Micky & the Motorcars – The Pleasurecraft

May 18, 2011

OK, so maybe Pflugerville isn’t technically Austin, but it is just up the road a piece. It’s nearly in Austin. In fact, if you scroll out far enough on a Google map, Austin and Pflugerville are indistinguishable. Of course, the same could be said of Texas, the Continental U.S., and, in a larger cosmic sense, the solar system, galaxy, and universe – all of which, of course, could easily fit into the head of a pin in some larger universe/dimension, which, in turn, is just an infinitesimal grain of sand in a huge cosmic desert that stretches to the edge of eternity … yeah, like eternity even as an edge … unless it’s the one on a Möbius strip … whoa! What was that? Did your head just explode? Hold it together, damn it. Things like Möbius strips, Escher paintings, abstract algebra, and the nature of the divine are not meant to be contemplated by people who aren’t baked on skunkweed. Pflugerville is similar in its own way – especially if you’re sitting in the backseat of a really enthusiastic real estate agent’s Lexus pimp-trolling through streets with theme names like “Petunia,” “Honeysuckle,” and “Poppy Pass.” Yes, there are fields and fields of “little boxes made of ticky-tacky,” but it ain’t called “Desirable Plugerville” for nothing. Well, actually it’s called “Desirable Pflugerville” because CenTex needed to move some real estate. Rest assured that if CenTex throws up a subdivision in Luling, it will get it’s own snazzy adjective – maybe “Loveable Luling.” If that happens, you can bet that “Marvelous Manchaca” and “Nifty Niederwald” will be kicking themselves. Regardless of CenTex’s questionable marketing campaign, Pflugerville isn’t exactly undesirable. First of all, you get a lot of house for your money. Yes, the house will be in a subdivision carved out of a treeless wheat field, and it will look vaguely similar to every other house on your street, but you will have plenty of room to move about the cabin: big kitchens, bathrooms, bedrooms, and walk-in closets large enough to sleep a vanload of undocumented aliens. There are also good schools (good enough for Friday Night Lights is good enough, right?), playgrounds, and parks, and if you want to go buck wild in Austin, it’s only 15 minutes away if the traffic is flowing. Those chumps out in Round Rock have to drive at least 20. Perhaps the most important thing about Pflugerville is its rich German history. Henry Pfluger, the town’s namesake, was a rich German – a farmer who lost all his property in the Prussian War. He moved to Texas and eventually bought a big spread out east of Pflugerville where he raised wheat, rye, beans, sweet potatoes, sugar cane, and eight sons and three daughters – 11 kids in all, not counting the one that died shortly after childbirth. Jesus. Henry Pfluger’s “P” may have been silent, but it certainly wasn’t shooting blanks. Eleven kids is plenty of progeny to warrant a festival, and Pflugerville has one. It’s called Deutschen Pfest, and it’s happening this weekend at Pfluger Park. Carnival? Yep. Parade? Yep. Bands? Of course. This year’s headliners include the Gourds, Brave Combo, Micky & the Motorcars, and German accordion/clarinet duo Lorelei und Schatzi, “The German, female version of the Smothers Brothers.” There is also a Pfun Run (don’t hate), paintball target practice, and a coloring contest, the winner of which gets to sit atop a float in the parade as Pflugerville’s “Mayor for a Day.” All of this of course, adds up to pfucking pfantastically pfun times. Here’s the best part: If you buy a festival T-shirt, you get in free for all three days. Yes, the T-shirt might get a little stanky by day three, but if you live in P-ville, you surely have a really nice washer and dryer. If you don’t, maybe you should.

May 26, 2010

The Domain

Unlike modern epicureans – who all seem to look like Paul Prudhomme (aka Dom DeLuise) - Epicurus himself was all about moderation, temperance, and the avoidance of suffering. In essence: Don't overdo it. Odds are he was smitten with that philosophical epiphany after a hard night of Dionysian excess. It's the exact same epiphany that countless millions of drunks experience while driving the porcelain Buick, but Epicurus actually stuck with the program. Imagine if he had access to a crack pipe or some Extra Strength Excedrin. Would it have somehow saved humanity from having to use the term "foodie"? You might want to put that on your time machine wish list. — What better place in Texas to hold a wine festival than Austin … at the Domain no less? Classy. You can spend Saturday morning saving money at high-end retail outlets and then blow it all that afternoon buying samples of vino. Double devil fingers up, yo! No better way to strap on your woozy helmet than to go on an eight-hour wine binge with your besties. Why not? Wine tastes good. It also comes in a bunch of different flavors, but mainly grape. Sure there are subtle nuances that people literally spend their lifetime learning to discern, but no matter how thoroughly you try to scrub your palate with cheeses and crackers, after about 15 sample glasses of wine they’re all going to taste like Thunderbird – at which point you might as well go ahead an buy a bottle … either Advil or Excedrin will do, it really doesn’t matter. The next morning your head is still going to be clanging like a church bell. Maybe it’s just the Lord getting some payback for all that time you spent with the devil. Regardless, a really bad wine hangover can be ugly enough to make you want to start smoking crack. In fact, it’s very likely that wine hangovers created a whole system of philosophy: Epicureanism. Unlike modern epicureans – who all seem to look like Paul Prudhomme (aka Dom DeLuise) – Epicurus himself was all about moderation, temperance, and the avoidance of suffering. In essence: Don’t overdo it. Odds are he was smitten with that philosophical epiphany after a hard night of Dionysian excess. It’s the exact same epiphany that countless millions of drunks experience while driving the porcelain Buick, but Epicurus actually stuck with the program. Imagine if he had access to a crack pipe or some Extra Strength Excedrin. Would it have somehow saved humanity from having to use the term “foodie”? You might want to put that on your time machine wish list. These days however, Epicureanism seems to be more about the pleasure-seeking than the moderation. That’s easy to understand. Pleasure-seeking is as American as baseball, apple pie, and a fruity, robust Chardonnay. In fact, among our unalienable rights is the pursuit of happiness, which is pretty much a synonym for pleasure-seeking, isn’t it? Exactly. There is no mention of a right of moderation in the Declaration of Independence. Who would want it? Americans were born to live fast, love hard, and die young, which is why KFC invented the Double Down – either that or they were creating a low-calorie alternative to the Big Mac, neither of which will be available at the 2010 Austin Wine & Music Festival. Don’t worry though; there will be plenty opportunities for excess, bacchanalian and otherwise. Start with samples from more than 20 Hill Country wineries, food from local vendors such as Freebirds and Kerbey Lane Cafe, and a “Manctuary” with seven varieties of locally produced brews – apparently targeted at dudes whose masculinity is threatened by anything fruity. The Manctuary also includes a “Man Cave.” No, that’s not fruity in the least. Still, if your estrus starts to blossom, you can butch back up with a two-day lineup of nearly chick-free Texas country music. Acts scheduled to play include Autumn (the girl) and lots of dudes: Texas Renegade, Micky & the Motorcars, Mike Mancy, Walt Wilkins & the Mystiqueros, Josh Grider, and Radney Foster among others. Like the variety of wines, there is something for just about everyone at this festival, which should make it a fun time. Just remember to occasionally knock back some water and, if you have it, wear something purple … you know, to match the stains on your teeth.