Best Texas Musician*: Charlie Robison

Never seen him live, missed him by 15 minutes in San Antonio at a bookstore once. The guy just covers the waterfront — I hear him on all the country stations twixt el rancho and Far North Fookin’ Dallas. And he mixes in great Mexican conujunto and hayseed Irish stuff. I like to think I’d like to have a beer with him, but he almost seems too big, like he’d have a posse or something. Still, I love his music. He’s on my Winamp as much as the Gourds.

He did marry a Dixie Chick, but she was one of the hot ones I think, so I’ll give him some slack on that one. You can’t blame a man for marrying a hot Texas gal. Hell, high water — don’t matter. It’s kinda like being out in a storm on a lake…you reckon you can pull through just by force of will or the good graces of Kapok. But you can die in the blink of an eye, too.

* With the exception of our Poet Laureate thingy, Billy Joe Shaver.

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Gah. Forgot to blog this yesterday, for my not-Texan readers:

Texas forces win at San Jacinto

On this day in 1836, Texas forces won the battle of San Jacinto, the concluding military event of the Texas Revolution. Facing General Santa Anna’s Mexican army of some 1,200 men encamped in what is now southeastern Harris County, General Sam Houston disposed his forces in battle order about 3:30 p.m., during siesta time. The Texans’ movements were screened by trees and the rising ground, and evidently Santa Anna had no lookouts posted. The Texan line sprang forward on the run with the cries “Remember the Alamo!” and “Remember Goliad!” The battle lasted but eighteen minutes. According to Houston’s official report, the casualties were 630 Mexicans killed and 730 taken prisoner. Against this, only nine of the 910 Texans were killed or mortally wounded and thirty were wounded less seriously.

You know, just to remind all yall that we were once a full-throttle country all our own, and we kicked Mexico’s ass. In 18 dang minutes. “Come and Take It”, indeed. That should be a state holiday, by my lights, with free Lone Star and Shiner and big beeves on spits.

Best writer in the universe:

That’s right, kiddies–the “K” in “KFC” once stood for a mythical place called “Kentucky”! I hope the test works out. There is nothing more depressing than ordering up a big tub of delicious chicken from KFC and trying to decide how best to dispose of the lamentable side dishes–the lifeless, twice-digested coleslaw, the macaroni salad fabricated with Elmer’s Glue, the One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich dinner roll, and the gloopy, joyless potato salad that would break your mother’s heart clean into two neat, bloodless, pathetic pieces

I’m severely missing Colby Cosh’s NHL Playoff roundup. Not his fault, of course. You might have heard that the NHL cancelled 2004-05 in favor of having $1000-suit/razor-haircut meetings that produce no results. No, nothing, not this week — not a durn thing you can crook a little finger around and try to hang on to. The lack of hockey has deeply disturbed my sport world this winter, and baseball just isn’t helping yet. I realize I’m one of the very, very few here in CONUS who feel that way. It’s almost like the NHL could vanish and I would be the only one in Texas who would notice the puck that didn’t drop. And I don’t even have season tickets, a single bit of Stars memorabilia, never even been to the new barn. It’s sure gonna be a tough sell around these parts when and if the suits get it together for 05 or 06.

I shudder to think what an Atlanta will be like…at least we’ve got a couple million transplanted Yankees to shoulder the ticket load here in Dallas.