Konerko'ed in the Lidge

Oh, sucksville! Paul Konerko gets a grand slam in the 7th inning and then Brad Lidge gives up another game-winning home run, returning the World Series to Houston with the Astros down 0-2.

The almanac geeks at Fox Sports say 11 of the last 12 World Series teams up 2-0 went on to win it all. If the White Sox win even one game in Houston, I think they're going to take it. If not, it's still anybody's Series.

I'm Greggie the Dutch, and that's my score.

A Short Walk Down NE Alberta

Portland has ranked at or near the top of "livable city" surveys for years. Abundant recreation, healthful climate and vibrant culture nonwithstanding, a more subtle part of livability can be found in this sidewalk ramp.

As long as you're going to put in a new sidewalk ramp, why not make it interesting with odd angles and lines? It doesn't cost a whole lot more and it invites a greater degree of respect for the public infrastructure.

From what I can gather, NE Alberta was a rough area a decade ago, much like Austin's E. 11th St. or S. Congress.

Today, it's heavily gentrified with small indie businesses catering to the upwardly funky. Nevertheless, vestiges of Alberta's role as "Main Street" of Portland's African American community remain.

The street's renaissance also mirrors similar redevelopments in Austin with its overuse of corrugated metal.

NE Alberta is lined with all sorts of colorful public art installations.

This community tile project on the side of a commercial building is similar to the one planned for the wall of my neighborhood IGA supermarket. People from all over the neighborhood pay a small fee to paint a tile and then they're all grouted together to create a homespun mosaic.

The cynical side of me wants to say the increasing ubiquity of such projects undermines their usefulness. But that sort of thinking makes me feel like a dick.

And I sure do like all them purty colors.

This is the pizza place I was talking about in the last entry. Pizza certainly isn't the first foodstuff that comes to mind when you think of Portland, but Bella Faccia knows what they're doing. The only thing that would've made it better is a side order of the ample old country cleavage so prominently displayed on their sign.

Today I ate halibut fish & chips at the appropriately-named Halibut's on NE Alberta. It didn't come cheap ($11), but the Alaskan halibut filets were perfectly fried without a hint of grease. They also had some sinus-clearing cocktail sauce to go with it.

Interestingly enough, this week's Willamette Week restaurant guide put NE Alberta on the cover as Portland's premier dining district. As someone who knows nothing about this city other than the joy of my last two meals, I second that emotion.

Flying to Portland

You know what's good about having a drink at 40,000 feet? It's economical, that's what. Every drink in the air is worth at least two on the ground. If I'd only remembered to donate blood before leaving in Austin, I could've gotten rip-roaring, cockpit-storming drunk before being stomped to death in mid-air by a Krav Maga devotee.

As it was, I limited myself to just one beer and landed safely in Portland just after sundown. Noah picked me up and ferried me back to his house. Trish went and got some stubbie bottles of Session Lager and Margherita pizza pie from Bella Faccia on NE Alberta. With the time change and my lack of sleep the night before, I started nodding off around 11pm.

Today is a foggy morning in Portland, but it's not too cold or rainy. In fact, the fog is supposed to clear out and it's supposed to hit 70 degrees later this afternoon. Noah and Trish are at work, so after checking my e-mail and showering, I'll probably take a contemplative stroll about the neighborhood. Maybe I'll go scratch my chin for a few hours at a coffee shop as though I'm some sort of lost European literary figure.

Astros Advance to World Series

Like the Ike and Tina Turner Revue, the Houston Astros never do anything easy.

After suffering through the nauseating Pujols three-run homer with only one strike to win on Monday, the Astros came back to clinch the NLCS in six games last night. TXCN was showing KHOU's footage of the well-lubricated celebration on Main Street. Neither of Texas' MLB teams have ever made it to the World Series before. I'm glad the Astros beat the Rangers to it.

It'll be rough going against the well-rested Chicago White Sox, but the 'Stros definitely have a chance if their ace pitchers come through.

Sadly, I missed the entire game because I was at band practice. Now that I think about it, I was also at practice when the Rockets' won their first NBA title in 1994. Damn, I miss all the good stuff.

Live from La Quinta Longview

I had a bit of down time in Nacogdoches yesterday morning, so I took a stroll around the historic downtown area.

The city was the site of several battles leading to the Texas Revolution and even served as the seat of government for a failed Anglo-Indian nation called Fredonia. It only lasted a couple of weeks, but the name "Fredonia" lives on as a city street and a city-owned hotel and convention center.

Today, about 30,000 people call Nacogdoches home. The city also has a sizable student population at Stephen F. Austin State University. I think one of them was my waitress at breakfast. Man, she was cute. I always get a soft spot for waitresses when I'm traveling alone in strange towns. Once I'm deprived of hometown social interaction, having a woman ask me how I'd like my eggs becomes remarkable. Is that weird or what?

After concluding my meetings around 4:30, I drove north to Longview. I ate at a Cajun place on the old U.S. Highway 80 called Dudley's. It wasn't bad at all, but I wish I'd stuck with the gumbo and not eaten so much fried fish. Right now I feel kind of sluggish and greasy.

My work here should be done sometime this afternoon. Then I'm heading back to Austin for one night before heading out to Portland on Thursday for a long weekend with my old high school buddy Noah and his lovely wife, Trish.

Ouch, Right in the Pujols!

The City of Houston had the collective piss taken out of it last night.

The champagne was on ice and the Astros were one strike away from the World Series. Then Albert Pujols sent the NLCS back to St. Louis with a heart-stopping three-run homer. The Astros can still pull it out, but it's going to be a whole lot harder now.

If I were the Astros, I'd head over to Lakewood Church (a.k.a., the former Summit/Compaq Center) and try to soak up whatever "Clutch City" spirit Hakeem and the 1994 Rockets might've left behind. Then I'd ask Joel Osteen for an exorcism.

Waning Wireless and Sandpaper Chicken

There's no easy way to drive from Austin to Nacogdoches. I took I-35 to Round Rock, U.S. 79 to Hearne, Farm Road 318 to Wheelock, Old San Antonio Road to Normangee (I think), State Highway 21 to Crockett and State Highway 7 to Nacogdoches. The whole thing took about four and a half hours.

The Astros game is in the 5th inning as I write and they're losing 2-1. Hopefully they'll pull it out. Best to avoid a return trip to St. Louis.

I'm staying at a La Quinta with free wi-fi, but my room is at the very end of the property, so I'm out of range. I brought my laptop over to the lobby to write this. Aside from the night clerk, I'm the only one here.

Otherwise, my room is decent enough. It smells a little funny, but the TV works fine and there are no dark stains on the bedspread. I give it two and a half stars.

I relived my buffet hot-dogging days for dinner at a place called Barnhill's Buffet. It looked like an old Western Sizzlin' and tasted about the same. The catfish wasn't bad, but the fried chicken was drier than sandpaper.

There's not much to see in Nacogdoches on a Monday night, at least not if you don't know where to look. The towering pine trees seem to make everything even darker than normal. The nearly full moon looked pretty cool, though.

I actually have to work tomorrow, so I best be getting some rest now.

Into the Pines

I'm running horribly late getting out of town on a work-related trip to the Piney Woods of East Texas. I'll be in Nacogdoches tonight and Longview tomorrow.

This trip should help me scratch a few more counties off the list in my ongoing quest to set foot in all 254 Texas counties before I die. It's the large cluster of Panhandle counties north of Amarillo that'll probably kill me.

One Game Away

Growing up in Houston, I remember going to the Astrodome and peeing in the lowered "junior" urinal trough with a sign above it that read, "For our future Astros."

I remember the first time the Astros made it to the National League Championship Series against the Phillies back in 1980. It was a huge deal. They let us out of school early and the radio stations all played this song that went, "Here come the Astros, burnin' with desire/Here come the Astros, breathin' orange fire!" You know, as opposed to green fire.

I also remember the '86 Mets. And the '04 Cardinals.

We've been burned by the Astros before, but I think they're going to the World Series this time. Really, I do.

Hickoid Heaven

"Got a brand new way of livin'
Down here in Austin, Texas
Drink Budwiser every day
Show the girls our peckers
Don't need clocks for tellin' time
'Hillbillies' on at half past nine
Got a brand new way of livin'!"

The reunited Hickoids are playing at the Back Room tonight with Stevie Tombstone and Honky. Click here for a brief blurb I wrote about the show in this week's Chron.

The lyric above is from the Hickoids' 1989 song, "Brand New Way," which I truly believe should be enshrined by officialdom as the municipal anthem of our fair city. They should make schoolkids sing it right after pledging fealty to Texas and America.

Grow Yourself Up

This week's Dallas Observer features an anonymously-written account of the "budding" cottage industry of gourmet marijuana cultivation.

One of the main interviewees is a musician-turned-grower named "Ace" (the author adorns each of the grower/dealers with KISS-bassd pseudonyms). Not surprisingly, you can make a lot more money growing pot in a closet than playing music. "Ace" estimates he makes more than $10,000 for each of the four or five crops he grows each year. The article doesn't say whether that's before or after expenses, but he doesn't pay income tax and has more than enough pot left over for his personal stash (a not-inconsiderable expense for wake-and-bake types).

Some of the growers don't even support legalization because prohibition is what makes their lifestyle possible. Beat cops don't have much to gain by going after some small-time pot dealer. Selling expensive designer dope also means you're probably moving less than an ounce at a time, which lowers your exposure to being charged with a felony. One of the grower/dealers interviewed here says the biggest risk of getting caught comes from being narc'ed on by spurned ex-girlfriends.

Some folks suggest hydroponics will ultimately drive the traditional crop cultivation of marijuana under, but there's no way you're going to meet consumer demand with just a bunch of grow-lit closets. The rich can buy their designer cross-pollinated strains, but there will always be a downmarket demand for schwag.

Gang of Four

If you had a vendetta against Austin rock critics, you could've killed most all of 'em with one well-placed incindiary device at the Gang of Four show at Emo's last night.

The showroom was as packed up tight like a big SXSW bill. Gang of Four sounded good, playing all the influential early material like "To Hell With Poverty," "Natural's Not In It" and "Anthrax." For a $20 show, though, they didn't play long enough. Just a one-song encore and that was that. Dead Motley Sex Maidens drummer Adam Tyner also noted the band was playing at a much slower tempo than in year's past. Nevertheless, it was Gang of Four and it was worth staying out too late on a Wednesday night.

American Love Dolls

Interesting piece by Meghan Leslocky in yesterday's Salon about the fascinating sexual subculture of men and their love dolls.

Love dolls have come a long way since the days of Dennis Hopper's "Feck" character in The River's Edge. For just $6,500, you can buy a made-to-order Real Doll (NSFW) that'll satisfy your basest carnal whims without forcing you to engage in the emotional rollycoaster of a genuine genital warts-n-all relationship with another human being.

There have always been fetish-based subcultures, but the advent of the Internet has transformed them into genuine constituencies. Love dolls and the men who love them are no different. There's a lot to learn for the uninitiated. For example, did you know you can rig an aquarium heater and a dimmer switch to heat your doll's entryways if you don't have time to warm her up with an electric blanket? I'm sorry, but now you do!

I think the vast majority of us ultimately want to find someone else to build a life with. I can be pretty curmudgeonly and walled off at times, but even I prefer trying and failing to walking out on love altogether.

That said, is it really all that perverted for someone to choose to stay home with a love doll if he's (it's almost always men) truly unwilling or unable to go there? Perhaps it signifies emotional under-development, but I don't see it as unequivocally "perverted" in the dangerous sense of the word.

And no, I don't own a love doll. I lease mine!

JetBlue Coming to Austin!

When Delta announced they were starting nonstop service from Austin to New York's JFK Airport last month, I figured they were doing it to pre-empt JetBlue Airways from coming to Austin once their new 100-seat Embraer E-190 jets were delivered.

As it turns out, JetBlue Airways is coming to Austin - Delta or not - with daily nonstop flights to JFK and Boston's Logan International Airport starting January 19. JetBlue bypassed Dallas/Fort Worth, Houston and San Antonio to make Austin its first Texas destination.

This is great news for Austin air travelers, who will now be able to choose from three airlines (Continental flies into Newark) with nonstop service to the NY/NJ megalopolis. There's probably not enough traffic to support this much service (my money's on now-bankrupt Delta to pull out first), but the competition should yield some good fares in the short term. JetBlue's introductory AUS-JFK fare will be $79 each way for tickets purchased by October 31 for travel between January 19 and February 14.

In just five years, JetBlue has established itself as the favorite airline of coast-dwelling hipsters with blue snack chips and free onboard TV and satellite radio. Passengers aboard a Burbank-JFK flight last month got to watch live MSNBC coverage of their plane's emergency landing at LAX due to a nosegear malfunction. How cool is that?

Barbecue and Biscuit

Sunday's first Texas Barbecue Festival turned out to be a victim of its own success. Owing to good promotion and beautiful weather, the normally-docile Farmer's Market was jam-packed. Meanwhile, the surrounding streets were crawling with gas-sucking land yachts clumsiliy trying to navigate their way around pedestrians.

As much as I liked seeing the market brimming with activity, it seemed like the festival had already outgrown the location. I didn't even bother eating barbecue because the lines were too insane. I walked across Burnet to Taqueria Arandas #3 and had some tacos al pastor instead.

The Randy "Biscuit" Turner Benefit at Emo's was right on. Lotsa friends and good music. I finally got to see the reunited Dicks play and they sounded like a giant fascist-killing machine. From "Dead in a Motel Room" to "Rich Daddy" to "Dicks Hate Police," it was pure visceral growl. A few more beers and I would've been in the pit (and probably writing this from a prone position in a Vicodin haze).

As it was, I had to maintain near-complete sobriety so I could make it into work this morning. I compensated by drinking approximately 12 cups of water, which has its own set of rewards (no hangover) and risks (multiple trips to the nationally-renowned Emo's bathroom).

The Weekend at the College

I planned on taking it easy last night, but it didn't quite work out that way. It's a good thing the Chinese don't own sleep 'cause I'd be as in debt to them right now as Our Great Nation is.

The Cactus Cafe had Kathy McCarty and Gretchen Phillips on tap, so I parked in West Campus and made my way toward UT. With a lot of the student body doing the Texas/OU thing, it was a good weekend to be over there.

Nothing in West Campus looks the same anymore. Les Amis is a Starbucks and the Slacker house is a Quizno's. Hell, even the Double Dave's Pizza on West 24th has changed. It's now called Mustache Pete's. Nothing makes me hungrier for pizza than thinking about some guy's crusty 'stache.

Kathy McCarty and Gretchen Phillips were both excellent. Their respective bands, Glass Eye and Two Nice Girls, were two of the first Austin groups I really got into when I moved here. Glass Eye bassist Brian Beattie is in Kathy's backing band, and they played a handful of old Glass Eye tunes, some Daniel Johnston numbers from Dead Dog's Eyeball, and songs from her solo album, Another Day in the Sun. I hadn't seen a full set from Kathy since Glass Eye broke up, so the whole thing had me beaming.

The thing I like most about seeing Gretchen Phillips play is the spectrum of emotions she conveys. She has an amazing voice and she takes you from nearly-unbearable sadness to doubled-over laughter in just minutes. Gretchen's working on a disco record right now, of all things. I cannot wait.

At night's end, Kathy transformed into her "David Monikker" persona (Glass Eye occasionally played out as a metal band called Monikker) and Gretchen donned a Nashvillian wig for some duets. They did Minnie Riperton's "Lovin' You" and Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On." It was hilarious.

On the way to the Cactus, I had glanced at the Hole in the Wall marquee and noticed the Dead Motley Sex Maidens were doing Karaoke Apocalypse. I served as their "guinea pig vocalist" at their first few rehearsals, so I had to duck in for that.

The Maidens sounded great as they plowed through Stooges, Misfits and Quiet Riot hits. The audience was well-boozed and gave spirited performances. In particular, one guy sang Dio's "The Last in Line" with the feral intensity of a street preacher people jaywalk to avoid. Great stuff.

I wound up singing KISS' "Calling Dr. Love." I kinda messed up by doing the single version while the band was doing the album version, but the DMSMs have spent a year time backing the hopelessly inebriated, so they didn't miss a beat on me.

Not-So-Lazy Sunday

Now that I'm sufficiently recovered from letting happy hour at the Dog & Duck Pub become one-third of my waking hours, it's time to start gearing up for tomorrow.

First off, the under-utilized Farmer's Market on Burnet Road is hosting the first Texas Barbecue Festival tomorrow from noon to 6pm. Vendors include Cooper's Old Time Pit Bar-B-Que from Llano, Meyer's and Southside Market from Elgin, and our own Ruby's BBQ and Artz Rib House. They'll also have panel discussions, music on the Brentwood Tavern Stage and plenty of beer. Best of all, the whole she-bang is within stumbling distance of my swinging duplex.

Later on, Emo's will host a memorial show for Randy "Biscuit" Turner from 3pm to ??? with Pong, the (reunited) Dicks, Punkaroos, Pocket FishRmen, Exene Cervenka from X, the Sexy Finger Champs (my ex-wife's band), the Yuppie Pricks, Areola 51, Insect Sex Act, Naughahyde Dream Sequence, the Delinquents and the Slurpees. Proceeds will go to Biscuit's mom, Nellie Mae.

That's a pretty tremendous line-up and it says a lot about what a galvanizing and influential force Biscuit was.

God Told Me to Skin You Alive

I don't know how much water the word of Palestinian foreign minister Nabil Shaath carries, but he's providing the BBC with some very twisted tales about our mush-mouthed president's hotline to the almighty.

"President Bush said to all of us: 'I'm driven with a mission from God,'" Shaath related. "'God would tell me, 'George, go and fight those terrorists in Afghanistan.' And I did, and then God would tell me, 'George, go and end the tyranny in Iraq…' And I did. And now, again, I feel God's words coming to me, 'Go get the Palestinians their state and get the Israelis their security, and get peace in the Middle East.' And by God I'm gonna do it.'"

If George Bush really hears God exhorting him to violence, he is seriously ill and needs help. I just asked God about this myself and He categorically denies the entire conversation.

"I don't need to tell people to kill other people," He said. "You guys are big enough assholes on your own. I'd laugh about it if I could just stop weeping."

God went on to suggest a heroic dose of lithium that makes the president glass over like that "big Indian fella" in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

"Now there's a movie!" He added.

"Rap Murder" Killer Set to Die

Ronald Ray Howard will be executed tonight in Huntsville for the murder of Texas state trooper Bill Davidson.

On April 11, 1992, 18-year-old Howard shot and killed Davidson after being pulled over in a stolen vehicle for a broken headlight on U.S. Highway 59 outside Edna. The trial took place Austin, where a Travis County jury found Howard guilty of capital murder. I covered the punishment phase of this trial for Billboard during the summer of 1993.

Just before the shooting, Howard told a grand jury he was listening to "Soulja's Story" from Tupac Shakur's 1991 debut, 2Pacalypse Now. Defense attorney Allen Tanner seized on gangsta rap as a mitigating factor in hopes of saving Howard from death row.

Meanwhile, Davidson’s widow filed a product liability suit against Tupac Shakur, Interscope and Time Warner claiming the anti-police sentiments on 2Pacalypse Now contributed to her husband’s death. During the punishment phase of the trial in July 1993, Tanner introduced several rap songs as evidence, and the Travis County Courthouse halls echoed with N.W.A.’s "Fuck tha Police" and the Geto Boys’ "City Under Siege."

It was surreal to hear those songs in that context, but it didn't help Howard's case in the least. After six days of deliberation, the jury sentenced Howard to death by lethal injection. The fact that a jury deemed rap’s role inconsequential helped undermine the basis for the civil suit, which was ultimately unsuccessful.

While the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals overturned Howard's death sentence in 1996 because a potential juror was improperly eliminated from the jury pool, he was again sentenced to die at a second trial in Corpus Christi in 1999.

Howard, now 32, has a website maintained by friends with his writings. I find it hard to muster any sympathy for a cop killer, but I don't see how having the Great State of Texas strap Howard to a gurney and shoot poison in his veins is going to do a goddamn bit of good.

It creeps me out that Howard's executioner gets a paycheck signed by the same Tough Grandma that signs mine.

Papanicholas Coffee Company

I don't have the money for a $3 cup of coffee everyday, nor do I have the inclination to spend my first waking moments sitting in a drive-thru waiting for that cup. I'm a brew-it-yourself kind of guy.

Although I've cycled my way through several brands, I always come back to Papanicholas Hawaiian Islands Blend. It's a mild-roast mix of Kona and Columbian Supremo reasonably priced at $6.39 for a 12-ounce bag.

Papanicholas started in 1982 in the Wheaton, Illinois garage of the late Nicholas A. Papanicholas. They're now the leading whole bean brand in the Chicagoland market. Texas is their first state south of the Mason-Dixon line.

For years, I've noticed the "Papa Points" proofs of purchase on the sides of of their bags. It wasn't until today that I went to their website and found out what I could now own had I been smart enough to start collecting those Papa Points.

At five Papa Points per bag, it would take five bags for a Papanicholas mug, eight bags for a stainless steel travel tankard and only 850 bags for a Bodum expresso machine (plus shipping and handling, of course). What the hell was I thinking when I threw all those bags away?