Texas Book Festival

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SAT., NOV. 8, 2003

Writers by circumstance are a quiet and reclusive lot, given to long stretches of solitude and introspection and therefore prey to a variety of antisocial quirks and ills that can either make them seem eclectic and charming or boorish and overbearing. After long stretches holed up creating the next great masterwork, a self-imposed cabin fever sets in and the red-eyed writer descends to unload the built-up mental slag on friends, relatives, and an unsuspecting public. The result is often entertaining, but as monologue gives way to sermon then soliloquy, even the most captivating chatty Cathy can become a dull, droning windbag. As with any sweeping generality, there are exceptions, but by and large, when the pen is put to rest, writers can barely keep their yaps shut long enough for a normal person to get a word in edgewise. That’s OK however, because if normal people had something important to say, they too would be writers. Like nothing else (with the possible exceptions of politics and prizefighting), writing requires a bigger ego than intellect. Big egos require a lot of space, so it’s a good thing this weekend’s Texas Book Festival is spread all over the Capitol grounds. Texas is a big state with a big pink phallus of a Capitol building – a place that houses an impressive collection of egos most of the year anyway, so it seems the perfect locus for a gathering of authors. You might think the Convention Center was booked, but as First Lady Laura Bush (Honorary Chairperson of the Festival) will tell you, nothing was going on at the Capitol anyway, so why pay rent? The good news is that most of the book festival is free and you can hear readings/discussions by a jaw-dropping list of authors – huge names like Barbara Bush, Dan Rather, Rod McKuen, Ann Richards, and Joe Bob Briggs as well as writers like Neal Pollack, Steven Saylor, Calvin Trillin, and Herman Wouk. As with any Austin event, there will be plenty of music. During the day on Saturday and Sunday the Entertainment Tent at 11th and Colorado will feature free shows by local and not-so-local musicians including Kinky Friedman, Patricia Vonne, Slim Richey, Ed Miller, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Jon Dee Graham, and Colin and Jimmie Dale Gilmore. Saturday night features a huge concert by the Rock Bottom Remainders, a cover band featuring writers Dave Barry, Amy Tan, Roy Blount Jr., Ridley Pearson, and Scott Turow. For $40 you can see them butcher classic rock tunes and provide special guest Roger McGuinn (formerly – waaay formerly – of the Byrds), with an entertaining anecdote for his memoirs. It’s pricey for the Music Hall, but proceeds benefit Texas Libraries and if you’ve always wanted to throw underwear at Roy Blount Jr., you may not get another chance.

Extravagasm Fantasy Ball

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SAT., NOV. 1, 2003

No one would argue that sitting on your front porch drinking beer and doling out candy (the rocket fuel of pre-adolescent hyperactivity otherwise known as granulated Satan) to the kids is a perfectly enjoyable and respectable way to spend All Hallows Eve. You might even meet a few single folks in the process but it’s unlikely their kids are going to give you a lot of quality time. Tens of thousands of Austinites choose instead the bacchanalian freakshow/circular stampede of Sixth Street. For sheer spectacle it can’t be beat, but if you intend to go against the grain and stop and chat with that hottie in the green M&M outfit, keep in mind that you risk getting nightsticked back into a clockwise orbit – and don’t even think about showing up as the cop from the Village People no matter how well you dance. They have rules against that shit. The safest bet is to stake out a rooftop table sometime Friday morning and hope you’re sober enough to descend the stairs at closing time. Dress as slutty as you want, but remember: No one is more attractive on Halloween night on Sixth Street than someone with a rooftop table. All in all, Halloween night is scary as hell for pretty much everyone except children. Either you’re the shut-in victim of roaming hordes of chocolate-moustached, sugar-high school kids or you’re sweating/freezing your ass off in an itchy, ill-fitting costume screaming to get the attention of an oblivious bartender through the plastic piehole of your thrift store Halloween mask. Face it, in the immortal words of mack daddy Arthur Fonzarelli, “Friday night is amateur night.” If you’re really serious about getting your freak on, skip to Saturday, a.k.a. “Day of the Dead.” Starting at 7:30 down at Moxie and the Compound on South Lamar, Moxie and “Best of Austin” winner Austinmama.com host “Screaming in the Freezer II, an evening of spoken word featuring an adult-only star-studded lineup of artists and entertainers including but not limited to: Diane Fleming, Sarah Barnes, Genevieve Van Cleve, Spike Gillespie, Lauren Lane (of television’s The Nanny), Marion Winik, and master musician/storyteller Matt the Electrician. Admission is free and comes with free drinks courtesy of Tito’s Vodka, plus, you can buy pizza from Roppolo’s to settle your tummy. Later, if you’re feeling kinky from all of the Tito’s and want to kick it up a notch, you should run home, strap on your corset and stiletto heels and head back out to the Vortex on East Manor Road for the Extravagasm Fantasy Ball, a fetish-themed costume party sponsored by Fluffertrax, Forbidden Fruit, and Huge Productions. The Extravagasm is an audience participation-style event complete with fetish performances, fashion parades, slideshows, and live music. Expect to see a lot of zipper masks, ball gags, rubber suits, strap-ons, and leather cut in a variety of ingeniously revealing ways. Admission is $25 and remember: like Vegas, what happens in Austin, stays in Austin.

Austin Record Convention

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SAT., OCT. 25, 2003

After a while, you tend to forget why Austin is the Live Music Capital of the World (hereinafter referred to as the LMCOTW or more poetically, Austin). Somehow it seems perfectly normal that a live band should accompany breakfast, lunch, and dinner; provide a soundtrack to your stroll through the airport; and greet you at the end of the supermarket checkout line. Lest you ever doubt our claim to the title, try this little experiment. Go knock on the door to your neighbor’s house. If someone answers, ask if he or she is a musician. If the answer is no, it will inevitably be followed by the phrase, “but my _____ is.” Of course, if no one answers the door, you can pretty much be certain it’s a musician because they’re 1) sleeping in, 2) rehearsing, or 3) avoiding bill collectors. At any given time in Austin, you’re less than one degree of separation from a musician. Austin is one of the few places (maybe the only place) in the world where you have a better chance of knowing a musician than someone with herpes, though by no means are the two mutually exclusive. Every night in Austin literally hundreds of bands play in venues all over Austin. Thousands more are rehearsing or jamming in apartments, houses, garages, and storage units. Who hasn’t lost their sanity trying to find the locus of that insistent thumping coming from somewhere down the street? This embarrassment of musical riches has its benefits: cheap day labor, interesting fashions, thriving pawn shops and blood banks, and, of course, wicked cool record collections. This weekend Austin becomes the RMCOTW as the Austin Record Convention sets up shop at the Crocket Center. Twice a year, spring and fall, the Austin Record Convention attracts more than 300 record dealers from across the USA and Europe. The selection includes 78s, 45s, LPs, CDs, eight-tracks, and cassettes, as well as posters and collectibles – more than 1 million items. If you’re into music (and statistically, that’s a given) you should be able to find plenty. If you’re into musicians, well … ditto on that, too. Admission is $4 for both days (yes, you’re going to need some time on this one) and bring some extra folding money because there’s a good chance you’ll find something you can’t live without.

The 16th annual AIDS Walk

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SUN., OCT. 19, 2003

AIDS Walk as a name doesn’t really convey the sense of urgency associated with the disease. Walking implies a leisurely pace, basic ambulation, a level of activity just beyond lounging and just short of jogging. As an epidemic, AIDS/HIV is setting a blistering pace. More than 45 million people worldwide are living with HIV/AIDS and more than 14 million children have been orphaned by the disease. Here in America, the number of people infected by HIV is less than a million, thanks in no small part to organizations like AIDS Services of Austin, a local nonprofit that for 16 years has been helping people living with HIV/AIDS, as well as providing prevention and outreach services for the community at large. Given that kind of sustained, long-term commitment, the AIDS Walk makes a lot more sense. It’s about determination, endurance and vision. It’s also a lot of fun. This Sunday at 11am, thousands of Central Texans will meet in front of the Capitol at 11th and Congress for a pre-Walk street fair featuring cross-dressing comediennes the Austin Babtist Women, roots rockers 3 Balls of Fire, local rock diva Lisa Tingle, and singer-songwriter Carolyn Wonderland, as well a slew of booths by local businesses and organizations. Walkers raise money by hitting up friends, relatives, and (gasp!) office mates to sponsor them as they merrily toil over 5 kilometers of Central Austin. Walkers can go solo or in packs or even walk virtually from the comfort and privacy of home through the miracle of the Internet. How many other 5Ks let you do that? Of course, you can dress as freaky as you want at home, but no one will be there to see it. A better bet is to actually break a sweat and negotiate the real course where you’ll have a chance to mingle with several thousand philanthropic folks like yourself. The key is to get online and sign up now so you can still hit up that office hottie for some sponsorship scratch.

The Austin Green Festival

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SAT., OCT. 11, 2003

Even with the exodus of thousands of Longhorn fans, it looks to be a busy weekend here in Weirdville. Those who resist the pull of the orange and red yin-yang of the Cotton Bowl will be amply rewarded with a host of interesting festivals, events, and other recreational oddities. Thursday night the Austin Film Festival “kicks off” the Texas/OU weekend with a night of stars at the Paramount. Specifically, Gina Gershon will be pimping her new film, Prey for Rock and Roll and Eric Stoltz will be on hand for Happy Hour (that being the film he’s screening – although you might find him at the Four Season’s bar around beer-thirty). You can also catch Gina jamming that night at Antone’s with Girls Against Boys. Friday during happy hour, Waterloo Records hosts an in-store with venerated songwriter John Hiatt, who appears the following night at Stubb’s with neo-bluesman Robert Cray. Saturday, if you’re not out at the Barktoberfest in Cedar Park, you can check out the eats at the Mediterranean Festival at St. Elias Church (on 11th Street between the Capitol and Symphony Square) or head on over to Rosewood Park for the 2nd annual Soul Fest which features music by Crunk Texas Click, Silhouette, and Arnie Sykes among others. Later, if you’re brave enough, you can drive down to South Austin Karate on Old Manchaca Road for the International Knife Thrower’s Hall of Fame induction ceremony, the kickoff event for the Central U.S. Knife Throwing Championships, featuring 40 knife throwers from all over the world (and very likely Christopher Guest with a notepad). If a bunch of knife throwers in South Austin isn’t weird enough for you then you’ll surely want to hike over to the Convention Center for the Austin Green Festival, a two day organized gathering of tree-huggin’, otter scrubbin’, Earth lovin’ businesses, organizations, and people like yourself dedicated to ecological balance, social justice, and a sustainable economy. Think of it as the Organic Cotton Bowl. Come early, be green, and wear hemp. More than 100 exhibitors will be on hand to hawk green products like organic beeswax, grass-fed beef, and aromatic native plant soaps as well as green services like socially responsible investing and greenbuilding. Attend seminars with intriguing titles like: “Organic Farming: Real Homeland Security,” “Building Community Through Dance,” “The Power of Conversation to Change the World,” and “The Art of Being Present.” After all, being present is 90% of the grade anyway, isn’t it?

Mr. Sinus Theater Presents: The Lost Boys

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FRI., OCT. 3, 2003

If you have never seen Mr. Sinus Theater 3000, you might have some sort of vague notion that it’s even dorkier and less funny than its televised pseudo-namesake, Mystery Science Theater 3000, a show that deservedly holds down a shaky spot in the cable purgatory of the Sci Fi Channel. Admitting familiarity with any programming on the Sci Fi Channel is pretty much date repellent in most circles, so it’s no surprise that the uninitiated remain skeptical. How could a live, local, untelevised knockoff of a mind numbingly bad cable TV show be even remotely entertaining? Start with the cast. Owen Egerton, John Erler, and Jerm Pollet are truly funny guys. Seriously. Pollet and Egerton have spent years honing their chops in local comedy clubs and improv troupes while Erler is a classic cut-up who, in between working on a Ph.D. in classics is also host of KVRX’s wildly popular Elk Mating Ritual Hour, an eclectic amalgam of call-ins, philosophizing, and obscure music billed as, “None of the Hits, All of the Time.” All three are musicians as well – how Austin is that? Pollet fronted the popular punk-pop band Gals Panic back in the early Nineties and still holds down a gig as “Tall, Dark and Lonesone,” a solo show in which he alternately sings and soliloquies on topics both personal and public; Egerton has released a CD of comedy tunes entitled Big Thick Wooden Board, and is a Casio keyboard virtuoso; and Erler shows up occasionally at local karaoke bars to sing Jimmy Buffet tunes in the voice of Skeletor, He-Man’s arch nemesis. Occasionally, Erler also fronts a band called Big in Italy. Under the guise of Mr. Sinus, the three achieve a true comedic synergy that far transcends the Sci Fi Channel counterpart. This may have something to do with the material. Mr. Sinus doesn’t confine itself to the same B-movie fare as Mystery Science 3000. Recently, the movies mocked by Mr. Sinus are high profile studio schlock like Top Gun, Footloose, Speed, and presciently enough, The Terminator. They also manage to work in an actual comedy sketch in the middle of the films that very often involves nudity and cross-dressing, the two unshakeable pillars of live comedy. Lastly, Mr. Sinus allows – even encourages – its audience to drink (responsibly), making Mr. Sinus a happy, interactive, social experience rather than a shameful, solitary, onanistic endeavor. This weekend, the trio takes on the mother of all teen vampire flicks, The Lost Boys, an eye-candied Eighties classic starring huge names like Jason Patric, Kiefer Sutherland, the Corey twins (Feldman and Haim), Jami Gertz, and Alex Winter (the Bill of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, whose sunken eye sockets make him a lock for any role concerning the undead). Rest assured, The Lost Boys is comedic fodder for even the dullest of wits, so Mr. Sinus should cut it and the audience to pieces.

22nd Annual Pecan Street Fall Arts Festival

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SAT., SEPT. 27, 2003

So maybe you’re not a big Texas football fan. So what? Austin is full of things to do on a Saturday afternoon that don’t involve coming early, being loud, and wearing orange. For instance: down at the newly renovated Palmer Events Center they’re having the Bridal Extravaganza, a huge exposition of all things matrimonial. Oops, maybe not. While it’s surely useful to keep your eyes on the prize, a whole year in wedding wonderland is unlikely to turn up a J-Lo or McConaughey. More likely, you’ll be treated to the sickening specter of happy couples that don’t include you. Besides, the only person who ever really looked good in white was Don Cheadle in “Boogie Nights” and look what happened to him. You could head over to the Austin Convention Center for the Texas Home and Garden Show. At least there you stand a solid chance of meeting someone with a house payment and a Home Depot credit card. They may not rock your world, but they can probably help you pea gravel your driveway. You might also meet stars from shows on HGTV, but really, if you’ve actually bothered to learn the names of people on HGTV, you’ve probably already torched your chances at ever having a meaningful relationship with another human being. They say that love and dating is a numbers game. If so, the 22nd Annual Old Pecan Street Fall Arts Festival might just be the ticket. This semi-annual event offers food, beer, live music, carnival rides, and hundreds of crafts booths selling things like scented candles, pottery, tie-dye, dream catchers, and little pewter wizards and unicorns that you can stare at when you’re stoned. You don’t get that at a Longhorn game…yet…and while the Longhorn Marching Band is huge and impressive, there are arguably more musicians playing at Pecan Street, though maybe not as horny. Does the Longhorn Marching Band have accordion? Not likely, but Pecan Street has accordion superstar Flaco Jimenez headlining the Latino Stage as well as non-accordion acts like Pushmonkey, Dames Violet, Patricia Vonne, Kacy Crowley, and Kevin McKinney – not a bad looking bunch, even if they aren’t sporting burnt-orange polyester. Bring plenty of cash. Admission is free but the little pewter wizards aren’t.

Summer 2003 H2Ho Show

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FRI., SEPT. 19, 2003

Thirty-thousand of any species confined in a 15-acre space is a potentially combustible situation. This year’s ACL fest may hit that mark before headliners Dwight Yoakum and the Right Reverend Al Green even take the stage. Fortunately on the evolutionary scale, genus homo rests a comfortable distance from both spider monkeys and elephants, so some of the wilder chaos theory scenarios can be ruled out. Still, the sheer number of Porta Potties, Birkenstocks, and exposed armpits is enough to make you lose sleep – as if the distant relatives and estranged high school classmates who blew into town at the last minute looking for a place to crash hadn’t already taken care of that. Chances are that somewhere in the musky haze of the Leftover Salmon hillbilly-Rasta mosh pit you’ll start feeling the need to carve out a little personal space. Here’s an idea: take a peaceful 10-minute stroll down to the Elk’s Lodge (on Dawson, first light east of Lamar) and check out Austin’s best and only renegade feminist synchronized-swimming team, the H2HOs. After all of the dust and disarray of the ACL Fest, synchronized swimming will seem like a wet dream. Word around town is that the drinks at the Elks Lodge bar are stiff and cheap so you can bone up on a little liquid courage before going back to face the dust scrum down the road. Imagine yourself poolside nursing a buzz while just a few feet away the H2HOs represent feminism through the aquatic arts. And, lest you think that you’ve abandoned live music completely, you’ll be happy to discover that the H2HOs come with their own live music accompaniment, a band suitably named Wishing Well. Performances run conveniently the same Friday, Saturday, and Sunday of the ACL Fest and are price at a reasonable $10, although unlike the doings down at the park, no one will be turned away for lack of funds.

Secondhand Lions Regional Premiere

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SUN., SEPT. 14, 2003

Hollywood seems to be high on Austin in recent years. In any given month at least a couple of major productions are shooting in or around town, bringing with them a retinue of grips, gaffers, sound technicians, set designers, make-up artists, painters, carpenters, stunt men, and camera operators, many of whom look like they live in a trailer down by the river. Some actually do. There are also movie stars – not just Sandy slumming in SoCo or Bongo McConaughey on the sidelines at a Longhorn game but real, live Hollywood legends like Stallone, Spacey, Winslet, Banderas, Buscemi, Hayek, Montalban and Marin (Ricardo and Cheech, respectively). Maybe it’s the music. After all, Sandy fell for Bob, and Bob fell for Billy Joe (Schneider, Duval, and Shaver, respectively). Russell Crowe, Dennis Quaid and the Bacon brothers have all pitched their musical tents here in the past few years and Johnny Depp even gigged here once with Gibby and Bill (Haynes and Carter, respectively) back before he started hatin’ on ’merica. If it’s not the music that’s hooking Hollywood it’s probably the migas. You can drive Sunset from Vine all the way out to the Pacific Ocean and not find a decent plate of migas. In Austin, just about any place short of Denny’s makes a respectable rendition though you have to admit it would be nice to run into the Pacific Ocean every once in a while when you’re out looking for them. Filling out the holy trinity of Austin allure is the margarita. It’s very likely that Austin’s favorite sporting drink is solely responsible for the huge influx of West Coasters, many of whom got their first brain freeze at places like Trudy’s, Manuel’s and Z Tejas. Some credit the versatility of Austin’s environs: the river, the lakes, the hills. Don’t bet on it. Tulsa’s pretty diverse, but you don’t see Ricardo Montalban slamming margaritas down on Peoria Avenue. More than anything, it may be that Austin is overly blessed with an abundance of creative people who have the chops to make movies happen. Take, for instance, the Austin Film Society. For nearly 20 years the AFS has been hosting screenings and local independent filmmakers, the result of which has been increasing interest and investment in the local film community. This Sunday the AFS is hosting the regional premiere of Secondhand Lions, which was shot in and around Austin and written and directed by Tim McCanlies, whose previous works include The Iron Giant, and Dancer, Texas Pop. 81. Secondhand Lions stars Academy Award winners Robert Duval and Michael Caine as well as Academy Award nominee Haley Joel Osment and may well be the most interesting film to come out of Austin/Hollywood in some time if only for the fact that no one seems to know how to market it yet. Director McCanlies and star Osment will undoubtedly get the ball rolling this Sunday by attending the premiere and hosting a Q&A afterwards. Sadly Duval and Caine are not scheduled to attend, but even if Haley Joel is still a little too wet behind the ears to pique your interest, the admission price includes and afterparty at La Zona Rosa with Billy Joe Shaver. $10 for a movie, music, and margaritas. Can migas be far behind?

Keep Austin Weird 5K

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SAT., SEPT. 6, 2003

Running – or for that matter performing any of the motions the body should be doing in order to ensure its survival even though they’re no longer really necessary to ensure survival – sounds like a good idea until the shoes hit the pavement, until you remember the theorem that states that a body at rest should remain at rest until acted upon by another force. Runners like to talk about endorphins and that mercurial state of euphoria known as “runner’s high,” but getting there is usually a long, ugly trip over several miles of bone-jarring pavement – sort of like a heroin junkie stabbing himself repeatedly in the arm in search of a vein. Seen objectively, either fix is a tough sell, yet there are other undeniable health benefits to running that heroin addiction can’t match even if endorphins only place a close second in the euphoria race. For instance, the only track marks in running are the ones you leave on the pavement, meaning you can wear those scandalously revealing running clothes and people won’t mutter words like “intervention” behind your back – unless perhaps you’re popping a grossly offensive Lycra bulge at the coffee shop after your morning jog. Also, the endorphin high is a legal and socially acceptable buzz for everyone from atheists to Zoroastrians – even fundamentalist Christians are down with it and they’re not even cool with masturbation. Such universal popularity should always raise suspicion, but the truth is that with the endorphin high, all of the cards are on the table. If you want it, you have to earn it. This weekend, you can get all jacked-up on endorphins at the Keep Austin Weird 5K, a locally sponsored fun run and charity event for Austin’s own “Lourdes on the Crick,” Barton Springs. You might have trouble making the connection between weirdness and a 5K, but thankfully the race’s organizers have gone all out to keep you on task. In addition to the usual water stops, they have included an ice cream stop, a beer stop, and a bacon and doughnut stop. What’s next, a defibrillator stop? Runners are also encouraged to wear costumes, which may affect finish times and ultimately put the kibosh on the endorphin high, but the best one receives the title of “Weirdest Person in Austin.” Prizes will also be awarded for “Best Willie Lookalike” and “Best Leslie (Cochran) Lookalike.” The Willie may be easy to pull off, but as Leslie himself would probably tell you, it’s not easy to even walk sporting ill-fitting pumps and a navy blue polyester stewardess outfit. Of course, a longer stay at the beer stop may be in order as well. Finishing off the day is a big concert featuring Jane Bond, Ghandaia, Grupo Fantasma, Podunk, and Steamroller – an eclectic lineup for what looks like a wacky event. Will it Keep Austin Weird? Will it Save Our Springs? Probably not, but this is a rare opportunity to get high with potentially thousands of other sweaty, scantily clad people of various genders without getting arrested. If the endorphins don’t get you, the pheromones might.

Pet-a-Palooza

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SAT., AUG. 30, 2003

The truth about cats and dogs is that either one makes a better pet than a ferret. Owning any animal that would just as soon lap up your blood than look at you is a bad idea, but keeping a pet that loudly crunches dried cat food at 3 in the morning and drags your socks off (singly, not in pairs) to a pile of brush behind the garage is clearly an indicator of some deeper, more disturbing neurosis. Sure, ferrets are cute – precious until they clamp down on your unsuspecting houseguest’s wrist, darling until you discover that the unholy stench coming from the back of your closet is an eviscerated rat carcass, silly until you find your $200 Mephisto pumps in the middle of the living room looking like they’ve taken a couple of spins in the garbage disposal. It’s not easy to own a pet whose behavior so strongly contradicts its suitability for domestication. There is a reason for the mink coat. It’s anger. Cats and dogs, on the other hand, are much less likely to bite the hand that feeds them, regardless of how much sweet, dark blood is coursing through it. This is not to say cats don’t have their own irritating quirks and idiosyncrasies, but merely the fact that they’ve been shedding dander and ignoring their owners since the days of the pharaohs is testament enough to their usefulness as companions. What other pet rates a statue the size of the Sphinx? Dogs, too, have been earning their keep for ages as man’s best friend, and even if they spread trash all over your living room and crap on the linoleum, you can rest assured they’re doing it out of total, unconditional love. The best thing about pets is that they are great training for relationships. Having to care for and about another living being is an essential part of being an attractive mate, and as with any good relationship, the one with your pet takes time, effort, and understanding. That’s why this Saturday you should put in some time at Pet-a-Palooza out at the Travis County Expo Center. Yes the name is an abomination, but the concept looks like a lot of fun. Of course there will be the obligatory booths hawking pet wares and services, but there will also be a Fattest Cat Competition, a Pet/Owner Look-Alike Contest, Weenie Dog Races, a Stupid Animal Tricks Contest, and a Miss/Mr. Pet-a-Palooza Fashion Show (like you needed another reason to dress up the ferret).

SAT., AUG. 30, 2003

Austin Chronicle Hot Sauce Festival

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SUN., AUG. 24, 2003

It’s three weeks into August, and with the monsoon season safely behind us, it’s time to get out and really enjoy the sunshine. Never mind that the temperature’s solidly in the triple digits, and even briefly exposed skin is likely to take on the color and texture of beef jerky if it’s not slathered with a thick layer of sunscreen. This is Austin in August. This is the page that’s torn out of our travel brochure; the hazing ritual for all of the doe-eyed, dough-bellied northerners who’ve come south for a little fun in the sun. Oh, wait … you were looking for San Diego. Austin in August is Phoenix with humidity. Of course, in the desert it at least gets cool at night. Here it just gets dark. People find ways to cope. For the more fragile flowers, air conditioning seems to do the trick. Others swear by Barton Springs which, on a mercilessly hot day, is every bit worth the shrinkage. Then there are those who break down and buy a frozen-margarita machine – an excellent idea if you have a few extra dollars to burn and aren’t a mean drunk. The rest of us just live with the sweat: nature’s natural coolant. In fact, if you’re hot and not sweating, something’s seriously wrong. It’s called heat stroke, and you may want to back off the margaritas for a while. Otherwise, if you’re schvitzing, you’re in good shape. In fact, in Austin you don’t even have to break a sweat to break a sweat. Take this Sunday’s Austin Chronicle Hot Sauce Festival at Waterloo park for instance. Thousands of Austinites will be sweating for a good cause (the Capital Area Food Bank) by doing nothing more than drinking beer, sampling chips and hot sauce, and listening to live music. Beats the hell out of running a 10K, doesn’t it? Youbetcha. Especially since admission to the Hot Sauce Festival is free with the donation of a nonperishable food item. You’ll still need some folding money for things like beer and food from some of Austin’s favorite restaurants, but all in all, it’s a cheap sweat. Think of it this way: When was the last time you got to see Patricia Vonne, Grupo Fantasma, and the Derailers for a can of beans? When will you ever get to see them again for that price – especially with complimentary appetizers?

Salvage Vanguard Labor Party

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SAT., AUG. 16, 2003

When it comes to keeping Austin weird, nobody steps up to the plate like local theatre. Sure this town is lousy with freaks, fops, and funsters hellbent on subverting the norm, but none go at it with the alacrity of the thespian set (one notable exception being Leslie Cochran, who is arguably Austin’s longest-running performance-art piece). No doubt a need for attention is an essential element in weirdness, but following a close second is a flair for the dramatic. The only thing weirder than a freaky-looking musician is a mime. Don’t try to explain it. It is what it is. One night at Cirque du Soleil is far more unsettling than a week on the Iron Maiden tour bus. Musicians, regardless of how strangely dressed, pretty much are who they are. Actors however, are never who they really are even when they are trying to be who they really are. How weird is that? Maybe not Leslie Cochran weird, but if you dress them up in a stewardess outfits and run them for mayor, most actors would give Leslie a serious run for his money – especially if they pretended to climb imaginary stairs or wash imaginary windows. Therefore, if you truly want to keep Austin weird, you might consider saving the cash you were going to spend on that T-shirt or bumper sticker and throwing it at a local theatre company. Feeding a starving actor is an act of mercy similar to putting out a bowl of milk for a stray kitten. You never know whether the kitten loves you back, but it always shows up for the bowl of milk. The bonus in the case of the actor is that very often it will entertain you and in some extreme cases even sleep with your roommate. This Saturday from 7:30-10:00pm the Salvage Vanguard Theater is throwing the Salvage Vanguard Labor Party, a fundraiser featuring a silent auction, cash bar, and previews of the company’s upcoming shows. There’s no cover at the door, but between the silent auction and the cash bar, you should find a way to milk the theatrical cat and meet a few interesting (weird?) people.

Camp Hacknslash

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SAT., AUG. 9, 2003

It’s been a long, hard day of Frisbee golf, and after skateboarding all the way home carrying a Slurpee, a microwave burrito, and a king-sized bag of Funyuns, all you really want to do is eat dinner and veg out with your GameCube until you’re blissfully overcome by sweet slumber. It’s tough being a grownup in Austin, but fortunately you possess the good sense to know when to relax and get some shuteye. Then, just about the time your eyelids get heavy and your fingers slide off the joystick, Tim League appears on your windowsill in a leafy green shirt and green tights and beckons you off to Neverland. Looks like another all-nighter with the Lost Boys and Girls from Alamo Drafthouse. This Saturday, Ain’t It Cool News and the Drafthouse are hosting Camp Hacknslash, an all day summer camp with an all-night summer camp horror movie marathon. For a paltry $40, campers will receive a Camp Hacknslash T-shirt, tube socks, a nutritious dinner, fruit punch, s’mores, and a nutritious breakfast along with a quadruple feature of camp-themed horror films shown on the Alamo’s huge, inflatable screen. The evening will also feature a world premiere theatrical screening of Freddy Vs. Jason with Freddy and Jason (Robert Englund and Ken Kirzinger) live in person. Grisly horror movies aren’t the only fun on the bill either. Daytime activities include a nature walk, capture the flag, a hot dog eating contest, three-legged races, an egg toss, a wet T-shirt contest, bong building, dodge ball, a snipe hunt, archery, tubing, and more, though not necessarily in that order (for instance, the intelligent choice would be to put the hot dog eating contest after the bong building). Campers who survive the day will enjoy even more excitement that night. In addition to the horror films, campers will also be treated to s’mores, campfire stories, and a Q&A session with the stars and director of Freddy Vs. Jason including Kelly Rowland from Destiny’s Child. If that doesn’t keep you up, what will? Camp starts at 3pm at an undisclosed location within 20 minutes of Austin, but campers need to show up at 2pm so they can be divided into tribes and be assigned a camp counselor. Historically, summer camp is the ultimate place to meet members of the opposite sex and bed them on rickety cots in secluded cabins, but keep in mind, the camp brochure states that “all fornicators and sleepers will be butchered.” Well, that’s one way to never grow up.

Em & Lo’s Big Bang Sex Drive Book Tour

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TUE., AUG. 5, 2003

Since the personals became such a huge phenomenon back in the early Nineties, publishers have been devoting increasing amounts of space to love/dating/sex-themed content. The idea being, perhaps, that those using the personals need help above and beyond a phone number for a lunch date. The result has been an overwhelming glut of advice columns, many interesting and informative, some not. It would be a gross understatement to say that the advice column has been beaten like a dead horse over the past decade. Rather, it has been pounded flat like road kill. Because seemingly there is no untraversed feature of the human anatomy/psychology, the emphasis in advice columns has shifted from the mundane neuroses of Middle America to something more closely resembling a Marquis de Sade therapy session. These days, if you’re not exquisitely versed on binding hamster legs, safe scrotal shaving, colonic irrigation, and fisting you’re probably not getting much print space. It could well be that America has finally, truly uncorked its inhibitions and is revealing its inner superfreak, or perhaps advice columns have become the sensationalized, Ricki Lake style mutant magnets of the print/online world. Either way, it’s fun on a huge, turgid, throbbing stick. One of the better columns these days is the “Em & Lo Down,” written by Emma Taylor and Lorelei Sharkey for Nerve.com. Each week Em & Lo give near expert advice on everything from hickies to coochie cleanliness to anal sex with a strap-on. Occasionally they’ll even throw in some advice on dating or placing personal ads – the terminally long filler material in the porn flicks of most lives. Em & Lo definitely know the ups and downs of sex and dating, but what makes them special in the advice world is their willingness to take it from readers. The result is that everyone gets edified and hopefully, in the end, satisfied. With any luck that’s what will happen this Tuesday at BookPeople when local writer and raconteur Spike Gillespie hosts a book signing for Em & Lo to promote their new book, The Big Bang: Nerve’s Guide to the New Sexual Universe ($25, Plume). Along with Em & Lo’s standard Q&A session on sex, lucky locals will be treated to their Anal Sex Safety Lecture, for which Em & Lo will be decked out in full flight attendant garb – as well as (knock, knock, are we still in Austin?) porno-funk-smut music by the Polished Skull of Jackie Collins which, rumor has it, is made up of members of Grupo Fantasma and the Blue Noise Band, as if those names weren’t sexy enough.

Grease Sing-Along

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SAT., JULY 26, 2003

You don’t have to be gay to love Grease (the musical, not the lubricant … and not the island either … if you’re spelling-challenged), but it sure makes the explanation a whole lot easier – especially if you’re a man. If John Travolta’s tough-guy antics as Vinnie Barbarino on Welcome Back, Kotter were a tough sell to the testosterone set, his performance as Danny in Grease relegated him to the Isle of Sensitive Men until he rescued himself nearly 20 years later by debraining a kid in the back seat of Samuel L. Jackson’s car in Pulp Fiction. The debraining was a mistake, yes, but an exceptionally macho one worthy of a couple of roles involving green-and-black face paint and a bayonet clenched between the teeth. Unfortunately, Travolta wasted that juice making the abominable L. Ron Hubbard flick Battlefield Earth, which was notable only for the fact that it allowed him to wear higher platforms than he sported in Saturday Night Fever. Unquestionably, the shoes Johnny feels most comfortable in are dancing ones, and the Holy Trinity of Travolta will always be Saturday Night Fever, Urban Cowboy, and Grease. Among the three, Grease is the most timeless (in a very period way) and most beloved – not because Travolta actually sings while he dances, but because the whole movie is dripping with camp, costumes, and color – arguably the last great musical until their recent, flashy resurgence in the early years of the third millennium. Grease also has a wicked catchy soundtrack; frenetic, bubbly choreography; and a plot rehashed countless times all the way back to the ancient … well … uh … Greeks. All of this makes Grease (the musical, not the isle) the perfect centerpiece for an Austin Gay and Lesbian International Film Festival fundraiser – so perfect, in fact that this Saturday aGLIFF, along with Project Transitions, will be hosting the fourth annual Grease Sing-Along at the Paramount Theatre. Put on your poodle skirt or leather jacket, and join a full house of hand jiving, sock hopping, hopelessly devoted Grease fans as they belt out tune after tune. Who cares, it’s not like John was spot-on himself, eh? And, if you can’t even remember the words, this special screening has subtitles, and Grease is the word.

Texas Rollergirls Roller Derby

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SUN., JULY 20, 2003

Where classlessness and camp abound

If this Sunday is like last Sunday, it’s pretty evident that God wants you to spend it indoors – possibly in a nicely air-conditioned church. His house. Hizzouse if you want to say it like Snoop. The other alternative is to stay outside and watch your skin blister, pop, and sizzle like bacon in a skillet, which might be fascinating if, like Snoop, you’re smoking really good weed, but if you’re anything less than half-baked, you’re going to want to park it where the sun doesn’t shine. Churches are good for that, but ultimately they don’t hold a candle (votive or otherwise) to a good roller derby match for sheer entertainment value. This Sunday at Playland Skate Center the Texas Rollergirls will rock the hizzouse with an exciting, action-packed doubleheader. In the first bout, the Hotrod Honeys, sporting black shorts and sassy pink tops, will throw down against the Hell Marys, a naughty Catholic schoolgirl-themed squad. The second bout features the Honky Tonk Heartbreakers who do their business in daisy dukes, fringed western shirts, and cowgirl hats, squaring off against the Hustlers, a streetwalker-styled set of strumpets pimped out in purple with names like Cheap Trixie, Sedonya Face, and Pussy Velour. If all this sounds a little trashy, it is. It’s roller derby. Classlessness and camp abound but with a uniquely Austin spin. Nowhere else in this state and certainly not this decade can you find a Sunday sporting match so wacky and happily depraved. Yes, there’s sport involved. There is competition. There is also booze, burlesque, and bands. (What? You didn’t think rollergirls have roommates?) This Sunday’s music will be provided by the Pink Swords, a fun-loving bunch of punkers with a phallic motif, and the Applicators, a girl group with a more gynecological groove. The $10 admission is a pittance to pay to see hot chicks scrap in skimpy costumes. The bands alone are worth that price, but if you’re feeling guilty because it’s the Lord’s Day, you can relax and enjoy the spectacle knowing that a portion of the proceeds go to the Children’s Advocacy Center of Texas.

Ray Benson In-Store at Waterloo Records

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July 11, 2003

Things haven’t completely gone Aspen

If you hear an exasperated sigh from the tie-dyed, Birkenshod, Ewok-looking gent in front of you at the checkout at Whole Foods, it’s probably because he is remembering a time when a sixer of Shiner didn’t completely empty his embroidered Guatemalan change purse. More than likely, he’s just an innocent out-of-towner who stumbled into town with fond memories of a time when Austin was still cheap and easy. Nowadays things are a little more fast and furious. The nut seemed to turn shortly after Richard Linklater’s cinematic ode to creative loafing blew up and became the travel brochure that turned Austin from Slackerville to Hand-to-Mouthville. Invariably, hip people with no money are followed closely by hip people with stacks of it. From there, things can get out of hand and you end up with things like dress codes, doormen, and valet parking. By the turn of the millennium, the tech boom pretty much put the kibosh on cheap living, but there are still a few vestiges of the days when Texas Pride was $1.25 at the HEB, and if you were feeling particularly well heeled you could upgrade to the Falstaff over on the generic aisle for $1.49. There’s the Tamale House for instance, and Sandy’s Frozen Custard down on Barton Springs, the Dart Bowl bar, Deep Eddy Cabaret, and of course, relative newcomers like Beerland and Maria’s Taco X-Press, and you can still live cheaply and central if you’re willing to swap the ’04 on your zip code with the ’02 – so things haven’t completely gone Aspen. There’s also the cheap music. You may be hemorrhaging cash for everything else, but if you’re paying much more than a 10-spot to hear live music, you need to broaden your horizons. Every week, hundreds of musicians of staggering talent play for little more than tips and beer, and if you’re not getting in on that action, you’re paying too much to live here. For example: This Friday at Waterloo Records, Ray Benson will be doing an in-store for free. Where else in America can you see a nine-time Grammy winner for free and get free beer? What other state/city/town/mental institution even has a nine-time Grammy winner? Sure, there are probably a few, but none of them clock in at over six feet six inches (which by the way is an excellent height for a crowded in-store viewing). If you’ve been in Austin more than a couple of weeks and you haven’t seen Ray, you need to look up – or at least go to Waterloo this Friday. Ray is a larger-than-life entertainer and if you’re not so much into Western swing, just relax, enjoy the show, and sample some of the best-tasting beer in the world: free.

The Santaland Diaries

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JAN. 3, 2003

You’re probably still shaking confetti out of your hair from Tuesday and it’s already the weekend. Maybe ought three really is going to be your year. The calendar ahead is 362 days of beckoning white space, an empty canvas on which to paint the bold strokes of your ambition, insight and whimsy. Go ahead, fill it up. It’s the new year and your glass is only half full. Get a haircut. Lose some weight. Take Russian. Volunteer. Find a new job. Move. Learn an instrument. Skydive. Read Ulysses. Run a marathon. Meditate. Study theatre. Dance. Join the circus. Climb Everest. Cure cancer. Bite off way more than you can chew. Drag out your faded, wrinkled, shrunken soul and hang it on the clothesline of irrepressible optimism. It’s a new year.

O.K., now that you’re solidly screwed into 2003 and the ugly specter of the holidays no longer looms, wouldn’t it be a scream to relive them again through the twisted mind of a Macy’s Department Store elf? You bet it would. This weekend is your last chance to catch David’s Sedaris’ wicked funny “The Santaland Diaries” at the Zachary Scott Theatre. “The Santaland Diaries” is based on Sedaris’s best-selling book, Holidays on Ice which details the real-life experiences of Sedaris’ stint in the department store elf game. Or is it a racket? Whatever the case, anyone who has ever worked retail during the holidays knows that you don’t have to don an Elf suit to experience humiliation, bitterness and resentment, but it certainly helps. This year’s return engagement is directed by Dave Steakley and stars Martin Burke, who won “Best Actor in a Comedy” for his portrayal of Krumpet the Fun Time Elf. You could be a fun time elf too, especially if your glass is half empty.

Chris Duarte Group

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FRI. DEC. 27, 2002

It can drive you to drink… all of this lumbering around aimlessly in the bloated, dull, dog days that occupy the “taint space” between Christmas and New Year’s. After Boxing Day, the thrill is gone, baby. Sure, there’s that smidgen of anticipatory excitement about the inevitable letdown of New Year’s Eve, but that doesn’t really kick in until a few days prior. Plus, even the slightest quickening of the pulse is sure to be stifled by a tedious afternoon of simmer down in the exchange lines at the mall. Here in the meat of the holiday sandwich things are thick and bland. Predictably, the sauce is on the edges. It’s commonly held that life slows down at the end, not only for the tennis-ball-walker-clutching blue hairs but also for the chuteless twentysomething skydiver who packs a lifetime of memories into the last few seconds before impact. No matter how long the trip, there is always that mental slo-mo photo finish. For most folks this is probably a good thing, the end should be a time for rest and reflection – especially when you know that in a few days you’re going to have to dust yourself off and go at it again. Here’s a suggestion to help you clean out the cobwebs: sashay over to the Saxon and check out Austin’s most criminally underpraised guitar god, Chris Duarte. In a town full of jaw-dropping musical talent, Chris Duarte has always left awestruck audiences in his wake. Stevie, Eric, Monte and others may soak up a lot of ink, and rightfully so, but Chris is every bit as deserving. Perhaps he’s been overlooked because he’s often out of town more than in, but Austin’s reputation as a musical Mecca surely benefits from his ambassadorship. Go to Friday night’s show and you’ll see why. Maybe now, in the slowest part of the season you will be able to actually see Duarte’s fingers as they blaze across the fretboard. Maybe.

Project Transitions’ Holiday Swing

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SAT. DEC. 7, 2002

The holidays are a time for giving – at least that’s what the man is selling, and by the time you finish this sentence, most of you will have roughly two weeks and some change to pony up with the presents. Even if you’re not on the Jesus train, it’s difficult to ignore the yearly corporate-pimped, guilt-milked spasm of materialism that defines holiday season. When Jesus ran the moneychangers out of the temple he had no idea that 2000 years later they would exact their revenge by creating the shopping mall. Payback’s a bitch. Shopping malls are their own exquisite brand of hell, especially during the holidays: the sickly sweet smell of caramelcorn; the cheese balls (not just the ones singing the carols); the Bobby Brooks sweaters with blinking red-nosed reindeer; the fat, pink-cheeked, heavy-breathing, questionably pedophilic guys in furry red suits plopping endless queues of greed-crazed toddlers in their laps; and the miles and miles of aisles filled with crap everyone seems to want but nobody really needs (God Bless America). The Mallidays have a unique ability to bring out the psychopathic eye twitch in just about everybody – and yet, as the maddeningly pervasive Musak nags, “’tis the season to be jolly”. What’s a well-meaning fun-lover to do? Try blowing at least some of your holiday hack this Saturday at the Holiday Swing, Project Transitions’ yearly benefit that puts the “fun” in fundraiser. This year’s fete features live music by the 22-piece Sentimental Journey Orchestra, swing dance lessons, a cash bar, hors d’oeuvres, desserts, and a silent auction featuring over 250 items. Get into the holiday spirit and spend, spend, spend. All proceeds benefit Project Transitions, a local organization that provides housing, hospice and support to people with HIV. What a jolly way to do a little holiday giving.

El Vez Xmas Show

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SAT. NOV 30, 2002

Let’s assume it’s Friday and you’re still fighting the overwhelming urge to shove your finger down your throat and bring up all that nasty Thanksgiving bloat in one giant autumnal heave. No, you’re not a spoilsport. You just recognize that the Pilgrims aren’t holding down a spot in the pantheon of epicurean achievement for a reason. They were starving. If it weren’t for Squanto, they wouldn’t have had two kernels of corn to rub together, much less turkeys – not to mention the Pilgrims didn’t get all that freaky with anything, so fusion was pretty much out of the question. Yes, Don Quixote was right, hunger is the finest sauce in the world, but no matter what you put on it, a turkey is still a turkey. Dark meat, white meat, skin or giblets, turkey is uniquely unable to transcend itself. Thus it is relegated to being the lifeless daily fare of weight watchers and the bland centerpiece of a yearly holiday meal. For the glass-half-full crowd, the turkey and all its starchy accoutrements serve as pleasant reminder of our common heritage and the bounty in which we are lucky enough to share. For the rest of us, it’s the milquetoast emblem of how bad things can be – especially if you let the guy in the black clothes and the belt-buckle hat run the kitchen.

Now that you’ve gotten Thanksgiving out of your system, you may want to brush your teeth and head down to the Continental Club for the spicy sounds of El Vez. Friday and Saturday at midnight, “El” will be performing two back-to-back nights of his special X-mas show, ostensibly in support of his latest CD, “Sno-Way José.” El Vez is all about fusion. Witness classics like “Mamacita Donde Esta Santa Claus?” and “Brown Christmas” and you’ll begin to wonder if maybe the holiday season isn’t such a bad idea after all.

Cinematexas International Short Film Festival

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SEPT. 20, 2002

As if there weren’t enough strangely dressed people milling around UT on a Fall football weekend, this Saturday the 2002 Cinematexas International Film Festival brings German filmmaker/opera lover/shoe eater Werner Herzog to the Texas Union Theater for a lecture and screening of two of his non-fiction works: Lessons of Darkness, which centers around images of the Kuwaiti oil fires and the aftermath of the Gulf War, and Bells from the Deep, a film about faith and superstition in Russia. Herzog will also be holding forth Sunday at 1:30pm at Alamo Drafthouse with screenings of How Much Wood Would a Woodchuck Chuck, a film about livestock auctioneers, and The Great Ecstasy of Woodcarver Steiner, about the Swiss wood carver and ski jumper Walter Steiner. To get into the screenings, you’ll need to purchase a Cinematexas Film Pass at Vulcan Video, 33 Degrees, or Waterloo Records ($25 for students, $35 for non) and then hie to The Hideout at 11:00am on Saturday and Sunday respectively to wait in line for passes to the actual screenings. While you’re in line, you can take the opportunity to hobnob with cinephiles from all over and maybe even get a few tips on where to go and what to see on the last two nights. If you can’t get tickets to Saturday or Sunday’s Herzog screenings, you can still catch a mind-numbing variety of shorts through the weekend from Texas and the rest of the planet. Films range from a couple of minutes to just under an hour and cover everything from William Wegman’s Dogs to Brazialian drag singers. If you pick up your film pass early, you can go to screenings throughout the day and night on Thursday and Friday as well. The Festival wraps up Sunday night with the 2002 Cinematexas Awards Ceremony at Club de Ville, a great place to meet some new filmic friends.

Black Cat Lounge Benefit

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AUG. 9, 2002

On an early Saturday morning about a month ago the Black Cat Lounge was destroyed by fire, marking a rather dramatic end to one of the most impressive runs on Sixth Street. In dog years the Black Cat was well over the hill, but in club years – Sixth Street club years, it was positively ancient. The original Black Cat was opened in 1985 by Paul Sessums. It was a biker bar first and foremost, but the fact that Sessums booked original bands gave the club a larger appeal. In 1988, Sessums moved the bar to its current location where it continued to thrive even after his death in a car accident in 1998. An extension of Sessums himself, the Black Cat was a no-frills, no bullshit venue. There was no air-conditioning, no roof, and the bathrooms were only for the truly desperate. Nonetheless, the beer was cheap, there were free hotdogs, and the bands took 100 percent of the door. Sessums also took chances on bands that couldn’t get a break elsewhere. Sometimes he was dreadfully, painfully wrong but most times he was right. Among those who played the Black Cat are a veritable who’s-who list of Austin music: Two Hoots and a Holler, Kelly Willis, Bruce Robison, Charlie Robison, Chapparral, Chris Duarte, Ian Moore, Soulhat, Sister 7, Bob Schneider, Dale Watson, Pushmonkey and more recently, the Flametrick Subs. In fact, the Subs, along with several other bands lost a considerable amount of equipment when the Black Cat burned. This Sunday from Noon to 8:30, Emo’s is hosting a benefit for those bands that features an all star lineup: Shorty Long, Django Walker, The John Evans Band, Basin Street and the Flametrick Subs with Satan’s Cheerleaders. There will also be free food and happy hour drink specials, but you won’t want to miss this one because it may be your last chance to toast(?) the end of an era.

Alliance Française d’Austin Bastille Day Festival

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SAT. JULY 13, 2002

Since its very beginnings, Texas has had a peculiar love/hate relationship with France. Early Texans sought recognition and support for their new republic, and one of the first legitimate countries to come calling was France, who threw Texas a bone in the form a second class envoy named Jean Pierre Isidore Alphonse Dubois de Saligny. Jean Pierre’s mission was to push through the passage of the Franco-Texian bill, which would allow French colonization of parts of Texas under the protection of the French army. Instead of exercising diplomacy, Jean Pierre built an ostentatious hilltop manse (larger than the capitol) and ran afoul of a local innkeeper by ordering his servants to shoot the innkeeper’s pigs if they strayed onto his property. Not surprisingly, the deal went South and Jean Pierre went East. Today Jean Pierre’s hilltop manse, the French Legation, is the oldest documented structure still on its original site and a stalwart reminder of Texans’ conflicted feelings towards the French. French culture has always been viewed as something of an affront to Texans’ egalitarian sentiments while at the same time anything having remotely to do with the French seems to have almost mythic cultural cache’ (isn’t that a French word?) Even today in shopping malls across Texas the phrase “it’s Franch!” is the cultural equivalent of “‘nuff said.” Therefore, it is perhaps fitting that the 7^th Annual Bastille Day Festival takes place Saturday night at the French Legation. This year’s festival looks to be bigger and better than ever and features the unbeatable triumvirate of wine, food and song, the latter courtesy of Ponty Bone and the Squeeze Tones and Rumbullion. If you’ve any doubts that this is the thing to do Saturday night, just remember, “It’s Franch!”

The Pleasurecraft

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Month: January 2019