In certain circles, the state of Texas is not held in high esteem. Liberals, animal rights activists, bio-diesel users, the Association of People Against Egregiously Large States. You won't hear any of them go to the mat for the Lone Star state. You drive in from Arizona and road signs proudly proclaim "Now Entering Texas. Proud Home of President George W. Bush" and all you can think is, "alright Texas. You're gonna bring it like that, huh? Fine. Just feed me plenty of slow-cooked barbeque pig and we'll take it from there." But here's the thing: I tend to be fairly liberal, don't test my make-up on rabbits, would drive a french fry mobile if I had one, and hate traversing 600 miles through a mostly barren dust plain to reach civilization but, well, I love Texas. I've said it before, I'll say it again, and, hell, I'm saying it right now. Texas is fantastic. Sure: they've got G.W., but in California, we've got Randy Cunnigham, Mel Gibson, and Kobe Bryant. I say it's a wash.
For example: In Texas, maccaronni and cheese counts as a vegitable. In San Francisco, you can eat at a place called Cafe Gratitude, where every menu item is named "I am Wonderful" or "I am Bountiful" or "I am Creative" and every menu item, also, is made solely of uncooked veggies. It's where a cow would eat if it had $13.50 to spent of a salad with mandarin oranges and walnuts. The point? Well...ummm....does there have to be one? I'm just saying we've been through a lot of states in our travels and will be visiting as yet unseen ones in the coming month and some of them have nothing to offer. Texas does. And it buys you drinks. Sweet Jesus does it buy you drinks.
So far, we've played San Antonio (which included a post show Widespread Panic-esque jam out with D-Day, with melodicas, 4 drummers, and 10 hackeysacks involved), Houston (wherein the great Ms. Pacman ever resides), and, last night Dallas (put on by the gentleman from Gorilla vs. Bear). All were fun. Well, Houston: slightly less fun, but that was a more a sound issue than anything---the on-stage mix was a sort of mushy cacophany with no vocals, too much bass (regardless of umpteen attempts to turn down), and a sparking fuse box that threatened the scald Zach's eyebrows until he looked like that guy from Powder.
Tonight though, we head to Austin, a town with more venues than people, to play at Stubb's BBQ with Division Day for the last time until Spokane. Afterwards, we hook up with the Sammies, whose CD was on super-repeat in the Donald...until my iPod got stolen in Houston (another reason to shake my fist at Enron-town), who leave us after New York City. It's all very organized isn't it? We're like that. Or rather, the guy who books our shows is organized like that. Also, he's crazy. But it's a lovable crazy. Like that aunt you have who launches buttered rolls at your face each Thanksgiving. More Emperor Norton than Hannibal Lecter, certainly.
Lastly, sorry I haven't been able to respond to comments---impossible on this portable internet dealy-bobber, as it refuses to load the Turing Test letters. I can only say thank you, and that we all read them, and that they're a fine source of entertainment. You're Fired...Up, indeed.