the airport four (!) hours early. I imagine we´ll take it a little easy because both of us are fighting cold symptoms. Nevertheless, it has been quite a fun trip thus far.

Dutch Ban Shrooms

Sad news for magic mushroom fans. The historically-tolerant Dutch banned the sale of psychedelic mushrooms today in the wake of a visiting French teen-ager who jumped to her death from an Amsterdam building while under the influence.

This was not the first instance of tourists running amok on mushrooms in the Netherlands, though vendors say all of the incidents reported in the media involved the mixing of mushrooms with alcohol and other drugs.

NBC Leaving Burbank

After 56 years, NBC Universal announced today that it was moving the venerable NBC Studios from Burbank to a new site across the street from Universal Studios at the intersection of the 101 Freeway and Lankershim Blvd. in Hollywood.

Burbank’s place in the national consciousness was largely secured by NBC through disparaging Johnny Carson monologues and announcer Gary Owens’ satirical “beautiful downtown Burbank” intro to Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In. When Conan O’Brien takes over The Tonight Show from Jay Leno in 2009, it will air from Studio One on the Universal lot, a soundstage initially built for The Jack Benny Program.

NBC expects its new facilities to be completed by 2011. The network’s first West Coast headquarters was also in Hollywood at the corner of Sunset and Vine.

H-Town Punk Rock Memories

If I wasn’t going to be out of the country, there’s no way I’d be missing the Axiom 20th Anniversary Party in Houston at Fitzgerald’s this Friday and Saturday.

Sprawl, deSchmog, Bayou Pigs, Cinco Dudes, Sad Pygmy, Fleshmop, Grindin’ Teeth, Anarchitex and the Cave Reverend are just a few of the bands resurrecting themselves. I feel way worse missing this than I did missing my 20-year high school reunion earlier this year. After all, the Axiom is where I cut more than a few of my punk rock teeth as both a fan and a performer.

The Axiom opened east of downtown Houston on the corner of McKinney and Live Oak in the fall of 1987. Another all-ages punk venue called Cabaret Voltaire had occupied the same location in 1986. At the time, the neighborhood surrounding the club was an urban wasteland of shotgun shacks and abandoned warehouses. I haven’t been over there in awhile, but I’m pretty sure it’s all lofted up these days.

I first played the Axiom in November 1987 with the Ingopods, the high school-era band I sang for alongside guitarist Kilian Sweeney (deSchmog, Churchbus), bassist Noah Sternthal (Willis, Big T), rhythm guitarist Jonathan Sage (deSchmog) and a succession of drummers. We were opening for Austin’s Nice Strong Arm.

Although the Ingopods replaced me with Troy Black when I moved to Austin for school, I’d always try to get back to Houston to get shitfaced on Milwaukee’s Beast and sit in with them for a few songs. It sure beat getting shitfaced on Milwaukee’s Beast alone in my dorm room.

Cheezus played the Axiom several times, too. One of our most fun shows was when we played there with the Shoulders and deSchmog in the summer of 1991. Later that year, we were playing the Axiom with 27 Devils Joking when the TABC showed up. You could usually tell when a raid was going down because the agents always seemed to be wearing khakis and blue blazers.

Although the Axiom closed in 1992 and gave way to a similarly-themed venue called Catal Huyuk, followed by Harvey’s in 1994, I still thought of that club as the Axiom. Accordingly, I’d have to say my favorite ever Axiom moment came at a Noodle show in 1993, when our guitar ace Jonathan Toubin vomited on several people in the crowd while his mother watched from a safe distance. Being part of that was definitely a watershed moment in my musical career.

Last-Second Win Embarrasses Fair-Weather Fan

I know I’m not the only moronic Dallas Cowboys fan who turned off the TV in disgust last night when Terrell Owens couldn’t make the two-point conversion play that would’ve tied the Buffalo Bills with 20 seconds to go in the fourth quarter. With Tony Romo throwing five interceptions, the fact that Dallas stayed in the game was implausible enough.

Who would’ve thought the Cowboys would recover an onside kick and make a 53-yard field goal to win the game 25-24 as time ran out? That sort of thing just doesn’t happen in pro football. Despite Romo’s horrible night, you have to give the team credit for staying cool under pressure while I was screaming profanities at the top of my lungs.

I’ve been refusing to bet Kate on Sunday’s Cowboys-Patriots showdown without a spread, but now I think I’ll have to give up the points just to ameliorate the shame of skulking away from the Bills game before the final gun.

Photo by Louis DeLuca/Dallas Morning News

Baghdad Highways

A couple of weeks ago, our state’s biggest daily newspapers reported that TxDOT is running out of money to pay for new roads and bridges.

That’s largely because the gas tax hasn’t been increased to keep up with inflation and there’s no new highway money forthcoming from the federal government. But where is all the money going?

One answer is that federal highway funds are being cut by Congress to pay for the war in Iraq. The Federal Highway Administration has slated $871 million in highway improvement funds for rescission this year to feed the war effort along with hurricane relief and veteran’s care.

Kate wrote a nice story about these cuts in the October 5 ABJ, but unless you’re a paid print subscriber, you’ll have to wait for it to pop up on the free side of their site to read the whole thing. You can also find the ABJ in the periodicals section at many of Austin's public libraries (cue NBC’s “The More You Know” logo).

At any rate, I sure hope all the dead-enders out there don’t mind longer commutes and the occasional collapsing bridge.

The Houston 100

Here's a good Friday afternoon time-killer for obsessive music geeks with a Houston connection. John Nova Lomax and my former Austin Chronicle compatriot Chris Gray have compiled a list of the 100 greatest Houston songs for the Houston Press music blog.

Aside from songs written and/or performed by Houstonians past and present, songs recorded in Houston, released by Houston labels or about Houston were eligible. The sum of each song's relative "Houston-ness" also figured into the ranking. However, no songs released in the last five years were considered.

If you can't guess which song came out on top, then it's definitely time for you to make it mellow...

Ron Titter Plays Clean-up for Big Band Frenzy

Come on out to Ruta Maya tomorrow night at 8:30pm to see the Golden Hornet Project's Big Band Frenzy. The big band in question will feature three trumpets, three trombones, three saxophones, guitar, piano, bass and drums performing compositions by Graham Reynolds, Peter Stopschinski and Josh Robbins.

Then stick around for the after-party at 10:30 with sets from The Ron Titter Band (your favorite and mine) and the Invincible Czars. Admission is $10 for the whole shebang and $5 for just the after party. Ain't no monkey gonna stop this show!

HAAM Benefit Day

Don’t forget that today, October 2, is HAAM Benefit Day in Austin.

Businesses all over town are donating a percentage of the day’s profits to the Health Alliance for Austin Musicians to help provide low-cost health care, dental care and mental health services to Austin’s many uninsured musicians. A list of participating businesses can be found here. Several businesses are also hosting musical performances.

Meanwhile, ME Television is hosting an all-day telethon to raise money for HAAM. Charity Partners of Austin will match up to $10,000 raised through the telethon.

Bank 'Em Horns!

When one sees a headline like "The Longhorn Economy" splayed across the front of the Sunday Statesman, it's natural to assume you're about to read a rah-rah puff piece about how great UT football games are for our local economy.

As it turns out, Eric Dexheimer's series about the engorged budget of UT's athletics department is required reading for anyone who cares about higher education in Texas. Set against the backdrop of rising tuition and student services fees, dwindling need-based financial aid opportunities and student loans that take forever to pay off, it's hard not to be sickened by how much money is being thrown around by the Burnt Orange Brass ($107.6 million this year).

Although UT's athletic program does make money, the school's role as pacesetter among programs forces the vast majority of college sports programs that don't make money to mortgage their futures in the name of remaining competitive. For example, four out of every 10 dollars of Texas Tech's current debt service now goes to pay off new and refurbished sports facilities.

Meanwhile, our tax code rewards well-heeled alumni with hefty deductions for donations to athletic programs. Believe it or not, 80 percent of the donations made to university athletic foundations to secure luxury box rentals and prime season tickets can be written off.

Aside from funneling donations away from academics, allowing deductions on luxury box rentals encourages wasteful, extravagant spending of Other People's Money under the phony guise of "doing business." The whole system stands as yet another indictment of our depraved sense of priorities in this country.

All this for a football team that can't even beat Kansas State!

Where Have All the Lutherans Gone?

Another day in Austin, another high-end hotel development with condos on top.

Hyatt wants to build a 17-story Andaz Hotel on the soon-to-be-former site of Concordia University near the intersection of IH-35 and 32nd Street.

From the rendering, it appears as though the architects stole the punch-card facade of UT’s Burdine Hall and stuck a glass box on the front. Steve Haggerty, head of Global Hyatt’s development and real estate arm, says the planned hotel aims to attract customers looking for “fresh, uncomplicated luxury.”

“Uncomplicated luxury?” Sorry, but if I’m paying $500 a night for a luxury hotel room, it better goddamn well be complicated. I want a bed like a mother’s womb, a TV that reads my mind and a toilet that sings “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head” when I pee.

Cans Film Festival

Wanna see a movie for cheap and do a good deed all at once? Check out the Cans Film Festival this Thursday, September 27.

Bring three non-perishable food items or $3 to Austin-area Regal Cinemas and receive one free movie ticket and a free small popcorn to boot. The comestibles will be donated to the Capital Area Food Bank of Texas. Click here for more information.

Jack in the Box Revisited

This animated Jack in the Box commercial is from 1970. I just watched it for the first time in about 36 years.

While Jack in the Box's cartoon characters never gained the same traction as kiddie fast food icons like Ronald McDonald, I never could get that last frame of the Jack in the Box sign spinning around with birds chirping in the background out of my mind.

Tap My Thumbcasts, Baby

Do you know what a “thumbcast” is?

Well, I didn’t either until recently. Thumbcasts are simply text messages that are broadcast to people’s mobile phones. Although my fat thumbs are not nimble enough to text at the rate of your average American youth, I am now generating thumbcasts as an independent media correspondent (or “freelancer,” if you will) for 80108 Media, a Boston-based company that sends mobile messages about local goings-on to subscribers in several markets around the country, including Austin.

Each 80108 correspondent gets a channel. Mine is called “Austin Out There.” I cover everything from shows to food to sales on building supplies. I try to focus on under-the-radar items that are free or relatively cheap so you’ll have more beer money. You can check out my most recent thumbcasts online here.

Take a look and please consider subscribing to get my messages sent straight to your phone if you have a supported carrier with unlimited text messaging. It’s a free service and you stand to save a nice chunk of change following my tips. Most importantly, the home office will reward me handsomely if I generate enough subscriptions.

Jeez, I feel like one of those elementary school kids selling Ranger Rick subscriptions to raise money for a new jungle gym.

Feasts for Ears and Mouths Alike

It’s a little late for an ACL wrap-up, but click away if you’re interested in reading my thoughts about the Mighty Clouds of Joy, Back Door Slam, the Arctic Monkeys and DeVotchKa.

Aside from the music, Kate and I had a pretty good time at this year’s fest. It wasn’t insanely hot and we were fortunate enough to find nearby parking in a friend’s driveway. The weekend’s biggest bummer came on Saturday afternoon when we walked over to Barton Springs and found it closed due to flooding. I guess we should’ve headed north to Deep Eddy instead. If that’s the worst thing that happens to you at a ginormous music festival, you’re doing pretty well.

Kate’s dad and his wife paid us a visit from Massachusetts this weekend. It was great to see them again. We celebrated her dad’s birthday Friday night with dinner at Eddie V’s Edgewater Grill downtown. I had an excellent swordfish steak with a crabmeat and avocado topping.

I’ve always heard great things about the beef at Eddie V’s, but I was saving myself for Saturday’s barbecue pilgrimage at Smitty’s Market in Lockhart. That too was gastronomically satisfying, especially the pork ribs. I still haven’t comparison shopped at the cavernous new Kreuz Market, but between what I hear from friends and what I read on the message boards, Smitty’s seems to be the cue to beat.

I Don't Like Mondays (Or Tuesdays)

I've recently developed a well-timed morning routine in which I turn on the shower and then spend two minutes brushing my teeth while the water gets warm.

This morning, much to my chagrin, the water was still cold when I finished brushing. I waited another minute or so and the temperature failed to change appreciably. As valuable commuting seconds ticked away, I finally had no choice but to jump in the cold shower and quickly wash my body in befuddled anger.

Upon finishing, I beckoned Kate and asked her if she'd had hot water. There was no problem on her end. My mind immediately jumped back to my months-long shower debacle and I began to panic. My face contorted into a scowl and I informed Kate in a breathless, clipped tone that I'd probably have to move my man-gear back into the main bathroom she uses for lack of warm water in mine. It wasn't even 8am and the entire day was now a great big pile of misfortune.

As it turns out, I was turning the wrong knob. It never even occurred to me to try turning the other knob. I just assumed the hot water on my shower was broken.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the same brain I use to operate a two-ton motor vehicle each and every weekday morning.

Dining for Life

If you haven’t made dinner plans yet, keep in mind that more than 60 Austin-area restaurants are donating 15% of their proceeds to AIDS Services of Austin today and tomorrow.

Dining for Life is the tastiest fundraising event around. Click here for a list of participating restaurants.

ACL Day One: After the Fire

Although two concession stand employees were critically injured in this afternoon's fire, there was little evidence of crisis when Kate and I arrived at the ACL Festival around 5pm.

We saw most of LCD Soundsystem's set, which was pretty fun and irreverent, before walking over to see Spoon. The sound for Spoon's show was middling from our vantage point behind the sound booth. They had a four-piece horn section to play "Cherry Bomb," which is my favorite song from the new album, but they were wavering in the mix. The non-horn songs came across a little cleaner.

From there, Kate went to see the Kaiser Chiefs and I went to see the Mighty Clouds of Joy. I found the latter mildly entertaining, but they didn't rock the gospel stage with the intensity of Texas-bred gospel groups like the Mighty Voices of Navasota and the Jones Family Singers. Frankly, they seemed a little too by-the-numbers.

I caught the tail end of the Kaiser Chiefs and they were definitely holding their own with the crowd. Meanwhile, Reverend Horton Heat was engaged in a set of time-traveling covers that went from the Fifties (Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues") through the Seventies (Black Sabbath's "Paranoid"). The latter may have been the single best song I heard all day.

Breaking News: Fire at ACL Festival

I was just about to head out from work at the Austin State Hospital campus to the ACL Festival when I noticed a giant plume of black smoke billowing up from the general direction of Zilker Park.

Moments later I got a call from Kate, who was getting text messages from friends saying there was a fire at the festival. Apparently a fire broke out near some concession stands between the Washington Mutual stage (where I'm supposed to review the Mighty Clouds of Joy in a few hours) and the AT&T stage at about 2:30pm. KXAN says two propane tanks exploded. The fire department is reporting some injuries and 911 callers said several trailers were burning.

As of right now, though, the music continues...

Midwest Launches Austin-KC Nonstop

Austinites will now have a choice of nonstop flights to Kansas City.

Midwest Airlines is launching two daily regional jet nonstops to K.C. starting Monday. These flights will compete with ExpressJet’s Austin-Kansas City flight that launched earlier this year.

As bad as putting more planes in the air might be for the environment, I'm glad the advent of regional jets is bringing more nonstop flights to non-hub airports like Austin’s.

After all, having to dine at the D/FW Airport Popeye’s during a layover isn’t that great for the environment, either.

Texas International Pop Festival

On the eve of another Austin City Limits Music Festival, it feels appropriate to look back to 1969, when Grand Funk Railroad rocked the Texas International Pop Festival in the Dallas suburb of Lewisville. Here they are performing "Are You Ready."



Other performers on the bill included Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin, B.B. King, Sam & Dave, Santana, Nazz and Chicago (still billing themselves as "Chicago Transit Authority" at the time). The latter group performs "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?" and "I'm a Man" in the box below.

H-E-B Buys Albertson's Out of Austin

There’s big news today in grocery-land. According to a brief Kate just wrote for the Austin Business Journal, H-E-B is acquiring five Albertson’s locations in the Austin area and converting three of them to H-E-B stores.

The three Albertson’s that will assume the Mark of the Butt are located at 12860 Research Blvd. in Austin, 701 Capital of Texas Hwy. in West Lake Hills (“Wesslayke!”) and 3750 Gattis School Rd. in Round Rock. H-E-B will sit on the other two former Albertson’s on Pleasant Valley and at the “Y” in Oak Hill as real estate investments – not to mention hedges against potential competition.

This effectively ends Albertson's tenure in the Austin market, a milestone I semi-predicted over two years ago. Still no word on what might happen to the shuttered Albertson’s at the corner of Research and Ohlen, though.

Burger King Kares About Kids

Although Burger King’s primary business objective is to shove large quantities of meat and cheese down the pieholes of coarse-demeanored man-boys, a nod to children’s health is a primo way to curry positive puff. It’s the ol’ Hitler-got-a-puppy approach to media relations.

In an effort to head off calls for government regulation of fast food advertising, BK has pledged to restrict marketing of its most unhealthy menu items to kids under 12 while also developing healthier offerings for kids that no one in their right mind would go to Burger King to eat.

My favorite is “BK Fresh Apple Fries,” which AP business writer Adrian Sanz describes thusly:

The red apples are cut to resemble french fries and are served in the same containers as fries, but they are not fried and are served skinless and cold.

Mmm, skinless and cold. Doesn’t that make your mouth water?

If I was a kid at Burger King and someone handed me a fry container filled with apple slices, I would throw a goddamn fit – especially if dear old dad was contentedly munching his way toward coronary bypass surgery on a Triple Whopper with Cheese.

In case you’re wondering why the “french” in “french fries” isn’t capitalized, I consulted the AP's stylebook and that is correct according to them. Although fried potatoes likely originated in present-day Belgium and “French fries” is a misattributed 19th Century American term, I still think “french fries” looks wrong in all lowercase.

On the other hand, I have no problem with “french kiss” or “french tickler.”

Keep America Rolling, Suckers!

As the gap between rich and poor in the U.S. drifts closer to Third World proportions with each passing year, at least American plebeians can do their part to uphold the virtues of extravagance by working harder for not much more money, buying more crap and watching more rich people on TV.

Quoth Heather Haverilesky in today’s Salon:

It's been obvious for years that Veblen's standard of pecuniary decency -- the minimum amount of conspicuous consumption one must maintain to be considered acceptable -- keeps inching higher and higher in this country, until Americans consider themselves struggling unless they're taking luxury spa vacations or redecorating that unbearably tacky half-bath. These notions aren't formed out of thin air, though. As a scan across the dial this fall makes clear, the TV doesn't just celebrate the supreme excitement and importance of money, it presents a lavish lifestyle as the norm, while casting average Americans as its money-grubbing guinea pigs, poised to stab each other in the back in the pursuit of the material wealth it taught them to covet in the first place.

So Long, Sherman

When I was a kid in the back seat of my parents’ 1966 Mustang, I remember going north on the Central Expressway in Dallas and seeing the highway signs directing travelers north to Sherman. I asked my dad where Sherman was and he said it was a town near the Oklahoma border. I don’t think I’ve ever actually been to Sherman, but seeing the town’s name on those big green signs always triggered fond childhood memories when I returned to Dallas years later.

Now I hear TxDOT has altered directional signs for the Central Expressway by replacing Sherman with McKinney. There wasn’t much going on in McKinney when U.S. 75 became an expressway in the Fifties, but now the Collin County seat has a population of about 110,000. As such, it is a much more suitable “principle city” than Sherman.

It’s a sensible enough change, but I’m going to miss Sherman.

Photo by Louis DeLuca/Dallas Morning News

Bad Rap

Here's an early MTV chestnut from Austin's own Joe "King" Carrasco & the Crowns. This mix of "Bad Rap" from 1981's Synapse Gap is much hotter than the album version in my estimation. The video is loads of kooky, low-budget fun and there's even some vintage footage of Austin's skyline during the magic carpet ride sequence.

Believe it or not, Carrasco also coaxed Michael Jackson into singing a duet on Synapse called "Don't Let a Woman Make a Fool Out of You." You could still do that in 1981.

West Texas in the Rear-View Mirror

Shortly before having to trek to Alpine to buy underwear on Sunday, Kate and I drove up to McDonald Observatory for a daytime program. I found it somewhat long and ponderous, but it was still cool to watch a giant telescope move with the touch of a button. Our tour guide even let some little kids move the telescope. I was jealous of them.

Even more impressive was the vista from Mount Locke at the terminus of the highest roadway in the Texas highway system. This summer's above-average rainfall made the normally desert-leaning landscape uncommonly verdant. I half-expected Julie Andrews to emerge from behind a boulder singing "The Sound of Music."

After Alpine, we pressed onward to Marfa, where the annual Marfa Lights festival was wrapping up in front of the Presidio County Courthouse. We browsed through the Marfa Book Company and checked out the Hotel Paisano, where the cast of Giant stayed during location filming. Unfortunately, there were no decent restaurants open, so we wound up at Dairy Queen. I live about three blocks from a Dairy Queen I never go to because the food is always disappointing, but somehow Dairy Queens are better when they’re in small towns. Lack of choice will do that to you.

The foodstuffs weren't much better back in Fort Davis. We wound up having fajitas at Pop's Place, which was better than Dairy Queen, but not by much. My temporary 3-day membership at the Hotel Limpia Sutler's Club was still in effect (you need to belong to a "club" to drink in Jeff Davis County), so Kate and I decided to put away a couple of brews.

The Sutler's Club overlooks the Hotel Limpia's dining room from a balcony. A plexiglass window separates the two spaces so people in the bar can smoke. As we drank, Kate noticed a rather angry professional-looking woman reading the riot act to our waitress from the night before. Apparently something was wrong with her meal and nothing the waitress said could placate her. As this was going on, the angry woman's two male companions just buried their faces in their plates. They ultimately left a $2 tip after having their meals comped. Kate and I never did figure out exactly what was going on, but it was amusing to surreptitiously watch the scene unfold from above. After one last look at the stars, we retired for the evening.

We drove back to Austin Monday, stopping briefly in Fort Stockton for a Tex-Mex lunch in a dreary, windowless restaurant with no natural light. It looked like something out of The Last Picture Show. Even though the food was pretty good, Fort Stockton is best seen receding in the rear-view mirror.

For the Seafood Glutton in You

Some people like fall because the leaves change colors. Others like fall because it brings a respite from the heat of summer as winter’s chill gradually settles in. I like fall because it means Endless Shrimp at Red Lobster.

For a limited time, good Americans like you and me can waddle into any participating Red Lobster throughout the contiguous 48 states and get shrimp after shrimp after shrimp for just $15.99. You can choose from Crunchy Popcorn Shrimp, Garlic Shrimp Scampi, Hand-Breaded Shrimp, Shrimp Linguini Alfredo and Red Lobster’s new Buffalo Shrimp (pictured) with a side of ranch. If putting away the most shrimp is your goal, I suggest staying away from the linguini and doubling up on the scampi.

During last year’s pilgrimage, I ate 60 shrimp along with a salad, baked potato and two cheddar biscuits. That was respectable enough, but my goal was to eat 100 shrimp. I’m afraid the century mark may still be elusive given my lack of conditioning, but 75 is a real possibility.

In the Clearing Stood the Boxers

I haven't had time to compose a full recounting of our last full day in Fort Davis, but I didn't want to leave faithful readers hanging like I was regarding the underwear situation.

For the record, I did find new underpants on Sunday. There was a place called ALCO in Alpine that is sort of like a low-rent Wal-Mart. You typically see them in towns that are too small to support a Wal-Mart, but the proprietor of our hotel said Alpine wanted nothing to do with Wal-Mart in any case.

The underwear in question were cut too large and cost nine bucks for a pack of three, but it was either that or Beall's. Although the latter might have served me better, I've been loath to shop at Beall's since the infamous Farting Salesman Incident of 2006.

I'll write about less significant trip-related ephemera later.

Underneath It All

Despite my seemingly meticulous packing, it came to my attention early this morning that I forgot to pack underwear. This is not the first time I've left home with no clean drawers. Obtaining replacement britches is not a problem in Houston, but out here, it typically involves an hour-long round trip.

I meekly asked the hotel proprietor where I might find "clothing items like T-shirts and jeans" on a Sunday and she directed me to the nearby humane society thrift store. I'm pretty cheap, folks, but not cheap enough to buy used underwear. If that is my only option, I will be free balling it for the remainder of this here vacation.

Fort Davis Fadeaway

Although I started the weekend wiped out from having to wake up at 4:50am on Friday morning to catch my make-up flight out of Atlanta, Kate and I set the alarm for 6:30am Saturday morning so we could wake up and drive to Fort Davis.

As it turned out, Kate’s penchant for hitting the snooze button multiple times and my own piddling morning ways delayed us well past our planned 7am departure. We didn’t get on the road until almost 8. My windshield got dinged pretty badly on IH-10 and I made a mess of my Guayabera shirt while attempting to eat a delicious whole tomato, but the trip was otherwise unmarred.

We made surprisingly good time, too. I almost got the ol’ Civic up to 100 on U.S. 90 between Sanderson and Marathon before a Satan-sized buzzard in the middle of the road slowed me down. That turned out to be a good thing because I had to swerve into the emergency lane moments later when some shit-for-brains in a pickup truck tried to pass cars in the opposite lane without enough space.

I wanted to stop at Shirley’s Burnt Biscuit Bakery in Marathon, but they’d already closed for the day. We walked around the Gage Hotel a bit and salivated at the sight of their swimming pool. Their well-apportioned men’s room was festooned with an autographed photo of James Arness from TV’s Gunsmoke. I’ve always thought it would be kind of cool to have autographed photos of myself hanging on the walls of various commercial establishments, but maybe not so much in the pisser.

We arrived in Fort Davis about an hour later. It was 3:15, which was only 15 minutes later than we’d planned to get here. Kate made reservations at a B&B called The Veranda. It is housed in an old turn-of-the-last-century hotel. It’s a very quiet place with no TV, but they do have a middling wi-fi connection through which I’m coming to you now.

The proprietor warned Kate to advise me that the only room she had left was equipped with a tub but no shower. She said many men have a problem with that. I am not one of those silly, insecure men. In fact, we have purchased Mr. Bubble for the occasion.

We never really had lunch on the road, so we decided to grab calzones at Murphy’s Pizzaria and Café on the courthouse square. The calzones were much better than anyone has a right to expect in the middle of Far West Texas.

Then we took a late afternoon walk so I could work up an appetite for dinner at the Hotel Limpia dining room. Kate had grilled eggplant and tomatoes and I had burgundy-marinated roast beef with cream cheese mashed potatoes. We split a slice of obscenely rich buttermilk pie for dessert. Both our entrees were also really good, but if you want something unique at the Limpia, try their chicken fried tenderloin sometime. It’s so wrong it’s right.

The stars at night really are big and bright in Fort Davis. In deference to nearby McDonald Observatory, there are no streetlights. The night skies out here have a texture and depth that can almost make you dizzy if you’re not used to it. You can’t get much further away from hustle and bustle than this. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my bubble bath.

For a different point of view regarding our West Texas sojourn, click yo' self on over to Lone Star Kate.

A Not-So-International Incident at DFW

I finally got back to Austin around 11:15 this morning. I am pretty well spent at this point. My flight from Atlanta got off fine, but the flight from DFW to Austin was delayed and gate-switched three times. At least I got to see Terminal D, the new international terminal at DFW.

Terminal D definitely the nicest and most amenity-filled terminal at DFW. Several high-end retailers and restaurants like Reata Grill compete with standard fare like Starbucks and McDonald's. However, DFW is having to fill Terminal D's gate space with unexotic hops to Austin because significant additional international traffic hasn't materialized.

Between 9/11, Delta's 2005 closure of its DFW hub and Houston's preeminence as the second biggest Latin American gateway next to Miami, Terminal D still has a way to go before it can truly be called "international."

Georgia Ate My Mind

Bad weather has conspired to keep me stuck in Atlanta for yet another evening. My 7pm flight to Dallas/Fort Worth was canceled, which scotched my connection to Austin, so the soonest I can get out of here is 6:50am tomorrow.

I'm now sitting in a Residence Inn a short distance from the airport. Because the cancellation was weather-related, American Airlines wouldn't comp my room. I'm taking it on faith that I'll be able to get these unapproved expenses reimbursed. They do have free Internet here, though.

When I was a single man living alone, getting stuck in Atlanta wouldn't have bothered me much. Now I'm stalking around like Steve Martin in Planes, Trains and Automobiles because I can't get home to Kate tonight.

At least I won't be sleeping with John Candy's hand twixt my pillows.

Band on the Runs

The Ron Titter Band played at the Parlor last night. It was a bit slippy and the PA was crap, but none of that would've mattered much to me if my gastrointestinal tract hadn't gone into uncontrollable spasms right before we started.

It was ugly. I wasn't sure I was going to make it through the show. Fortunately, our performance didn't turn into an erstwhile tribute to G.G. Allin. Something like that would've really put a nasty dent in pizza sales, though I should note that whatever I ate didn't come from the Parlor.

Right now I'm in suburban Atlanta for a social marketing conference at the Centers for Disease Control. They've put us up at a Marriott, which is nice enough, but not close to anything. All my friends in touring bands say I need to see a bizarre, low-rent topless bar called the Clermont Lounge (NSFW) on Ponce de Leon. Don't know if I'll make it there or not.

Scooped in San Antonio

Now that Kate has her own blog, we've entered a sort of competition when it comes to giving accounts of joint activities. Whoever posts first gets the scoop.

Our weekend jaunt to San Antonio to celebrate my parents' 41st anniversary is a perfect example. While I was out mowing the lawn yesterday afternoon, Kate was keying in a blog entry about our trip. Now all I have to write about is how nice the lawn looks. Such is life for a Texan male suffering from Hank Hill complex.

Actually, though, I think Kate's perspective is particularly interesting because she was experiencing San Antonio as a New Englander. I can't do that no matter how much chowder I eat. So go to her blog now and see what we've been up to.

Rangers First to Score 30 Runs Since 1897

Looks like there's a new contender for greatest moment in Texas Rangers history this evening.

However, I still think a 30-3 rout late in a typically dismal season pales in comparison to 1974's Ten Cent Beer Night Riot in Cleveland and the time Nolan Ryan repeatedly punched Robin Ventura on the pitcher's mound in 1993.

Titter in the Parlor Next Monday!

This Monday, August 27, put your first-day-of-school willies to bed with a long, tall glass of The Ron Titter Band. We’ll be bringing our rock ‘n’ roll and attempted soul shebang to the Parlor, 100-B E. North Loop, starting at 9pm.

Joining us will be 7 Inch Stitch, featuring ex-Texas Instrument and fellow state worker Clay Daniel on guitar. There's no cover (tips gladly accepted), the pizza is good and the beer is cheap.

In short, this is gonna be the most boss Monday night since “How I Met Your Mother” went into reruns.

Judge Rules Wild Oats Can Be Rolled

Federal Judge Paul Friedman ruled yesterday that the $565 million Whole Oats/Wild Foods all-natural corporate commingling can move ahead as planned. Hopefully the IT staff at 6th and Lamar duly disabled John Mackey's message board access well in advance of the ruling.

The Federal Trade Commission, which tried to block the merger on antitrust concerns, is expected to appeal. Whole Foods Market has already announced plans to sell off Wild Oats' Sun Harvest stores to a private equity concern.

In non-redacted FTC court documents erroneously released to the press earlier this week, it was also revealed that Whole Foods negotiates agreements with suppliers that prohibit them from selling to Wal-Mart and that the Austin-based company is considering closing 30 or more Wild Oats stores to boost revenue at nearby Whole Foods stores.

If I were Trader Joe's, I'd see this merger as a tremendous growth opportunity. While TJ's officially denies plans to move into Austin, rumors persist.

Burrito-Stuffed and Tax Free

Kate told me about a hell of a good deal going on at Austin area Chipotle locations today. If you buy a burrito today and save your receipt, they'll give you another burrito for free on Friday, Saturday or Sunday. This deal will net you two burritos for about six bucks. I'm eating one right now and the bargain factor is making it taste twice as delicious.

Sorry I didn't get this posted before lunch, but there's no law saying you can't scarf a burrito for dinner.

Chipotle's offer is designed to cash in on the celebration surrounding our state's forthcoming Sales Tax Holiday, which begins Friday. Remember, vintage/thrift store clothes and shoes under $100 are just as tax-free this weekend as the new duds.

Sunday at the Springs

Kate and I have cultivated something of a ritual this summer. At some point during the weekend, she will ask me if I want to go swimming at Barton Springs Pool. I will immediately go into anxiety mode and start rambling about all my undone chores and encroaching deadlines. I will also complain about crowds and parking, which will sometimes spiral into a caffeinated rant about modern life in general that ends in the conclusion that I suck for being so deft at coming up with reasons why I don’t want to do anything.

Nevertheless, Kate will persist and convince me that it is in my best interest to go swimming. So we’ll drive down to Barton Springs and park in the gravel lot off Robert E. Lee because I’m too cheap to pay $3 to park next to the main entrance. We’ll get our towels situated in the shade on the grassy hillside overlooking the pool. Then Kate will walk down to the pool and dive in. I’ll stand at the edge for what seems like several minutes, not wanting to jump in because I know it will be cold as hell.

Once the desire to avoid looking like a wuss has thoroughly overwhelmed me, I jump in. Time slows as my feet leave the edge and gravity beckons my white ass down into the greenish water. Once I’m submerged, all my anxieties cease. Deadlines and insecurities mean nothing. The only thing on my mind is how cold the water is. Every plunge into Barton Springs is a moment of clarity.

Eventually, discomfort gives way to relaxation as my body realizes the cold water is actually a fine elixir to the oppressive heat. I alternate between floating on my back and frolicking with Kate. When I climb out of the water, my skin buzzes in the heat, my core temperature seems noticeably lower and my brain feels like it has been rebooted.

As we leave, I thank Kate for pressing the issue and tell her for the umpteenth time that I only swam in Barton Springs once in 19 years of living in Austin before I met her. I tell her to remind me about how much I enjoyed myself next time I resist going to Barton Springs, knowing full well the entire ritual will repeat itself the following weekend.

A Hunka Hunka Burnin' Leave

The State of Texas, in its infinite wisdom, has decreed that its loyal and faithful servants may only carry forward a certain amount of annual leave each year.

Although the number of hours increases with longevity, if you don't take leave often enough, you'll wind up having your excess annual leave convert to sick leave at the end of the state's fiscal year (August 31). This is like flushing money down the bog because you can't cash out sick leave if you quit the state.

It just so happens I entered this month with over 50 hours of excess annual leave, so now I'm trying to burn it off by staying home on Fridays. Unfortunately, this burn-off coincides with what is turning out to be a rather busy month at work. I still have to maintain radio contact with the office and even if I didn't, my current wave of writing assignments is making off-days just as busy as workdays.

I know I'm lucky to have decent leave benefits (at least for this stingy country), but I sure hate being forced to use or lose time. I suppose I could've planned a nice vacation, but it wouldn't have been much fun without Kate along. I feel like I'm squandering time I'll look back and wish I had in a few years.

On the plus side, at least I don't have to get dressed or shower in the morning unless I choose to do so for my own edification. And what's a little ripeness between me, myself and I?

Rant from a Future Reverse Snowbird

Say what you will about gloomy gray skies and daily flash flood warnings, but I already miss our insane summer rains.

August is kicking my ass and we haven't even broken the century mark yet. The fact that my car's AC is fritzed out certainly doesn't help matters.

Like most native Texans, I'll take blazing heat over bitter cold any day. There's definitely something to be said for non-work days spent lollygagging around town in a sweaty T-shirt and shorts ensemble, just letting yourself "become one" with the heat.

Unfortunately, I'm finding it harder to go with this line of thought as I age. The heat seems to be getting to me more and more with each passing summer.

I'm normally not given to publicly airing my life goals because I don't want to have to hold myself publicly accountable in the event I fail to reach them, but I aspire to spend the Augusts of my September years someplace far away from Texas. A Minnesota lake house would do fine, but I'd just as gladly invest in a time-share trailer somewhere in rural Alberta if that's what it takes.

A Hard Day's Night of the Living Dead

My pal Kent B. was playing this on his laptop at the Dog & Duck a couple of weeks back. It's definitely one of the more entertaining movie trailer mash-ups I've seen.

Ron Titter Band Saturday at Room 710

Having risen above the maladies and mayhem that have conspired to keep us from giving America a roundhouse kick in the arse, The Ron Titter Band goes back into action at 10pm this Saturday night (August 11) at Room 710.

We'll be opening for Super Heavy Goat Ass (1am), Split Hoof (12am) and Marshall Dylan (10pm). So bring your fists, for they shall be pumped!

A Chili Reception

I just opened a notice saying the Cattle Drive Chicken Chili I purchased at Costco in bulk a couple of weeks back is being voluntarily recalled because the USDA and CDC are investigating possible botulism contamination of the product. A full list of canned meat products that are part of this recall can be found here.

I've already consumed two cans of the chili and have yet to notice any overt symptoms of botulism. Nevertheless, I will dispose of the remaining cans as directed and apply for a full refund.

Assuming I don't get sick, this is just like getting two free cans of chili. Sweet!

Blowout at the Bell

In a nod to the halcyon days of the 59-79-99 menu, the Taco Bell at 7211 Burnet Rd. is selling 49-cent tacos today. This steal of a deal is only good today at the Burnet Rd. location, so cancel those Wink and Uchi dinner reservations now.

I drove by said Taco Bell during lunch and they had some poor soul out front jumping around in a taco suit. It got my attention but made me sad. You do not want to be wearing a taco suit outdoors in Texas during the month of August.

Even worse, they’re calling this sale event a “Taco Blowout,” which I believe is a particularly unfortunate choice of words.

Forget the Motor City (Darby's Meaning of Life)

As we lay this wet month to rest, let us pause for a moment to reflect on the meaning of life with local barside philosophizer Hunter Darby.



Many thanks to Steve of Utley for sharing the light.

So Long, Marvin

I'll never forget the first time I heard, "Maarvin Zindler, Eye-witness News!"

I was 6 and we'd just moved to Houston from Dallas. I couldn't believe they'd let someone pontificate so indignantly right in the middle of the TV news. It was kind of scary.

Zindler died yesterday of pancreatic cancer at age 85. KTRK-TV has a nice tribute section here.

Although he was best known for setting off the political firestorm that closed down the famed Chicken Ranch bawdy house (subject of The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas and ZZ TOP's "La Grange"), Zindler's "Action 13" segments on KTRK typically focused on more mundane matters like setting things right for "little guys" wronged by businesses and bureaucracies. His weekly report on area restaurants that had failed health inspection made "Slime in the ice machine!" a catchphrase.

I can't say Zindler's personality-driven excoriations portended good things for TV news in the sweeps-happy Age of Murdoch, but he helped out a lot of people over the years. Houston TV won't be the same without him.

Skipper of Reunions

My 20-year high school reunion took place in Houston last night at a hotel in the Galleria - a highly appropriate venue I was once kicked out of by a rent-a-cop after accusing him of selectively enforcing the mall's no-loitering policy against kids with sideways haircuts.

I initially felt like I should don some dressy casual duds and attend, but my enthusiasm waned as the calendar filled up and my desire for weekend tranquility asserted itself. I enjoy meeting new people and catching up with old acquaintances, but I find "working the room" often leaves me feeling exhausted.

Besides, the lawn needs mowing, the carpet needs vacuuming and I have writing to do. The great thing about excuses is that they always appear in droves right when you need them.

Although my social trepidation is something I'd do well to challenge more often, I decided it was really no less lame to do things like high school reunions just because I "should."

How's that for a rationalization? Hooray for being less lame!

I did order a copy of the reunion book, though.

Lone Star Kate

I am pleased to announce the launch of Kate’s brand new blog, Lone Star Kate.

Go there now and read all about the high water hijinks that ensnared our Thursday morning commute and forced yours truly to go into rescue mode alongside one of Austin’s finest.

On the Wrong Track

Last time I remember the Union Pacific railroad tracks that run between the suburban Houston enclaves of West University Place and Bellaire making news, it was because of serial killer Angel Maturino Reséndiz. In 1998, Reséndiz – better known as the “Railroad Killer” – raped and murdered a 39-year-old West University woman who lived near the tracks.

Today’s Houston Chronicle covers a much lighter track-related news story. Several railroad cars carrying wheat and corn derailed while traveling down the tracks earlier this month. West U residents allege the rail company did a lousy clean-up job and now they can’t use their yards because the rotting foodstuffs stink so bad.

“It smells like sewage just sitting there in the backyard," laments Alana Kirsch, adding that the smell has precluded her 5-year-old son, Texas, from using his backyard swing set.

I’m sorry, but what kind of 5-year-old boy can’t go outside to play because of an odor? Alana should thank her lucky stars that Texas wasn’t hanging around with me back in 1976.

I spent most of my childhood within a three block radius of those railroad tracks. Shortly after moving to Houston at age 7, I walked to the tracks with a brother and sister who lived down the street from us. We were there to pick blackberries, but the budding delinquent brother, who was about 12 or 13, showed me something much more interesting.

Several yards down the tracks from the blackberry bushes, there was a culvert with an old dryer in it. Inside the old dryer were scads of mottled hardcore porno mags. Apparently this was some sort of jack-off fort for derelicts. I didn’t know anything about that, but I knew pictures of naked girls were cool to show off to friends, so I grabbed one of the magazines to take home.

As we emerged from the brush surrounding the tracks, I saw my dad waiting there. He’d come to check on me. Knowing he would not cotton to my recent find, I casually dropped the magazine in the tall grass as I approached him. Unfortunately, I wasn’t casual enough to elude his watchful eye.

“What did you drop back there?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I lied.

“Greg, I saw you drop something. Now what was it?”

“An adult magazine,” I muttered.

“What magazine was it?” he asked, figuring we’d found an old Playboy or something.

“Um...Ball Buster.”

I’m not a parent, but I can imagine the sense of dread that might come with hearing your 7-year-old son tell you he’s been down at the railroad tracks ogling a porn mag called Ball Buster.

My dad quickly confiscated the penetration-happy publication. Years later, he told me it also contained photos of men putting out cigarettes on women. I guess I missed that part.

Later that afternoon, my dad dutifully returned to the tracks to dismantle the erstwhile self-love nook. He said there were hundreds of porn mags strewn around the culvert. He gathered them up into plastic garbage bags and took them back to his car. As he threw the magazines in the trunk, he worried the police might show up and think he was the pervert. Fortunately for all of us, that did not happen.

Over the years, the Ball Buster saga has become a beloved family story, retold countless times over holiday gatherings.

Thanks, Union Pacific!

Our Lady of the Lake

Effective today, Austin’s Town Lake will be renamed “Lady Bird Lake” in honor of our recently departed former first lady. Without Lady Bird Johnson’s beautification efforts, it is unlikely Town Lake would be the bucolic, fitness-fostering urban oasis it is today.

Although Lady Bird’s legacy is absolutely worthy of this honor, I remain wary of Austin’s tendency toward knee-jerk veneration via renaming prominent streets and spaces. It is both a budget drain and a source of confusion. How long will it be before our easy-to-understand numbered street grid becomes completely memorialized?

That said, “Lady Bird Lake” is already starting to grow on me.

Time for a New Template

After two and a half years, why the hell not?

If there's a groundswell of resistance to this new look, maybe I'll launch Beetsolonely Classic.

Down On the Ranch

A couple of weekends back, Kate and I drove out west of Boerne with David and Rachel to spend the night at Rachel's family ranch. Rachel's dad and stepmom were fine hosts and we had a great time.

The Hill Country is particularly verdant right now because of the insane amounts of rain we've been getting. Hillsides that are normally yellowed by the end of June are still dotted with wildflowers and all of the creeks are flowing. Rocking back and forth on the porch, drinking beer and listening to Willie Nelson as night fell was the perfect elixir for workaday stress.

Here Kate and I are donning our just-presented Rosen Ranch hats. In addition to the hats, we were given ranch names. Kate was named "Harley," which is one of her two middle names. I was named "Red" after my hair, though I've always considered myself primarily blond.

Still, Red Beets has its charm. With a name like that, I think I'll open a used car dealership.

Weekly World News Shutting Down!

As if having Rupert Murdoch buy The Wall Street Journal isn’t bad enough, American Media announced Friday that it is shutting down the Weekly World News.

Founded in 1979, WWN was the only supermarket tabloid that adhered to the weird and wonderful when all its cousins shifted their primary focus toward vomiting up dullwitted celebrity gossip. Now where will we go to learn of the latest exploits of Bat Boy? Who will tell us when the aliens endorse Hillary Clinton?

To borrow a phrase from the late, great Ed Anger, I’m pig-biting mad about this!

A Walk with Gene Burd

Patrick George wrote an interesting profile of UT journalism professor Gene Burd in today's Statesman. I never had a class with Burd when I was in J-school, but reading about his ascetic frugality made me wish I had.

The 76-year-old Burd lives in a small apartment off Barton Springs Rd. He doesn’t own a car. His daily walks to and from his office at UT make him something of an expert on how much downtown Austin has changed in recent years. I really like his quote about city hall and the cluster of condos and ground-floor retail that has emerged around Second Street.

“It’s like a bad marriage,” Burd said of city hall. “It’s ugly but you get used to it.”

I happen to like the new city hall. It’s one of the only architecturally distinctive buildings downtown and I think it will stand as a monument to its time long after our vibrant economy chokes on its own limestone.

As for the rest of the “Second Street District” (does every neighborhood in town need its own brand now?), it’s much too posh for my admittedly downmarket tastes. Just give me some Paciugo gelato and my business there is done. I’m not one to recklessly play the “Dallas” card, but if the marked-up loafer fits…

I used to make fun of all the aging hippies crowing about how Austin hasn’t been the same since the Armadillo shut down. Now I know how they feel. When AT&T can sponsor something called the “Keep Austin Weird Festival” with no residual stink regarding the prima facie ridiculousness of such commingling, it’s impossible to avoid feeling like the falsely omnipotent “market forces” we’ve put more faith in than Jesus on Steroids are slowly consigning large swaths of Austin into cultural exile.

BREAKING: Ron Titter Show Canceled

The Ron Titter Band show scheduled for tomorrow (Thursday) night at Hole in the Wall has been canceled due to a band illness. Sorry 'bout that!

We will play again soon. I swear.

Can the Swiss Spray Away Shyness?

Researchers at the University of Zurich have created a nasal spray designed to reduce shyness. The spray contains a synthetic version of the neurotransmitter oxytocin, the natural version of which is produced by the body when one is in love.

In a study of 70 adults presented at the World Congress of Neuroscience in Melbourne, the Swiss scientists noted dramatic reductions in anxiety and improved levels of group interaction among those taking the spray. Large-scale clinical trials are now being planned.

As someone who has dealt with anxiety all my life, I’d gladly snort something that would make me less anxious and more at ease with myself in social settings. Especially if it costs less than cocaine.

The First Cut is the Deepest

This Supercuts billboard across the street from my job at the insane asylum was changed up a bit over the weekend by some well-meaning guerrilla marketers.

I haven't gotten my hair did at a Supercuts since Men at Work topped the charts. Apparently I've been missing out.

Anarchist Garage Sale

Wondering where to get the best deals on beat-up Chuck Taylors, thumbed-through Chomksy tomes and Crass on vinyl? Try your neighborhood anarchist garage sale.

There's no address given, because apparently that's just another one of the Man's tools to keep us in our place.

But what kind of anarchist wakes up at 7am?

Ron Titter Back in the Household on 7/19!

After spending June and most of July in a state of rock atrophy, The Ron Titter Band goes back into action on Thursday, July 19 at the Hole in the Wall.

There's no cover, but we'll gladly accept tips. We play at 11:30, preceded by Kevin McKinney (ex-Soul Hat) at 10pm and Ricky Stein at 9pm.

Come on out and help us tump this thing over!

Whole Foods' CEO Posts Self Into Corner

It seems Whole Foods Market CEO John Mackey has a thing about posting anonymously to newsgroups.

In building their case to block Whole Foods' planned buyout of Wild Oats, the FTC discovered thousands of posts Mackey made to Yahoo! stock groups using the pseudonym "rahodeb," an anagram of his wife's name. And I thought I spent too much time dicking around on the Web!

Some of the posts deride Wild Oats, while others laud Whole Foods. Mackey insists he was just having fun and did not post any proprietary information. Unfortunately for him, a CEO spouting off anonymously on the Internet is a leggy news hook regardless of legality.

Get Your Brain Freeze On

In honor of its 80th birthday, Dallas-based convenience store chain 7-Eleven will be giving away free 7.11-ounce Slurpees in commemorative cups at all U.S. locations today.

7-Eleven's roots extend back to 1927, when the Southland Ice Company at the corner of Edgefield and 12th in Oak Cliff began selling select food items to compete with the 1926 advent of mechanical refrigerators. This budding convenience store was initially called Tote'm. The name changed to 7-Eleven in 1946 to reflect the store's business hours.

After the Flood

Kate and I took a leisurely stroll around Town Lake Sunday afternoon to watch the region's flood control system do its job. Owing to an unusually rainy June, our placid city lake has been transformed into a muddy torrent of filthy floodwater in recent weeks. Here's the view looking east from the pedestrian bridge under MoPac.






Parts of the Town Lake hike-and-bike trail were submerged. Viewed under a blanket of oppressive humidity, scenes like this one reminded me of the Texas/Louisiana border region.








The lake remained under a total boating ban, which doesn't bode well for Texas Rowing Center's summer business outlook. These swans swimming around the oar house didn't seem to mind, though. At least I think those are swans.

What's Good for the Goose...

Quelle horreur! Statesman food critic Dale "Forks Up" Rice reports that seven downtown Austin eateries were spray-painted with obscenities last week by an animal rights activist who apparently doesn't approve of foie gras. Foie gras is duck or goose liver that has been fattened via force feeding of the animal.

The seven vandalized restaurants were Aquarelle, Eddie V's Edgewater Grille, Fleming's, Restaurant Jezebel, Ruth's Chris Steak House, Truluck's and the Spaghetti Warehouse.

I don't know what's more scary - animal lovers with a "beef" against ostentatious menu items or the absurd suggestion that one could order foie gras at Spaghetti Warehouse.

Cult of Dunkin'

Now that I’m sharing a home with a born-and-bred New Englander, it is of tantamount importance that I learn the ins and outs of that exotic culture as quickly as possible.

Accordingly, I’ve shifted my American League allegiance to the Red Sox, though I’d still have to pull for the Astros in inter-league play or (stifles laugh) the World Series.

I’ve learned that the horse-riding revolutionary who warned colonial Massachusetts of an incipient Redcoat invasion is actually named “Paul Reveagh.” One of these days, I’ll even figure out how to use the phrase, “wicked pissa” in a sentence.

Most importantly, I’ve started grinding Dunkin’ Donuts coffee at home. It’s pretty good joe all right, but I’ve yet to fully grasp the degree of New England’s allegiance to Dunkin’ Donuts. Mike Miliard attempts the brave feat of explaining the Cult of Dunkin’ in the March 2 Boston Phoenix.

Original post via Metafilter.

Ghosts of Blogs Past

It was with a mixture of regret and relief that I decided to give up my Austin Chronicle music blog last week.

“If You Have Ghosts” went live just before SXSW with heady ambitions of frequent festival postings. As it turned out, I didn’t post once during SXSW and I’ve only posted five times since.

Between this blog and writing for print, there just wasn’t enough time to maintain a blog devoted exclusively to music. I felt guilty about not posting, but not enough to actually do anything about it.

I was raised to feel bad about quitting, which made sense because I wanted to quit everything I wasn't immediately successful at as a child. However, my experience as an adult tells me I need to become more proactive about walking away from things I've grown ambivalent about.

Shacked Up

Kate moved in with me yesterday. Actually we've been living together for a couple of weeks, but yesterday was when the movers brought in all the big stuff.

Once everything was put away, we celebrated our sinful living arrangement with a bone-chilling dip at Barton Springs. Take that, Satan!

Because Kate has a military-caliber ability to seek out and eliminate clutter, the house actually looks more orderly even though there are two cats and more than twice as much stuff here now. I'm not exactly sure how we did it, but everything seems to have its place.

Today our house feels way more like home than it did when it was just me living here. I couldn't be happier about that.