I'm going to invoke the privileges of advancing age to
rant, ramble, and repeat myself. This is an excuse to foist a
below-average issue on you.
After my Midwest experience, I tried to apply more rigor to my vacation plans, but the results weren’t any more satisfying. The advice about how to pack clothes for an extended trip, culled from magazine articles over the years, didn’t work, either.1
The corn-sucking bastards of Iowa are responsible for costing me an extra $35 to fix a chip in my front windshield from gravel out of the back of a truck the other side of Interstate 29 now that they finally got around to upgrading the freeway for the first time since the ‘50s.2 The surrounding states with corrupt, reactionary reputations have roads in better shape than those drooling good-government buckwheats.3
Also, I had to sift through the paper I accumulated during the trips. Wherever I go, I peruse the brochures in the motel lobbies and the free periodicals available to learn about where I am, what to do, and as possible source material for Austin Dispatches, then toss them in the car until the back seat resembles a recycling bin.4
I could do all this because after 16 years, I had the time, money, and motivation to vacation again. The times between contracts didn’t count. I couldn’t go anywhere because I had to conserve cash. Also, I aced my annual physical, which meant I had a few months to eat a proper diet.
Actually, I had to delay the Midwest trip because one night in early October was one of the better all-around experiences on the salsa scene. I danced well, with a lot of different women, and also frequently with “Melanie Ordones Welker.”5 Our acquaintanceship reached a new level, and I drove home late from Austin Sports Tavern feeling content with the world. Then I awoke with a cold. In other words, happiness is bad for your health.
Anyway, I think the extended stays in Las Vegas and especially Phoenix, familiar turf, saved the trip from being just an endless drive in the desert, heavily policed.
To my dismay, the cops infested the region in a ticketing frenzy, even in Arizona. Before, I was able to drive as fast as 110 mph on Interstate 10 in the country, and thus reduce transit time and tedium on the flat, straight, dry roads with high visibility and light-to-nonexistent traffic. If we can’t do that in rural Arizona, we can’t do that anyplace. I talked my way out of a ticket in Pecos County, Texas, for driving a mere 85 mph in an 80 mph zone. Once again, the heavy hand of the State diminishes the quality of life.6
In a related matter, U.S. Highway 93 is best for driving between Phoenix and Las Vegas, especially since the new bridge over the Colorado River bypasses the Hoover Dam.7 I tried Interstate 17 from Phoenix to the Interstate 40 intersection in Flagstaff, Ariz., and I-40 to the 93 intersection in Kingman, Ariz., but there’s no time advantage to using the interstates which run amid mountains and thus put a greater strain on your vehicle. However, 93 is more of a speed trap.8
El Paso
I’d planned to investigate the restaurants and dance spots of El Paso, which I’d hitherto driven through as quickly as possible on the way to somewhere else. However, after considering the street layout and the driving ability of the locals, I opted to stay in my motel room and watch television, which seemingly brought me the news of multiple multi-car pileups on the freeway morning and night.
“— Because the drivers are Mexican?” Welker interjected when I was recounting my vacation.
Possibly, but I now know why the murder rate in El Paso is so much lower than in neighboring Juarez, Mexico: The El Pasoans kill each other in random auto collisions before they get around to shooting someone.9
Las Vegas
My brother’s decorated his place in Las Vegas in a California
modern style that reminded me of our paternal
grandparents’ California houses.10 Rob was a gracious
host. But I didn’t expect to dislike Vegas as much as I did. I thought
I might be depriving myself because four days would obviously be insufficient
to experience the depth and breadth of all Vegas has to offer. Hah!
Unless you’re interested in sports or gambling, there isn’t that much to do. The locals leave The Strip, Downtown, and the South Strip to the tourists.11 Most of the venues the Internet told me offered salsa dancing had canceled when Rob or I called to confirm, and the few places we visited were unsatisfactory, because of the layout, the composition of the dance floor, the ability of my partners, or the predominance of non-salsa music – salsa’s become an erroneous catch-all term for Latin music from the Caribbean Basin. Austin’s scene, with multiple reliable venues with hardwood floors, has spoiled me.
We even visited a Tiki bar, or rather, a neo-Tiki bar, which got the décor right – but that’s it.12 Rob, his girlfriend, and I were the three best-dressed people in the joint, and we immediately regretted visiting only to encounter pudgy guys sporting shaved heads, goatees, and cargo shorts, and listening to contemporary rock on the sound system, instead of patrons swanking about in early ‘60s cocktail attire and listening to lounge music. Plus, the bar was a smoke pit.13
Public smoking is the one thing left from the old days, which made breathing in the casinos a challenge. It’s commonplace to lament the changes to Vegas, from a neon Rat Pack playground to the bland, corporatized money siphon it is today.14 Everybody’s got their palms out.15 According to the listings in the numerous free publications, just to enter any of the casino lounges, with their implication of extravagant sin, would’ve cost me $30.16 Contemporary Vegas strives to be sleazy,17 but it can’t achieve the level even of a Prince album.18 Even the neon on the newer buildings looked cold and wrong, probably because they’re created with light-emitting diodes nowadays instead of actual neon.19
Still, I managed to locate pockets of old-school Vegas. I made a point of visiting the Forum Shops at Caesars Palace.20 Art critic Robert Hughes once used the location as an example of American vulgarity in the arts.21 He was right. The mall is the single tackiest thing I’ve ever witnessed, and that includes any given televised awards show: Greco-Roman trappings overlaid with Vegas glitz, and topped with Christmas decorations.
I also visited the Peppermill Fireside Lounge on Anthony Bourdain’s recommendation. The lounge was a proper neon jungle, but it quenched my interest after I spent more than $15 for a couple of cocktails in vibrant hues on the color spectrum.22
We examined the rest of the city in drive-by fashion. “This is what Vegas is all about,” Rob said at an intersection along The Strip.
“You mean sitting in traffic, waiting for the light to change?”
“Exactly,” he laughed.
Later, we drove along East Boulder Highway, where the shabby ‘70s look hasn’t been replaced. Rob said he half expected to pass Jim Rockford, tracking a lead on a case.23 It's the part of town where you live because you made wrong choices in life.
Overall, the metro’s mood seemed to be depressed. I thought my perception might be off, because the weather was mostly raw and overcast during my visit, but Rob confirmed the local mood. It’s been that way since the housing bust three years ago.24
Phoenix
However, Phoenix was wonderful. My stay there was about as close as possible to recapturing the past. My residence, my workplace and many of the eateries I patronized in 1999 still exist. The Arizona Mills outlet mall in Tempe is still standing; however, nearly every retailer from then has been replaced. An Israeli kiosk vendor accosted me about buying an exfoliant that works the same as regular soap.
“But this contains ingredients from the Dead Sea. You’ve heard of the Dead Sea, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Of course. Is the Dead Sea still dead, or has someone revived it?” This exchange turned into screwball banter.
Also, the Phoenix New Times now belongs to the parent company of the Village Voice and has lost its snarkiness to the usual pinko earnestness.25 The New Times was running a pro-immigrant series, the latest of which I read flogged the corpse of Samuel Francis.26
They’re the sort of changes where one wishes one had been asked for permission.
Every day in Phoenix was in the balmy 70s. Such as it was, my routine was to wait out the morning rush hour, breakfast, drive around in concentric squares on the metro’s grid of streets and stop for lunch or when I found something interesting, return to my rental about 3 p.m.; read the periodicals I picked up, take notes, and watch television until about 7 p.m.; dress up and head out to dinner and either dancing or a live music performance. Although I stayed mostly in my old turf of East Phoenix, Downtown Scottsdale, and Tempe. Unfortunately, the traffic volume has caught up with the street system. Also, streets perfectly intact a dozen years ago were torn up, just to inconvenience me, of course.27 Now that Arizona voters have approved medical marijuana, I saw boneheaded moves hitherto absent from Phoenix drivers.28
I finally attended the Rhythm Room, owned by blues harpist Bob Corritone, but the amateur performances I heard the night I attended had me wailing some blues of my own.29 The salsa scene was better than in Las Vegas, but still not as good as Austin. I was able to answer why I’m not dating as much as I did when I lived in Phoenix: It’s the times. I blame the displaced, free-floating distrust aggravated by 9/11.30
Eats Across America
Greater Phoenix has a lot of terrific eateries. This doesn’t include my lunch at a German restaurant, where the service was too California casual. Until I barked orders in German. After dessert, I conquered a small European country.31
Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch…
During my trip, I began to think more fondly of Austin. Then I returned and it was still just as screwed up as when I left.
The North Burnet/Gateway Neighborhood Plan Contact Team and the Gracywoods Neighborhood Association are sounding the alarm about the City’s plan to create a trailer park for chronic street bums at 10414 McKalla Place, near Braker Lane and Burnet Road.32 It’s also conveniently by the railroad tracks in case the bums need to hop a freight. Most amusing to me is both groups’ outrage over the trailer park contradicting the City’s land-use master plan for the Burnet/Gateway Planning Area. In other words, the jackals at City Hall consider this blue sky fairy tale about the sort of people who used to piss on the storefronts near my alma mater somehow getting their acts together enough to pay even $325/month for a trailer to be more important than their own regulations infringing on people’s property rights. The people who joined the contact team imagined they’d be the local enforcers, not the ones getting screwed over by their masters. Everybody in the neighborhood should’ve heeded me when I warned about that. One thing about renting: I can flee a lot faster than the people who own property.
On Nov. 2, a police officer killed a man on a shooting spree from Tomanet Trail to the Jaguar dealership off MoPac Expressway.33 On Oct. 29, a jewelry salesman at The Domain was robbed.34
On Oct. 30, the driver of an 18-wheel gasoline truck died
when the truck flipped on a connecting ramp at U.S. Highway 183 and
MoPac. The resulting fire shut down the ramp temporarily.35
On Oct. 28, a motorcyclist hit the back of a truck at Metric Boulevard
and Kramer Lane and died.36 On Nov. 26, a car struck and killed
a pedestrian at Braker and Metric.37 On Nov. 16, I witnessed
the aftermath of an auto collision near Burnet and Palm Way. On Jan.
12, I witnessed the aftermath of an auto collision at Gracy Farms Lane
and Hobby Horse Court.
In late October, my landlord warned residents of a public pervert in the neighborhood.38 Police are looking for him so they can give him his own public access TV show to get him off the streets.
The landlord also told residents that the City erred in its water-use estimates, but we have to pay for it.39
The economy remains troubled, with crushing levels of debt and the threat of hyperinflation.40 Blockbuster filed for bankruptcy.41 Yet a 30,000 square-foot store selling women’s handbags, jewelry, and accessories has opened at The Shops at Arbor Walk, and an upscale dog boutique has opened at The Domain.42
Maggie’s Café succeeds Gabbi’s Burgers n Dogs in Suite J of the Gracy Farms Center.43 A grocery, a fertility clinic, a manufacturer, a day care, a Japanese restaurant, and seven other retail stores have opened.44 A software firm and credit union are expanding.45 A golf shop and dry cleaner closed.46
Austin Death Watch
Outside the neighborhood, the Statesman reports that Travis is the No. 1 county for deporting noncriminal immigrants. Predictably, public officials are apologizing for doing the right thing. For once.47
TerraBurger, maker of pretty good organic fast food, had to shut down its store on The Drag because UT students weren't willing to pay higher prices for organic fare enough for TerraBurger to cover its rent at the location.48 Probably the same trustafarians protesting the UT water bottles.49
The Chronicle laments the impending end of the artists’ community along Wilson Street in South Austin.50 Since this seems to be a fixed path for locales: from dangerous slum to artists’ garrets to boho playground to yuppieland, maybe the artists should try a different approach to dwelling.51 Such as dispersing in the first place. Or they could pose as dull bourgeois types and work on their art privately: “No, I’m not a performance artist, I’m a claims adjuster for the insurance industry. Yeah, that’s it.”
Let’s face it: Our city’s “creative community” ain’t that creative or thriving anyway, except in the minds of the trustafarians who think wearing unwashed knit wool Peruvian sweaters while reciting poetry is some cutting edge experience. And, of course, there’s no mention in the Chronicle article of the City’s statist policies that exacerbate the cost of living here and make it hard even for pseudo-artists to congregate like grackles.
Speaking of which, the City will spend $360,000 to control the grackles that've been flying into the Austin Convention Center.52
The local food trailers held a free festival at Auditorium Shores that created another bout of downtown gridlock, as hungry motorists turned increasingly cranky while trying to find a parking space.53 Maybe it’s time for Austinites to acknowledge that downtown just isn’t logistically suited for big events and that sprawl is the solution. Texas Transportation Department changes to the MoPac entry lanes from West Cesar Chavez and West Sixth streets, intended to improve the traffic flow, have made it worse, the Statesman concludes.54
The papers report the City will soon regulate pedicabs, on the heels of a recent police crackdown. I thought they were regulated. This isn't Bangkok. An official said "We don't want cab drivers just running around."55 I thought that was the definition of a cab driver, since most of them aren't shaving their hair into Mohawks and gunning down pimps.56
MetroRail ridership is scant, so Cap Metro wants to axe two bus routes from campus to Lakeline Mall and Leander, respectively, that it thinks compete with the boondoggle.57 Cap Metro’s already closed two downtown bus stops that were causing traffic accidents.58 Simultaneously, the new Cap Metro boss has been axing top people among the management team.59
In its Christmas Eve issue, the Chronicle whines that proposals for improving MoPac don’t include bike paths. I know if I rode a bike again, I’d want to inhale lots of exhaust fumes along a major thoroughfare. Maybe that explains why the watermelons are so dumb.60
Their knee-jerk fear of acknowledging their opponents are actually right has steered them away from sound policy and joining a broad coalition to implement it yet again, as those with growing concern about fluoridated water can’t resist sneering at the John Birch Society.61 And Austin Energy is now treating its “green” customers like the rest of us: It’s jacking up rates.62
The Austin Economic Development Office proposes a $1 million City fund to entice businesses to town. The notion that Austin might attract businesses by eliminating taxes, regulations … and government programs like the Economic Development Office goes unmentioned in the story – and among Austin’s power elite. Right now the biggest incentive businesses have is to leave Austin.63
For example, the Travis County Commissioners want the Legislature to give them more control over business development.64 The Austin Independent School District, which shouldn’t exist in the first place, voted to eliminate its property tax exemption on historic buildings. Effectively, a tax hike, one that’s threatening dozens of businesses downtown, particularly if they’re local businesses.65
The local power elite is turning its meddling to Airport Boulevard. The elite doesn’t like the blue-collar businesses, many of them operating for decades, and wants to spend tax dollars to turn it into a jumble of condos and boutique businesses that’ll quickly go out of business, all done in the current fashionable style that the next generations of power elitists and urban planners will mock.66 But at least the blacks and Mexicans will have been driven out.
Speaking of driving, the City Council initially OK’d $13.5 million for utilities for the planned Formula One racetrack near Elroy. The Chronicle’s scribes are in a snit about this the deal, the 28th of its kind in the last five years, but characteristically shy away from drawing the proper conclusions. Namely, that this shady but legal backscratching for big projects that pave over nature and diminish Austin’s weirdness is the logical outcome of a big-government mentality. Those with the influence direct the millions the Council likes to toss around into their own coffers, instead of seeing it go to waste on a tofu festival or something. The solution is for the City to take a minimalist approach to governance and stop spending money, but the Chronicle’s scribes will write that about the same time environmentalists acknowledge the Birchers.67
Katz’s Deli went out of business. It was one of the first Austin eateries I tried, and it was a transplanted piece of New York, right down to the overpriced artwork. I spent many wonderful times there with friends, relatives, political associates, and dates.68 New Year’s Eve fireworks destroyed the lakeside deck and caused more than $50,000 in damage to Hula Hut.69
Dec. 14, the Austin Airport Advisory Commission voted unanimously against installing body scanners at the airport.70 But two days later, the City Council OK’d surveillance cameras for downtown.71
Austin City Police Chief Art Acevedo has joined other cops in clamoring for a new category for charging drivers who are below the legal limit for drunkenness.72 Meanwhile, an Austin cop on the SWAT team crashed his car after driving drunk. Afterward, the department kicked four of his colleagues off the team.73 On Jan. 7, police arrested two men on East Sixth Street for drunk driving, but couldn’t secure a conviction because the men were riding livestock, not driving.74 City Manager Marc Ott named dyke former Sheriff Margo Frasier to be the Austin police’s new police monitor, thereby rendering the position even more toothless.75
On the Town
Aug. 25: At Dallas Nite Club, a vivacious blonde and sometime dance partner was in a celebratory mood, which translated into an affectionate series of hugs and kisses. As we embraced in a torrid clinch, I seductively maneuvered my lips to her ear. “I hate to even ask this (smooch) and risk spoiling the mood (smooch), but … what is your name again?”
Cultural Canapés
While I was recovering from my cold, I was automatically informed of an update to a friend’s blog that was a celebration of that goddamned John Lennon’s birthday I'd been hearing about all that week. To read that from him in my condition was too much, so I chided Arik for celebrating a drug-addled, no-talent, half-a-fag limey flailing around for the C chord with a tampon stuck to his forehead whom a brainwashed generation proclaimed its spokesman and the apotheosis of culture while stunting ours for a few years.76
Arik replied with a list of libertarian positions, which, while valid, miss the point.77 This isn't about money. McDonald's sells a lot of hamburgers but nobody mistakes eating there with fine dining.78 Nor is this about rights. Lennon and his ilk were and are free to spout whatever ignorant drivel emerges from their chemically deformed synapses and out their yaps, just as the rest of us are free to shout them down.
This is about esthetics. On that point, Arik actually rehashed the party line from Rolling Stone magazine, about how “the popular culture of the time required a serious dose of dietary fiber.”79 That interpretation has since been debunked by Nick Tosches, Robert Palmer, and Jim DeRogatis, among others.80 A cursory inquiry will discover more fiber for “1962” alone than a Whole Foods breakfast aisle.81 The crap from both eras derives from the consumer influence of teenage girls.82 Even our generational contemporaries at Reason magazine were compelled to attack Lennon and his works.83 It's all part of a long cultural restoration that's seen pre-Boomeroid work rightfully re-evaluated. I'm happy to do my part.84
To accuse me of being a nativist also misses the point.85 Note that I’m not denouncing Antonio Carlos Jobim,86 Fela Kuti,87 or even Jeff Beck.88 The only good sound Lennon ever made was his death gurgle after being shot by an irate fan – a Boomer, naturally – but still a more insightful music critic than the usual hacks at Rolling Stone.89 Well, I wrote before that 1980 was a great year. Lennon’s assailant was inspired by an equally overrated novel, also much beloved by his generation because it was narrated by a whiny rich brat in need of an attitude adjustment; and despite its alleged controversial nature, taught in high school English classes for decades – which tells you all you need to know about its quality.90
One side result of traveling was seeing more current television than usual. Crime drama “Detroit 1-8-7” showed more whites arrested in one episode than live there nowadays. The remake of “Hawaii Five-0” glorifies a paramilitary task force with limited oversight running roughshod over citizens’ rights.91 It’s the Millennials’ turn to be insulted by television, with the quickly canceled “My Generation.” The drama was centered around Austin and filmed like a reality show, but the plotlines didn’t jibe with the characters depicted therein.92Also, the characters were annoyingly stupid. Conan O’Brien’s new show, “Conan,” rectifies the weakness of his stint on “The Tonight Show”: More interaction with second banana Andy Richter.93
According to the Statesman, more local mothers are taking their placentas home with them. This means that Al Franken, humorless junior senator from Minnesota, was ahead of his time back when he was a productive member of society and scripting “Placenta Helper” for “Saturday Night Live.”94
The Statesman’s fashion editor proclaims that ‘90s style is
back.95 Predictably, what’s back isn’t the stuff that was
actually nice, such as the neo-Rat Pack-inspired clothing from the latter
half of the decade, when many Thirteeners were dressing and acting
like real adults,96 or those vivid ties from the early ‘90s,
the last really neat neckwear, before Rush Limbaugh lent his name to a
line of cravats so ugly a harlequin wouldn’t be caught dead in them.97
No, what we’re expected to endure is crappy clothes from annoying subcultures,
such as the grunge scene of the Pacific Northwest (“I’m cooler than you
‘cause I’m damaged.”). Maybe that’s why Kurt Cobain really killed himself
… what he had on his mind that final day – besides shotgun pellets.98
Tentacles of Empire
The Texas Army National Guard at Camp Mabry in midtown Austin has been remobilized as the 36th Infantry Division and deployed to Iraq.99 Not only will this unit be chewed up in a foolish, costly, illegal occupation, its absence also does nothing to alleviate the traffic bottleneck on MoPac near the camp.100
After my Midwest experience, I tried to apply more rigor to my vacation plans, but the results weren’t any more satisfying. The advice about how to pack clothes for an extended trip, culled from magazine articles over the years, didn’t work, either.1
The corn-sucking bastards of Iowa are responsible for costing me an extra $35 to fix a chip in my front windshield from gravel out of the back of a truck the other side of Interstate 29 now that they finally got around to upgrading the freeway for the first time since the ‘50s.2 The surrounding states with corrupt, reactionary reputations have roads in better shape than those drooling good-government buckwheats.3
Also, I had to sift through the paper I accumulated during the trips. Wherever I go, I peruse the brochures in the motel lobbies and the free periodicals available to learn about where I am, what to do, and as possible source material for Austin Dispatches, then toss them in the car until the back seat resembles a recycling bin.4
I could do all this because after 16 years, I had the time, money, and motivation to vacation again. The times between contracts didn’t count. I couldn’t go anywhere because I had to conserve cash. Also, I aced my annual physical, which meant I had a few months to eat a proper diet.
Actually, I had to delay the Midwest trip because one night in early October was one of the better all-around experiences on the salsa scene. I danced well, with a lot of different women, and also frequently with “Melanie Ordones Welker.”5 Our acquaintanceship reached a new level, and I drove home late from Austin Sports Tavern feeling content with the world. Then I awoke with a cold. In other words, happiness is bad for your health.
Anyway, I think the extended stays in Las Vegas and especially Phoenix, familiar turf, saved the trip from being just an endless drive in the desert, heavily policed.
To my dismay, the cops infested the region in a ticketing frenzy, even in Arizona. Before, I was able to drive as fast as 110 mph on Interstate 10 in the country, and thus reduce transit time and tedium on the flat, straight, dry roads with high visibility and light-to-nonexistent traffic. If we can’t do that in rural Arizona, we can’t do that anyplace. I talked my way out of a ticket in Pecos County, Texas, for driving a mere 85 mph in an 80 mph zone. Once again, the heavy hand of the State diminishes the quality of life.6
In a related matter, U.S. Highway 93 is best for driving between Phoenix and Las Vegas, especially since the new bridge over the Colorado River bypasses the Hoover Dam.7 I tried Interstate 17 from Phoenix to the Interstate 40 intersection in Flagstaff, Ariz., and I-40 to the 93 intersection in Kingman, Ariz., but there’s no time advantage to using the interstates which run amid mountains and thus put a greater strain on your vehicle. However, 93 is more of a speed trap.8
El Paso
I’d planned to investigate the restaurants and dance spots of El Paso, which I’d hitherto driven through as quickly as possible on the way to somewhere else. However, after considering the street layout and the driving ability of the locals, I opted to stay in my motel room and watch television, which seemingly brought me the news of multiple multi-car pileups on the freeway morning and night.
“— Because the drivers are Mexican?” Welker interjected when I was recounting my vacation.
Possibly, but I now know why the murder rate in El Paso is so much lower than in neighboring Juarez, Mexico: The El Pasoans kill each other in random auto collisions before they get around to shooting someone.9
Las Vegas
My brother’s decorated his place in Las Vegas in a California
modern style that reminded me of our paternal
grandparents’ California houses.10 Rob was a gracious
host. But I didn’t expect to dislike Vegas as much as I did. I thought
I might be depriving myself because four days would obviously be insufficient
to experience the depth and breadth of all Vegas has to offer. Hah! Unless you’re interested in sports or gambling, there isn’t that much to do. The locals leave The Strip, Downtown, and the South Strip to the tourists.11 Most of the venues the Internet told me offered salsa dancing had canceled when Rob or I called to confirm, and the few places we visited were unsatisfactory, because of the layout, the composition of the dance floor, the ability of my partners, or the predominance of non-salsa music – salsa’s become an erroneous catch-all term for Latin music from the Caribbean Basin. Austin’s scene, with multiple reliable venues with hardwood floors, has spoiled me.
We even visited a Tiki bar, or rather, a neo-Tiki bar, which got the décor right – but that’s it.12 Rob, his girlfriend, and I were the three best-dressed people in the joint, and we immediately regretted visiting only to encounter pudgy guys sporting shaved heads, goatees, and cargo shorts, and listening to contemporary rock on the sound system, instead of patrons swanking about in early ‘60s cocktail attire and listening to lounge music. Plus, the bar was a smoke pit.13
Public smoking is the one thing left from the old days, which made breathing in the casinos a challenge. It’s commonplace to lament the changes to Vegas, from a neon Rat Pack playground to the bland, corporatized money siphon it is today.14 Everybody’s got their palms out.15 According to the listings in the numerous free publications, just to enter any of the casino lounges, with their implication of extravagant sin, would’ve cost me $30.16 Contemporary Vegas strives to be sleazy,17 but it can’t achieve the level even of a Prince album.18 Even the neon on the newer buildings looked cold and wrong, probably because they’re created with light-emitting diodes nowadays instead of actual neon.19
Still, I managed to locate pockets of old-school Vegas. I made a point of visiting the Forum Shops at Caesars Palace.20 Art critic Robert Hughes once used the location as an example of American vulgarity in the arts.21 He was right. The mall is the single tackiest thing I’ve ever witnessed, and that includes any given televised awards show: Greco-Roman trappings overlaid with Vegas glitz, and topped with Christmas decorations.
I also visited the Peppermill Fireside Lounge on Anthony Bourdain’s recommendation. The lounge was a proper neon jungle, but it quenched my interest after I spent more than $15 for a couple of cocktails in vibrant hues on the color spectrum.22
We examined the rest of the city in drive-by fashion. “This is what Vegas is all about,” Rob said at an intersection along The Strip.
“You mean sitting in traffic, waiting for the light to change?”
“Exactly,” he laughed.
Later, we drove along East Boulder Highway, where the shabby ‘70s look hasn’t been replaced. Rob said he half expected to pass Jim Rockford, tracking a lead on a case.23 It's the part of town where you live because you made wrong choices in life.
Overall, the metro’s mood seemed to be depressed. I thought my perception might be off, because the weather was mostly raw and overcast during my visit, but Rob confirmed the local mood. It’s been that way since the housing bust three years ago.24
Phoenix
However, Phoenix was wonderful. My stay there was about as close as possible to recapturing the past. My residence, my workplace and many of the eateries I patronized in 1999 still exist. The Arizona Mills outlet mall in Tempe is still standing; however, nearly every retailer from then has been replaced. An Israeli kiosk vendor accosted me about buying an exfoliant that works the same as regular soap.
“But this contains ingredients from the Dead Sea. You’ve heard of the Dead Sea, haven’t you?” she asked.
“Of course. Is the Dead Sea still dead, or has someone revived it?” This exchange turned into screwball banter.
Also, the Phoenix New Times now belongs to the parent company of the Village Voice and has lost its snarkiness to the usual pinko earnestness.25 The New Times was running a pro-immigrant series, the latest of which I read flogged the corpse of Samuel Francis.26
They’re the sort of changes where one wishes one had been asked for permission.
Every day in Phoenix was in the balmy 70s. Such as it was, my routine was to wait out the morning rush hour, breakfast, drive around in concentric squares on the metro’s grid of streets and stop for lunch or when I found something interesting, return to my rental about 3 p.m.; read the periodicals I picked up, take notes, and watch television until about 7 p.m.; dress up and head out to dinner and either dancing or a live music performance. Although I stayed mostly in my old turf of East Phoenix, Downtown Scottsdale, and Tempe. Unfortunately, the traffic volume has caught up with the street system. Also, streets perfectly intact a dozen years ago were torn up, just to inconvenience me, of course.27 Now that Arizona voters have approved medical marijuana, I saw boneheaded moves hitherto absent from Phoenix drivers.28
I finally attended the Rhythm Room, owned by blues harpist Bob Corritone, but the amateur performances I heard the night I attended had me wailing some blues of my own.29 The salsa scene was better than in Las Vegas, but still not as good as Austin. I was able to answer why I’m not dating as much as I did when I lived in Phoenix: It’s the times. I blame the displaced, free-floating distrust aggravated by 9/11.30
Eats Across America
| State |
City |
Name |
Address |
Phone |
| Arizona |
Phoenix |
Chicago Hamburger Co. |
3749 E. Indian School Road 85018 |
(602) 955-4137 |
| Chompie’s | Four locations |
|||
| Durant’s |
2611 N. Central Ave., 85004 |
(602) 264-5967 |
||
| Honey Bear's Bar-B-Q |
Two locations |
|||
| La Fontanella Italian Restaurant |
4231 E. Indian School Road, 85018 |
(602) 955-1213 |
||
| Maui
Dog |
3538 E. Indian School Rd. 85018 |
(602) 464-3063 |
||
| Mel’s Diner |
1747 NW Grand Ave. 85007 |
(602) 252-8283 |
||
| Phoenix House of Pizza & Subs |
326 N. 48th St., 85008 |
(602) 275-5181 |
||
| Tomaso’s |
Two metro locations |
|||
| Scottsdale |
Oregano’s |
Six metro locations |
||
| Veneto Trattoria Italiana |
6137 N. Scottsdale Road, 85250 |
(480) 948-9928 |
||
| Tempe |
Capistrano's Italian Deli |
31 W. Southern Ave., 85282 |
(480) 968-0712 |
|
| Cheba
Hut |
Four metro locations |
|||
| The Chuckbox |
202 E. University Dr. 85281 |
(480) 968-4712 |
||
| Riazzi's
Italian Garden |
2700 S. Mill Ave., 85282 |
(480) 731-9464 |
||
| Greasy Tony's |
921 E. University Dr., 85281-4205 |
(480) 894-6100 |
||
| Tom’s BBQ Chicago Style |
115 E. Baseline Road 85283-1288 |
(480) 820-0728 |
||
| Nebraska |
Omaha |
Caniglia’s Original Restaurant |
1114 S. Seventh St. 68108 |
(402) 341-7778 |
| Nevada |
Las Vegas |
Rocco’s
NY Pizzeria |
10860 W. Charleston Blvd. #190,
89135 |
(702) 796-0111 |
| Oklahoma |
Miami |
Okie Burger |
700 E. Steve Owens Blvd. 74354 |
(918) 542-7948 |
| Texas |
Dallas |
El
Fenix |
18 metro locations |
|
| El Paso |
Julio’s Café Corona |
8050 Gateway E., 79907 |
(915) 591-7676 |
|
| Fredericksburg |
Fredericksburg Ice Cream Parlor |
321 E. Main St. |
(830) 997-3131 |
|
| Richardson |
Dimassi’s Mediterranean Buffet |
180 W. Campbell Road 75080 |
(972) 250-2000 |
|
| San Marcos |
Centerpoint Station |
3946 I-35 S., 78666 |
(512) 392-1104 |
|
| Waco |
Baris III Pasta & Pizza |
904 N. Valley Mills Dr., 76710 |
(254) 772-9141 |
|
| Cupp’s Drive-In |
1424 Speight Ave., 76706-2048 |
(254) 753-9364 |
||
| Elite Circle Grill |
2132 S. Valley Mills Dr., 76706 |
(254) 754-4941 |
||
| Health Camp |
2601 Circle Road, 76706 |
(254) 752-2081 |
||
| Michna’s Bar-B-Que |
2803 Franklin Ave., 76710 |
(254) 752-3650 |
||
Greater Phoenix has a lot of terrific eateries. This doesn’t include my lunch at a German restaurant, where the service was too California casual. Until I barked orders in German. After dessert, I conquered a small European country.31
Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch…
During my trip, I began to think more fondly of Austin. Then I returned and it was still just as screwed up as when I left.
The North Burnet/Gateway Neighborhood Plan Contact Team and the Gracywoods Neighborhood Association are sounding the alarm about the City’s plan to create a trailer park for chronic street bums at 10414 McKalla Place, near Braker Lane and Burnet Road.32 It’s also conveniently by the railroad tracks in case the bums need to hop a freight. Most amusing to me is both groups’ outrage over the trailer park contradicting the City’s land-use master plan for the Burnet/Gateway Planning Area. In other words, the jackals at City Hall consider this blue sky fairy tale about the sort of people who used to piss on the storefronts near my alma mater somehow getting their acts together enough to pay even $325/month for a trailer to be more important than their own regulations infringing on people’s property rights. The people who joined the contact team imagined they’d be the local enforcers, not the ones getting screwed over by their masters. Everybody in the neighborhood should’ve heeded me when I warned about that. One thing about renting: I can flee a lot faster than the people who own property.
On Nov. 2, a police officer killed a man on a shooting spree from Tomanet Trail to the Jaguar dealership off MoPac Expressway.33 On Oct. 29, a jewelry salesman at The Domain was robbed.34
On Oct. 30, the driver of an 18-wheel gasoline truck died
when the truck flipped on a connecting ramp at U.S. Highway 183 and
MoPac. The resulting fire shut down the ramp temporarily.35
On Oct. 28, a motorcyclist hit the back of a truck at Metric Boulevard
and Kramer Lane and died.36 On Nov. 26, a car struck and killed
a pedestrian at Braker and Metric.37 On Nov. 16, I witnessed
the aftermath of an auto collision near Burnet and Palm Way. On Jan.
12, I witnessed the aftermath of an auto collision at Gracy Farms Lane
and Hobby Horse Court. In late October, my landlord warned residents of a public pervert in the neighborhood.38 Police are looking for him so they can give him his own public access TV show to get him off the streets.
The landlord also told residents that the City erred in its water-use estimates, but we have to pay for it.39
The economy remains troubled, with crushing levels of debt and the threat of hyperinflation.40 Blockbuster filed for bankruptcy.41 Yet a 30,000 square-foot store selling women’s handbags, jewelry, and accessories has opened at The Shops at Arbor Walk, and an upscale dog boutique has opened at The Domain.42
Maggie’s Café succeeds Gabbi’s Burgers n Dogs in Suite J of the Gracy Farms Center.43 A grocery, a fertility clinic, a manufacturer, a day care, a Japanese restaurant, and seven other retail stores have opened.44 A software firm and credit union are expanding.45 A golf shop and dry cleaner closed.46
Austin Death Watch
Outside the neighborhood, the Statesman reports that Travis is the No. 1 county for deporting noncriminal immigrants. Predictably, public officials are apologizing for doing the right thing. For once.47
TerraBurger, maker of pretty good organic fast food, had to shut down its store on The Drag because UT students weren't willing to pay higher prices for organic fare enough for TerraBurger to cover its rent at the location.48 Probably the same trustafarians protesting the UT water bottles.49
The Chronicle laments the impending end of the artists’ community along Wilson Street in South Austin.50 Since this seems to be a fixed path for locales: from dangerous slum to artists’ garrets to boho playground to yuppieland, maybe the artists should try a different approach to dwelling.51 Such as dispersing in the first place. Or they could pose as dull bourgeois types and work on their art privately: “No, I’m not a performance artist, I’m a claims adjuster for the insurance industry. Yeah, that’s it.”
Let’s face it: Our city’s “creative community” ain’t that creative or thriving anyway, except in the minds of the trustafarians who think wearing unwashed knit wool Peruvian sweaters while reciting poetry is some cutting edge experience. And, of course, there’s no mention in the Chronicle article of the City’s statist policies that exacerbate the cost of living here and make it hard even for pseudo-artists to congregate like grackles.
Speaking of which, the City will spend $360,000 to control the grackles that've been flying into the Austin Convention Center.52
The local food trailers held a free festival at Auditorium Shores that created another bout of downtown gridlock, as hungry motorists turned increasingly cranky while trying to find a parking space.53 Maybe it’s time for Austinites to acknowledge that downtown just isn’t logistically suited for big events and that sprawl is the solution. Texas Transportation Department changes to the MoPac entry lanes from West Cesar Chavez and West Sixth streets, intended to improve the traffic flow, have made it worse, the Statesman concludes.54
The papers report the City will soon regulate pedicabs, on the heels of a recent police crackdown. I thought they were regulated. This isn't Bangkok. An official said "We don't want cab drivers just running around."55 I thought that was the definition of a cab driver, since most of them aren't shaving their hair into Mohawks and gunning down pimps.56
MetroRail ridership is scant, so Cap Metro wants to axe two bus routes from campus to Lakeline Mall and Leander, respectively, that it thinks compete with the boondoggle.57 Cap Metro’s already closed two downtown bus stops that were causing traffic accidents.58 Simultaneously, the new Cap Metro boss has been axing top people among the management team.59
In its Christmas Eve issue, the Chronicle whines that proposals for improving MoPac don’t include bike paths. I know if I rode a bike again, I’d want to inhale lots of exhaust fumes along a major thoroughfare. Maybe that explains why the watermelons are so dumb.60
Their knee-jerk fear of acknowledging their opponents are actually right has steered them away from sound policy and joining a broad coalition to implement it yet again, as those with growing concern about fluoridated water can’t resist sneering at the John Birch Society.61 And Austin Energy is now treating its “green” customers like the rest of us: It’s jacking up rates.62
The Austin Economic Development Office proposes a $1 million City fund to entice businesses to town. The notion that Austin might attract businesses by eliminating taxes, regulations … and government programs like the Economic Development Office goes unmentioned in the story – and among Austin’s power elite. Right now the biggest incentive businesses have is to leave Austin.63
For example, the Travis County Commissioners want the Legislature to give them more control over business development.64 The Austin Independent School District, which shouldn’t exist in the first place, voted to eliminate its property tax exemption on historic buildings. Effectively, a tax hike, one that’s threatening dozens of businesses downtown, particularly if they’re local businesses.65
The local power elite is turning its meddling to Airport Boulevard. The elite doesn’t like the blue-collar businesses, many of them operating for decades, and wants to spend tax dollars to turn it into a jumble of condos and boutique businesses that’ll quickly go out of business, all done in the current fashionable style that the next generations of power elitists and urban planners will mock.66 But at least the blacks and Mexicans will have been driven out.
Speaking of driving, the City Council initially OK’d $13.5 million for utilities for the planned Formula One racetrack near Elroy. The Chronicle’s scribes are in a snit about this the deal, the 28th of its kind in the last five years, but characteristically shy away from drawing the proper conclusions. Namely, that this shady but legal backscratching for big projects that pave over nature and diminish Austin’s weirdness is the logical outcome of a big-government mentality. Those with the influence direct the millions the Council likes to toss around into their own coffers, instead of seeing it go to waste on a tofu festival or something. The solution is for the City to take a minimalist approach to governance and stop spending money, but the Chronicle’s scribes will write that about the same time environmentalists acknowledge the Birchers.67
Katz’s Deli went out of business. It was one of the first Austin eateries I tried, and it was a transplanted piece of New York, right down to the overpriced artwork. I spent many wonderful times there with friends, relatives, political associates, and dates.68 New Year’s Eve fireworks destroyed the lakeside deck and caused more than $50,000 in damage to Hula Hut.69
Dec. 14, the Austin Airport Advisory Commission voted unanimously against installing body scanners at the airport.70 But two days later, the City Council OK’d surveillance cameras for downtown.71
Austin City Police Chief Art Acevedo has joined other cops in clamoring for a new category for charging drivers who are below the legal limit for drunkenness.72 Meanwhile, an Austin cop on the SWAT team crashed his car after driving drunk. Afterward, the department kicked four of his colleagues off the team.73 On Jan. 7, police arrested two men on East Sixth Street for drunk driving, but couldn’t secure a conviction because the men were riding livestock, not driving.74 City Manager Marc Ott named dyke former Sheriff Margo Frasier to be the Austin police’s new police monitor, thereby rendering the position even more toothless.75
On the Town
Aug. 25: At Dallas Nite Club, a vivacious blonde and sometime dance partner was in a celebratory mood, which translated into an affectionate series of hugs and kisses. As we embraced in a torrid clinch, I seductively maneuvered my lips to her ear. “I hate to even ask this (smooch) and risk spoiling the mood (smooch), but … what is your name again?”
Cultural Canapés
While I was recovering from my cold, I was automatically informed of an update to a friend’s blog that was a celebration of that goddamned John Lennon’s birthday I'd been hearing about all that week. To read that from him in my condition was too much, so I chided Arik for celebrating a drug-addled, no-talent, half-a-fag limey flailing around for the C chord with a tampon stuck to his forehead whom a brainwashed generation proclaimed its spokesman and the apotheosis of culture while stunting ours for a few years.76
Arik replied with a list of libertarian positions, which, while valid, miss the point.77 This isn't about money. McDonald's sells a lot of hamburgers but nobody mistakes eating there with fine dining.78 Nor is this about rights. Lennon and his ilk were and are free to spout whatever ignorant drivel emerges from their chemically deformed synapses and out their yaps, just as the rest of us are free to shout them down.
This is about esthetics. On that point, Arik actually rehashed the party line from Rolling Stone magazine, about how “the popular culture of the time required a serious dose of dietary fiber.”79 That interpretation has since been debunked by Nick Tosches, Robert Palmer, and Jim DeRogatis, among others.80 A cursory inquiry will discover more fiber for “1962” alone than a Whole Foods breakfast aisle.81 The crap from both eras derives from the consumer influence of teenage girls.82 Even our generational contemporaries at Reason magazine were compelled to attack Lennon and his works.83 It's all part of a long cultural restoration that's seen pre-Boomeroid work rightfully re-evaluated. I'm happy to do my part.84
To accuse me of being a nativist also misses the point.85 Note that I’m not denouncing Antonio Carlos Jobim,86 Fela Kuti,87 or even Jeff Beck.88 The only good sound Lennon ever made was his death gurgle after being shot by an irate fan – a Boomer, naturally – but still a more insightful music critic than the usual hacks at Rolling Stone.89 Well, I wrote before that 1980 was a great year. Lennon’s assailant was inspired by an equally overrated novel, also much beloved by his generation because it was narrated by a whiny rich brat in need of an attitude adjustment; and despite its alleged controversial nature, taught in high school English classes for decades – which tells you all you need to know about its quality.90
One side result of traveling was seeing more current television than usual. Crime drama “Detroit 1-8-7” showed more whites arrested in one episode than live there nowadays. The remake of “Hawaii Five-0” glorifies a paramilitary task force with limited oversight running roughshod over citizens’ rights.91 It’s the Millennials’ turn to be insulted by television, with the quickly canceled “My Generation.” The drama was centered around Austin and filmed like a reality show, but the plotlines didn’t jibe with the characters depicted therein.92Also, the characters were annoyingly stupid. Conan O’Brien’s new show, “Conan,” rectifies the weakness of his stint on “The Tonight Show”: More interaction with second banana Andy Richter.93
According to the Statesman, more local mothers are taking their placentas home with them. This means that Al Franken, humorless junior senator from Minnesota, was ahead of his time back when he was a productive member of society and scripting “Placenta Helper” for “Saturday Night Live.”94
The Statesman’s fashion editor proclaims that ‘90s style is
back.95 Predictably, what’s back isn’t the stuff that was
actually nice, such as the neo-Rat Pack-inspired clothing from the latter
half of the decade, when many Thirteeners were dressing and acting
like real adults,96 or those vivid ties from the early ‘90s,
the last really neat neckwear, before Rush Limbaugh lent his name to a
line of cravats so ugly a harlequin wouldn’t be caught dead in them.97
No, what we’re expected to endure is crappy clothes from annoying subcultures,
such as the grunge scene of the Pacific Northwest (“I’m cooler than you
‘cause I’m damaged.”). Maybe that’s why Kurt Cobain really killed himself
… what he had on his mind that final day – besides shotgun pellets.98
Tentacles of Empire
The Texas Army National Guard at Camp Mabry in midtown Austin has been remobilized as the 36th Infantry Division and deployed to Iraq.99 Not only will this unit be chewed up in a foolish, costly, illegal occupation, its absence also does nothing to alleviate the traffic bottleneck on MoPac near the camp.100