Hmmmmmmm.............looks like the Advocate is taking the route of the big city news channels, and holding a teaser carrot on a stick to get us to login, or rush to the Maverick Market at 5AM tomorrow. I hope they don't drag it on into a couple of commercial breaks, before they finally divulge the messy details. Now first, what or who draws the distinction between a "comfy" chair, and an "overstuffed" one? And how would you like to be the one with the rubber gloves, tweezers, and blacklight(or is that just in the movies?), to have the task of combing that chair for lord knows what? I must say, that here in the city, such meticuluous evidence gathering is part of the methodology used by law enforcement, but usually in those cases where it is reported in disgusting detail, a body is involved, and not a live one. Not to downplay the seriousness of the charge against the fallen lawman, but this needs to be tried in the courtroom, and not in the press. And some of the comments on the "teaser" extra, well, they just reek of bible belt rhetoric.......I have said before, and still continue to believe that the guy likely dipped his wick in forbidden wax, but until some more details are made public girls, I'd lay low on the "sick puppy", "sick", "depraved" remarks. And one or two of you might even want to go out to your husband's lair in the garage, and look in the bottom of that box of carbureators, or Road and Track magazines, and Chilton's Manuals.........people who live in glass houses............at the very least, shouldn't judge prematurely, lest......

I would like to know though, if the setup in that raided "Fortress" of solitude included 'lectricity, and was the stuff set up for some pull the overhead door behind you when you enter, menage a uno screening.........there, didn't I say ewwwwwww files? I am sure inquiring minds want to know............... At least the guy tried to be discrete for a while, rather than installing stirrups on his tailgate and getting "Amateur Gynecologist" magnetic signs with his website for his pickup.

Or is THAT just in the movies? it is so hard to separate reality from "reality" anymore - to distinguish between CSI MIami, and what my pen pal does every night. On the other hand if Calleigh is doing it, who cares, right?

I'll start by saying that any one who stands out on a bald open sidewalk with the key to their bank account obviously in their hand, to snag a couple of bucks on the fly, is just plain asking for  some scumbag crackhead with no sense of right or wrong, only urgency in surviving, to put a knife or handgun in your back - just to get themselves through the next shift. As for the timing part, I am referring to advertising........Channel 11 lead tonight's newscast with a tease about a story they were going to do on a rash of ATM heists. Good plan. Next up, a commercial about a pretty girl and a young man with matching dogs......meeting where else..... but  at the cash cow on the sidewalk - followed immediately by another commercial for a different bank, touting their ATM's speedy service, by depicting some college age guys stopping at a red light, one of 'em bailing out the window to - you guessed it, hit a sidewalk bank ATM, getting what I can only assume was party money, in record time and diving back in the car window at the light, just as the light turned green. Rich. Especially considering the dramatization of an ATM stickup that they showed about two minutes later, after half a dozen sponsors and politicians had their paid say, while I waited patiently for the teaser lead in story to unfold. Know what? If you are stupid enough to stand at a bank ATM, on a public sidewalk waiting for a machine to puke twenty dollar bills out on your instructions, then maybe, just maybe, you are willfully submitting to a process called "culling the simpletons by natural selection"! In case you didn't notice, the last time you dropped in for a Red Bull, Tall Boy malt liquor, or a couple of quick picks, they have a little cash kiosk conveniently located about two feet from the wine and the lotto terminal, and Mustafa at the register, who would kick a crackheads *** before he would let him make off with the cash you were about to spend in his store........simple as that.

And if you read this and still insist on not paying the $1.95 per transaction/protection "tax" that Musta offers, well..........good luck. A note here, the bad guys are generally dumber and slower than a sack of hair, so you might just turn the element of suprise in your favor, by wheeling around and removing an eyeball or testicle in a swift but decisive motion. That tends to take their mind off of addictions and ill gotten gain momentarily I am told. Like, what have you got to lose, you don't think he's going to thank you and walk away after he's taken your cash on camera, now do you? The life you save may be your own.

Like a cornered dog...........in the woman's doghouse(don't even ask), kayaks, canoe & motorboat, being washed by a cold rain.........what's an old boy with ants in his pants, and cabin fever to do? Take a kid to the car show, that's what. One thing about a kid's love, it is unconditional and has a short memory. You can say "no!", and have 'em sulk and stew for a bit, but ask one of them if they want to head for the fog shrouded, concrete mountain range and see "Lightnin' McQueen", or "Bumblebee" from "Transformers", and all is forgotten. Meantime, the old dude gets to see his first car, a '49 Ford bulletnose flathead V8, and one of his other ones, an old Corvair, basking in all their glory once again.........there are a few perks to living in the city!

Oh my........long day, and am I ever glad I looked at the PBS Saturday night fare before just collapsing. Man, I remember the stories......of how little brother used to sneak into your room and play your guitar. The PBS special brings back a lot of memories........like when I was doing the lights that night in Austin, when The Starmen and Double Trouble opened for you and Kim and the T-Birds at Rome Inn way back when. How fast things snowballed after that.................. My brothers are still with me, so I really can't put myself in your place.........But I know I speak for a lot of others who share your loss when I say that as with Charles Hardin Holly, Janis, and Roy Orbison, just to name a few, we were fortunate to have known Stevie, if only for a short while. A million will see him again tonight at ten. If one or two are so inspired by his genius and skill at his craft to pick up a guitar and make it through the jungle that is the music business, to reward us one day with a style borne of your little brother's inspiration, then another generation will live to know what was Stevie Ray Vaughn.

Looks like the hubub has finally withered to the point that it will before long(note I didn't say soon), be just a tit for tat game of legal wrangling, huh? I see where some of the current local officials are fighting subpoenas, freedom of information laws on the books, and probably their wives and fathers-in-law, apparently trying to cover their ownasses(that is one word isn't it?....oops, nevermind.....I was just informed that that is just a misspelling of Jackie O's numero dos late husband's name).

Like I have said before, whether Ratcliff walks, or becomes a prisoner himself, I feel that some more fallout from the details of this case will very likely have a serious negative impact on both some sitting, some retired, and probably a couple of public officals who are already familiar with the old ankle grabbing position they have set themselves up once again to assume. A lot of time has passed since these alleged transgressions transpired. Want my prediction on the outcome of it all? I thought not. Well, I predict a long and arduous trial, at great expense to both the taxpayers, and to some pie in the sky lawyer whose immediate financial future depends on whether Michael Ratcliff comes out of this as a sort of free man, earning a decent wage, or as an inmate, earning cigarettes and condom money making license plates.

Either way, on the bright side, it's no longer Victoria's Finests', "dirty little secret", but rather a chance for them to show that they can handle such dirty business in a fair, and professional manner, and not have bubba politics factor into their day to day business anymore - for all the world to see(and blog about)............or not..........yall.

I caught a couple of music related stories this morning, on page two of the Chronicle. I must say it was refreshing that they were not about Britney, or Amy Winehouse for a change........... Nope, folks these were about the real deal, the veterans and pioneers of American Rock Music! I won't even play games with you, or make you figure it out........The two groups I read about, were The Eagles, and Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, in that order, only because the stories I read were in that order. So I'll start with The Eagles........get a cup of coffee or a glass of what tickles your funnybone and sit back.........Oh, and first of all, let me say this is not just an old drooling rocker sitting back in his rocker(or off his rocker), reminiscing about bands gone by, in case you were wondering. These are two acts that have endured and can still bring it, and when they bring it close to my town, I will be there, albeit with that same touch of grey as they, and a friend or two of mine I hope to have in tow when the show hits town. (So far my grey is only in the beard) - I'm praying that the mane will choose to turn grey rather than turn....... loose, first.

Okay The Eagles.....saw 'em open for Jethro Tull, '71 I believe it was, "Thick As A Brick" tour. They were still riding the wave of the original "Cosmic Cowboy" thing then.......no, not Michael Murphey, Willie, and Jerry Jeff(aka Jacky Jack, when he showed up sloppy drunk).........No again, I am talking about the real deal......The Flying Burrito Brothers, Gram Parsons and the Fallen Angels, Seatrain, the west coast originals. Wanna hear a kickass tear down the Fillmore version of "Orange Blossom Special"? Get on napster, and find the Seatrain version of it!

Back to The Eagles.......they did that show, touring on the strength of "Witchy Woman", a song that to this day, Don Henley and Glen Frey, will tell you embarasses them, and their new single, a rockabilly version of Jackson Browne's Needles to Barstow to Winslow, Az. ballad, "Take It Easy". They were good, lord knows they were good, but come on.......we were there for the one legged wizardry of the master of the flute and the lights and smoke......a story for later, that one. Well, it wasn't long after that, that "Hotel California" hit.........nuff said! That one speaks for itself, and defines really, the legendary Eagles that most of us know and love. Their road traveled to get to this point, is no less legendary though, as will be evidenced by any who might be lucky enough to be in the crowd when they hit town. In a rather brilliant move, somewhere way back down the line, they added this goofy but virtuoso guitarist, songwriter, and okay I guess vocalist, that brought a completely new dimension to the band.........Not to mention, for those of us who go back Pre-Eagles, an added James Gang set tossed in for good measure by the ever amazing Joe Walsh. Now how cool is that!?! To get an Eagles show with "Funk 49", "Walk Away", and "Rocky Mountain Way " sandwiched in between sets...........Yadig? Add to that the storied career and catalog of Don Henley, plus  Glen Frey and his channeling of Crockett and Tubbs with his Miami Vice set, and well my friend, if you don't get your money's worth out of this show......you just have too much money. And if that isn't enough, their new release, "The Long Road Out Of Eden" debuted at number one on the charts a month ago. Nuff said!

As for Bruce, it takes but once in front of he and his E Street Band, to fully understand why he is called "The Boss". He is every bit that, and as deserving of that title as was 'ol Blue Eyes, deserving of "The Chairman of the Board". You can go see him, or just take my word for it. From the first time on a boat, when I heard "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out" on KPFT back in '70, to the time I saw him at Armadillo World Headquarters in a massive crowd of maybe 175 people, to two years later when he packed the Frank Erwin U.T. Special Events Center, to today, when he could sell out the Toyota Center for as many nights as he chooses to stay, I can tell you in all honesty, bring a hanky, and prepare for a long, weak in the knees walk back to where you parked. You'll go home with your soul massaged and a musical memory you'll take to your grave and tell your grandkids and anyone who'll listen, of.  Rock on...........

........Not anti-hunter.........that would blow any chance I have left of having famous, naked PETA(no, not People Eating Tasty Animals)girls show up at my door with protest signs(tiny ones, I'd prefer ladies). I am an endangered list, animal rights activist.......okay, maybe inactive-ist, to be more precise. I do not hunt wildlife. When I do happen to encounter them though, they better  be prepared to be shot..........with a Canon digital camera. I have over the years, when explaining that I am not a hunter, told people that I was once a hunter. Yep, "my dad raised me that way" I'd tell them. Truth is, he taught me how to ambush sitting ducks for food, at the Carbide clubhouse lake, and be done with it. Screw sitting in a blind freezing and wet. We were one step under the Welder boys..........but at least we shot 'em and cleaned 'em ourselves.  Anyway, this isn't about the haves and have nots, it's about tradition, and conscience learned, and respect for what nature provides for us, and how we each choose to see it and to use it. In all honesty, I have killed only three deer in my life, the most recent one, just under forty years ago. The first one was on Lander Rd.,  just outside of Bloomington. It was out of season, but quite timely for the barbecue we were holding in a couple of days at Skinny's beer joint in Seadrift, out back on the spit. The second one, however ill advised, was the following night - same time, same station. When you have just turned seventeen(jail eligible in the Great State of Texas, I probably should add), one of the last things to have a shot at being a trump card over raging testosterone from the previous evening's conquest, is whether or not someone might have heard that lucky shot the previous night, and called the law........No,  make that called the  TPWD GAME WARDENS. This is one bad news posse my friends, one that makes FBI agents look like cross-dressing crossing guards. These Parks and Wildlife boys, if so inclined, could arrest George W., at home, in bed, without a warrant, for using bad grammar (if Governor Goodhair blessed it.......I'd have to assume).

Anyway, back to the story. Deer number two was my Waterloo.....shot out of stupidity, and greed, just to be sure we had enough meat for the barbeque. For that little lapse in judgment, I learned just how fast state financed Plymouth interceptors are, when matched up against a '63 Fairlane Ford, 2-dr, 260 V8, with three on the tree, and three scared kids inside, and a 100lb deer in the trunk. That deer cost me a night in the old Victoria County Jail. Oh, and $242, which in 1967, was roughly equivalent, to I'd guess about half a million, counting inflation, of today's paper sawbucks. The other really defining moment of that experience, beyond the sleepover in a bedroom that was welded and bolted shut, was my room.....er, cellmate. The guy was from Georgia......he taught me how to write my name on the steel bottom of the upper jail bunk, with burning matches....... Now, for a 17 year old, wet behind the years bay rat, that is a feat that I at first considered a unique bit of learning, though not necessarily one I hoped would be of much future use to me.  Well after that, he started trying to figure out if there was any way I might be able to help him make bond......said if I could get him sprung, he knew this chick we could snatch off the streets of Atlanta, and hold for big ransom bucks........I didn't sleep or talk, or take my eyes off of him, for the rest of that night, and I certainly notched it up as a reason to reconsider shooting deer.......or guns, or jaywalking, etc.......period.

One more time after that though, I shot another deer, on Matagorda Island. I had to finish her off at point blank range, after wounding her from a distance, looking into her eyes just plain finished me off too, as far as being able to consider that sporting. I will say, that for me at least, I would have no qualms about hunting, were it as a means and the only means of feeding my family. For the short term though, my tribe, the "Acheebee" band here in south Tx, does a good job of putting meat on our table. For my part, my chosen task is to get the feed from below the ground refined, and into their steel steeds. Seems like a fair trade, until a better gig comes along................ All of that said, I do recognize the tradition of hunting and gathering as it has been passed down from generation to generation, and from father to son and daughter, as a valued skill and valid sport by some, and as a means of wildlife overpopulation control, and to be honest with you, I am not going to refuse some kickass, homemade venison sausage kolaches, over  a pile of sugary Drunken Donuts, though oatmeal and/or yogurt/granola is my usual breakfast fare.  Tradition is tradition, and I'm okay with that so far, it just isn't my tradition.

As far as the hypocrite part, that you probably thought I'd forgotten about, I must admit that I still don't see tricking a submerged, out of sight, and thus very temporarily, out of mind, speck or a red snapper into going for a hook disguised as a tasty prey, only to become my own tasty prey, as quite as much of a transgression against nature, as I do looking into the eye of another mammal through a rifle scope, so clearly that I can damn near tell what he's thinking, then blasting him. Of course, I suppose that doesn't adequately explain how I can stand over a flounder in gin clear water and put a spear through him, now does it? Maybe it's because he's so alien looking, laying there, hiding his white side like a damned two-toned Picasso, with both eyes on the same side of his freaky face..............on the other hand, have you ever tried Barkett's stuffed flounder? Or maybe fried, the way my mama cooks it?

Remember when the gas station attendants used to ask that question? Probably not. In fact, most of you probably don't even remember gas station attendants, unless you count Mustafa behind the glass wall, who is also selling Zig Zag papers, but no Bugler or Prince Albert, (and I remember when some people bought those products for  the papers), single malt liquors to folks who can't legally open them in their car,  plastic packets of male enhancement pills, Spanish fly......yep, you read that right - Spanish fly (and I thought you could only get that in Mexico)probably a fake, you reckon?......... So yeah, try asking Mr. Mustafa if he'd get the windshield and check that right rear tire, and when he checks the oil, and tells you you're down half a quart, tell him you run it that way.......

I forgot, I was thinking of another time and place. Unleaded or regular, indeed. They say that your valves clatter with regular, but if you'll pump ethyl, she'll purr like a kitten. Yes, that was a while back, before it all gasoline was unleaded.......well there WAS that "white gas" that didn't have lead, but it cost too much to run in your car, so it was just for the floundering lanterns and the Coleman stove.

Oh and one other thing regarding the unleaded stuff. We were pretty efficient at getting American made, lead painted toys directly to our children. Now we have really big corporations do that for us, all at a really big bottom line for themselves, and apparently very little regard for the kids. And keeping it kid friendly, the toys are made in sweatshops by Chinese kids. American corporations.......looking after kids. Not a lot unlike our government does. I just sat through a defensive driving course not too long ago...........for pulling past the 'S in the Oshman's sign, before I snapped my seat belt into it's buckle. Beat's paying the fine and having my insurance go up. Now explain the logic in that, when my boys and millions of other children daily aren't required to wear belts in their school buses.

So now you can go out on Black Friday, armed with some useful information. When you take that toy you had to fight to get your hands on, up to the checkout, if you don't mind the dirty looks at WalMart or Toys"r" Us, ask if it is unleaded or Chinese. Happy shopping, buckle up!

Whoa, two sports blogs in a row........both casting "professionals" in a bad light, hmmmmm. Truth is, they wrote their own stories. We just report and comment on it, (or toy with them). Do any of you think, even for a second that in the short time that has elapsed, since MV was hangin' with his dogs out on a dusty sweltering Georgia summer night, smokin' a blunt and with his heart racing, watching those bulldogs rip each other apart, that he is a changed man? Seriously, I supposed if you count caught as changed, then maybe so........Wasn't it sweet of him to offer himself up three weeks early for "slammer time", and get a head start on his sentence? I was, and am still disgusted with the boy! (men don't commit that type of crime).....By turning himself in early, at best, all he can hope for is being three weeks younger when they turn his bloodthirsty *** loose. With any luck. It'll be way after his prime and his prison years as Michealena with his roomate Spike, who, if there is a god, will outweigh him by two hundred pounds, and well past his football years. Prison, like capital punishment, is supposed to be a crime deterrent. A light sentence for him from the feds, will be anything but!

I love baseball! And now, I am feeling like there is a chance that baseball can finally have what it needs to take some major steps in righting it's ship. Asterisk? Screw that............ Vacate that cheating homeboy's career stats completely, as though he never played the game! Send a message to the young people who find strength in chemicals. There is no place for you in professional sports. Random tests my ***. Mandatory tests! Monthly, with an immediate lifetime ban after the first offense. I'd rather watch a scrawny kid make spectacular defensive plays and leg out hits, than watch freaks hit the ball into the bay and looking like somebody stuck an air hose up their butt when they are circling the bases. Mark McGwire, you're next.......this ain't a race thing pal, it's about cheaters being flushed out and made to pay. Too many people before you worked too hard to be one upped by a bunch of chemically enhanced wannabes.

Go ahead joke about it......you know I'm going to.

So are they going to build it, or do funding studies and eminent domain hostile land grabs until we are into the third generation of the Toshiba molecular teleportation devices, no longer requiring vehicles, or as Doc (Emmet) Brown put it......."Roads?, Where we're going, we won't need roads".........

No, semi-seriously, whattup with the new suggestively named interstate? I noticed in the paper today, that they are still milking the planning process. Driving that slab regularly, and given the number of grade crossovers, and accompanying accidents I have seen, I'd say that the start and completion of said road, toll or otherwise is long overdue. I will add that if it becomes a tollway, that VC is going to have to lighten up on Operation Border Star though. Nobody is going to pay to drive it if they have a one in three chance of being pulled over between Refugio and the Lavaca River.  I do hope when it is completed, that they don't drastically alter the little secret tunnels through Hiljie, Louise, and Pierce, and Radiator Springs, on the northbound lanes........I have heard rumors, just heard, mind you, that when one is stuck in a 62mph bumper to bumper nightmare that is the trip from Victoria to Rosenberg, a driver so inclined, can whip off at any of those exits, pour on the coal, and pass about a mile of sheep on the main lanes by using the "cut across, Shorty" method.......and staying on "old" 59. They say it's a quite effective tool to make up a little time, save for the occasional farmer pulling out of the Hiljie Post office at 3mph, reading his mail, in front of a car doing 85 down Main St....... Interstate or not, I'll guess that that stretch of road will always be a nightmare, unless it has eight lanes each direction.

Then there is the signage situation. Makes me think if it is built and named as planned, a really good business would be a no frills sign company with a contract with the highway department, because I'll guarantee you that those little red white and blue "I 69", medallion shaped babies will be a hotter commodity than stop signs in the fifties, and a  coveted addition to many a bedroom and gameroom walls, and subsequently disappearing faster than street signs from the corner of Clinton Drive and Monica Lane, back during the 90s. And of course, there will be the "I (your words here)'d on I-69" bumper stickers at Stuckeys, Buc-ees, and for sure at "Loves"..............I know, it'll be hard to top "get your kicks on Route 66", but "I'll get mine on I-69", has a ring to it, don't you think?

News flash. Plans to sink Texas A & M research ship postponed due to high seas..........huh? No really, crews planning to scuttle the Texas Clipper, an A&M training vessel, were uh.....scuttled today, due to inclement weather. Now where many (the glass half empty crowd)would leave the dock disappointed as they failed to set sail, I don't doubt that there are those who saw an opportunity for  "one last training exercise...........

Seriously though, I'm a diver, for thirty years now, and I do think it's very cool that this vessel, after serving well as a U.S. Navy WWII troop transport, then recommissioned the S.S. Excambion, and used as a luxury liner, until being put into service as an American Merchant Marine training vessel, will now live on as a home to barnacles, corals, sponges, and countless other forms of marine life, and an attraction to sport divers on the sandy botton of a beautiful blue Gulf of Mexico, off the South Texas coast. For a little history of the ship, and the details of the artificial reefs program, take a look here: http://www.tpwd.state.tx.us...

I was originally planning on posting this as a comment to the article In the Advocate on Young Mr. Osteen's visit. After reading the comments to this point, both praising and slamming him, I decided I haven't enough anonymity built into my presence here, to overcome the visions of the Inquisitions and Salem I was having, so I figured maybe I would take my shot with the home field advantage.......

 Wow, what a cross section of Christians, hypochristians, and Lakewoodies. Want to hear me weigh in on Joel? I didn't think so....... but in my book, he's a pretty upbeat guy, and one just carrying on his daddy's ministry, albeit in a totally different "light". And he's come a long way, you'll have to admit. He's grown and moved his Sunday faithful from the rough side of town, to a building where I saw NBA records set by "The Dream, Moses Malone, and others, and where I saw The Kinks, Doobies, Little Feat, Peter Gabriel, Clapton, Tull............, and rubbed elbows with other Deadheads, watching one of the sweetest pickers ever to grace the Earth......... I don't think even Joel expected the phemenon that is "Joel" to happen. I hope he avoids the pitfalls that sudden, unexpected wealth beyond anybody's imagination, usually befalls the Bakkers, Fallwells, Swaggarts, Haggards, and apparently now Roberts....(I often wondered how long such a rich ministry with a name like "oral" could "stand" without wilting under those same temptations).......But back to Joel. I know that my wife watches him every Sunday morning when possible, whether she does or does not make it to church, so by attrition, I am exposed to his message. It is a positive one. Plain and simple, a positive reinforcement to all who will listen, without the bullsh1t rituals and bevy of fairy tales that usually accompany a christian cult gathering. That might just be what some folks need to make a difference in their lives, and who are we to deny them that? Send the money, or don't send it. Buy his books or don't buy them. The way I see it, he is somewhere between the agnostic "deists", and the bunch with hangovers and who are rehab candidates, beating down the doors to the confessionals to wipe the slate clean, and buy another week, each Saturday. Until he gets caught waving his St. Peter and pointing it's bare head at a real live Madonna in a Telephone Road flophouse, proving a lot of people who believe, wrong, I say give him the benefit of the doubt - he's reaching some people...... In closing, I will say that a lot of the e-mail jokes I get, I hear on Joel's  Sunday hour........which leads me to believe that he also get's some of the "others".....wink, wank"........ I wonder if he tells those to Victoria? Ah, Victoria, she's handled all of this well too, save for b1tch slapping that flight attendant on that stressed out flight to Vail/Beaver Creek, when she found some "doody"  or something distasteful, on her first class seat, don't you think?

...... unfortunately, it's past his bedtime. What happened? Ten years ago, I was cracking my tower open, and slapping in more memory, a bigger hard drive, a DVD-RW. Five years ago, I was Mr. Pirate Downloader............pillaging thousands of Beach Boys, Iron Butterfly, Chambers Brothers, Canned Heat, Ten Years After, etc. classics, then burning them to CD, and vanishing into the night with my booty. Now, all of a sudden, I have to get my middle schooler to teach me how to text! To teach me how to take and send pictures with my goddam cellular phone...........That little high priced Verizon piece of befuddling technological wizardry is supposed to play MP3s, pay my bills and God knows what else........ I wish the frickin' thing could give back rubs, because I get tied in knots just trying to get the damned thing to  do proper punctuation when I'm texting.......and like as if discussing lane changes with other drivers using sign language, steering with my knee and putting honey on a biscuit sausage and changing TV channels wasn't task enough already......knowwhutI'msayin'?

I'm jooooooooooking - allright?!?

But I'm dead serious about digital technology out pacing me. It's become a scenario of the old "some days, it's turkey - other days, nothing but feathers" analogy. Two - three days ago, I get a "the stargate is down" instant message at work from a fellow renegade.........code for the firewall went south........raise hell, login to whatever blows up your skirt, and make hay while the online sun shines...... 'cause "mama censor is passed out on the job"! Well in about thirty seconds flat, I was listening to "Magic Bus", and "We're Not Gonna Take It" and imagining Roger Daltrey on the stage out in that field in upstate New York on Yasgur's farm...........for about an hour.........until the network guys pulled the plug again - dammit. Well, tonight, after sitting in the driveway for thirty minutes, listening to "Ride My See Saw", Locomotive Breath", and a killer live "Time Has Come Today" by the Chambers Brothers.......it dawned on me that all I had to do to continue my rhapsody indoors at my trusty computer, was to go login to my XM account for the first time ever at home. I was pumped! It's an hour and a half later.......my 12 Y.O. I.T. guy is in bed.....and I still am seeing the notes and bars, and the taunting "Rolling Stones" - Sympathy For the Devil.......and "James Gang" "Funk 49" in the playing field, and I have yet to HEAR a note of it! Were it not for the ability to come here and vociferously b-itch about the whole damned ordeal, I probably would have ruptured an aorta, steaming about it..................Screw it! Rock on.......I'm going to bed. I still have my Walkman, and I think there is still an oldies station in town. With any luck, I'll catch some Dave Clark Five, or Beatles, or Herman's Hermits, or Sam The Sham, or Beach Boys, or Andy Williams or Perry Como or Pat Boone, or Gene Autry..............

Okay, credit where credit is due, this started as a comment to Kenneth's blog, and evolved into a page long rant. Once I pass a point, it becomes a bore as a comment and I will not fill someone elses "comments" box with a ten minute diatribe. Ken - thank you for voicing on this one.

Yep, let 'em hug, and the next thing you know, they'll be humping the bus driver..........seriously. I am seeing a couple of extremes here. In recent days there have been two instances that I have seen, in the news about children or adolescents hugging(or not allowed to) in schools. One was deemed a case of inappropriate touching by administrators, (more likely a single prude in a position of authority). The other, here in Kyle, Tx. I think it was, was because another goofy administrator, decided that the simple affectionate greeting was just too time consuming, and schedule disruptive. Now up front, while agreeing wholeheartedly with Kenneth's point, I will debate the subject line of his post, and the sheer absurdity of the accusations of the first commenter. I don't think it has anything to do with political, period. Plain and simple, it is a case of misplaced values and authority run amok, or with just plain "too much time on their hands"! And to the comment..........give me a break!  Far left and ultimately Democrats at the root of it all?????? My goodness, do you go fishing with a shoelace and a broom handle, and a Spongebob toy for bait? Though having children, and being in my fifties, has swayed me a bit more in a conservative direction, I must say that can still see left from where I stand. Oh, and I remember what was much farther left once upon a time. I promise you, it wasn't a culture that was offended by hugs. Hell we invented hugs, free love, tonsil hockey - spit swapping kisses and the horizontal bob and submarine races. No sir, we needed a starting place, and where better after eye contact, than a hug. So that tree you are barking up in, doesn't contain any LWAH (left wingers against hugs) - ask Clinton.............. Take it from a guy who will look at both parties come election day, looking for a sane and reasonable plan, and open to pretty much anything I think will work - I am guessing you will have a hard time finding even the most right leaning Republican who will finger point at the radical left and take up the "hugging" issue in debate..............

Unless something juicy happens - I'm takin' a day off to play and for honeydos.....a sweet colleague inadvertently reminded me of an old post,so here's one from the '05 archives for tomorrow.....

With a title like that, what could this one possibly be about? Maybe a Rush song, nah. A hip guy named Alley Oop? Possibly. In truth, it is about a kid of ten or so, and a real sound butt whippin' and a lesson learned.

You see, this kid I knew was into music at an early age. He used to borrow his dad's car keys and turn the switch of their old Ford to "Accessories", flip on the radio and wait for it to warm up. Warm up you ask? Whattup with that? Never mind, that would be like trying to explain about the adapter you had to insert in the center of a 45 rpm record to play it on the 33-1/3 RPM album spindle.( A hint......like a CD - you still needed to handle it by the edges, but you had to have BIG hands) Maybe later……. Now, where was I children? Oh yeah, a story about this kid listening to the KILT and KTSA jocks on the AM dial.

This youngster loved the stuff on AM radio. Buddy Holly, Del Shannon, The Coasters, and so on. His dad fancied himself a music lover as well, and not a bad guitar player at that, but his music was of the big band stuff - Glen Miller, Artie Shaw. Occasionally, he felt compelled to sit the son down and make him listen to some of it for a change, instead his usual diet of bebop "noise". Truth is, I don't know if he ever told his dad, but to this day, the boy has "In The Mood" and "Across the Alley from the Alamo" burned on some of the same CD's as his Lynyrd Skynyrd, Credence and Led Zepplen songs.

Back to the story. One day the dad decided to entrust the son with a couple of greenbacks to take down to the local Western Auto/Dry Goods and shrimpers supply store for the purpose of picking him out a record, likely something like "Chattanooga Choo Choo" or "Sink the Bismarck". Well, the boy, fresh off the bayou, showed up with the money and was informed that while there were no Glen Miller or Johnny Horton records in the bin, they had just gotten in a copy of a cool song riding high on the charts at the time - "Alley Oop" and that there was only one record left, and that it wouldn't be there for long. Thus began a sequence of events that culminated in one of the worst thrashings the kid probably ever had. (you gotta remember, this was the old "spare the rod and spoil the child" '50's and '60's era.) The kid turned out to be more of a spare the kid and use the rod for shooting pool or fishing kinda dad himself, by the way.

Lesson learned? You bet! When you go to town with your dad's pesos, you had better come back with what you went for, or the money. Also, he remembered being schmoozed into that fateful purchase and how easy it seemed for the old storekeeper to move in for the kill. Later in life, he tried sales work himself for a while. Did pretty good at it too, peddling car phones in the early days for enough money to buy a good pair of K2 skis and boots these days. That lasted only for a brief spell, while his oilfield work was in a downturn. His friends said he should stay with it - said he could sell the devil a book of matches. I think he just couldn't handle the emotional highs and lows of commission sales, a prince one month and a pauper the next. The lure of a steady Texaco check was just too good to pass up on. Probably learned that from his dad too………..
Look at that caveman go!

This one is liable to ruffle some feathers, particularly if I leave it gender specific, so I'll try not to. Story I caught in today's Houston Chronicle, but I noticed and even commented on in the Advocate too.....was just too tempting to pass up a chance at pointing out the irony concealed within. Seems an old gal up in Frankston, a little Norman Rockwell painting looking place between Tyler and Palestine, after 33 years of life on the lam, for fleeing a Georgia prison where she was doing time on an armed robbery conviction, finally was ratted out, and arrested. Apparently, she had made somewhat of a normal life, and at that, I'll let you find the story for yourself, and read it all. The point I would like to make is that probably for every hundred folks who read the story, and the ninety eight who would be as devastated as most of us would be.......... there are a couple more who read it and said "dammit, some guys have all the luck!", and  who are as jealous of her husband as if he had won the lottery.

When they come to hose out my cage ..........I'm gonna make like that research monkey, and run for the trees................In the meantime, I have my tunes and The Lonestar Jukebox on KPFT http://www.lonestarjukebox.... to keep me sane until I escape and grab some life jackets and paddles..........

 

............from the city. I have commented.....and I have read the comments on the recent front page stuff coming from the Victoria media. I think it goes without saying, that our Crossroads city has grown into the big leagues in a lot of ways. Unfortunately, not all of them are good. The parks, the arts, and the culture is thriving there as best I can tell. additionally, the employment boom, and the ensuing population growth has upped the odds of the kind of headlines you are seeing, becoming less the exception, and more commonplace. Traffic I hear, has become a pain, and likely will continue to be until upgrades are made to accomodate the boom and influx of new residents. If you pray, pray (and vote) for good and competent city and county government. You are also entering a time where "good ol' boy" politics needs to be eliminated, and a legitimate and straight shooting group of public officials and servants can make the difference in whether you are looked upon as a desirable place to visit or live, or a place to avoid unless you are part of the gold rush and in a hit and run mode.

But on the subject I alluded to with my title, please don't allow yourselves to be swept up in the sordid speculation of whodunnit and how and when. One thing have learned from years of watching such stories unfold here in the city, is that guilty or innocent, these guys' chances are as good as their lawyers. I have seen many good people convicted of crimes they had no part in, and years later, released. But by the same token, I have seen many more who were obviously guilty as sin, and had no business on the street, walk - with the help of and seeds of doubt planted in the minds of jurors by a good lawyer. in one breath. So the bottom line is that in a year the coach may have nowhere to peep, except into Ratcliff's cell nextdoor, or they could turn up on Jerry Springer and Oprah. (have you ever written "god, no oprah" on a piece of paper and looked at it in a mirror?)

   I would tell you it ain't fair in one breath, but in the next, I will admit that if through some misunderstanding or false accusation, I should find myself on the inside looking out...........that in the absence of the late and honorable Larry Dio, who miraculously managed for me to walk out of the Victoria County Courthouse to my car, rather than a TDC van, over a little importation of agricultural products issue back in 1970, Dick DeGuerin's name will be on the page you will find on top in my Rolodex..........(and don't go looking in the County records for my name, that was taken care of too - The Advocate story should be the only record of that little adventure).

This is likely going to strike a chord with the procrastinators out there, but as you dilly dally about, putting things off until the last minute, know that even you guys have what it takes to find that "kick" to the finish line. Case in point: How many days have you moseyed into the bathroom with the sports section, and methodically gotten suitably undressed, comfy and settled in for the task at hand, and come out twenty minutes later? Now think for a minute......how many times have you made that same trip at warp speed with your eyes crossed, cheeks pressed together, and managed to throw open, then lock the stall door, unbuckle, unzip, have your pants on the floor and your butt on the seat all in .72 seconds(understandably skipping the a$s gasket for a change of course)????? See what I mean. Or how many times have you awakened to a mocking alarm clock, forty five minutes or an hour later than you thought you set it for, and subsequently looked like a blur to the naked eye of fully clothed bystanders, for the next seven minutes, accomplishing the same daily ritual that normaly takes a half hour...............or more?

Sitting here trying to decide how to tackle the last comment on the last post, I find myself wishing I could rewind today, armed with the knowledge I have to this point. When I took my little one to the doctor yesterday(yep, strep), he picked up a small ball he found - and proceded to drop it in my coffee cup holder.  Jump ahead to this morning's trek to the office.......gas light comes on, as I hit the freeway, and I spent a bit determining just how far I might make it......a bit later I reached for my cup of coffee/ovaltine (poor man's latte') which I had unknowingly put on top of the rubber ball. You guessed it - victim of a spontaneous lane change or a turn - upside down on my passenger(cloth) seat.....except I couldn't see that it was upside down, so when I brought it back to Mikey's side of the cab to see if a sip was left, there was - and it was draining into my crotch and onto the front of my shirt. Deep breath............deal with it at work after I have had my coffee, I tell myself. So as I'm walking in at six, the first guy I pass says guess what? NO coffee, water or ice, the plumbing was worked on last night and all the water is brown. So I trudge down the street to the satellite building to their greasy spoon for coffee, only to find out that they didn't open for ten minutes. I waited.........fifteen minutes, to find out they don't sell coffee.............You know, fresh brewed coffee made with brown water, tastes just about the same as with the clear stuff. If you are looking for me this afternoon, I'll either be walking down the Katy Freeway with a gas can, or with just a little luck, in my driveway with the shop vac and Febreeze, trying to finish my first cup of coffee.............dammit!

Look at my photo, and bear in mind that I have looked like that for the majority of my life.........maybe with a bit less grey,(not that grey is bad - I'd rather have my hair turn grey than turn loose) and you'll know I am once again using a tongue in cheek title to get some attention I otherwise may not have received. And I am also aware that my last post, was borderline discriminatory against the short bus crowd, but in his case, someone has to do it..............

No, I am actually alluding to a story about discrimination I caught a bit of, on the TV this morning, on my way to work. Yeah, I know what you are thinking - that's illegal. I regard that law as questionable......a TV in view of the driver. In fact i think it's archaic.......If anything. Now, maybe the texting I was doing.....note to self, might qualify, but a man has to get his news. I can't help it if I still wake up the chickens when I leave for the office, and that I try and gather and note the things I find newsworthy or that merit a second opinion........could be worse - if I went to work when everyone else does, and the traffic was a bit more challenging.

Soooooo, the story that caught my attention, was about a bill up for vote that would make discrimination against gays illegal............Holy ****! Am I missing something here? As far as I am concerned, if the current revised and amended version of our constitution doesn't cover people who maliciously malign and deny equal rights to ALL other people, then we have either misinterpreted what our founding fathers had in mind, or absent mindedly neglected the "do what is right" amendment. Best I can tell, the only segment of our society who merit discrimination, is CONVICTED criminals. As I see it, really uncomfortable discrimination, and basic shunning by mandate of the courts is quite the appropriate course of action to follow in their cases, wouldn't you agree? Death penalty you ask? Well, I waffle on this one, but if they are to use it, I say USE IT. Electric chair.........hell, I say use electric bleachers. Talk about a deterrent........news flash: Nobody left on death row! Beds available.......do the cime do the time.

Okay I drifted............discrimination against any other law abiding human is wrong.Period.Good, bad, or ugly, there is room for people of every opinion, affliction, religion, race, and social, political, or sexual orientation on our planet. You do not have to agree with them, but as long as they follow the laws on the books, and avoid blatant attempts to subvert your own lifestyle or interfere with your raising your MINOR children, then you do not have the right to publicly discriminate against them.  But then common sense should tell you that - you shouldn't need a law, other than that one that is unwritten, and applies to common decency, to  tell you that.

At the risk of appearing to kick a lame duck, I am going to anyway. The fool has been noticably quiet for a while now, likely as a preventative measure or as a means of damage control mandated by his party. At any rate, a snippet of this cunning linguist slipped into the noon newscast today, that I just couldn't overlook. True to form, one of our "friends" over in the region where the oil comes from, Pakistan to be exact, who with our government's blessing posseses a nuclear arsenal, seems to have become a bit unstable of late and is in danger of having extremists get at their stockpile............Good going guys. And to add insult to injury, Bush had the audacity to say to their President Musharaf, "you can't be the president and leader of the military at the same time..............yep straight out of the mouth of the "Commander -in -Chief".................

My son is in Jr High for the first time this year........Little guy is twelve (going on seventeen sometimes, it seems). Something tells me he will be a bit more than a handful as a teen. Anyway, he is in sixth grade band. Now I went to school with him to help him pick out which instrument he wanted to play. I must say, that I did breath a sigh of relief when he didn't look twice at the drums...... The sax was the direction I tried to steer him........cool horn. Well the reed mouthpiece was just a little tricky for him and he settled on the trumpet. Now here we are, almost three months into the school year and for a week now, he has been doing some practicing around the house. Mostly scales, not "songs" mind you. If any of you remember learning the trumpet, or have a child doing so, you are no doubt familiar with the early stages of the learning process, and the acompanying sounds that emanate from wherever the "practice" is taking place. I am here to tell you, for all the world, it sounded something like a heifer hung in a barbed wire fence, occasionally trailing off into a higher pitched one, maybe like we were sacrificing a goat or something......know what I'm sayin'?  So anyway, last night, while writing, closed off in my office, I start to hear this note progression that actually resembled a tune.........rough, but recognizable as an actual song. I asked him about it, and he mentioned the name of the piece........something I'd never heard of. After that, it got quiet for a while.......I'm not sure where he went, but it was out of earshot anyway, and I'll have to admit, I was a little thankful for that. An hour or so later, he popped into my lair with his horn, and asked "want to hear something, dad?" Now what's a dad to say? Of course I did. So I sat back and the kid proceeded to floor me with a flawless rendition of the ringtone I have had on my cell phone for probably five years now............."When The Saints Go Marching In". In a way, I was amazed that he had gone from a ragged exercise, to nailing such a fun tune in just a couple of hours, but then again I wasn't. He has a hard time passing the piano without sitting down and plinking out the same tune, so the choice was logical. Also, I guess you'd have to know Stephen to understand. When the kid puts his mind to something, he doesn't rest until he gets it right. That is going to serve him well in life. Now as for why I have that song as my ringtone, I couldn't say - it's just a catchy tune I guess.......and while it reminds me of New Orleans, I can't say I am actually all that crazy about New Orleans. That probably stems from the fact that while my co-workers get field assignments like Singapore, Russia, The Emirates, etc. I get the really exotic ones like Port Arthur, and Metairie or New Orleans. I was guilty in the past of referring to NOLA as just a dirty old town that could use a good flushing. Lord knows Katrina wasn't what I had in mind......I felt guilty for a while after that. Nothing personal toward New Orleans, I just can only take so much of the Quarter, and God forbid I would go within a hundred miles of there around Mardi Gras time. I am quite capable of getting hammered and doing it under much more controlled circumstances.  On the other hand, in case I have offended any coonasses reading at this point, I must say that I am quite smitten with Acadiana, and the Bayou Teche region that is Lafayette, New Iberia, Avery Island and the surrounding marshes and cane fields. That is where the Blues are for real. That is where you will meet some of the finest folks, and get some of the tastiest food that is known to man. And give me a choice between a truck loaded with Jack Daniels, and one full of Steens Pure Cane Syrup and Louisiana Red Hot Sauce, and I'll drive away with the syrup and the hot stuff any day.

I took my own advice yesterday. I couldn't dislodge my boys from their friends and their weekend dreams, nor could I interest the wife in playing games with me. So I just loaded a kayak and my mountain bike, along with some painting clothes, and road tripped it for the hometown. Guess I was feeling a little sorry for myself, that nobody wanted to take time out of their weekend for me........... Had second thoughts, even considered turning around once or twice. Then I turned on the XM and caught the re-mix of Jethro Tull's Aqualung in its entirety. Before i knew it I was past Alcoa, and on the causeway, hearing the haunting opening strings of Dave Mason's "Alone Together" album, and rolling past Alamo Beach, the first place I ever heard that record, in 1970. When I got to Seadrift, I couldn't even bring myself to turn off the music and go to my mom and dad's place. I parked out at Swan Point and listened to the rest of the record. This morning early, I hit the bay in the yak. It was one of those foggy days.........boat sounds everywhere around me and I never saw a one, until a couple hours of lazy paddling later, when the fog had burned off. What therapy folks..........but I'll not bore you with that. As for the signs of getting older, after I had painted a door, and sat down for some shrimp and a ballgame, I sat near my mother and she was a bit quiet. A