Vacation: Lubbock

It's been a summer of nothing. Doing nothing, just as I wanted. The day starts with watching and dodging squirrels jump around the road and yards on an early morning bike ride to the coffee shop where I can read and go online. The coffee shop is nice and relaxing, situated in a residential area near Tech. Nothing really special happening. Oh, you might have someone bringing a bale of hay in their pickup truck or a .44 magnum-toting Wiccan who refuses to leave her car to talk to people: drive 5 feet, idle, talk, move forward 5 feet to the next table and start over. Usually, though, the regulars all have their routine and assigned spots. After bottoming out the bottomless cup of coffee I'm off on another ride.

Often times I'll end up at Mesquites, a restaurant/bar across from Tech. Aside from mediocre barbecue they offer daily $1.75 schooners. Note to Soho Street proprietors: that is $57.5 NT. I sit upstairs on the patio warming up for my next stop, the Oyster Bar.


The O-Bar hasn't changed, except they no longer have bras hanging from the ceiling - have to ask about that. They also have daily $1.75 schooners ( Soho Street beermen, please refer to above note ). After a month's observation I have noticed an unofficial hair code at the O-Bar. There are 3 types: shaved to buzz cut; regulation C.A. hair cut - above the ears, back is an inch above the collar; and Ted Nugent ponytail with work cap. Most patrons are blue collar guys with their gals and bikers. It also functions as a sort of clearing house for produce. They bring in their chiles, squash, tomatoes...and swap them and their growing secrets while drinking beer and watching sports and guy-themed programs, such as the Hooter's Bikini Pageant, which took precedence over the All-Star game. We joined the game in the 2nd inning. Gotta have priorities. Sometimes there are anomalies in the O-Bar routine. Like yesterday when I saw a Hispanic biker pointing and jabbing his finger at a painter and use the words "Hittite" and "Baal" in the same sentence. I wish I could have heard the entire discussion, or better yet, recorded it.

I wind up my day back at the house for dinner and usually some TV. Oh me, oh my. Let me say this very clearly - TV is spectacularly horrible. There is more stinking, nauseating crap on TV than there is on the ground after a Phish concert. The death of the-singer-that-will-not-be-named-by-me was covered incessantly by every -EVERY - channel, even PBS. For 14 days, Jerry Springer Productions assumed control of every network's production and content and administered his version of the Ludovico technique. Quite effective. See? I couldn't even type his name ( even this tangential thought of him is making me sick ). Then there is reality TV to fill the gaps between celebrity death, child acquisition and cellulite relocation.

There were a couple of exceptions. One is the infomercial for the Dean Martin Variety Show. If I ever have a kid - male or female - or another dog, I'm naming it Dean Martin. The other is a type of religious news show. This one gets a must-see recommendation not for content (for that is near impossible to discern) but for style. It's hosted by Jack Van Impe and his wife, Rexella. Rexella, Rexella. She lobs Jack the headlines in the voice of a failed lisper. I watch and watch and still can't figure out how she talks like that. Then Jack takes the pitch to add his commentary. His take is it's either good or bad. The details are lost in his delivery. Give him a talking point and he goes after it with no pauses or breaks, citing Biblical passages for nearly every word. He could order a 4 course meal and cite chapter and verse for every word. He's like the Rainman of Bible School. This is TV for me. Dean is like a wonderful song and Jack is the acoustic version.