Tripping Over Hidden Treasures

Great Gilded Gift Horse, our beloved fellow Austinites sure do turn into a bunch of whiny diaper-munchers with half-empty sippy cups at this time of year.

“Ohhhh, it’s so crowded!”

“Traffic is terrible”

“Who are all these people?”

“My hemorrhoids are killing me!”

We’re here to change all that – well, you’re on your own with the hemorrhoids – and bring you guaranteed joy. That is assuming you are willing to open up your wobbly head and let some new ideas in.
BoobLady

What do people planning to see certain shows at SxSW sound like to us? waah wah waah wah wah waah. Charlie Brown’s teacher. It is the sound of people preparing to frustrate themselves by taking the completely wrong approach to having fun at SxSW.

Just go. Climb in your car, get as close as you can and still find a place to park, get out of your car, lock it, put your keys in your pocket, adjust your bra and walk into the middle of 6th street. Listen, smell, watch, just keep moving until something pulls you like a super magnet. If there are obstacles, get around them or move on.

Stumbling down the right path is the mantra.  No wristband?  No problem.  Trust that Austin will provide; she always does, if you are willing to float into her midst without pre-conceived notions of being entertained.

Stop and watch the bucket drummer down the block. Buy a breakfast taco after midnight from two girls set up in the lobby of a comedy venue. Then wander into the open door of Esther’s Follies . Good music coming from inside. Find out that it’s free and better yet; they serve beer! Sit down, Fat Tire in hand, as Colin Ferguson finishes up his set. Then clear your mind, because you have no idea what to expect when Donna walks out on the stage.Donna_SxSW2013

Here she is, singing

Easy

More:

Non-Stop Beatbox

Favorite?

Mister Cupid

UPDATE: though they only identified themselves as Donna and Ken from Brooklyn, that was enough information to find them on the web:

Donna and Ken’s website

The Ghost of Ivory Ghost

The ghost of a ghost becomes alive again, right? Like multiplying two negative numbers?

There were no negative numbers on May 12, where the death of the Ghost was an all-the-way live experience at the Sahara Lounge *.

Some of those in the audience were seeing Ivory Ghost for the first time and unfortunately, the last time as well. IG’s Woody Russell has landed a featured spot on the television show Troubadour, TX  and will be dedicating his time to that effort as well as his surging solo career. But save the saline, dry the peepers; the band went out in joyous fashion Saturday night, and I am not talking about Marco’s hillbilly-chic cranium cover. The band kicked ass – tighter, punchier and yet smoother than ever. I have heard the band three times previous to the Sahara show and it was always fun from the get-go, but it all really came together for this funky finale.

Ivory Ghost

Ivory Ghost is … or rather was:

Marc Utter- acoustic guitar and vocals
Woody Russell- electric guitar
Doug Marcis- drums
Geoff Union- bass
Steve Marcum- percussion
Dez Desormeaux- sax
Steve Zirkel – trumpet

Ivory Ghost profiles

IG has been jamming at least once a week for over a year straight, closer to two in total, and in that time the group wrote almost of the tunes played at the final show, while still managing to cover some of Marco’s old gems and tossing in a terrific stylized cover of the Beatles’ “Don’t Let Me Down” that would rock a reggae festival’s audience to dancing abandon. The entire group has put a lot into the writing and arranging of these songs, and have been busy getting all of that recorded. Those recent recordings are not yet available, but you can listen to some older live recordings on their FaceBook page.

And if you want to see more of IG … well, to borrow a line from their song “Mexico 5-0″: you can “pry a photo from a dead man’s hand” and check out more of Austin Above Ground’s exclusive photos from Saturday’s show.

Finally, before the mood gets too funereal, I wouldn’t bet on the Ghost staying dead … at least not all the way dead …

Drummer Doug Marcis put it like this: “Everyone’s individual personalities are a big part of the sound of that group – Woody in particular.  None of us are interested in trying to find a ‘replacement’ for him since that would be contrary to the spirit of what we’ve created – a group writing project.  So anything new is going to head in the direction that the new members take it.  Which could sound similar to what we currently have but most likely will take on a different flavor or substance altogether.  For me, I want to create something new with a life and personality all it’s own.”

We can’t wait to celebrate the resurrection.

____________________________

*A word about the Sahara Lounge: I first knew Topaz McGarrigle as the Jazz Band Director at the Austin Waldorf School , but soon enough was catching him tearing’ it up with his band Mudphonic. Only recently did I learn that he is one of the owners of the Sahara Lounge. This funky club on the east side has Austin written all over it. From the odd-but-open layout adorned with hand-painted murals, Christmas-tree lights, framed pics, posters, etc. to the big backyard-style outdoor courtyard complete with fire pit and picnic tables; this place would be a contender for any Essence of Austin contest.  On this evening, there was even all-you-can-eat BBQ, beans and rice included with the $5 cover.

What Fits In Your Vagina?

Puck Ferry

There were many signs that resonated with me at the Unite Against the War on Women rally on Saturday at the Texas State Capitol, but perhaps the most poignant one read: “I Can’t BELIEVE I’m STILL PROTESTING this SHIT!” As a child of the sixties who had always taken women’s equality for granted – a done deal – I too was stunned by the thought-diseased, white-bread, limp-dick Republicans lashing out with their dying political breaths against fundamental human rights that have already been won in this country. Not only did these women have a right to be angry, but we should all join them and run the mudsuckers out of town with pitchforks and torches.

The political party that is constantly bitching about how incompetent government is, and then gets themselves elected to go prove that theory correct, is continuing to push for small government. Stay away from any whiff of regulation for the decadently rich and the mega-corporations, but go ahead and prowl around inside women’s bodies. Government so small it fits in your vagina.

So why were there so many smiles along with the fiery rhetoric at this rally?

It is because the sisters will win, and in a sense, they have already won. There was an almost palpable sense of “This Will Not Stand” running through the crowd. This latest legislative misogyny is just like an adult pimple – they pop up from time to time but it is extremely unlikely that full-blown teenage acne will once again ravage the skin. To an adolescent, it appears to be the end of the world. To the mature, there is comfort in the experience of having seen these blemishes dry up and heal.

Gays 4 Vajays

Listen up, elephants in the room:

Women are equal.
Gays are equal.
All races are equal.
All religions will be treated equally in the eyes of the law.

You will ultimately fail in your attempts to legislate society in any other way.

 

Capitol Steps

Sissy Farenthold, the first woman ever to be seriously nominated for Vice President of the United States at a major party’s convention (there were two previous ‘honorary’ nominations), was called to the podium to honor her work for women’s rights over the last half-century. Now in her eighties, this legend may not be known to the younger members of the crowd, but many of us knew that she was entitled to the most disbelief around the fact that we are still protesting this shit.

JusticeIn 1973, Sissy was elected as the first chair of the National Women’s Political Caucus. From 1976 to 1980 she served as president of Wells College in Aurora, New York.

Though the topics covered by the speakers at the rally all focused on women’s rights, there was definitely some clear anger aimed at Republicans in particular. Let’s take a look at why, shall we?Small Government

The beady-eyed governor of Wisconsin repealed the Equal Pay Enforcement Act of 2009 (they only had it for three years!) and the main proponent of the repeal, Republican state senator Glenn Grothman, salts the wound by completely denying all empirical evidence and spinning his yarn that women make less because they choose to take time off to raise kids.

Probe PerryHouse Republicans in D.C. held a panel on women’s health issues and did not invite a single woman to testify.

Republicans have tried on several occasions to redefine rape in order to limit a woman’s access to remedy.

And the surest way to legislatively piss off a woman? GOP lawmakers are passing laws requiring women to undergo invasive medical procedures against their will. Those cocks think they can mandate a vaginal probe? This boy’s club is claiming rights they don’t have and denying women rights they do have.

But Republicans argue that there is no War on Women. This is just imaginary Democratic campaign rhetoric, they say. After all, the reason that 31 Republican Senators voted against reauthorizing the Violence Against Women Act was not because they disliked women, it was because that bill would have provided protection against violence to gays and Native Americans, too.

But it is hard to keep that argument up. Republicans, who know very well how hard it is to keep things up, put forth H.R. 358, which would allow a hospital to let a woman die rather than perform an abortion if it is needed to save her life. They may not want to call that a war, but then again, these geniuses thought it was patriotic to change the name of French Fries after 9/11. Head scratching in 3 … 2 … 1…

Your Testicles Are NextBut c’mon, says the GOP, you women can own property now – heck, you can even vote. Why do you have to get all greedy and say you have a right to privacy about your body? And ladies, please, don’t even joke about requiring a colonoscopy for every renewal of our Viagra prescriptions; that’s just not funny!

Indiana Republican Bob Morris, who looks like he could be Vincent D’Onofrio’s idiot brother, has lashed out at the Girl Scouts of America, calling them a “radicalized organization” and that their role models are “feminists, lesbians, or Communists”. One could only hope that is true, Bob. Otherwise their role models might be narrow-minded gits in positions of power like the guy you see in the mirror each morning.

Am I the only one that is sick to death of the playground tactic on the right to take a perfectly legitimate group description and turn it into a slander just by saying it with a sneer? Liberal. Socialist. Feminist. Insanity like “Feminism is a lie of the devil” needs to go the way of burning witches at the stake.

There are a bunch of us dudes that would like to see the ladies in charge for awhile. And I don’t mean women playing men’s games just to get on the court, but an entirely female approach to governing. What’s the downside? Do you think they will screw it up more than the patriarchy has? Not much chance of that. Unless of course, you put Ann Coulter in charge. Or Sarah Palin. Or Michele Bachmann. Come to think of it, ladies, you are rife with idiots, too. Stay vigilant.

Christine Lagarde, the managing director of the International Monetary Fund,  has been quoted as saying, “Unlike Lehman Brothers, Lehman Sisters might have avoided default.”

Consider me on board. Dicks for Chicks. No wait, that might not be the best name for a male-based female advocacy group. On the other hand, membership drives would be very interesting. Heh heh. He said ‘member-ship’. Holy crap, we’re simpletons.

WoW speaker Let’s check back in with Doorknob Bob, our favorite Indiana A-hole. He also wrote that “the agenda of Planned Parenthood includes sexualizing young girls through the Girl Scouts, which is quickly becoming a tactical arm of Planned Parenthood.” WoW speaker

Can we get off Planned Parenthood’s back? It has been around since before WWII and was funded in 1970 by none other than Richard Milhouse Nixon. This is a good organization and yes, the inflamed hemorrhoids on the right will scream at you that PP has services that deal with abortions. A whopping 3% of its services involve abortion and no federal money is used for abortion services. So, the anti-choice crowd is happy to throw out the baby with the 3% bathwater. I guess eliminating that 97% of mammograms, pap smears, cancer screening, abortion-preventing birth control, menopause treatments, STD testing and treatment … omigod, how is it that we are still protesting this shit?

One of the highlights of the rally was a passionate speech from a notable exception to the scrotum club in Congress. Rep. Lloyd Doggett whipped the crowd into a righteous fervor with tales of fights past and fights future.

Lloyd Doggett

Lloyd Doggett has been in Texas politics for the majority of my lifetime, beginning as a Texas State Senator in 1973. The Texas Commission on Human Rights was created by a bill that he authored, and he stands out from other career politicians in that he has been doggedly (sorry, couldn’t resist) consistent in his ideology over four decades. You have to admire the survival skills of a pro-choice, pro-environment, pro-immigrant, anti-war candidate in conservative old Texas. His major stumble in gay rights – voting for DOMA in 1996 – was mitigated by his voting against a constitutional amendment defining marriage as between one man and one woman, and also by his co-sponsoring the Respect for Marriage Act which would repeal DOMA. Rep. Doggett has been representing Texas in Congress since the mid-nineties, and continues to do so in spite of attempts to re-district him out of office.

No Pills No Pussy

Dudes, it is time to get on board with our sisters. I’ve got three good reasons for you. First, it’s the right thing to do. Second, if we don’t, they are going to kick our asses. There are more of them, they now have more college graduates than we do (even though they will only earn 70-80% as much) and – here is a shocker – women already have the majority of personal (private) wealth in the United States.

As for the third reason, well … um … the T-shirt that was being sold in front of the capitol on Saturday says it all.

Jack Black Whacked

He was just sitting there. At Freebird’s World Burrito on South Congress. What happened next is anybody’s guess. Really.
Anybody.
I had seen him in Austin before. Last Fall at ACL Fest I was sitting in front of Chuy’s and he hopped out of a cab and into a pedicab to drive him up to the entrance. Most people were leaving but Arcade Fire wasn’t finished so I assume he was trying to catch the end of that. I thought if I saw him again I would talk to him.So here he was. By himself. Done eating. I hopped out of line and over the rail and just as I was about to introduce myself, he grabs my arm with urgency and spits out a harsh whisper: “Dude, you gotta help me!” He looks frantically out the window and asks: “Do you have a car?” Jack Black
I had barely muttered my affirmation when he reached up and put his hand on the back of my neck and pushed me down into a crouching position and hustled me toward the exit. I glanced around and nobody seemed to notice our very suspicious-looking shuffle out the door. We climbed into my car with Jack snarling ‘Hurry!’ over and over again. It’s a beautiful sunny day and pleasant Austin people are milling about; Jack’s anxiousness could not be more out of place. I was beginning to think he had lost it. Or maybe he was trippin’. I decided right then and there I would be his guardian through whatever trip he was on. I pull out onto Riverside and suddenly there was a sound like a gunshot; my car became hard to control and started bouncing around. I knew what it was, though – a blowout. I pulled over as far as I could.

“Don’t stop! What are you doing!?” Jack was in a full-blown panic.

Suddenly, a big black SUV screeched to a stop cross-ways in front of us and another smacked our bumper from behind. Guys in black suits jumped out, guns in hand. It was a bullet that blew my tire! From across the street a fat, old, naked man that looked a little like St. Nicholas came running across the street towards us. The only thing he was wearing was a knee-high fireman’s rubber boot – upside-down on the top of his head, like a hat. He ran up, shaking his arms above his head and babbling incoherently. Arms of Liberty
Jack decided we should use Santa Boothead Streaker as a distraction and he yelled “Come on!”. We ran up the side street into Travis Heights. As we are scrambling through the hilly neighborhood, I can see that Jack is totally whacked out of his mind; continually muttering about needing to find the Werewolf Fiddler. We rounded a corner and temporarily lost sight of the gunmen. The assumption would be that we went left since the only other option was straight and we would be easily seen. But I saw a fenceless yard on the right and dashed us through. I worked our way back west and we slipped across Congress near the Continental Club. We snaked past Threadgill’s and crossed the street to the RunTex. We blended into the crowd waiting to cross South 1st. Someone in the crowd turned and recognized Jack; he tried to give them the ‘Shhh’ sign but they were about to speak so he reached up and gave them the Vulcan pinch. They dropped to the ground like a wet sack of laundry. The light changed and we hustled across the street.There was a huge concert going on at Auditorium Shores, but Jack didn’t want to go in the front entrance, so we slid along the bridge down to the river’s edge and started heading west. Without warning, Jack stops cold.

“Of course! SRV!”

I look and see he is transfixed by the statue of Stevie Ray Vaughan. Jack spins on his heel and bolts for the double-high, fabric-covered chain link fence surrounding the concert. He scrambles up and over, lacerating himself severely on the way, and lands in a spy crouch on the other side, looking wildly about in all directions.

“Jack! Jack!,” I yelled, “It’s a free concert! You don’t have to climb the …” but he was gone, and I had to keep up with him, so over the fence I went.

Werewolf Fiddler I simply could not believe what we encountered next. Over by the souvenir stands was none other than … the Werewolf Fiddler! I now had complete and total faith in Jack; he wasn’t crazy! He had been right about the gunmen and right about the Werewolf Fiddler. I watched as Jack had a frenetic conversation with the werewolf who eventually lifted his bow and pointed southeast. There was something eerie and grim-reaperish about the motion but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Jack ran off in the designated direction. I followed.
Crack!

Crack!

The Shins stopped singing right in the middle of the “king of the eyesores” line and the entire crowd of thousands went silent.

I watched the gunmen scurry away through the crowd. I saw a circle of people form around what I feared was Jack’s lifeless body. I felt terrible. Despite my best effort, Jack Black was still whacked at SxSW… but not before I got this spiffy little snapshot! 

In Memoriam

Jack Black

Aug. 28, 1969 – Mar. 15, 2012

KT and Jack Black

Duck Duck Goose

This is no child’s game. It holds the secret to the meaning of life. It is everything. And nothing. It rules!