My stupid inbox is filling up with hideously malformed HTML fliers from dorks who think I might possibly give a damn about their emo/screamo/folko/lameo band who’s playing at the Music Festival Originally Designed For Texans. I actually share two whole households with a wife who thinks these people are the, as the kids say, shizz-nitt. For my money, anybody who’d drive more than two blocks to play for that bunch of stoned, drunken, filthy, dirty hippies isn’t worth walking across the street to see. Much less pay and see.

OK, that’s very harsh, but I’d still rather see The Swindles or Cornell or Los #3 Dinners at a random, ratty honky-tonk dive out in the sticks. Or downtown Houston. OTOH, Herself is going to spend an entire week, wandering around Austin lost, fighting the crowds, and bitching about the parking, trying to see schmoes she could see any night of the week in most towns any other week. “Feel the energy!” Yeah, feel my…apathy.

You kids, if you don’t mind moving along and all…yall get off my lawn.