I Have Zero Tolerance for "Zero Tolerance"

I've written before about the ridiculousness of "zero tolerance" policies in schools when they try to make Mt. Everest out of an anthill-sized problem. Here are two more examples of administrators who've just gone off the deep end:

Exhibit A: The Paper Gun
Here in North Texas, three students at Amber Terrace Intermediate School in DeSoto were suspended for folding a piece of paper into the shape of a gun:

Destiny Thomas, 11, and two other classmates were suspended from school because of a folded piece of paper that resembled a gun Monday.

The students were also told they would be placed in an alternative school for 30 days.

"I just thought they would tell us to throw it in the trash or just cut it up and don't make no more," Thomas said.

Destiny said she made the paper gun after a fellow classmate at Amber Terrace Intermediate School in Desoto showed her how to fold a computer paper. She said she had no intention of doing anything that would get her kicked out of school.

Officials noted that the student code of conduct for the district "clearly states" that "no weapon or replica of a weapon" is allowed at school. But, c'mon....paper?? This is going way over into Ridiculous-Land here.

(Thankfully, clearer heads prevailed in this case, and the students were allowed to return to their classes after their punishments were revoked late Tuesday.)

Exhibit B: The Phalloween Costume
A student in Washington state was suspended for three days for wearing an inflatable penis costume to another school's homecoming dance.

A Steilacoom student is fighting a decision by school officials to suspend him for three days after he appeared in an inflatable penis costume outside another school's homecoming dance, KIRO 7 Eyewitness News reported.

Pioneer Middle School student James Watkins bought the costume last weekend and later showed up outside a dance at Steilacoom High School wearing the outfit.

His parents described Watkins as a straight-A student, an athlete and a "good kid" who made a mistake. They said the three-day suspension, along with a sexual harassment citation, are too severe.

"He wasn't even on his own school grounds," said Mark Watkins, his father. "Poor decision, I agree. Disciplinary action? I agree. I think they went way too far."

Did you catch that? A sexual harassment citation? I have no doubt that people were offended, but harassed? I'm doubting that.

This story came to me through Dave Barry's Blog, where the commenters were having fun with the subject, but there are serious undertones to the whole thing. It reminds me of the time when a five-year-old kid was charged with sexual harassment for kissing one of his kindergarten classmates. Also, as one of Dave's commenters points out, the harassment charge could dog the kid for the rest of his life (when he tries to get jobs, etc.).

I've said it before--this whole "zero tolerance" thing is idiotic; it's an idea started by people who are too lazy or uncaring to handle each case on an individual basis. As I wrote last spring, in the "assault with a deadly rubber-band" post,

I'm sorry, but I have zero tolerance for "zero tolerance" policies like this. Maybe there's more to the story than we've heard so far, but it sounds on the surface like the teacher was just a bit too thin-skinned, and the administration overreacted bigtime. Nobody got hurt; nobody even got as much as grazed. Give the kid a couple days' detention and make him write 500 sentences about how he'll be more respectful next time. Sure, the administration is trying to gain--or should I say force--the respect of the students by enforcing every rule to the letter in the most punitive way possible, no matter how small the infraction. So far, it's not working too well (just like it didn't for the Nazis, as [talk show host Charley Jones] pointed out [last spring]). The problem is, if administrators keep making idiotic rulings like this, they're going to lose the respect of not only the parents in the community, but the students themselves.

There are plenty of other examples of intolerable zero-tolerance at this site, in a section called Zero Tolerance for Stupidity.

I could write a book take a picture: I really wish I had a digital camera--for a lot of reasons, but certainly so that I could post more cool pictures on this blog. Tonight, while walking through Firewheel (since my schedule doesn't allow me to go to the gym very often, I walk the entire "streetscape" section whenever I have an errand there), I glanced in the window of a women's clothing store that was nearing completion, and I was confronted with the sight of a small army of naked, headless mannequins. It would have made quite a picture, and it also reminded me of that rock band called the Screaming Headless Torsos, who could have perhaps used such a picture for their CD cover art.

There Is Joy in Mudville

I got home too late last night to post about it, but let me add my voice (or text, in this case) to the many in the Lone Star State who are celebrating the imminent arrival of the World Series in Texas. Yes, I'm hoping for the day when my beloved Rangers will get there, but for now, having grown up in Houston, I'm totally happy that Astros did it. Needless to say, I'm pulling for the 'Stros, and even if they weren't in, I'd likely be rooting against the White Sox, since a) I'm a Cubs fan, and b) White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen seems to have some chip on his shoulder against Buck Showalter or something like that. (I've also lived in St. Louis three different times, so I could have staked a small claim to the Cardinals had they prevailed.)

I've missed most of the games of the playoffs so far, but I hope to carve out some time to catch quite a bit of this Series, cheering on a guy who went to school in my district (Roger Clemens) and another one who used to live in my parents' neighborhood (Jeff Bagwell). And I bask in the hope that, now that one Texas team has gotten to the biggest stage of the Show, the other one might soon follow (and hey, nobody burst my bubble on this until at least next May, alright?).

Blowing out the candles: Happy birthday to my fraternity brother Eddie, a.k.a. Blue. He's having a party thrown for him on both nights this weekend, so I hope to at least make one of them.

Do Clothes Really Make the Man?

I've posted on here about dress codes before; my general take on the idea is that they don't really tend to accomplish what the instigators expect they will do, and that, more often than not, it's really about a power play on the part of those in authority. And now, the NBA is making headlines with the announcement of an off-the-court "business casual" requirement for its players:

Players are required to wear Business Casual attire whenever they are engaged in team or league business.

"Business Casual" attire means:

- A long or short-sleeved dress shirt (collared or turtleneck), and/or a sweater.

- Dress slacks, khaki pants, or dress jeans.

- Appropriate shoes and socks, including dress shoes, dress boots, or other presentable shoes, but not including sneakers, sandals, flip-flops, or work boots.
(Read the whole thing here.)

As you can imagine, this isn't going over well with the players. Here in Dallas, the Mavs players don't like it, and the general consensus around the league is that this has gone way too far when we're talking about grown men.

That's a key element of the topic – being told how to carry oneself. Jerry Stackhouse said players – many of whom are products of the hip-hop generation – value their individuality. Players are hopeful that the rules will be relaxed or amended once the league sees the backlash.

The flip side to that is that they are earning millions of dollars from fans, television and corporate sponsors to whom commissioner David Stern must market the players.

There must be one out there, but I have yet to see a positive response to this by anyone outside the league office. Local sports columnist Kevin B. Blackistone calls it a power trip on the part of the commissioner:

This is one quip Mark Twain got wrong. Clothes don't make the man.

Some pretty reprehensible folks over the years have dressed like they belong in boardrooms. Come to think of it, some of them have been in boardrooms. And now they're in jail rooms.

But the NBA's commissioner, Stern, who has become so inebriated with his own power that he's turned into the sports world's Great Dictator, is hellbent on making over an image that he perceives as deleterious to his league, a league that set attendance records last season and is growing in popularity overseas by leaps and bounds.

... And now he's decided, pretty much on his own (he consulted the union he's emasculated), that the urban black fashion aesthetic has no place in the game.

Ahh, yes, the race card. Blackistone is a fine writer (and a jazz fan to boot), but hardly a column goes by where the subject is not viewed through the lens of race. After a while, it tends to dilute his message, so that, like the Columnist Who Cried Wolf, it's difficult to distinguish real issues from bluster.

But is he right this time? Are there racial undertones to this? Or is it more about an executive who's just gone power-happy? And, for that matter, will this actually work? Will it raise the profile of the league, or will it just serve to alienate the players? Drop me your thoughts in the comments.

UPDATE: More player reaction: Spurs superstar Tim Duncan, not usually known as a man of many words, calls the new code "basically retarded."

QUOTE OF THE DAY: (from an amusing exchange between me and a clerk at the store where I was buying some new school shoes on my lunch hour)

CLERK: Do you have a membership with us?
ME: Nah, I don't buy enough shoes to make it worth my while.
(This is very true, by the way. I never wear shoes at all in my house--that's Fun Facts #9 if you're playing at home--and I'm in flip-flops whenever it's seasonal and possible. One good pair of shoes for teaching should last me several years, but the heels wore out of the pair I bought last year, and I was starting to feel the pain.)
CLERK: Well, maybe your wife does.
ME: Well...if you introduce her to me, then we'll be in business.
CLERK: (laughs)
ME: I've been waiting a long time for her, as a matter of fact.
CLERK: I have to tell you, sir, that's a good one.

Thud

There are always one or two days a year that just hit me like a ton o' bricks, and today was one of those days. The combination of a Monday and the trip to Denton took it out of me last night; how in the world did I do that every week back when I was running the alumni program for my fraternity chapter? Still, it was great to hear Randy Brecker again, even if we couldn't stay for the whole thing. The Woody Witt group definitely bears further checking-out the next time I'm in Houston (among them was the outstanding pianist Joe LoCascio, whom I'd heard before, backing up Marvin Stamm), and it's always a pleasure to hear Ed Soph on the drums. Still, the evening took its toll, and I was dragging through the entire teaching day. When I got home a little while ago and still felt exhausted, I knew that it was the day to go to bed by 10:30 (whic I'm about to do) so that the extreme tiredness doesn't continue.

So I still have a lot to talk about, but some of the hot-button issues that I want to discuss aren't going away anytime soon, so I'll get caught up eventually.

Comment-ary: This is one aimed at the regular Musings readers; I've noticed that there haven't been as many comments here lately, so I was just curious--does it have to do with the word-verification thing, or are people just being uncharacteristically quiet? Or do you just agree with everything I'm saying here? (Yeah, right.) Anyway, I'm definitely keeping the word-verifcation function, but I was just wondering if anyone was having any trouble with it.

Weekend Roundup

A little bit o' this, a little bit o' that:

• The rugby team at the University of Florida played a game in their prom dresses. It sounded like it went over better than the prom-dress bowlers I encountered a while back.


• Did you hear the story about the Arkansas mom who just delivered her sixteenth child, and she and her husband still want more? Also note that there are two sets of twins among the brood, and that everyone's name begins with J, which required more than a little creative license ("Jessa"?). (Hat tip to--appropriately enough--J-Guar.)


• The pastor of a Florida church had 16 church members ejected from a service after they allegedly refused to stop singing and let the clergyman preach.


• One of those huge Chick-Fil-A cows was stolen from a billboard in Eastern Virginia. The thing weighs 500 pounds; how did the thieves get it down, how did they transport it somewhere, and where in the world are they hiding it?

My next post will likely be Tuesday, as I'm going to that Randy Brecker concert in Denton tomorrow night after I get done teaching. I'll have a report on that, no doubt, along with other stuff.

Thinking Eating Outside Inside the Boxx

When I went to the grand opening of Firewheel last week, there weren't any restaurants open yet (save for the Barnes and Noble cafe, the restaurant-osity of which I wasn't aware until earlier this week, when Zack tipped me off about the Grilled Chicken on Foccaccia Bread sandwich...mmm!). Actually, the Rice Boxx may have opened that first day, but not in the 10:00 hour when I was there. But now that I knew for sure that it was open, it was time to check it out--tonight.

Of course, any somewhat-fast-food Asian place will, fairly or not, be compared to my beloved Panda Express, which I tend to visit several times a week. But Rice Boxx, a local effort that's been around for eight years, certainly stands on its own merit. The concept is a bit different; you still stand in line to order from the counter, but you're given a beeper that goes off when your food is ready, and, while the food comes to the table on trays, it's also served on real plates and eaten with real silverware--a nice touch.

The line was insanely long at around 7:00 tonight, a fact that could definitely be attributed to both the newness of the town center and the fact that none of the other restaurants have opened yet. It was a bit cramped in there, as the line actually winds through a small section of tables, and I was somewhat dismayed when the second cashier suddenly abandoned her post, leaving but one to handle the entire throng. But these glitches notwithstanding, the service was fast once I got to the register, and it didn't take too long for my beeper to go off, especially considering the size of the crowd.

I tried one of my favorites, Kung Pao chicken. The portions were (like at most Asian restaurants) quite generous. Although (at just a shade over nine bucks) it was more expensive than Panda, I did take the "combo option" of getting an egg roll and drink, which was only a little bit more than adding the drink itself. The rice was very good, and the entree itself was delicious, with a different spicy sauce than I'm used to, big chunks of chicken, and some of those fiery-hot peppers (red, in this case) that had me scarfing down my tea. I also had the good fortune (heh) of sitting right next to the cookie bin, which was filled up regularly, prompting many to have more than one. (My fortunes for tonight read, "Good news of a long-awaited event will soon arrive" and "Romance comes into your life in a very unusual sort of way." [Yeah, let's hope for both of those.] The fortunes also have lottery numbers on the back, which I plan on entering for the next Powerball or Mega Millions.)

The atmosphere is nice and open, with raised ceilings and exposed ductwork, and there's a decent amount of room at the tables; I sat at one of those that shares a long sofa-like chair with other tables, but I didn't feel cramped at any time, even with an oversized party at the next table (by this, I mean more people than the table was designed to hold and not that I was sitting next to really large people). There are also several outdoor tables with umbrellas (of which I'll take advantage when in a group setting; when dining solo, I read, thus needing the indoor light) which put the diner close to the action of the newly-created cityscape that is Firewheel.

So, while the slightly higher prices and longer waiting times won't keep me from lovin' the panda at lunchtime during the school week, Rice Boxx is a great addition to the mix and a place that I'll definitely visit again and again. The cool places just keep coming and coming here; Garland, you are a retail wasteland no more.

Let the competition begin: Surfing the Rice Boxx website while researching this post, I noticed this clever dig at one of their competitors: "There's no reason to PAY-WAY more than you need to for a great dining experience. Try us today!" Seeing as how Pei Wei is itself coming to the adjacent Firewheel Market development, it should make for a lively rivalry...and even more choices for us.

A cool way to get around in a cool place: Most of the mall security officers at Firewheel ride bicycles, but tonight I saw one tooling around in a Segway. Sweeeeeet...

Everybody was Kung Pao fighting: There was a great conversation going on behind me between a father and son while I was in line for my food tonight...

DAD: Do you know what you want yet?
KID: (ponders)
DAD: Look, they have Kung Fu Chicken!
KID: Dad, that's Kung Pao Chicken.
DAD: Ohhhhh...
KID: It wouldn't be very appetizing to call it Kung Poo Chicken!
DAD: I didn't say Kung Poo Chicken, I said Kung Fu Chicken.
KID: (laughs)
DAD: I guess I'm having trouble reading that far.

(For what it's worth, I thought the dad said "Kung Poo Chicken" as well.)

UPDATE: This mispronunciation/play on words is obviously nothing new; a few seconds of Googling found a drawing of "Kung Fu Chicken" and even a food item with that name.

It's Still About Revenue, Not Safety

I turned on the Ernie Brown show yesterday when he was discussing a recent article in the Washington Post which confirmed what a lot of us had been suspecting all along: Red-light cameras installed at intersections tend to make accidents increase, not decrease:

The District's red-light cameras have generated more than 500,000 violations and $32 million in fines over the past six years. City officials credit them with making busy roads safer.

But a Washington Post analysis of crash statistics shows that the number of accidents has gone up at intersections with the cameras. The increase is the same or worse than at traffic signals without the devices.

Three outside traffic specialists independently reviewed the data and said they were surprised by the results. Their conclusion: The cameras do not appear to be making any difference in preventing injuries or collisions.
(More analysis here.)

C'mon, guys, we're onto you now. It's not about safety, and it never has been. It's all about revenue, and that's a pretty dishonest way to generate that extra cash for your municipality. All they would have to do is simply shorten the yellow lights a little bit, and...ka-ching!--extra green in the city coffers. It's not making anything that much safer (at most, it's changing the type of accidents--more people getting rear-ended, for example), and it's just making the city government look greedy.

Lon Anderson, a spokesman for AAA Mid-Atlantic, said the data reinforce the motor club's view that the red-light effort is targeted more at generating revenue than at reducing crashes. "They are making a heck of a lot of money, and they are picking the motorists' pockets on the pretense of safety," he said.

I've posted on this subject before, mostly because I live in a city that uses the cameras, and also because I was rear-ended at an intersection last year--one at which I might have gone through a yellow light if the city's usage of red-light cameras hadn't been in the back of my mind. I'm happy to update on any developments that reinforce the wrong-headedness of this policy, in the hopes that someday these mutant cash cows will go away here at home.

Quite a find: A rare manuscript by Beethoven, done in his own hand, was found this week in a cabinet in the library of a seminary outside Philadelphia.

Things that make you go "huh?": Last week, the Oakland A's ousted their manager, Ken Macha, supposedly because they wanted to "move in a different direction." Today, they announced that he's now un-fired and, for that matter, signed to a three-year deal.

So Much to Talk About...

...and so little time in which to say it. I'll get caught up over the weekend, with blogging and everything else.

Oh yeah, here's a quick news flash for the locals: Randy Brecker at UNT next Monday night, rescheduled from a few weeks ago. Details here (scroll down a bit).

Quick Question...

So, is anybody else as happy as I am that the Yankees lost last night?

I wonder if A-Rod is still blaming the lack of home-field advantage (in the personage of Buck Showalter, even) for the team's dismal showing....or did the fact that A-Rod himself went 2-for-15 in the divisional series have more to do with it? Hmm...

Blog Tag

Tagged by Eric (this came in right before I went out of town, so I'm getting to it just now):

1. If money were no object, what would you be doing with your life?
Writing cool tunes, working on my improv, and doing a better job of promoting my band.

2. Money is just that - an object, so why aren't you doing it?
Well, I am, but I have to do things like putting a roof over my head and food on the table, so things just happen a lot more slowly than they would if I had normal-length days.

3. What's better: horses or cows?
Cows, and not just because you can eat them. I just think they're fascinating to observe. In a previous post, I described a gig that I played one time where cows made up part of the "audience."

4. What do you think the secret to happiness is?
Being surrounded by people you love, and who love you...and if you're doing what you love to do and can even get paid for it, that's icing on the cake.

5. When was the last time you had a dream that you either remember well or did not want to awake from? Can you share a bit?
There was one, just a few weeks ago; I woke up right before the really cool part was about to happen. Now, if only I could remember what it was about...

6. When you were a little kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
At different times, an astronaut, a rock star and a professional football player (that last one is especially hilarious if you knew how little and skinny I was as a kid).

7. Complete this statement: Love is......
The giving of a big part of yourself over to another.

8. Can you tell a good story? (write one!)
Heh--I have a whole blog full of 'em! But here's my ghost story.

9. Can you remember your last daydream? What was it about?
That would be this afternoon, for a short (10 seconds, max) time during lessons...but nah, no clue what it was about, since I returned quickly to the task at hand.

10. If you were to thank someone today, who would you thank?
On a supernatural plane, I'd thank God for giving me life and my musical talents and these great people I'm surrounded with. If it's limited to earthly beings, I'd thank Mom and Dad for putting me through school and into a house, and my friends just for being themselves.

Who's next for blog tag?
I'll tag on two continents: James and Shawn.

Notes from the Road

It seems like every time I take a solo roadtrip, I notice some unusual things:

• As I was driving down 35E through Red Oak, I noticed an ambulance on the other side of the freeway, lights ablaze. Several minutes later, I noticed a second ambulance, from the same company, going normal speeds and without lights or siren engaged. I wonder if the second one was an apprentice to the first one, just following along at a distance to watch its crew in action.


• Just south of Hillsboro, there's a truck stop with a trailer in its parking lot that bears the name BREAD OF LIFE MOBILE MINISTRIES. The thing is, this trailer has been in the same place for at least the past five years. At what point do they have to start calling it an "immobile" ministry?


• I passed a sign for one of the many Czech food places in West, Texas (not the famous Czech Stop, at which I would stop for delicious kolaches on the way home tonight, but another one downtown), and one of the delicacies they advertised was skunk eggs. My first thought? Eww. Then, as if on cue, I smelled the pungent odor of...roadkill skunk. Not much of an advertisement, I'd think.


• I noticed a place just south of Waco named "Johnson Equipment." The smart-aleck portion of me wondered if they sold condoms.


• CHEAP GAS ALERT: It was too late for me to stop, but a station in Troy had regular unleaded for $2.48 a gallon yesterday (though I noticed on my way back to Waco last night that it had risen to $2.79).


• In north Austin, they're extending the Mopac Expressway. While stopped at a light on the new service roads, I noticed a bridge beam that had just been installed, with the caption 63,000 LBS. written on it. I'm sure that's accurate, but...dang, that's a lot of weight.

I'm pretty beat; my nephews wore me out yesterday, as 4 1/2-year-olds and 2-year-olds tend to do. I have some pressing blogular business to attend to, but I'll catch up tomorrow.

In the (Town) Center of It All

Kevmobile 1.2 was sprung from the Car Hospital this morning, although it took a convoluted series of events to get the job done:
1) Walk about nine-tenths of a mile to the garage to pick it up
2) Drive back home, park that car, take rental car to first school of the day
3) Return rental car; catch ride home with their courier.
(It's times like this when I wish I had relatives in town, or at least friends who weren't either teaching or attending school.)

Remarkably, all this took less time than I had allotted for it, so I was left with an hour to kill at a shade past ten this morning. That meant there was only one thing to do: Go to Firewheel in the first hour of its opening. (Indeed, after all the posts I've done in eager anticipation of this place, I think it was inevitable that, somehow, some way, I would get to go there almost as soon as humanly possible after the ribbons had been cut.)

Again, let me reiterate: I'm not a "mall guy." I'll probably never go in half the stores there. But this development (an open-air "lifestyle center" patterned after a small town) is different, because it's going to transform Garland; I could see it happening before my very eyes today. Even the picture in today's paper didn't totally do it justice, because the one thing missing was people. But in real life, there were lots of them, strolling down both sides of the "Main Street" setup, where parking is also allowed, and the streets bustled with car traffic as well. It's definitely not your daddy's mall in that respect. Sure, when the change of plans (to not build a traditional enclosed mall anymore) were announced about three years ago, there was the typical grousing: "It's too hot in Texas" and so on. But, IMHO, the convenience of being able to drive right up to your favorite store outweighs a little exposure to the elements from time to time, and evidently, retailers agree, since this place has attracted quite a few non-mall-type stores like Circuit City and Linens 'n' Things. Walking through the central park, with its fountain and a little stream running through it, I just kept thinking to myself, "I can't believe this is actually in Garland...and less than five minutes from my house." Granted, there were a lot of special things going on--live music, giveaways, etc.--but I don't expect the novelty to wear off anytime soon. (I also thought for a moment that I saw Santa Claus there, but that seemed early...and it turned out that it was just a big guy in a long white beard who made the amusing decision to wear a red jacket. Heh.)

Garland has been under-retailed for most of its existence, but no more, and I for one am happy to keep more of my dollars at home. The mayor had long lamented the inability to buy a men's suit in town, but I'm sure he's taken care of that by now (his wife has cards from both major anchors, he noted in the paper today). Me, I wanted to procure a Starbucks product within five minutes of home, and I did indeed get that, though only as a free sample from a stand out in front of the eventual site of Starbucks. (Indeed, that was my only real gripe about today--none of the restaurants are open yet. I bet any of them that had opened would have made a killing on opening day, but it sounds like most of them will debut in December along with the movie theatre. I'm sure I'll be in the area more often when the neighboring Firewheel Market also opens up, since that'll be home to Chipotle, Potbelly and, yes, another Starbucks, which, along with the cafe in Barnes and Noble, makes two-and-a-half of them; my neighborhood is on the verge of being very nicely caffeinated, thank you.)

So my general thoughts? Very, very cool. This new "fake downtown" had more excitement in its first day that the "real" downtown Garland has had on any day in the whole time I've been here (except maybe the Fourth of July). The next phase will feature apartments, so this city-within-a-city still has a whole lot of growth in its future.

OK...I know that my near-obsession with this place has been amusing to many of my friends, but this might be the last time I write about Firewheel until the theatre opens or my band gets a gig there. (Anyone wanna take bets on this being the last Firewheel post until then?)

Be true to your school(s): I went to my one high school football game of the year tonight, as my two biggest schools played each other. I was reminded that marching band is much better viewed from the outside, but the audiences were quite appreciative, and most of them even stuck around for the halftime show instead of rushing to the concession stands. The stadium was packed: I arrived late, hoping to avoid the crowds, and I still encountered a lot of people trying to park, having to do so in a field myself. There's something invigorating about the great Texas tradition of Friday nights under the lights, and it was cool that I could call each school my own (you always win that way).

I also noticed one interesting thing: Marching band has changed a lot since I was in high school, but drill team has hardly changed at all. I guess there's not much else you can do besides high-kick and do a routine with props, but still, that was interesting.

On the road again: I'll be in Austin tomorrow during the day, visting my sister, brother-in-law and nephews, and in Waco tomorrow night and Sunday for the big Sinfonia Founders Day Concert, so blogging will resume Sunday night (if I get home early enough) or Monday.

The Little Easy

New Orleans has long been known as the Big Easy. The city is also, of course, rather out of commission at the moment, and one of the few bright spots in that whole story is that its musicians are scattered all over the place, sharing their unique talents with people who might not otherwise get to hear them. Last night, Denton (which has long been known as Little D to Dallas' Big D) became the Little Easy for a few hours as the amazing New Orleans-based group Astral Project performed at UNT. The group, made up of saxophonist Tony Dagradi, guitarist Steve Masakowski, bassist James Singleton and drummer John Vidacovich, covers a variety of styles and does so with an amazing sense of both virtuosity and near-telepathic togetherness.

Each member is a master of his instrument, and together they form something really special. Dagradi was all over the horn; I heard traces of Brecker and Trane in his sound, but he's definitely his own man. His guitar-and-tenor unisons with Masakowski were dazzling; that sound combination is a personal favorite to begin with, and they pulled it off with jaw-dropping speed and accuracy. Masakowski plays a seven-string guitar of his own design (with extra frets on the bottom end, as a guitarist friend of mine pointed out) and combined virtuosic technique with interesting tonal colors, making special use of harmonics. Singleton plays acoustic bass, but oftentimes in very non-acoustic ways (slaps. pops, etc.). His feature on "Cowboy Bill" was impressive, as was a tune in the second set where he started out playing a sequence of low notes, then adding higher figures over top of them at the same time. Hmm--that was cool. But wait...he's breaking out the bow too? And all three things are still going? OK, he's obviously got some sequencer stuff there. Drummer Vidacovich was worth the price of admission all by himself. In addition to spicing everything up with grooves that have "New Orleans" written all over them, he added colorful cymbal splashes, interesting and intricate polyrhythms, and occasional manic eruptions, all in an extremely tasty manner. Plus, he's one of those "rubber-limbed" drummers who's just so fun to watch.

It was a great evening that ended too soon. I'm definitely looking forward to picking up some of their CD's (available on their website, as well as at CD Baby and the iTunes Music Store.

107 years of brotherhood: Happy Founders Day to my fraternity, Sinfonia, a fine brotherhood of musicians. Out here, we're celebrating on Sunday with a big concert at Baylor; I'll have more on that later.

"We're Really Cruisin' Now!"

Driving around in a Volvo this week reminded me of a funny story of the time I got to see Gerry Mulligan in Chicago...

My protege at the time, a bari player with the nickname of C-Rod, was as much into Mulligan as I was, and, as often was the case, Gerry never quite made it to Dallas. But we found out that he was playing in Chicago at something called the Ravinia Festival. When we realized that each of us had a best friend living in Chicago (in neighboring suburbs, it turned out), we hatched a plot: We would split a "Friends Fly Free" pass (a big promotion for Southwest Airlines at the time), go to Chicago and visit our respective friends, and then meet up for Mulligan at Ravinia.

The trip actually happened, and we ended up riding out with my friend's then-girlfriend and his boss's then-wife, who took the four of us out to the northern suburbs in her Volvo. C-Rod and I were nervous because the trip started out late and we got stuck in tons of rush-hour traffic. Gerry was splitting the bill with Wynton Marsalis, and we were sure that Wynton would be the headliner since he was quite popular at the time. It got closer and closer to starting time, and the traffic stayed bad.

Finally, we got through the last big line for a tollbooth (for almost every highway in Chicago is a tollway, it seems); finally, the road ahead was clear. Our driver, J., then hit the gas pedal, and the needle shot up to...55. The speed limit. Oh no, not just the speed limit! We'll never get there. J. then turned to us, grinning, and said, "We're really cruisin' now!" C-Rod and I smiled weakly from the back seat; we knew there was no way we'd get there on time. (To this day, whenever I'm stuck behind a slow Volvo, the first thing out of my mouth is probably "we're really cruisin' now.")

Except we did. The whole night ended up being a convergence of happy accidents. All the close-in parking areas were blocked off--some even guarded by cops. Finally, after seeing that we would have to drive a while, J. did a U-turn and drove back up to one of the guarded gates. "Excuse me, officer," she said, "but we have two saxophonists who came all the way from Texas to see Gerry Mulligan; is there any way I can go in and drop them off?" The officer replied, "There are no parking places, ma'am; are you just wanting to go in and come right back out?" J. assured them that she would...except that when we pulled in there, another officer directed her to park. Heh, we were in! Us, 1; The System, 0. We were even happier to note that, as we got to our lawn seats (with no real view of the stage), they announced the opening act: Wynton. Yesss!! Obviously the young lion had deferred to his elder for this one.

It got even better when we saw a familiar tall, skinny guy with a white beard wearing a tux, walking up to the snack bar. It was him--Mulligan! I turned to C-Rod: "Wanna go meet him?" He looked scared as could be, but joined me in approaching our musical hero. I did all the talking: "We're two bari players who came all the way from Texas just to hear you tonight. I'm Kevin and this is Chris, and it's really a pleasure to meet you." Gerry looked somewhat bemused upon hearing of our trip, and he asked us what kind of horns we played. C-Rod uttered the only three syllables he would say during the whole conversation: "Ya....ma....ha." We exchanged pleasantries for another moment, and that was that. Mulligan, in the flesh.

The night closed out even better, as we stood by the back of the pavilion area to catch the end of Wynton. An older couple, definitely part of the wine-and-cheese set, were leaving for the night and spied us by the exit. We must have looked like underprivileged waifs, because the man said, "we're going home for the night; would you like to use our seats?" and handed us two tickets. We saw the rest of the show from about halfway back.

We would see Mulligan again before he died (during a visit to UNT where he did a clinic at school and a concert with the One O'Clock at the Meyerson), but I'll never forget that first night, when our pilgrimage paid off.

Sneakin' a peek: I had a long lunch hour today (as in more than an hour, even), so I just had to drop in on the grand opening of Dillard's at Firewheel (yes, I was so impatient that I couldn't wait two more days when the rest of the center will open). The big surprise was that I actually made a transaction there; when a pair of blue jeans is on sale for twenty bucks and fits great, you go for it (or I did, anyway). It was quite impressive to notice how big the place is up close; it's hard to tell that when it's set so far off from the main roads. Even though the middle part (the "Main Street" portion between Dilllard's and Foley's) won't open until Friday, I got a good peek at it out of the south entrance of Dillard's. All I can say is...This. Place. Is. So. Cool. I'm not likely to make the ribbon-cutting on Friday morning, but I'll be there as soon as I can.

The Saga Continues

I'm still without Kevmobile 1.2; evidently it was making "three different noises" today and they had to call in their transmission specialist. Whatever happens, they're going to have to take out the whole transmission again, which sounds expensive. Bleh.

I'm at least mobile again; the rental place was able to get me into a car today (a Volvo station wagon....go soccer dad Kev!), since missing college rehearsals was not a possibility. But that costs money, too, so it's been pretty distracting, and this definitely wasn't how I wanted to spend the end of my four-day weekend. Even if it gets done tomorrow, it'll be a challenge to get the rental car back and get driven back to my car without tanking any more lessons.

Oh, and to add insult to injury, I came home tonight to find another jury summons in the mailbox. The most recent time I'd been called was just last year at this time, and I've never gotten called two years in a row. It's almost like it's a conspiracy to prevent me from keeping a lot of my money or something.

Meh. I'll work through it. I always do. For now, though, it's all pretty annoying.

There's no crying whining in baseball: The regular baseball season is over, but some of the Yankees, with A-Rod leading the pack, are whining and accusing Rangers manager Buck Showalter of poor sportsmanship during Sunday's finale against the Angels. Why? Because Young, Teixeira and Blalock, the team's emerging superstars, were each pulled after their first at-bat. Buck said he did it so that they could each get the standing ovation they deserved from the fans. A-Rod and company accused him of doing it so the Rangers would lose to the Angels, which took home-field advantage away from the Yankees for the first round.

Umm...A-Rod? It's not always about you, buddy. That New York mentality has gotten to you. I can't believe I was ever a fan of this guy when he was a Ranger.

Cabin Fever

"help! i'm stuck at home for the night with no car. someone come spring me for an hour or two..."
--my AIM away message at the moment

That's right, I'm a prisoner in my own home.

OK, not really, but it sure feels like it. I never expected to spend part of my four-day weekend at home at night without a car, but that's where I am. And now, having stared at the (admittedly slightly more than) four walls of Casa de Kev all day, I'm starting to go a little stir-crazy.

I was going to title this post "Clutch. Car. Go." in reference to both the cult-favorite cartoon character from decades ago and the fact that the clutch on my car did in fact go, or was at least far enough along in the process thereof that it warranted professional attention. But the story just turned into a comedy of errors that lasted all day.

I've always driven a stick; in the beginning, I liked the better mileage of a manual transmission (though I understand that automatics have improved in that area lately), and I learned on a stick, so driving an automatic just doesn't feel like real driving to me. The only downside is that, when you drive cars for as long as I do (338K on the original Kevmobile; 147K so far on Kevmobile 1.2), the clutch is going to go eventually. The only questions that remain are when and how.

At least the event of its demise has gotten easier each time: My first car in college had its clutch go out on a trip back from Thanksgiving, about an hour and a half south of Dallas in a town called Corsicana (yes, you can probably hear the bad country song now: "I dropped my CLUUUUtch, in CORRRR-si-canaaaaa") on a day when I had to pick up two friends from the airport. Yikes, what a mess. (It involved cramming four people and their luggage into a Saab sedan at one point; there was also the necessity of bribing two different friends with beer to pick me up and/or take me back to Corsicana, and the messy situation of getting a Nissan fixed at a Toyota place while relying on parts to be shipped down from Dallas during a bus strike. Oh yeah, and I had to ride my bike to my radio job at 5:30 a.m. in 27-degree weather. Bleh.)

When Kevmobile 1.0's clutch breathed its last, at least it had the decency to do so about half a mile from home; I was able to limp back in what was left of first gear and get it towed to the shop. This time, I wasn't stranded anywhere (except for now), as I heard the metallic grinding noise for a while (my friend Colin was making fun of it last week) and knew it was time to get it looked at on this day off from school. It seemed easy so far...

And then the comedy began. First off, the garage usually offers its customers a ride home if they can't get to their car right away. But today, they were understaffed, which left me to walk home. It's not a bad walk--I've done it before, and it clocks in at only nine-tenths of a mile--but it was a bit too hot (should've saved the shower for afterwards, I thought later), and my beloved flip-flops were somewhat less beloved for a trek of that distance (no blisters, just a gradual tightening of the calves near the end). Now all I could do was sit and wait for the phone call.

A metallic noise like the one I was hearing usually meant one of two things--the muffler or the clutch. Thanks to the same corollary of Murphy's Law that discusses the odds of toast falling buttered-side down being directly proportional to the cost of the rug, I would of course end up with the more expensive problem. They said they'd be done by their closing time, but I was teaching at the store till then...d'oh, time to rent a car. That's not easy right now, as almost every rental car in the D/FW area is still being used by hurricane evacuees, but they had something for me--more than I wanted to spend, but less than the money I'd lose if I missed every lesson. This being the company that "picks you up," I was instructed to wait until 4:00...pushing it, time-wise, but doable.

Except the company that picks you up...didn't. When 4:20 came around and no courier guy in sight, I called them back. We're swamped, he said; but they could get me "any minute now." I called the garage back--were they sure they'd be done by closing time?--and decided to cancel the rental car, hoping to get at least one lesson to drive out to the house and reschedule the others for later.

At lesson's end, I had the student drop me off at the garage right before closing time. "Ten minutes more," the guy said. I read some of a magazine. "Just five more minutes," he'd say later. Eventually, he came in again, looking downcast. All the parts went in properly, but an axle wasn't lining up. They didn't feel right releasing it to me, just in case.

So here I am....stuck. I'd already been getting cabin fever; this was the longest I'd been here at home with nothing to do in a long time. And now, no ability to run errands, visit friends or even go to Starbucks. Bored, bored, bored. I think I'm off to watch some TV now...and I can only hope that the car is ready before lunchtime tomorrow.

UPDATE: A friend did come over and spring me for a brief Starbucks jaunt a little later, so I did get out of the house for a time. The empty garage still looks weird, though...

The Machine Never Learns...

I've certainly ranted against the Machine in these pages quite a bit already (for those not in the know, the Machine is my name for the big recording companies), but it seems like there's always something else to talk about; they bring it on themselves, they really do.

Here's the latest: Evidently, some of the record companies are trying to pressure Apple CEO Steve Jobs to raise prices on some songs at the wildly popular iTunes Music Store (at the moment, everything costs 99 cents in the U.S.). Jobs, however, accuses the labels of being greedy, noting that they already make more profit by selling a song through iTunes than they do on a CD. Also, The Joy of Tech has a great send-up of the whole situation; the guy being portrayed in the cartoon is the CEO of a huge music conglomerate which is owned by a distillery--the kind of person we really want making artistic choices for you and me. (Hat tip: Jeremiah Cohick.)

This appeals to our bass-er instincts: Imagine if you worked in an office where everyone had a really nasty, distracting habit, and eventually you got them to move it outside or in special rooms in the building. Sounds like the nasty habit would be smoking, right? Except...suppose it wasn't smoking, but playing the tuba, in a hilarious short film from Canada.

Blowing out the candles: Happy birthday to fellow jazzblogger Shawn, who shares his special day with the interesting triumvirate of Mahatma Gandhi, Groucho Marx and Sting.

Catchin' Up

OK, four days' worth of posts are finally done now; Blogger's been down for maintenance a few times, and it seems like it's always happened when I was home and ready to blog. Since I've spent so much time on catching up, today will simply be a clearinghouse of some unusual stuff that I've run across during the past few days:

• A plane getting ready to take off from the Philippines was grounded for 13 hours after someone saw a mouse on board.


• A woman in Manhattan was ticketed for sitting on a park bench without any children. Even with the explanation for the rule stated in the article, it's still ridiculous.


• This may be one of the worst songs I've ever heard, and the dancing on the video is even more horrendous. See if you can make it through the whole thing.


• Headline of the week that only a stockbroker on Mars would understand: Gazprom buys Sibneft for $13.1 bln.

Blowing out the candles: Happy birthday Dingus! I was able to get him the traditional birthday burrito last night before the ballgame, since all my fraternity brothers were arriving late. Too bad he has marching band for most of the day (d'oh).

The Boys of Summer

The schedule says there are two days left in the regular season, but it really ended for me tonight with what will be my last trip to a Rangers game of the year. I had a bunch of ticket vouchers left over this year, so I invited all the big and little brothers in my home fraternity chapter for a night out, and a good time was had by all. It was a mixture of fans and novices; some among us were diehards, while others were attending their very first baseball game ever. Those who were visiting Ameriquest Field for the first time were impressed by the architecture of the place, and everyone loved the weather.

I hadn't been to a game in a little over a month, when J-Guar and I went on a 100-degree afternoon (as the thermometer below the Frappuccino sign in center field reminded us regularly). Tonight was a beautiful night, even if the baseball wasn't; the Rangers were shut out by the Angels until the final inning and ended up falling, 7-1. Two more games remain in the season, but my tickets are used up, so my next trip here will be in April.

The season started out with lots of promise, but things seemed to fall apart after the Kenny Rogers incident and the release of starter Ryan Drese; a club that's notorious for being thin on pitching can't usually afford to take a hit like that, and the '05 Rangers were no exception. But there were some high spots, like the team's flirting with the all-time home run record for a season, and Michael Young's likely batting title. I hope that the off-season doesn't mess with the primo infield of Young, Teixeira and Blalock, but if the oft-maligned general manager doesn't come back, it won't break my Hart (heh). Let's just hope that the couple of fine young pitching prospects in the minor league system pan out when they reach the "bigs," because we sure need 'em.

I've always loved baseball; I've done previous posts about how baseball reflects the best qualities of America and how baseball is like jazz. Sure, there's always the playoffs and the World Series (maybe the Astros, the team of my boyhood, will come through in the wild-card), but the real season ended for me tonight; that, along with the cool weather, heralds the true arrival of autumn.

Countdown to Firewheel: One week! And one of the final preparatory events will effect nearly everyone out here this weekend, as the eastbound George Bush is sent on a several-mile detour so that the pavement can shift to the new service roads before the grand opening of the town center. Eric should have fun talking about that one on the radio all weekend...

Breaking Barriers

I got the newest Wayne Shorter Quartet CD, Beyond the Sound Barrier, in the mail yesterday. After seeing that great concert a few weeks ago, I ordered it almost immediately upon my return. I'll review it in this space once I get to give it a good listen or two.

If You Can't Stand the Heat...

...just wait a few more hours. Relief is on the way.

More later.

LATER (the next day): Today was beautiful. The drives in the morning (which included a trip to Arlington to snag some Rangers tickets for tomorrow night) and evening didn't even require air conditioning. I think it topped out at maybe 78 degrees, which was much better than yesterday's high of 104. Marching band members across the Metroplex are breathing a sigh of relief (though, at my first school, where they had a fire drill about 2.5 seconds after I arrived, some kids were griping about having to be out in the "cold"--there's just no pleasing some people, I guess). I know that it's not going down to the forties anytime soon (which is good by me), but it's nice to think that the most brutal part of a long summer is finally over.

More Proof That We Live in a Bizarro World

Japanese automakers have discovered that new-car smell might be toxic, and they're working to tone it down in future models.

OK, it's time to take the keys away from the baby: An 18-month-old in Warsaw, Poland started the car and accidentally ran over most of his entire family.

What Is This Thing Called...Sleep?

I'm about to find out for the next couple of days. You see, this semester has already been pretty much kicking my butt. But finally, there's a light at the end of the tunnel (and I'm pretty sure it's not attached to an oncoming train). Two late-starting mornings for the next couple of days and a four-day weekend from school at the end of this week should get me appropriately recharged. This should also mean that the big opinion posts I've had in my head for a few weeks (on the Wright Amendment and big bureaucracy in education, among others) should finally come out, so hang in there through one more day of fluff (today) and I'll start getting caught up.

We'll miss him by that much...and more: Actor Don Adams, who played Agent Maxwell Smart in the hilarious series Get Smart, passed away over the weekend.

Motivated by demotivation: The first four designs of the Demotivators 2006 Collection have just been announced. (Full disclosure: yeah, my brother-in-law runs the company...but man, this is some funny stuff. And if it happens to help put food on the table of my sweet sister and two darling nephews, all the better.)

I Have a Vision...

...problem. That's how the sentence should go--I have a vision problem. That's nothing new; it's been that way since third grade. Nearsightedness, astigmatism, yada yada. But it's been quite a few years since my last visit to the eye doctor, and I can tell that my prescription needs a slight change (the most recent time I got new glasses, it was pretty much a spur-of-the-moment thing, because the old ones simply fell apart and I couldn't actually afford both the appointment and the glasses at the same time).

I've had it in my head for quite some time that I'd look way better without glasses (if you see me in person, I'll happily doff them for you on request if you'd like to form your own opinion). Tonight, after seeing one more friend who'd gotten rid of his glasses, I decided that it's time for me to do something about it. (I can't explain it, but there's something exuded by the average formerly-bespectacled person that's rather striking--a new air of confidence, somehow. I want that air.)

So my straw-poll question of the day is: By which method do I ditch the glasses--contacts or Lasik? I just keep thinking that messing with contacts would be a big pain...but I can't afford Lasik right away, and you always hear of the times when it doesn't work (WHEN LASIK GOES BAD!, tonight on Fox). So I want to hear from contact-wearers (is it as bad as I'm imagining?) and Lasik-recipients (any problems?) and friends/relatives thereof. I don't know exactly when this will go down, but I really think it's time.

A happy hurricane horn story: From the Houston Chronicle comes the tale of a New Orleans musician and Katrina evacuee who, after having his brother's van--full of his equipment--stolen in Houston, was reunited with his antique sousaphone earlier this week.

Unburritably Good News for the Locals

We'd been hoping for this for a long time, but today, the good news was confirmed: Chipotle is coming to Firewheel! The location where I ate tonight had a sign soliciting applications for employment there, so burrito bliss will soon be located almost within walking distance of my house (and yes, considering the size and caloric content of said burritos, walking would not be such a bad idea). One of my friends called me a "retard" tonight for being so excited about the whole Firewheel thing, but mark my words, it's going to transform Garland (both literally and, hopefully, image-wise). The next edition of "Dallas-opoly" won't dare put us in the Baltic or Mediterranean spot like they did last time.

It's always One O'Clock somewhere: I saw the One O'Clock Lab Band tonight at UTD. I missed them in the Syndicate a few weeks ago, but it looks like this will be a good edition of the band. There are eight new members of the band ("we fired the other eight," joked director Neil Slater during the gig), although the trumpets and saxes have only one newcomer apiece. Among the outstanding newcomers were trombonist Sara Jacovino and pianist Josh Hanlon, both of whom moved up from the Two O'Clock (full disclosure: Josh is married to a friend of mine...but all bias aside, he was all over it tonight); new drummer Shawn Pickler (who hails from Pat Metheny's hometown) and lead trumpeter Jason Levi (who was second last year) were also most impressive. The band performed a generous mix of old UNT standards, some gems from the Kenton library, and probably around half of the upcoming "Lab 2005" CD, which should be really enjoyable.

Quite a few of my combo players from the college made it to the concert tonight, but I wish that all of them, as well as all of my high-school jazzers, could have shown up, because the One rarely makes it to this side of Lake Lewisville. (Note to self: Find out the date for this even sooner, and hawk it more.)

Not too much wasting away in Ritaville: Hurricane Rita has come and gone, and, while my heart is out to those who lost homes and businesses on the coast, I bet a lot of people were relieved that it had weakened considerably by the time it made landfall early this morning. The eastern path that generally spared Houston and Galveston also kept even a drop of rain from the Metroplex, so our drought continues.

Quite a Milestone

I've mentioned before how I took my previous car, the Kevmobile, all the way up to 338,000 miles before it was unceremoniously taken off the road almost three years ago when it failed a state inspection rather badly (the full story and pictures are here). I also mentioned at the time that my friend and colleague, Kris, had taken his '89 4Runner even farther than that. Well, today I got word that, at 398,000 miles, the 4Runner passed inspection once again, so it's obviously gone past that mythical, mystical 400,000 mile barrier to which I aspired. Way to go, Kris!

(In case you're wondering, Kevmobile 1.2, which I bought "pre-owned," stands at nearly 146,000 miles--a mere pittance.)

Countdown to Firewheel: The town center that will instantly turn my neighborhood into a retail hot-spot opens exactly two weeks from today. In preparation for that event, I noticed that the city renamed the street that approaches--and soon will circumnavigate--the center in its honor. So if you're out in this area and wondering what happened to Northeast Parkway...well, it's Firewheel Parkway now, pod'nuh.

He keeps very gouda time: Jazz drummer Han Bennink was photographed playing a drum set made of cheese. (Hat tip: Dave Barry's Blog)

QUOTE OF THE DAY: The kid who's been funny in lessons over the years was funny again today. He was wearing a Bob the Builder sticker on his shirt, which amused me; that's the kind of thing my four-year-old nephew reads and watches, so you don't expect to see an eighth-grader sporting Bob-wear...

ME: So, you're a fan of Bob the Builder, huh?
KID: Yes! He gives me inspiration and strength.

Like some of the previous funny kid moments, maybe you had to be there, but I laughed very hard.

It's Starting Already

I couldn't believe what I saw on my way home: gas lines. At every station I passed. The radio was airing a Rangers game, so I hadn't heard any news for a few hours, but I was doubting that they had some big news item about knowing exactly where the hurricane would make landfall 24 hours from now or anything. So why were people all buying gas tonight? Hadn't they heard that the best way to create a gas shortage was for everyone to top off their tanks like this?

Obviously not. But I didn't succumb, not yet. I have a little over half a tank. Yeah, I've heard the stories that gas deliveries might be messed up for a few weeks, we might see $3 a gallon again, and so on. And I definitely need gas for my work. Still, I don't see the need to top off tonight, though I may venture out right before bed, just out of curiosity, because I haven't seen lines like this since 9/11. I would feel like a dork if prices shot up 50 cents by morning or something. But I can't imagine using real gas to sit in a line to get more gas.

So...quick straw poll: Did you succumb to temptation tonight, or drive confidently on? Or was this even an issue in your neck of the woods?

UPDATE: I did in fact do my little "curiosity drive" a little after 11:30 p.m., just to see if the lines were gone. They were, but two stations I checked had also run out of regular gas. Gah.

Operating on the theory that the prices might rise sharply, I went ahead and filled up, thus assuring that I won't have to pay an inflated price for at least the next four days. I bet this won't be as bad as people are thinking, at least in terms of gas, but I guess one can never be too careful. I just hope tonight's little frenzy didn't add to the problem too much.

Catch of the day: There have been reports of all kinds of unusual things caught by fishing boats near the area where Katrina went ashore, but the best one I heard about today was the boat that caught an ATM in its net. I'm looking for the link to that story now...

Oh, This Is Great...

Hurricane Rita is now being described as having the potential to be the worst storm to ever hit Texas. And even though I'm concerned about my folks' house and all that (since their suburb of Sugar Land has already begun voluntary evacuations, my biggest hope that Rita stays as far away from New Orleans as humanly possible.

This actually is great: Almost a year ago at this time, I posted about one of my old schoolmates, Jonny Beckett, who was battling lymphoma and had a benefit concert thrown in his honor, which I attended. Tonight, I saw him direct the Four O'Clock Lab Band. He's back in school and hopes to finish his master's degree in the spring. What a difference this year has made!

Quote(s) of the Day(s)

This is that day during the school year where I just never stopped being tired all day, so I'm hitting the proverbial hay early. But I did have a couple of quoteworthy things from this week. First, yesterday:

(An exchange between me and a student during a lesson)
STUDENT (hearing squawks from the room next door): Man, I'm glad I don't play clarinet.
ME: Well, remember, the saxophone was invented to be an improvement upon the clarinet...but still, it has its good moments.
CLARINETIST IN THE NEXT ROOM: SkrOOOOOOONK!
ME: ...and that just doesn't happen to be one of them.

The QOTD for today comes from my mom, in an email sent on the eve of her and my dad's trip to Spain and Portugal that starts tomorrow. They live near Houston, which might be under the gun from Hurricane Rita in a few days, but they won't be there to react to it:

"Don't know if we will have a house standing when we get back or not. Can't do anything about it at this point in time.
Dad says we will win the prize for evacuating the longest distance."

Heh, that's a good one...but seriously, I hope their house makes it through their trip unscathed.

Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of....OK, It Was Water

A Pirate Story by Kev:

I didn't get to do much to celebrate Talk Like a Pirate Day today, since it was such a long day of teaching. I did, however, hear the morning news team discussing it on the radio (I was listening to Brad BARRton on K-ARR-LD). It was a pretty miserable morning in the beginning, as I couldn't find the box fan that makes the un-airconditioned practice rooms at my first school bearable (I tried to buy one myself yesterday, but Super TARRget didn't have what I was looking for). Eventually, I found where it was hidden, so the rest of the morning wasn't nearly so hARRd.

Mondays are long teaching days, but none of the schools are too many miles apARRt from each other, so I didn't have to spend too much time in the cARR between my various locations. I did get a quick break at StARRbucks before teaching at the store, which was nice (I had a tall cARRamel Frappuccino, in case you were wondering). From there, it was a pretty chill evening, as I watched the Cowboys look great for most of their game tonight, only to blow it in the fourth quarter and lose by the thinnest of mARRgins. (I bet Coach PARRcells isn't too happy right now.) And now I sit here and type, but bedtime isn't fARR off at all.

Facing off: The weirdest headline I've read in a while: Doctors at a Cleveland clinic are preparing for the world's first face transplant.

Well Worth the Trip

Some would say that my three friends and I were crazy for driving to San Antonio and back in the same day just to see a 90-minute jazz concert. But when the concert in question was the Wayne Shorter Quartet, and this was their closest gig to Dallas for the foreseeable future, I say it was totally worth it.

The Quartet (consisting of Shorter on tenor and soprano saxes, Danilo Perez on piano, John Patitucci on bass and Brian Blade on drums) has been around since the summer of 2001, when the sessions that became the Footprints Live CD were recorded. I was fortunate enough to catch them in the summer of '02 at the Burlington Discover Jazz Festival, and the group, which was amazing then, has become even more solid in the intervening time. Each member is a master of his instrument, but they combine to form something truly special.

If this were a traditional concert review, I'd recount the list of tunes the group played, but this was no traditional concert. In fact, I can't even tell you with any great certainty how many tunes they played, though the correct answer would probably be "three or four." The Quartet doesn't stick to the traditional head-solos-head format; even their re-creations of recognizable tunes (usually ones penned by Shorter, but sometimes adapted from classical themes) sometimes required a bit of searching to discern where the head was. We estimated the first tune to be about 45 minutes long, using the time between appearances of a head-like motif as a measurement. Unusual? Sure. But it didn't matter one iota.

What was truly amazing about this group was their ability to change styles and feels on a dime. There were plenty of things that seemed completely improvised, along with many other elements that were obivously planned, and everything was woven together in seamless fashion. Besides Shorter himself, the bulk of the solo space went to Perez, though everyone got a chance to provide little interludes between the leader's excursions. Perez often provided more of the rhythmic accompainment than Blade did, drawing from a wide variety of influences. Patitucci was rock-solid, going back and forth in between matching up with Perez's left hand and punctuating Blade's rhythmic accents. Blade himself provided everything from solid rhythmic underpinnings to jaw-dropping technical flourishes. The leader was a master of saying a lot with a little (a technique gleaned, no doubt, from his onetime mentor Miles Davis, along with letting the music do the talking, as not a word was spoken onstage all night), though he also had plenty of extended technical runs. He alternated between tenor and soprano with a very individual sound (in certain registers, it might have been difficult to discern which horn he was playing if one's eyes were closed). Shorter looks rather serious onstage more often than not, but he exhibited some playful moments as well--giving a bemused look to his soprano when the tuning was a bit off on the first tune, leaning into the microphone and whistling some background lines during a Perez solo, and even emitting a slight chuckle when the pianist launched into a brief quote of "I'll Remember April."

In the three years since I'd last seen them, the Quartet has really grown, and the experience was all the more engaging since we were extremely close to the stage. They've recently put out a new recording, Beyond the Sound Barrier, that is now at the top of my must-buy list. If you're in Texas and missed this one, try to catch them in Houston on October 14 at the Wortham Center, because this show was worth every minute and every mile of the trip.

On the road: The trip itself went off without a hitch; we got to borrow a larger vehicle from one of the guys' parents, so four of us weren't crammed into Kevmobile 1.2 for five hours each way. Save for a wreck on 35E in Red Oak on the way down, traffic wasn't an issue, so there was plenty of time for dinner on the way. We got into San Antonio with over an hour to spare before Shorter's downbeat, there were parking places in the first nearby garage we entered, and we snagged the last front-row space in the non-VIP section when we arrived. Sure, we had to endure the last thirty minutes of the generic fusion band that served as the opening act (I suppose they were trying to offer a little something for everyone), but our location was superb. The weather was great--perhaps a little warm at first, but it cooled down nicely by the end, with cool breezes blowing through from time to time. Because we got such good seats, we missed out on a walk through Travis Park and a chance to sample the food (the theme of which was Cajun/Creole, which I'm sure was enhanced by the arrival of Hurricane Katrina evacuees), but maybe there'll be a return trip to the Jazz'SAlive festival in our future.

Fueled by coffee, conversation and tunes, I ended up being energetic enough to do all the driving on the way back, and I don't think I've laughed so hard on a roadtrip in recent memory. Some may have thought we were crazy to do this when we had to come back the same night, but I think it turned out perfectly.

Get ready for tomARRRow: Don't forget that tomorrow is Talk Like a Pirate Day; this year, they even have some special events that are raising money for hurricane relief.

UPDATE: J-Guar gets Quote of the Day honors tonight; I told him on AIM (using the typical all-lower-case-letters format) that "the shorter concert was most excellent" and his reply was "even better than the longer one?"

IN THE COMMENTS: Regular contributor Gary P. recounts his first brush with the G-weasel's mangling of a Louis Armstrong classic. I've still managed to avoid more than a snippet of it this whole time myself.

One of My Shorter Posts

This semester's edition of the Cool Concert Tour kicks off tomorrow, when, after a morning of judging Region Jazz, I'll hop in the car with some friends and drive to San Antonio to catch Wayne Shorter at a free outdoor festival just a few blocks from the Alamo. It should be a great time.

The only trick to all this is that one of said friends has to be back for something at 8 a.m. on Sunday morning, so we'll pretty much be going down there, seeing the concert and heading straight back. It's not the most insane roadtrip I've ever taken (that honor would go to the weekend in college when four of us went to Evansville, Indiana and drove right back after stopping only a few hours), but it's definitely up there, seeing as how we'll roll in around 4:00 or so on Sunday morning.

In the meantime, this is an early night for me, because I'm about nine levels of tired right now and in need of resting up for the trip. No post tomorrow, but I'll have a review on Sunday once I wake up.

Time for a cool change: I'm glad that we haven't had that first September cold front yet--it's a little too early for jacket weather in my book--but wow, this morning and evening in North Texas were really, really nice. Even though gas is coming down (I paid $2.72 in Denton on Wednesday night), it was great to drive around with the A/C off for the first time in a while.

Bigger Is Not Always Better

Last night, I heard a radio program on which host Charley Jones was posing the question, "What have you learned from Katrina?" I don't know that I've learned anything new, but it definitely reinforced something I already believed in most cases: Bureaucracy bad. Individuals good.

I've noted my disdain for bureaucracy in a previous post, and little that's happened with regard to Katrina has modified my position one iota. Some of the more ridiculous things were outlined this week in a column by Anne Applebaum of the Washington Post:

But while it is true that the government's relief effort looks set to dwarf anything it has tried before, consider what the actual experience of the disaster has already been -- not theoretically, not on paper, but in practice. Listen, for example, to volunteers who prepared 92 boats to help evacuate people from the rooftops of New Orleans. They were ultimately kept out by Federal Emergency Management Agency bureaucrats because, among other things, they didn't have life preservers. Or listen to the volunteers who organized 100 doctors to treat 400 sick people at a converted Baton Rouge warehouse -- until they, too, were told by the government to shut down, reopen and then shut down again. Or to the hundreds of firefighters who, according to the New York Times, responded to a nationwide call for help and were then "held by the federal agency in Atlanta for days of training on community relations and sexual harassment," while women were raped and lives were lost in New Orleans. Compare their frustration to the joy experienced by 8-year-olds across the country, washing cars for the Red Cross.

You see, it's things like this that show the pointlessness of a big, bloated bureaucratic agency like the ones so often found in government. When "the rules" become the be-all and end-all and actually get in the way of people trying to help other people, then something needs to change. Now.

Applebaum may not share my urgency, but she hopes the right lessons are learned from all this:

I'm not saying anything radical here: I'm not calling for the abolition of FEMA, and I certainly think there's a role for government in disaster and evacuation planning. But it is true that the worst failures of the past two weeks have been big government failures. The biggest successes, by contrast, have come out of this country's incredibly vibrant, amazingly diverse and fantastically generous civil society. Sooner or later, it will be impossible not to draw political lessons from that paradox.

I'm in complete agreement with those who are avoiding the whole "blame game" thing at this point in time, because the priority right now is still rescuing people and rebuilding cities. But if the lumbering elephant of government bureaucracy is going to respond in a, well, elephantine manner, it's great to know that there are lots of "little folks" here in America who are ready, willing and able to pitch in and take up the slack.

Joke of the Day, from the Birthday Boy

Happy birthday to my good buddy J-Guar, who's legal today.

He also provided me with the joke of the day in a conversation last night:

Q: What's the difference between Kenny G and a machine gun?
A: A machine gun only repeats itself 75 times.
--posted on a door in one of the UNT music buildings

Funny stuff. I don't have time to dig it up now, but I'll also link again to the hilarious Barnes & Noble interview with the G-weasel; it's worth posting one more time.

Anyway, I'll get to see the birthday boy tonight at Lab Band Night, where I'm scheduled to buy him his first legal libation. I wonder what he'll choose...

This will be a long day, just like the past two. So will tomorrow. I think I'm scheduled for a nap on...Friday? Sunday? I'll be lovin' it, that's for sure.

Progress, in Baby Steps

I was haunted a few weeks ago by a photo of flooded downtown New Orleans in the Dallas Morning News. In this morning's edition, that picture ran side-by-side with one from Sunday. It's looking a lot better, though there's much work to be done. (I'm hoping to get a link to the photos, because they're amazing.) UPDATE: I can't find a direct link, but go here and click on link #4 for the 9/11/05 photo set; the one I mentioned is the first one in the series on that page.

Speaking of pictures, a lot of space has been given to New Orleans, but we can't forget that quite a bit of coastal Mississippi took a direct hit. Here is a link to some pictures from the Gulfport and Biloxi areas; note some of the before-and-after comparisons.

Also, on a highly encouraging note, Glenn Reynolds links to some additional relief efforts for New Orleans musicians; not only are they getting things like food, water and shelter, but they're also getting replacement instruments and, perhaps most importantly, gigs.

Blowing out more candles: Happy birthday to my buddy Steve H. Gotta meet up soon...

A Super Connection

A really cool thing for Metroplex-area transit occurred this weekend with the opening of the "Super Connector" phase of the President George Bush Turnpike on Friday. Even though the no-longer-missing link between the two previously exisiting segments is only about five miles long, its opening means that commuters can now take a single highway from about half a mile from my house all the way to the south entrance of DFW Airport. I used it to come home from my alumni meeting yesterday afternoon, and it's quite nice. It's probably about 75% bridges, going over wetlands, narrowly avoiding several landfills (not to mention the Sandy Lake amusement park), and swerving out of the way of the habitat of a rare nesting bird of some sort.

It's not the most picturesque segment of the George Bush, but that's counterbalanced by the ability to laugh and point at the cars that are stuck on 35E or LBJ. My trips to places like Arlington will be much easier now, and, unlike some people around here, I don't mind the tolls, because I know full well that without them, not a single mile of this turnpike would be done yet. When the extension from my neighborhood down to I-30 in south Garland is done in about four years, the loop around Dallas County will be halfway done. Let's hear it for increased mobility!

Blowing out the candles (both of them): Happy birthday to my nephew Caleb in Austin, who turns two today. I wasn't able to make the party on Saturday, but I hope to get down there and see my sister and her family very soon.

The pot calling the belly full: I meant to rave about a new eating place that I bet a lot of people haven't heard of yet: Potbelly Sandwich Works. The sandwiches themselves are delicious (I've had the roast beef twice and the turkey once, and I'm very tempted to try the PB&J, just because), and it's a funky atmosphere inside: fancy wooden booths with lofts (for decoration only; you can't sit up there) and bookshelves and so on, and, yes, an old pot-bellied stove up front, just for show. They also have shakes and ice cream, as well as soups and chili, but I'll have to partake of those at another visit. A sandwich, chips and drink totals just a shade over six bucks with tax. They're building one of these in the Firewheel Market development next to the new town center (which opens on October 7), and I'll be happy to welcome them to the neighborhood. Oh, and here's a news flash: A little bird told me (in the form of a kid I teach, whose dad is involved with the construction of Firewheel Market), that he's pretty sure they're putting a Chipotle in there. Sweeeeet...

We Pause to Remember

I have a lot of things to talk about (having gotten somewhat backed up during the recent downtime), but I'm putting them on hold for one more day in honor of the victims of the 9/11 attacks, four years ago today. Last year on this day, I asked readers to tell me their stories of where they were and/or what they were doing when they found out about the attacks. If you're new to the Musings since then, feel free to add your own response either in today's comments or the ones from last year.

Oh, and on the subject...did anyone catch the documentary on Flight 93 that the Discovery Channel showed tonight? I was quite disappointed to realize I'd missed it; for one thing, Flight 93 is a compelling story of ordinary people turned into heroes by extraordinary circumstances, and besides that, one of the passengers on that flight was the sister of a high-school classmate of mine (and it was rather haunting to watch the 9:00 news tonight and hear her name alone be called out in footage of a ceremony at the site near Shanksville, Pennsylvania). Anyway, I was wondering if anyone got to see it and if there were plans to air it again.

May we never forget...and may nothing of this nature or scope ever happen on American soil again.

LIke a Kid on Christ-Mac Morning

I spent way too much time on the computer last night, especially considering how tired as I was. But I couldn't help it; I started to catch up on one of my favorite sites, and the rest just sucked me in. Lileks led me to Dave Barry's Blog, which proceeded smoothly to Althouse and InstaPundit, the last three of which I hadn't read since Monday. The school year gets busy enough that I really need to regulate the time I spend on blog-reading (which definitely includes only the sparest helping of comment threads, since those can kill an hour in what seems like mere minutes). So while discipline is the order of the day for a while, last night was a frenzy, akin to a roomful of kids attacking a pile of presents underneath a Christmas tree, reducing it to a pile of paper and boxes in record time.

My four nights with no computer (save for the checking of essential emails while at the college) were definitely different. but, unlike in the Arby's commercial, different wasn't necessarily good. With TV and reading as my only diversions once I got home each night, I felt almost Amish in a way. It definitely showed me how the Internet takes the sting out of being single, because I hadn't been this bored at home since my roommate moved out a few years ago. (In this case, it could be said that the Internet serves multiple good purposes, since it lets me do work efficiently, research things quickly, lets me communicate with friends in true multitasker fashion, and it keeps the inherent boredom of singlehood at bay enough to keep me from doing something impulsiv--like, say, rushing into a bad marriage--that I might have regretted later.)

As for the computer itself, almost everything is built back up to previous levels; it took a few downloads to get my preferred version of Mozilla and return to the latest version of OS 9, since my system disk boots up the barest-bones edition of that system. I have at least rudimentary versions of most of my Word documents, but it'll take a bit of editing to get them updated. There are a few things I don't have that will be difficult to get back, like all the songs I had on iTunes (and no, I didn't buy anything from their music store yet; everything I had was either sent by friends or loaded from my own CD collection). I also will have trouble using Finale NotePad for a while, since the newest version only works on OS X (that being said, if anyone reading this has NotePad '04, please feel free to share the love). The biggest thing to rebuild will be my email address book, which contained around 300 names (not that I'm Mr. Popularity or anything, but when you add up friends, family, fraternity brothers, professional contacts, students and parents, it does get to be a pretty big number).

I haven't decided if I'll ask for a new computer for Christmas or just continue driving the Ancient and Venerable iMac into the ground for a while longer, but I hope this is the last time I experience a total loss of the hard drive. The two times it's happened are two too many for me.

Not exactly Southern hospitality: Several residents of a neighborhood in Ocala, Florida wanted to welcome some hurricane evacuees into their homes, but their efforts were quashed by their subdivision's deed restrictions. I'm certainly glad I don't live in a place with a homeowners' association, since they tend to range from heartless (like these folks) to totally Nazi-oid (like the one a few years ago who seized an elderly woman's house when she got behind in her association dues). This might be a blog topic for later, but feel free to comment now if you wish.

...And We're Back

OK, I'm back up online again, and it's great to be here. The only frustrating thing was that I found out I really didn't need to wait for the disks from my ISP at all. It wasn't necessarily that I was given bad answers the other day, but rather that I didn't exactly ask the right questions. Since my cable modem was intact, it would have sent the right information back to my reconfigured computer, and I ended up just having to tweak the browser a bit.

At any rate, I'll try to resume regular posting as soon as possible, though it will take me some time to re-download and install a bunch of programs I lost, rebuild my address book, tweak some things, etc.(for example, even though you can't see them, I can't stand the fonts that my browser is using at the moment). Nonetheless, I've seen and heard some blogworthy things over the past several days, so I'll muse away as time allows.

Please Pardon This Interruption...

Blogging will be light-to-nonexistent for the next several days as my computer recovers from a massive hard drive crash that happened around lunchtime yesterday. Ugh.

It was really weird how it happened: I was reading a really good essay and wanted to bookmark it, but when I went to the top menu to do so, everything just started freaking out--programs closing, things flashing off and on, etc. I turned the computer off, but it wouldn't reboot; I just kept getting the little folder icon with the Mac OS logo alternating back and forth with a question mark. I tried rebooting from the original system disk, but it wiped out everything else in the process.

So I've managed to reinstall the system and most of my programs, but the Internet will have to wait; the install disk I have is from AT&T, which has since been taken over by Comcast. This means the old one doesn't work, so I'm having to wait for a new one to arrive by snail mail; with any luck, I'll be up by late Thursday.

In the meantime, it was a rather boring holiday, not being able to talk to my friends online and all that (sitting around AIM-lessly, you could say). I spent way too much time scouring the house for all the necessary backup disks, and it was really weird to sit around with reading and watching TV as my only diversions; it was just so...1996.

At any rate, I'm at school now (it figured that this had to happen on one of the few days the college was closed) and just wanted to do this quick update so that people didn't think I'd been abducted by aliens or anything. More later, when I'm up and running again.

A New Place to Play

I played a gig with Gordon's band WhoNew last night at a very cool place, the Broadway Bistro in historic downtown Carrollton. Like many other suburbs, Carrollton has rediscovered its downtown roots recently, bringing new life into its original town square.

The Bistro is located inside the recently renovated Oldfield Building, which features an ornate central staircase and houses offices as well as the restaurant. There's a lot of brick and stone inside that serves as a natural amplifier for a musical group (a good thing for me last night, since I was playing un-mic'ed and nursing two cold sores inside my mouth). There are plenty of tables for customers, and if the delicious club sandwich that I enjoyed between sets was any indication, the food was great.

The gig went well, and, as I'd hoped in an earlier post, all the band's tips were donated to hurricane relief; they had an extra jar for that right next to ours, so we just emptied the contents of ours into theirs. Evidently the Metrocrest area is about to welcome some refugees as well, so they were taking up a special collection for that effort.

Evidently, things are getting ready to really grow in this area, with condos, a luxury hotel and a DART rail station all scheduled to be built in the near future. I'm glad I got to be introduced to this place, and I'm really glad that they're receptive to having TD/D play there. We'll keep our collective fingers crossed, and I'll post the date once everything is set.