I personally believe that racism is little more than lazy analysis, for which every human who has ever existed is guilty. Generalizations of any kind, whether drawn along lines of race, gender, sexual preference, eye color, juggling ability, or gastrointestinal fortitude, are simply the product of a lazy, bullshit short-cut. ... [continue]

You may not realize this, but in 1492 when George Washington wrote the Constitution, the entire world was watching on closed circuit television. It was like we were the baby Jesus in that barn, with England and France as our virgin parent-handlers, and the rest of the infinite universe as the sheep being watched over by Germany, Earth's kindliest human shepherds. ... [continue]

*The views expressed in Truesday are those of the author and do not represent Austinist as a whole. Thank heavens.* -The Editors You can’t deny- The other side- Don’t want to die- Any more than we do. What I’m trying to say, Is don’t they pray- To the same God that we do? Tell me how does God choose? Whose prayers does he refuse? Who turns the wheel- Who throws the dice- On the... [continue]

And just before I completely blacked out from severe blunt force trauma (her hams against my head), Sweet Cream and strawberries all over everything, I noticed that my torn left ear had fallen into my lap. Yes, I just made that last moment up. ... [continue]

There are a number of ways in which one can adapt the female-to-female connector issue here. Most are unreliable, and some are almost guaranteed to fail. The most common solution is a ring of wax. That’s right, your body secretions just sort of slide between the two open holes through a brief tunnel of brown wax. It’s like cave science, but in your home.... [continue]

So there’s a couple of new heads in The Hall, and I have to ask the question: the result of the elections seriously feels like little more than a new layer of paint, and is that what we need right now? With everything that's building up and out around us?... [continue]

*The views expressed in Truesday are those of the author and do not represent Austinist as a whole. Thank heavens.* -The Editors Shame is a strange thing. The places it comes from. The way it affects our projected behaviors. I used to have these horrific dreams where I would be doing something fairly standard, like shopping for vegetables, and I’d suddenly discover that I was nude. Oddly enough, it wasn’t really the nudity that... [continue]

Unmanned, limping and in pieces, that Lincoln with all its suicide-door’d glory, launched over a small cliff on the edge of the parking lot, crossed 37th, and took out the Northeast corner of La Madeleine’s outdoor patio. Destroyed it. Mowed over a dressed cement wall, and violently through some fancy bistro sets. ... [continue]

Sometimes we need to go back to basics. Pure, basic-basics. The bare minimum required. And thankfully, now that I’m old enough to recognize the signs of impending disaster, I can (hopefully) head that bad-boy off at the pass and keep things as kosher as possible for another round or two. At least I’ll live to fight another day. Anyone with any sort of body cleansing procedure, no matter how fucked up and disturbed… my liver’s listening. Intently. ... [continue]

Some friends of mine were sitting at the Vietnamese sandwich stand on South Lamar, just south of Oltorf. You know the one, between the Office Depot and that tire shop that always blinds the shit out of me with thousand spoke rims shined to NASA specifications, all tethered together and splayed out near the bus stop to really piss off those who can’t afford to do anything but ride the Metro downtown. Across from where that other tire shop used to be, where they had another thousand-spoke rim chained to their street sign, but the rim was about three feet in diameter. Like it was designed for a pimp's dumptruck or something. Shit was INSANE. ... [continue]

They were out there, the dudes, standing with slumps, targeted by those police lights. Though appearing pretty sedated, their faces showed a curiously awed fear. Like they just woke up in a stranger’s life. As if they’d Quantum Leaped, or got crossed-up in some weird Memento scenario, blinked, and WHOOSH – car is wrecked and cops are tapping their toes with expectation. Looking at them, you knew that they knew they were beyond help at that point. Chemicals moving through the system, dousing all attempts at neurological focus. ... [continue]

Have there seriously been thirty of these things? You’re goddamned right there have been. From the days of way-back in smaller venues when Mel and his 80s jams held court with smaller, more intimate crowds, where the records made people say “Careless Whisper? Man, that’s my song right there. Totally got that twelve inch back at the crib. Let’s go to Hoek’s for some pizza and fear.” Nowadays the party’s (past dozen or so) all grow’d up and far drunker. Just like us!... [continue]

Sleeve tattoos and neck specks (smallish tattoos on the neck, usually a spider web, Mickey Mouse, or a cursive name) are just as popular there as they are here. As are chest tats for dudes in v-necks. Bikes, bikes, bikes. Everyone’s on bikes. Bikes are chained up all over the downtown area. Just about any open post or chainlink fence is coated in cycles like the front of a middle school. It’s quite beautiful, really. ... [continue]

Everyone’s favorite Austinist writer and indie-devotee, Adi Anand, has just broken into Break Thru Radio with a new show he’s dubbed River Runs Red. Okay, this is not his first run with Break Thru (that was last month, which is still a brilliant lineup – Tacks the Boy Disaster, Horse + Donkey, Blackholicus, Belaire), but come on. He’s got The Boxing Lesson, The Midgetmen, Golden Bear, Zykos, The Quitters, Crawling With Kings… screw it, we’ll just list them all since we started listing some. ... [continue]

*The views expressed in Truesday are those of the author and do not represent Austinist as a whole. Thank heavens.* -The Editors There’s this guy, not sure if you’ve seen him around town, but he’s one of the wandering of the downtown area. I can’t say he’s homeless, because I don’t know that; I’ve never witnessed his lack of a home. What I do know is that he’s black, looks to be mid/late thirties,... [continue]

When I first started thinking about what I wanted to say, I figured out that I really shouldn't be thinking in the first place; that just makes things complicated. I could start by simply complaining about the people who complain about SXSW or better yet I could start railing on the organizers of after parties and how they should really figure out what their legal obligations are before calling shenanigans on SXSW management. Maybe I could talk about how $140 is way too much to charge for access to 1500+ bands, but that would just be asinine and ridiculous. Maybe, just maybe, I could bring myself to try and help some people out on how to deal with SXSW. That my friends, (read as people who have too much time on their hands so they are actually reading this garbage) is what I will attempt to do.... [continue]

or most of us who simply go to work, ruthlessly stab our livers, mow our lawns, and try to find enough time to fight off sleep deprivation, voting is the most impact you will likely have on the world you live in. SO GO. Vote your brain. Vote your heart. Vote your history. Vote your soul. I don’t care, just go vote for something. STAY FOR THE CAUCUS!!!... [continue]

Yeah, while you and your other bubble people are mercilessly burning the ghosts of dinosaurs long since passed, I’m out here inhaling your shit results. And man, I gotta say, it makes me feel like a better person than you. Like, Jesus better. While your mouth is all agape with impressedness, go ahead and roll down your window, Rapunzel. Let down your ratty mane of ignorance. Take a long gander at moral superiority. Check my dope shades. Smell the sweat. Yeah. Suck it in. ... [continue]

For a year now it’s been a strange coexistence with these beasts of inconvenience. It’s not like I’d crack open a box of cereal and they’d pour out in a waterfall of crippling disappointment. Or that they’d even be found in the kitchen at all. Normally I’d find one pathetically backstroking on the floor tile in my hallway, and then dispose of it neatly. But every once in a while there’d be an adventurous fucker that would show up on the ceiling above our bed, as we were going to sleep, threatening to drop down like some crazed black-ops periplaneta. All hell would break loose for an hour or so until I could get the thing quarantined and dismissed. Neither of us would sleep for an hour after that. ... [continue]

Howdy istites. My name's Mike Dahmus, otherwise known all around various ratholes of the internet as M1EK, and I've been invited to write an honest-to-goodness post instead of a wimpy little comment. Normally, I crackplog ("crackplot blog") at my own place, M1EK's Bake-Sale of Bile, which is "Mostly Austin. Mostly Transportation. Mostly Bile.". I served on the city's Urban Transportation Commission from 2000 to 2005, before Daryl Slusher gave me the boot for being insufficiently slavish to Mike Krusee's plan to screw Austin's rail fans forever. I've been writing that crackplog since about 2003, starting in the run-up to the commuter rail disaster. ... [continue]