Ever since his abomination Kids, I’ve hated hated hated Larry Clark. (His artistic crimes against humanity extend far beyond infecting us with Harmony Korine.) So, even though the article’s not strictly speaking about him, I was somewhat glad to read of his seduction of a woman 37 years his junior — it fits so well into the skeezeball old-man image I have of him.
As an aside, if I ever wanted to absolutely take someone down in an article — I mean humiliate them, make them look like befuddled fools through the power of their own idiocy — George Gurley would be the guy I’d want writing it. That man has a serious talent for making people look silly; he does more damage with people’s quotes than any other reporter working today. Perfect example: this profile of 21-year-old socialite Elisabeth Kieselstein-Cord. (Sample: “She said she is currently reading the new Steve Martin novel, Shopgirl. ‘I think he’s a very talented actor; I was interested to see if he could write,’ she said. ‘And you know what? He can. I think he’s somebody that, the more he continues writing, the more he’ll improve. But I thought it was an auspicious start. I’m two pages into Shopgirl and I don’t know if I’ll finish it.’”)
(That’s not to say Gurley can’t write more positive pieces — he does. They’re just not as delicious. Take, for instance, his Observer piece on “What I Don’t Know.” You get sooo much personality out of those quotes.)
31 July 2002 |
3 comments
Listening to a CDMOM disc from one of my reliably good traders, I noticed a Serge Gainsbourg track called “Melody.” A nice, sexy song, in Serge’s inimitable swingin’ Parisian style. Then, a few minutes in, a female voice intones: “Melody Nelson.”
“Hey!” I think. “I know from Melody Nelson!” Any Movable Type user knows that when you first install the system, the login/password combo you have to use is melody/nelson. “Hey, maybe I’m the first person to figure this out, and the supercool Trotts, Ben and Mena, will think I’m cool for crossing between the worlds of ’60s French pop and content management systems with such ease!”
Then I saw someone beat me to the punch a couple months ago. Oh, well.
Strange coincidence: a different Serge Gainsbourg track appears on my July mix. That’s two Serge sitings! (And Serge citings!) One more and it’s officially a trend!
(Of course, it won’t be official until the hipsters at Time or some other respectable media organ report it with a back-pages piece, headlined: “A Surge in Serge: It’s Encore Time for French Pop Star.”)
31 July 2002 |
2 comments
A couple quick posts (busy day!):
- Scientologists invade west Florida. Before I got my current gig here in Dallas, I considered taking the job of the reporter who wrote this story — Scientology writer for the St. Petersburg Times, a very fine newspaper. But then I realized I’d rather not live my life under the threat of lawsuits from crazy people. And I’d probably never get to meet John Travolta, anyway.
- On a bulletin board in a neighboring newsroom department, there’s a note tacked up that states: “More people are killed every year by falling coconuts than by sharks.” It’s a well meaning reminder not to blow isolated incidents out of proportion, as much of the press did last summer when a supposed rash of shark attacks made big, scary news — despite the fact they were still extremely rare.
Unfortunately, that little coconut “fact” is just wrong. Cecil Adams, among others, says so. I printed out that Adams column and posted it (in cognito) on the bulletin board last week as a factual counterpoint.
I came into work a couple days ago and found my posting had been taken down. The original anti-coconut posting remained. Some people just can’t handle the truth.
31 July 2002 |
2 comments
I love the Apple Switch campaign as much as the next Mac guy, but I dare anyone to prove that Ellen Feiss is not completely baked in this commercial. Look at those eyes!
30 July 2002 |
7 comments
CNN on Saturday Night Live’s successful stretch the last few years:
“Back in 1995, ‘SNL’ suffered badly when the show lost Mike Myers, Phil Hartman, Kevin Nealon, Adam Sandler, Ellen Cleghorne and Chris Farley within the space of a year.”
Oh, yeah — losing Ellen Cleghorne was huge.
30 July 2002 |
1 comment
After some late-night coding, the CD Mix of the Month pages are all functioning again. (The signup form and comments mechanisms had been busted by my host move a month or two back.) The deadline for signing up for the new trade is August 12. And the contents of my July mix are now posted for all to see.
30 July 2002 |
No comments
My computer got upgraded (?) to Win2000 last week. It was uneventful, except for the system clock, which was strangely pushed forward an hour. When it was noon, my clock told me it was 1:00. If I tried to change it, the fascist control mechanisms of our IT department told me I didn’t have “the proper privilege level” to adjust the clock. How uppity of me.
The time zone change played well into fantasies I was New York bureau chief for some global news megalith. It also led me to mistakenly (really!) leave an hour early one day last week.
The techs fixed it last night. Damn.
30 July 2002 |
2 comments
Claudia Schiffer is pregnant. “Schiffer, 31, is said to have fallen for [new hubby and Brit film producer Matthew] Vaughn after he gave her a tortoise.”
So that’s the secret! Must file that bit of info away for future supermodel seduction.
29 July 2002 |
No comments
It’s that rarest of days: I had a story in today’s paper. Being an education reporter in the summer reminds me of Osama bin Laden: no class.
The story may be the wonkiest thing I’ve ever written, about why education research sucks so damned hard. (Well, I phrase it differently in the article.)
29 July 2002 |
3 comments
It hit me while watching As You Like It in Samuell-Grand Park last night: did Shakespeare do any comedies that didn’t involve crossdressing? (And don’t get me started on the whole escape-into-the-forest-and-find-the-meaning-of-love-among-savages trope.) Seriously, if a contemporary film director leaned on the ol’ crossdressing crutch as much as Willie, he’d be playing primarily on Fire Island screens, if you know what I mean.
Got interviewed by The Guardian yesterday, so British readers, keep an eye out.
25 July 2002 |
7 comments
One addendum to that last post: anyone who can arrange for me to view even a single episode of The Three Robonic Stooges will be paid at least twenty American dollars. Consider it a standing offer.
In The Three Robonic Stooges, everybody’s favorite slapstick comedy team returned to Saturday morning, this time as crime-fighting mechanical superheroes….Larry, Curly, and hey, Moe as androids, working for their long-suffering boss, Triple Zero…there was no shortage of eye-poking, face-slapping, nose-tweaking, and Curly’s patented “nyuk, nyuk,” but this time around it was in the interest of national security.
Bumbling as always, these android crime-busters were constantly crashing into one another, spouting springs and bolts, and generally malfunctioning—usually while on the job. However, maladroit as they were, they never failed to bring the various villains to justice, whether international master spies or the Giant of the Beanstalk.
Actually, here’s a great page of horrendous Saturday morning cartoons. Among them: Will The Real Jerry Lewis Please Sit Down?, Fred & Barney Meet The Shmoo, Partridge Family: 2200 A.D., and Gilligan’s Planet.
24 July 2002 |
3 comments
Found while following a link at kelegraph: Out of Control, the classic mid-’80s Nickelodeon kid show, starring (yes!) Dave Coulier. (Coulier would later cause much intestinal disorder as Uncle Joey on Full House, the show whose only redeeming quality was hottie Lori Laughlin and which launched a thousand pedophiles.)
There were evidently only 26 episodes of Out of Control — surprising, since it seemed to go on for about three decades. I watched a lot of Nickelodeon as a kid. (Isn’t that what, by definition, kids do?) Mr. Wizard rocked. Mysterious Cities of Gold! The Little Prince! Danger Mouse! Inspector Gadget! And of course, the Canadian classic You Can’t Do That on Television, forever anchored by comedic genius and master of disguise, Les Lye.
Alarming fact: Dave Coulier was apparently the guy Alanis Morrissette’s “You Oughta Know” was about. Truly alarming. (Dave’s official response: I’ve been asked that question a million times and I still have the same answer—“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” I apologize in advance, but I’d like to keep my personal life somewhat private. I will say this, Alanis and I have remained friends and she is one of the friendliest, funniest and most thoughtful people I have ever met.
Random fact: Did you know Candace Cameron, D.J. on Full House, married hockey star Valeri Bure?
Depressing fact: I was a secret fan of Salute Your Shorts. That Heidi Lucas was smokin’ hot. Add your name to the “Put Salute Your Shorts back on the air” petition. Perhaps they can create a “Salute Your Shorts: Special Edition” and digitally remove mullet-boy Danny Cooksey from the cast. Ruining Diff’rent Strokes was bad enough; that hair was far worse.
24 July 2002 |
5 comments
You know, it’s not often your path walking across a downtown Dallas street is blocked by 13 elephants, 22 horses, and four camels. Hope they missed all the potholes.
23 July 2002 |
No comments
Remember my excitement at Palm sync finally being available for Office v.X? Well…
“Microsoft Handheld Synchronization for Entourage X is temporarily unavailable as we investigate some technical issues that have been reported to us by customers. We are working hard to identify and correct these issues.”
Yeah, I can tell Microsoft what those issues are: the fact the update completely hoses your Handspring Visor, screws up all your data, and makes you very thankful you have a recent backup and enough time to manually repair the damage. Damned Microsoft.
23 July 2002 |
No comments
The crabwalk.com Summer Tour 2002 is set to begin! From August 9 to 18, I’ll be touring our nation’s northern tier (and Ontario’s southern tier), meeting with friends and readers and probably drinking too much. (Call it a “listening tour.”) I’ll be stopping in Boston, Toronto, and Toledo. Parties interested in buying me a beer are asked to file the appropriate paperwork soon.
22 July 2002 |
9 comments
One-armed man gets hole-in-one, arrested for murder of Mrs. Helen Kimball.
(BTW, there’s an Associated Press style error in the story — they call it “hole-in-one,” when new AP rules say it should be “hole in one.” I like the hyphenated version better.)
22 July 2002 |
2 comments
Lots of folks have been mourning the loss of Alan Lomax, one of the great figures of American music. But in all the obits, I haven’t seen much mention of his role in popularizing Cajun and zydeco music.
His role was smaller in Cajun music than in zydeco, since Cajun music was already being recorded in the 1920s (first by Joe and Cleoma Falcon on Columbia Records in 1928). Some black Creole musicians were recorded in the 1930s, but Lomax and his father really birthed recorded zydeco in the late ’30s.
Among their accomplishments: the first recording of zydeco’s signature song, “Les Haricots Sont Pas Sales.” (The phrase means “the snap beans aren’t salty” — a statement of poverty, since it meant you couldn’t afford salted beef to put in your stew. You just had beans. The word “zydeco” is a bastardization of “les haricots,” pronounced lez-ah-ree-co.) More info for those interested in Michael Tisserand’s excellent The Kingdom of Zydeco.
There was a brief period in 2000 when I was considering quitting journalism for a couple of years, moving back to Rayne, and starting a Cajun/zydeco music museum. Rayne has as strong a claim as anyplace to being the birthplace of Cajun music; Joe and Cleoma Falcon were from Rayne, for instance, along with big names like Belton Richard, Amedee Breaux, Lionel Cormier, and Happy Fats LeBlanc. LeBlanc’s band, the Rayne-Bo Ramblers, was the first Cajun act to be broadcast on national network radio.
One problem: there already is a Cajun Music Hall of Fame and Museum, which I finally visited when I was in Louisiana earlier this month. But it’s deeply unimpressive. There’s clearly no one with museum experience involved; there’s no signage, no music (!), and the displays are little more than shelves of old accordians and 78s. The “hall of fame” is a series of poorly framed photos, with a sheet of white typing paper taped to the wall underneath each one.
It’s an admirable but limited all-volunteer effort — interesting to look at, but not particularly instructive. More a hobbyist’s attic than a museum, really. The volunteer the day I went (the widow of Austin Pitre) said they get four or five visitors a day.
And it’s in Eunice, which while a nice little prairie Cajun town, is in the middle of nowhere — an hour’s drive over bad roads from Lafayette, where all the tourists stay. (Rayne’s about 15 minutes from Lafayette, right on Interstate 10.)
Plus, the Eunice museum suffers from the age-old divide between Cajun [i.e., white] and zydeco [black] musicians. There’s no zydeco here, and only the slightest evidence that black people had any role in Cajun music. (There really isn’t a good zydeco museum anywhere, to my knowledge, even in Opelousas, the town that would make the most sense.)
So there’s plenty of room for a well-done Cajun/zydeco museum. Tourists would come. I already had my first two exhibits planned out in my mind. First would be a permanent exhibit comparing Cajun and zydeco music to its influences — Nova Scotian ballads, German polka, French chansons, West African rhythms, R&B, Native American songs. And the first temporary exhibit would be on the early duo of Amedee Ardoin and Dennis McGee — the first and most important pairing of black and white musicians in south Louisiana. The exhibit would conclude with Ardoin’s beating at the hands of a white mob and eventual death. (Okay, that might have been a little heavy for the first exhibit.)
In the end, I took another journalism job and put my plans on hold. But I’d still love to get it done, if I could find a couple donors willing to preserve south Louisiana culture and part with a little dough. (Wealthy crabwalk.com readers take note! Wouldn’t you like your name on a nice big plaque in the lobby? It can be yours for only a few tens of thousands of dollars!)
20 July 2002 |
1 comment
It turns out that British doctor who liked offing his patients ended up killing at least 215 of them. That’s getting into real-life Henry Lee Lucas territory.
If you’re crazy and would like to kill lots of folks, becoming a doctor’s a pretty good way to do it. Reminded me of the last big story I did for my old newspaper, about Michael Swango — the British doc’s American counterpart. (James B. Stewart from the Journal wrote a great book about the Swango case.)
19 July 2002 |
No comments
Another assignment for faithful crabwalk.com readers! As part of the newspaper’s continuing youth push, I’ll be writing occasionally for the Texas Living section. My first assignment is for a new occasional column called “Cheap Date,” in which Your Hero goes out on a date somewhere in the Metroplex and spends less than $30. Creativity is encouraged.
If anyone has a great idea on how to have a night on the town for two on three sawbucks, please let me know. I need inspiration. (By the way, evidently one quick path to a cheap date — she pays — won’t work here. We’re talking $30 total expenditure. I guess that means The Mansion’s out.)
19 July 2002 |
10 comments
Reason No. 3,972 Google is better than cheeseburgers: I’m sitting at someone else’s computer this week as I work on a dallasnews.com project, and his version of IE is hosed. Everytime you enter a URL in the address bar, it crashes. But you can click through links on other pages with impunity. So (a) Google’s skill at “I Feel Lucky” lets me skip the address bar in most cases, and (b) when I can’t, all I have to do is enter the address in the search field — the error page always includes a link to that URL.
Sorry, folks — this may be the most boring post in crabwalk.com history. They can’t all be about murderous relatives, you know.
18 July 2002 |
2 comments
Even an Apple nut like me can’t help but be underwhelmed by today’s Macworld keynote. OS X 10.2 looks nice and all, but $129? For a 10.x upgrade? When the whole operating system, built from scratch, cost only $99? No discount for early adopters? Geez. I might just wait for 10.3 — the feature set seems underwhelming. (An AOL-compatible IM app — already plenty of those out there. Sherlock 3 — blah. A better Mail.app — still not up to par with Eudora or Entourage. Et cetera.)
The only highlight: the entry-level iPod is finally down to $299, which might make me turn my technolust into credit card debt.
(In other OS X news, RealPlayer is finally in beta — that leaves Photoshop as the only Classic app I ever use. And Palm sync for Office v.X is also finally a reality.)
17 July 2002 |
6 comments
Anybody notice that Morocco invaded Spain the other day?
Other fun geography links:
- How did I miss the creation of a new ocean? What was I doing in the spring of 2000 that was so distracting that could make me miss a new ocean?
- Who owns the Northwest Passage? (I vote Jamaica.)
17 July 2002 |
2 comments
Yahoo! Mail edits your email. (Although I tried to repeat the bug/feature detailed and couldn’t get it to happen.)
For example, if your HTML newsletter contains the sentence “A common expression in the English language,” and you send this newsletter to a Yahoo Mail account, the sentence will actually be changed to read: “A common statement in the English language.”
16 July 2002 |
1 comment
Anyone in the DFW area interested in being a PE teacher and girls’ volleyball coach at an area private school? No certification needed, but some sort of previous coaching experience necessary. A friend’s looking for some help. Lemme know if you’re interested.
15 July 2002 |
3 comments
Seeing The Road to Perdition last night with Erica, we saw the trailer for Punch-Drunk Love. That’s the new Adam Sandler movie from Paul Thomas Anderson, young wunderkind of Boogie Nights and Magnolia fame. While I started boycotting Adam Sandler movies a long time ago (first for Cajun Man, then for The Waterboy, two major affronts to my people), I’ll make an exception for what looks like an interesting film.
Paul Thomas Anderson trivia: In the 1960s, his father Ernie Anderson used to host the late movie on Channel 13 in Toledo, dressed up in a fright wig and calling himself Ghoulardi. P.T. calls his production company Ghoulardi Films in his honor. (Ernie Anderson was later the announcer on America’s Funniest Home Videos.)
And to keep the Toledo connection going, P.T. keeps hiring Philip Baker Hall, Toledo’s finest actor, in all his movies. He was the star of Anderson’s first movie, Hard Eight, had a small part in Boogie Nights (memorable quote: “I like simple pleasures, like butter in my ass, lollipops in my mouth. That’s just me. That’s just something that I enjoy”), and was the game show host in Magnolia. He’s the classic “Hey! It’s that guy!” actor. (Of course, most people know him only as Lt. Bookman on Seinfeld.)
Apologies to Jamie Farr for naming Philip Baker Hall as Toledo’s finest actor. The truth hurts sometimes, Jamie.
15 July 2002 |
1 comment
Least tempting promotional tease ever: Tonight: You may know him as Bo Duke of “The Dukes of Hazzard” or as a top Christian music singer, but John Schneider has a secret he’s never revealed — until now. Tune in for this Larry King Live exclusive.
What could it be? Uncle Jesse’s “bad touch”? The General Lee was actually a hopped-up Datsun? Tom Wopat really can’t sing? Boss Hogg and Roscoe P. Coltrain were lovers? I wait with completely unbaited breath.
12 July 2002 |
4 comments
The form on my CD Mix of the Month Club signup page evidently got screwed in my host switch. I’ll fix it when I get a chance, but until then, email me if you want to sign up for the July trade.
Also, there’s a new entrant in the burgeoning mix-trading field: interchange. It certainly has a few edges on CDMOM; for one, you sign up by genre, so if you’re a big a capella fan or deep into J-pop, it’ll work better for you than the indie-rock-with-occasional-asides CDMOM. Plus, it looks like it’d be much, much easier to run, since the guy in charge won’t actually be burning, matching, and mailing CDs. (That hassle will someday be the death of CDMOM.) A lot cheaper, too.
On the other hand, you’re forced to trust other Internet people a lot more the interchange way. Some months, a full 30-40 percent of the people who sign up for CDMOM flake out and don’t mail any CDs — but there’s really no harm done, since I don’t mail CDs to anyone until I get theirs in the mail. In the interchange model (which is essentially a more detailed version of the Burn, Baby, Burn! model), some people will certainly mail out CDs and get nothing in return. (When I did the BBB swap, I sent CDs to five people and got discs back from only two of them.)
12 July 2002 |
1 comment
Every trivia competition has one of these guys. I hope it’s not me.
11 July 2002 |
1 comment
I keep meaning to update the calendar in the right-hand column, but I just don’t have much exciting coming up in the next month or so. (At least nothing definite yet.) So I’ll keep living on past glories.
11 July 2002 |
2 comments
This is the kind of apology you have to write when your newspaper runs a story on a fire at a mental hospital and you put the headline “Roasted Nuts” above it.
11 July 2002 |
3 comments
There’s a great piece (not online) in this month’s Spin (Red Hot Chili Peppers cover) on an astounding phenomenon: Morrissey’s fanbase has evidently shifted almost completely from weepy, sensitive white folks to young Latinos. I’ve got a few Smiths/Morrissey albums, but this was complete news to me, and I’m strangely fascinated by it — the thought of “Bigmouth Strikes Again” booming in the barrio is just too wonderful for words. I bet Spanish translations of Oscar Wilde are jumping off the shelf, too.
While the Spin piece isn’t online, its reporter (I think this guy) is referenced in this LA Weekly piece on a Morrissey convention in Los Angeles. Quote: “We order drinks and grab a table in the smoking lounge, where we sit and eavesdrop on a Spin reporter, nominally conducting interviews about ‘the Latino angle,’ but mainly just macking on the ladies.”
Spin, which went through a truly crappy period, actually has some terrific features nowadays, some of the best music journalism out there. If only you didn’t have to wade through 80 pages of Incubus and Korn to get to it.
10 July 2002 |
8 comments
A sad so long to Kelly, one of my favorite DFWbloggers, who as I type is moving to Virginia. We’ll have a drink to you at the next happy hour.
10 July 2002 |
No comments
Just because I have to embarrass my friend Lisa, I feel obligated to report her dad will apparently be on Good Morning America and the Connie Chung show tomorrow. Click the link to see why.
By the way, has anyone seen that Connie Chung show? Watched it once last weekend in Rayne — that may be the worst hour of television in history. Painful to watch. I’ve always been a Chung hater, but geez, it almost seems cruel to put her out there every night. Ed Bark, as usual, has it right.
09 July 2002 |
6 comments
In tonight’s Braggart Watch: I’m somewhat proud to report that my partner Dena and I kicked a little ass tonight, winning the inaugural Dallas Association of Young Lawyers Trivia Bowl. Pitted against the finest young legal minds of the Metroplex, Dena and I somehow came out on top. (In answer to your obvious thought — “Wait, I didn’t know Josh was a lawyer!” — yeah, I’m not. I was brought in as a ringer.) We finished the season with five straight wins, then went 3-0 to win tonight’s playoffs.
It was fun bringing all the old quiz bowl reflexes out of storage. The most fun, as it did in high school, came in beating the team that took things waaaay too seriously — the one that actually held pre-match practices, the one that clearly had their firm’s reputation and their entire self-worth on the line. I am accepting all Trivial Pursuit challenges.
In unrelated news, I was told tonight that I looked like a cross between Bono and Patrick Swayze. Hmm. I’m not feeling particularly flattered. Those who know me are free to comment on the comparison.
09 July 2002 |
5 comments
All right-thinking people should be listening to the sun-baked cinematic sounds of Tucson’s Calexico. Such great stuff; I’d heard a little by them, but it took a few inclusions on CDMOM discs to get me hooked. Here’s a review of their latest EP.
Several webcast concerts available here. I recommend the audio from Morning Becomes Eclectic and the video from this Paris show.
09 July 2002 |
No comments
If you’re going to pull a B&E, at least get your money’s worth: Green Bay Packers fullback Najeh Davenport was arrested Monday, accused of breaking into a university dormitory and defecating in a woman’s closet.
According to police, Davenport crept into a dorm room at Barry University around 6 a.m. on April 1. A woman sleeping in the room, Mary McCarthy, told police she was startled by a strange sound and saw Davenport squatting in her closet. Davenport then allegedly defecated in a laundry basket, McCarthy told detectives.
09 July 2002 |
1 comment
Sammy Sosa hit seven 500-foot home runs last night at the All-Star Home Run Derby, if you believe the newspapers. Luckily, you and I know better.
09 July 2002 |
No comments
Finally — really, finally; I’ve been posting too much today — two more entries from the Embarrassing Early Josh files. I had lunch with an old teacher Saturday. She taught me from second to fifth grade, and she dug out an old class newsletter from 1983, in which we students had to write little poems or one-paragraph essays. Here are my two poems:
Computers
Black and colorful
Goto 100, Run, Print, Gosub
Take over the world
Robots
Commentary: The author was learning BASIC on a then-cutting-edge TRS-80 — hence the programming lingo in line 3. The inherent contradiction of “black and colorful” evokes the classic semiotic phrase “colorless green ideas ideas sleep furiously” (itself hijacked for the sidebar of salmon’s site). The sudden evocation of robots taking over the world brings us to Yeatsian territory. In all, a stirring early work.
We’ve had 40 presidents,
And they’ve all been great
But some were like Taft,
They ate, and ate, and ate!!!!
Washington wasn’t the first
president, believe it or not.
The first president of the
colonies was: John Hancock!!!!
Commentary: Clearly the author is trying to attract attention through his liberal use of exclamation points — perhaps more exclamation points than he has used in the 19 years since. The reference to William Howard Taft could be construed as a prediction that the author would end up attending Taft’s alma mater, or that he would, in 1998, cover the Ohio gubernatorial campaign of Taft’s grandson Bob. Alternately, it could be a prediction that the author would some day weigh 340 pounds. One hopes not. The blanket support for all presidents would not last long — roughly six years, until he got a subscription to The Nation. The author is also in error in line 8: it was John Hanson, not not the floridly-signing John Hancock who deserved the rightful title. But the poem loses none of its power because of the error.
08 July 2002 |
No comments
Who convinced R. Kelly — soon-to-be-convicted child pornographer, acknowledged lover of barely post-pubescent girls — to name his new song “Heaven, I Need A Hug”? (“From a Hot 12-Year-Old,” he did not add.)
08 July 2002 |
2 comments
FYI, 3WK is now broadcasting in stereo after many months of focusing on low-bandwith mono connections. It’s a nice little slice of adventurous indie rock to get you through your work day.
08 July 2002 |
No comments
A great link from Chuck, on the controversy surrounding the firing of a waiter at Galatoire’s, one of the classic old New Orleans Creole restaurants. It’s a fascinating story, and not just for those of us interested in the hidebound traditions of the city, with all their attendant benefits and drawbacks. Definitely worth a read. (There’s even a web site devoted to the waiter’s cause.)
08 July 2002 |
No comments
It’s time again for crabwalk.com-as-focus-group. I’m meeting with the Texas Living staff tomorrow to discuss how to get more young readers interested in the section.
Among the questions we’re looking for answers to: What sorts of stories do young people want to read? What’s appealing about the section now? What sorts of topics and themes are young readers interested in? Any syndicated columns or features that would be good additions? Any good ways to get young voices in the paper?
I’d love to hear any ideas you guys have. (FYI, when they say young people, they pretty much mean 16-25 or so. I guess I’m not a young person any more. Sigh. By the way, I calculated on the drive back to Dallas last night that, as of Saturday, my 20s are now two-thirds over. Prepare the hearse.)
08 July 2002 |
3 comments
Every once in a while, people ask me why my photo page still offers up only a single rodent weasel, particularly now that I have a digital camera. Well, after Rayne this weekend, I present a new occasional crabwalk.com feature: I Wore That?
Consider it a trip through bad fashion decisions past. Luckily enough, all of today’s examples come from ages 5 to 9 or so, so fashion blame has to go primarily to the adults in my life who had credit cards and, thus, some degree of control over my clothing. (Note: these are digital photos of scrapbook photos, so the quality’s iffy on some. And these were designed for a Mac, so they’ll probably look dark on a PC.)
- A stunning vest. Archival research shows that Mazie was waaaay too into the vests-for-Josh movement in the early 1980s. Notice the lovely western pattern on the shirt, and the distant look in the eyes. (This is the same outfit, except I look really surly.)
- Speaking of western looks. That’s an allergy necklace, by the way.
- Look at the size of that bow tie! This was taken after my first communion, and the look on my face sums up my thoughts on organized religion at the time.
- Notice the writing on the shirt: “Drag Strip Fever.” That’s called casting against type. Also notice the watch: on my right wrist, not my left, a practice I continued until The Teen Years. And shoved so far up my arm it might as well be wrapped around my elbow.
- I’m sure my sour look is caused by my internal concerns about ethnic stereotyping.
- Look at those ears! Epic in scale! Thankfully, my head eventually grew to match them. (No jokes, please.)
- Fuzzy photo, but conclusive proof that I once wore overalls non-ironically.
- Check out those velcro kicks.
- Stylin’.
- Which one of these two people became a rock star and which one became a nerdy writer?
Finally, three bonus photos:
- Childhood bunnies.
- Proof that I wasn’t the only bad dresser circa 1984. (That’s Mazie on the left and my mom on the right.)
- And finally, I wrote this back in October:
In Pigeon Falls Forge [Tennessee], they had, among other things…the Police Museum, featuring the life story of McNairy County Sheriff Buford Pusser, who was shot eight times and knifed seven more (I have a very strong childhood memory of the sign at the entrance: “We Have Buford Pusser’s Death Car”).
Well, now there’s proof. (Cousins T-Ron and Pam on either side.)
08 July 2002 |
3 comments
Two stories in today’s paper, in the Texas/Southwest section: a piece outlining the dropout prevention plans of the two gubernatorial candidates and a profile of the state’s new dropout czar.
I’m about to dropout of Louisiana and head back to Dallas, with a brief stopover in College Station. See you on the flip side.
07 July 2002 |
No comments
Chanda’s brilliant run at Wimbledon finally ends, with a loss to the Williams sisters in the doubles semifinals. At least she and Kournikova won a set off them — imagine what Chanda could have done with a real partner! Congrats on a wonderful run.
06 July 2002 |
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Well, hot damn! Chanda and Anna Kournikova upset the No. 1 seed in doubles, Raymond/Stubbs, and are now in the Wimbledon semifinals. You can’t stop Chanda Rubin — you can only hope to contain her! The other side of the draw hasn’t fully developed yet, but Rubin/Kournikova will probably face Venus and Serena Williams next. Maybe the sisters will be tired from their dominating the singles side of the tournament.
04 July 2002 |
2 comments
Happy July 4th, everyone. (Well, except Osama bin Laden. I’ve heard he reads crabwalk.com, and to you, sir, I daresay: “Sad July 4th!”)
I’m in Rayne, and I’m happy to report that Mazie looks great. She’d had a very rough stretch a month or so ago, including a stint in the hospital. But for the last week or so, she’s sounded great on the phone, and she’s as active, vibrant, and boisterous as ever. Geaux doctors!
Here’s my story in today’s paper, a profile of the new chancellor of the University of North Texas System.
04 July 2002 |
1 comment
Great video for the Starlight Mints. Boozy rock-star Muppets rawk.
03 July 2002 |
2 comments
Past and present Toledoans across the world are crying today at the death of an Ohio icon. Spook, 1988-2002, R.I.P.
03 July 2002 |
1 comment
Just because she’s out in singles doesn’t mean she’s not still kicking ass: Chanda and Anna Kournikova win again in doubles, upsetting the 11 seed 6-2, 6-2. Up next is the top-seeded team of Raymond/Stubbs.
I really hope all these mentions of Anna Kournikova do wonders for my hit count. Of course, gentle readers, you know there are no photos of Anna Kournikova naked here, much less photos of Anna Kournikova nude, Anna Kournikova porn, or Anna Kournikova red hot monkey sex.
03 July 2002 |
2 comments
My grandmother’s long national nightmare is over. I shaved last night. It’s my present to her for my trip home to Rayne tonight. She thinks I look horrible with a beard. (“You look like a damned hippie.”)
I always let my facial hair grow during lengthy vacations. The first time was in 1999, when I had three weeks in the South Pacific for a story, followed by three weeks on vacation in central China. It came in scraggly, but I was persistent. It lasted about a year.
This iteration started when I went back to China for vacation last summer. Which means that the people who know me from blogging (which I began in September) have never known me clean-shaven. Don’t be too shocked.
Unfortunately, whenever I do shave off the beard, I look like a baby-faced 12-year-old for a few days, as my jaw toughens up from the exposure. Luckily, I’ll spend those few days in Louisiana with no one to impress but my grandmother.
03 July 2002 |
2 comments
A shout-out to all the folks who participated in the June swap of the CD Mix of the Month club. When I get in all the mixes each month, I usually divide them into four groups. Group 1 is for the truly great mixes — great music I don’t know, but most importantly, arranged with a sense of adventure. Group 2 is for very solid high-quality mixes. Group 3s are still quality, but probably not something I’d listen to again. Group 4s have too much Kid Rock.
This month, for the first time in the history of the club, I got no Group 4s. Not a single crappy mix. You go, people!
02 July 2002 |
2 comments
Nice piece in this week’s New Yorker on an obituary writer’s convention. (While I’m talking about jobs I’d like to have, I want Mark Singer’s job: roving national correspondent for the New Yorker, writing every three weeks or so. That’s the life. He now writes the U.S. Journal column, originated by my man Calvin Trillin back in the 1960s. Trillin compiled some of those early great pieces in a book called U.S. Journal; my favorite’s one on the annual tension between Jewish and non-Jewish leaders in New Orleans every Mardi Gras. He also put out a later compilation called American Stories, which has the definitive Penn and Teller profile.)
02 July 2002 |
1 comment
A potentially unreliable source has make a startling claim to me: that there is a Target somewhere in Dallas (North Dallas, I believe, but still in the city limits) that sells good sushi. I find this thought frightening, yet strangly alluring. Anyone with additional info on this or other sources for cut-rate yet non-diseased sushi, please spill.
01 July 2002 |
7 comments
I’ve stopped promoting it as much as I used to, and part of the site was down until last night, but the CD Mix of the Month Club is back open for business. Signup for the July mix is open until July 15. (Note to June mixers: you should be getting your CDs very soon.)
01 July 2002 |
No comments
Interesting, if a little too self-serving, story in Sunday’s paper. JFK fetishists, among others, should enjoy it.
Scary reporter impersonator. I wonder why the Chronicle waits until the 50th paragraph to reveal who the bad guy is. (Actually, I know why — its covering its ass — but still strikes me as a bad decision, tinging an otherwise terrific story.)
Here’s my story in today’s paper. A pretty interesting topic, a nothing-special story.
01 July 2002 |
1 comment
