Generation gap

I know Monkey Girl and I have our differences. She's a strong-willed individual who's in those tumultuous preteen years in which she views her father as incompetent and it utterly frustrated by her parents' refusal to treat her as a full-fledged adult. But the severity of the generation gap really struck home with me last night when I tried to do some of that parental bonding stuff by watching a movie with her.

She got bored with Time Bandits.

I'm still a bit shell-shocked today, folks. I just don't know where to go from here.

Now Playing: The Beastie Boys License to Ill

Friday Night Videos

I was a huge Genesis fan in the 80s, so when Mike Rutherford set off to work on a side project, I was primed to like Mike + The Mechanics. What's interesting is that that band's music is so different from that of Genesis. "Silent Running" blew me away when I first heard it, and I've got most of their albums. The music trends a little low-key for me to utterly love the group, but the high points are spectacular. I believe I'm not going too far out on a limb when I say the band reached it's high point with "The Living Years." A very powerful song, particularly for those of us who've had to cope with domineering fathers in our lives.



Previously on Friday Night Videos... Johnny Hates Jazz.

Now Playing: The B-52s Good Stuff

The Chicken Ranch: Take three

My second try at a more informal, revised opening to my book on the infamous La Grange Chicken Ranch went up last week, and although the response was generally positive, there were a few concerns raised. The voice, some felt, might be a little bit too rustic for modern audiences. Fair enough. On further review, it may well stray too far into Life on the Mississippi territory for a book with both feet planted firmly in Texas. So I started thinking about what made the story of the Chicken Ranch unique, and I struck upon all the contrasts and contradictions inherent in the tale. That was all I needed to go to town on this new, revised opening:

It was the best of brothels, it was the worst of brothels, it was the heaven of hedonists, it was the hell of chaste, it was the epoch of innocence, it was the epoch of corruption, it was the season of prostitution, it was the season of morality, it was the spring of mass media, it was the winter of rural isolation, we had whores before us, we had "Closed on Account of Marvin Zindler" before us, we were all going direct to the Chicken Ranch, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the La Grange of the 1970s was so far like the La Grange of the 2010s, that some of its noisiest residents insisted on its history being buried, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

How does the new approach work? There's a sort of rhythmic cadence that sets in there, doesn't it? Remember, it's still a work in progress--all of this can change!

Now Playing: Mike + The Mechanics Living Years

Danaus gilippus

I haven't done much photography of late, other than assisting The Wife on a number of shoots, but serendipity met happenstance and all that on Sunday. I was walking with Bug along a country lane outside of Bastrop when this colorful little fellow caught our attention. We watched it for a while, then continued our walk. I returned shortly with my camera and makeshift macro setup, and went about trying to capture this spectacular little caterpillar.



The results were better than I expected. In fact, I feel this is probably my single best effort at macro photography, and the attractive colors come dangerously close to "fine art" territory. So I committed a bit of composition in Photoshop, and the result is the high-faluting triptych above (click for a larger version).

For the curious and entomologically inclined, the caterpillar is that of the danaus gilippus species, better known as the Queen butterfly. They're closest relatives are the more famous Monarchs. I've never seen one before, and from the maroon and gold coloration, I'd assumed it was the larval form of a Texas State Bobcat...

Now Playing: Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra Pictures at and Exhibition

Friday Night Videos

Driving home Thursday night, this song came on the radio. I haven't heard "Shattered Dreams" in years, but I recall liking it a lot when it was a hit back in the late 80s. Never could quite figure out their bizarre name. What kind of statement were they trying to make with Johnny Hates Jazz? Ironic, maybe? They didn't stick around long enough for it to become a pressing issue on the national consciousness, so I guess we'll never know. Nifty video, tho.



Previously on Friday Night Videos... The B-52s.

Now Playing:

TAAF state finals

Monkey Girl kicked all kinds of butt at the TAAF Games of Texas state swim finals! She swam Thursday in the 100 IM, and shaved an amazing 9 seconds off her qualifying time from regionals! That kind of improvement over such a short span is unheard of. She finished first in her heat, beating her closest competitor by two seconds, but we don't know how she fared in the final standings. The top 3 is too much to hope for, but considering this isn't even her best event, I'm very, very proud of her showing.

I can't say the same for the city of Waco, which is where the meet was held. We've been going to swim meets for three years now, and I've never seen such a wretched event. The finals were held at Waco Water Park, and I can't fathom a venue more ill-suited. Most of the place is taken up by water slides, wading pools and lazy rivers, acres of concrete and no shade whatsoever. Temperatures were pushing 100 degrees and there was no breeze, but they had a full contingent of life guards on duty--to keep people away from the water. Also to make sure nobody brought drinks in, to force folks to buy the park's overpriced concessions. AND pay higher admission prices than they would have to simply go swimming there, if they would actually let people in the water. They had water coolers placed here and there, but these were emptied quickly and by about 3:30 they just stopped trying to keep them filled and took them all away. At about 3 p.m. the first ambulance arrived to treat someone for heat exhaustion. Did I mention how overbearing, rude and condescending the workers were? Let's just say the woman in charge isn't someone the Waco Chamber of Commerce should put on their community's welcoming committee. Their ineptitude was astounding. There was only one competitive pool, so they had to block out time for the swimmers to warm up, then clear them all out before competition could start. Most venues have two pools, so swimmers can warm up shortly before their races. Not Waco. Which meant Monkey Girl warmed up at 2 p.m., then sat in the blistering heat until her race at 5 p.m. The P.A. announced events and heats only intermittently, and the big board was about two events behind the entire day. Confusion reined. The kicker is that at noon the Waco organizers distributed heat sheets to the competing teams, and it took an out of town coach to notice that the Waco folks, in their infinite wisdom, had scheduled eight swimmers per heat, but their pool only had six lanes. Pure bush league.

If you're reading this and have swimmers competing Friday or Saturday, it's not too late to pull out and save yourself several hours of pure misery. I've been to dozens of swim meets both as a parent and a sports reporter, and have never, ever experienced such a train wreck. Waco should be permanently banned from even bidding on a TAAF swim meet ever again. Seriously, folks, it was that bad.

Now Playing:

The Chicken Ranch: Take two

Okay, last week I posted a proposed opening paragraph for my in-progress book on the infamous La Grange Chicken Ranch. The comments were enlightening. Several people pointed out that the sentence structure tended toward complex, and there was a stilted, formal tone that didn't entirely suit the subject matter. Point taken. I've reworked the opening paragraph--keeping everyone's comments in mind--and come up with the following, which I feel is much less formal and more intimate, not to mention relaxed.

YOU don't know about Edna without you have seen a play by the name of The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas; but that ain't no matter. That play was written by Mr. Larry L. King, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but lied one time or another, without it was Sheriff Jim, or the governor, or maybe the Aggies. Sheriff Jim - Fayette County's sheriff, he was - and the Aggies, and Governor Briscoe is all told about in that play, which is mostly a true play, with some stretchers, as I said before.

As always, I invite your feedback. This is still a work in progress, so everything is subject to change!

Now Playing: ZZ Top Tres Hombres