Category Archives: Local

A group representing merchants in the Strand District of Galveston is seeking to have significant changes made in the way the Mardi Gras and other downtown events are handled.
The Strand Merchants Association has called for an end to gate fees and beer booths.
They have also asked that the City take control of the event instead of subcontracting it out to a private business. The merchants claim that they have lost money due to events like Mardi Gras and the Lone Star Bike Rally, because of gate fees, barricades, and fencing.

The association also wants to stop the practice of paying bands to perform concerts outdoors, and instead let the event focus on parades, with music being provided indoors at the various clubs in the district. In other words, they want the Galveston Mardi Gras to be more like the New Orleans Mardi Gras.
The City has contracted with Mike Dean of Yaga’s thru 2015. Under the agreement, Dean pays the city $100,000 and gets to keep the rest of the money generated by the event. The City is still obligated to provide police and sanitation services for the event.  According to analyst Tom Parchman, the City is certainly losing money on the agreement.
“They have to be losing a minimum of $50,000, and as much as four times that amount” Parchman told Gator Press. “It’s a sweetheart deal, no doubt. The promoter couldn‘t lose money if he tried, it‘s just too good a deal.”
Admission fees were $17 per person for this year’s Mardi Gras. The first weekend reportedly drew 200,000 people, according to the Galveston Island Convention and Visitor’s Bureau. If a similar number attended the second weekend, then that would add up to nearly $7 million in attendance fees alone, not counting vendor fees, parade fees, parking lot revenues, and other moneymakers.

A 21 year old girl, reported missing by her boyfriend was found safe and sound, but naked, in a local bed.  Sandra Bruckner was discovered asleep in the bed by Christine  Earmine on February 16th, after a party.
Earmine reportedly found the nude woman in her fiancee’s bed, at a home in League City. Her fiancee, Bob Canaraka, claimed he had “absolutely no idea where that nude girl came from, or how she got into my bed. I woke up when Christine accidentally poured scalding water on my crotch, and there the gal was, just laying there next to me.”

The woman had to be revived using a bat, but otherwise was unharmed. Bruckner then apologized to the couple, blaming the incident on sleepwalking, theorizing that she must have walked the eight miles in her sleep. Her boyfriend, Bill Pone, is just glad she returned safely. The mystery of how she got there may never be known.
“The Lord works in mysterious ways” Pone said, adding that he and Bruckner expect to be married when their divorces are finalized.
Coincidentally, this is the second time Earmine has found a nude woman in Canaraka’s bed. Last year one was discovered in the same place, and turned out to be a fugitive from justice on unpaid library fines.
Police theorize she remained hidden in the bed for weeks without Canaraka’s knowledge.

A 125 lb. capsule will be sent on a journey though space to distant solar systems in hopes of someday curing dreaded diseases.
The distance the capsule will travel will take a minimum of 300 years. When the capsule arrives, it will make itself known to any inhabitants of the Omega 2 solar system by emitting radio, light, and audio signals.
Astronomers have long believed that Omega 2 is the most likely known solar system to be inhabited by intelligent beings.
Inside the capsule aliens will find samples of incurable diseases such as SARS, AIDS, and Ebola. Pictures depicting symptoms and a map showing where Earth is located will also be included. It is hoped some distant civilization will someday arrive with cures to these deadly germs.
The capsule is the brainchild of Egdar Woji, a world famous NASA phlebotomist.

Germs from Earth will travel millions of miles through the universe in search of a cure.

A civil jury in Houston has cleared a San Leon resident of federal charges stemming from his use of “medicinal” marijuana.
Joe C. Blount was charged after Dr. Myron Quentin prescribed marijuana to treat a severe case of dandruff. Prosecutors described Blount as a “rabid, viperous, pot-crazed sex fiend”, while defense attorney Charlie Hanker portrayed his client as an innocent victim and upstanding member of the community. He described to jurors how Blount “goes by the church 3 or 4 times a day” – but was refuted on cross-examination when state prosecutors pointed out that he has never stopped, only driven past.

Joe Blount

In the end, the jury, composed entirely of homeless elderly tattoo artists, decided that  Blount was innocent, and all charges were dismissed.
On hearing of the verdict, Dr. Quentin told Gator Press “What paper are you with? The Mainland Press? …hmmmm – never heard of it… no comment.” Dr. Quentin is facing a separate case in which he may lose his license to fish.

A guy walks into a bar in Pasadena and orders a triple scotch. The bartender pours him the drink and the guy downs it in one gulp. “Wow” says the bartender, “Something bad must have happened!” “Yeah it did,” he said. “I came home early today, went up to the bedroom, and found my wife having sex with my best friend.” The bartender pours the guy another triple shot. “This one’s on the house.” The dude gulps it down once again. The bartender asks “Did you say anything to your wife?” The guy answers “Yea, I walked up to her, told her to pack her bag’s and get out!” “What about your friend?” asks the bartender.
“I looked him straight in the eye and said BAD DOG”

An angry wife was complaining about her husband spending all his free time in a certain bar in Santa Fe, so one night he took her along with him. “What’ll you have?” he asked. “Oh, I don’t know. The same as you I suppose,” she replied. So, the husband ordered a couple of shots of Jack Daniel’s and threw his down in one shot. His wife watched him, then took a sip from her glass and immediately spat it out. “Yuck, that’s TERRIBLE!” she spluttered. “I don’t know how you can drink this stuff!” “Well, there you go,” cried the husband. “And you think I’m out enjoying myself every night!”

A blonde walks into a restaurant in Seabrook to get some dinner, and while she’s deciding on what she wants a waitress comes up. The blonde looks up and notices the waitress’s name tag on her shirt. ”Gee, that’s nice. What did you name the other one?”

A little boy goes up to his father and asks: “Dad, what’s the difference between hypothetical and reality?”
The father replies: “Well son, I could give you the book definitions, but I feel it could be best to show you by example. Go upstairs and ask your mother if she’d have sex with the mailman for $500,000.”
The boy goes and asks his mother: “Mom, would you have sex with the mailman for $500,000?” The mother replies: “Hell yes I would!”
The little boy returns to his father: “Dad, she said ‘Hell yes I would!'”
The father then says: “Okay, now go and ask your older sister if she’d have sex with her principal for $500,000.”
The boy asks his sister: “Would you have sex with your principal for $500,000?” The sister replies: “Hell yes I would!”
He returns to his father: “Dad, she said ‘Hell yes I would!'”
The father answers: “Okay son, here’s the deal: Hypothetically, we’re sitting on a million bucks, but in reality, we’re just shacked up with a couple of whores.”

This guy goes to a doctor and says he has a problem with sex.
“Doc, I think my dick is just too damn small,” he says.
The doctor asks him which drink he prefers.
Well, beer,” he replies, wondering what fucking difference it makes..
“Aaaahhh. There’s your problem, it shrinks things, beer does.. you should try drinking straight whiskey. It comes from the grain, and it makes things grow.”
Two months later the dude returns to the doctor with a big smile on his face.
He shakes the doctor by the hand and thanks him.
“I take it you’re now drinking straight whiskey?” asked the doctor.
“Oh no, Doc,” replies the man, “but I’ve got the ole lady drinking beer!”

Jeff walks into a bar in La Porte and sees his friend Paul slumped over the bar. He walks over and asks Paul what’s wrong.
“Well,” replies Paul, “you know that beautiful girl at work that I wanted to ask out, but I got a hardon every time I saw her?”
“Yes,” replies Jeff with a laugh.
“Well,” says Paul, straightening up, “I finally got up enough courage to ask her out, and she said yes.”
“That’s great!” says Jeff, “When are you going out?”
“I went to meet her this evening,” continues Paul, “but I was worried I’d get a boner again. So I got some duct tape and taped my hooter to my leg, so if I did, it wouldn’t show.”
“Makes sense to me” says Jeff.
“So I get to her door,” says Paul, “and I rang her doorbell. She answered it in the tiniest little see-thru mini dress you ever seen.”
“And what happened then?”
(Paul slumps back over the bar again.) “I kicked that poor girl right in the face!”

A farmer is sitting in the neighborhood bar in Alvin, slowly getting drunk. A man comes in and asks the farmer, “Hey, why are you sitting here on this beautiful day getting drunk?”
The farmer says, “Some things you just can’t explain.”
“So what happened that is so horrible?” the man asked.
The farmer then decides to try an answer, “Well if you must know, today I was sitting by my cow milking her. Just as I got the bucket about full, she took her left leg and kicked it over.”
“That’s not so bad, what’s the big deal?”
The farmer says, “Some things you just can’t explain.”
“So what happened?” the man asked again.
The farmer relenting, continued “I took her left leg and tied it to the post on the left with some rope. Then I sat down and continued to milk her. Just as I got the bucket about full she took her right leg and kicked it over.”
“Again?”
The farmer says, “Yep. Some things you just can’t explain.”
“So, what did you do then?” then man asked, intrigued.
“I took her right leg and tied it to the post on the right side. Then I sat back down and just continued to milk her, but just as I got the bucket just about full, the stupid cow knocks over the bucket with her tail.”
“Wow, you must have been pretty upset!” the man says, “but that’s no reason to just sit here getting all depressed.”
The farmer says, “Some things you just can’t explain.”
“So then what else did you do?” the man asked again.
“Well I didn’t have any more rope, so I took off my belt and tied her tail to the rafter. That’s when my pants fell down and my wife walked in.  Some things you just can’t explain!”

As long as there is money to be made in the heroin business, the United States will keep troops in Afghanistan.  And there is an enormous amount of money being made there since the invasion which started in 2001.  Since that time, opium production in the country has gone up by 3,300% and arrests for cultivating and processing the drug have become rare.

Historically, Afghanistan is not a region known for heroin production or the growth of the poppies used to make the narcotic. The drug was virtually unknown there until after the CIA sent advisors into the country to assist the Afghan Mujahideen in their war against the Soviet Union during the late 1980s.  During that era, CIA-controlled guerilla leaders initiated the planting of opium poppies in areas they occupied. Across the border in Pakistan, laboratories were set up to process the raw opium into pure heroin, which was then exported from the country aboard aircraft operated by the CIA and proprietary fronts like Haliburton.  Immune from Customs, these flights delivered their cargo to the United States and Europe, where they were sold through a network of drug kingpins operating under cover of immunity.
When the Taliban took over the country in 1994, operations continued as usual. In exchange for military and financial aid, the government of Afghanistan continued the practice of allowing the CIA to operate this heroin enterprise with few problems. But in 2000, alarmed that some Afghans were falling victim to heroin addiction, the Taliban outlawed the growing of poppies, and started destroying the crops. Arrests were made. Suddenly, one of the largest illegal industries in the world was on the verge of catastrophe.
That is the primary reason we invaded Afghanistan. To protect the heroin business.

Elvis was a narc...

The prime operator in Afghanistan was a man named Richard Armitage, whose bio includes being the biggest heroin trafficker in Cambodia and Laos during the Vietnam War; director of the State Department’s Foreign Narcotics Control Office (a front for CIA drug dealing); head of the Far East Company (used to funnel drug money out of the Golden Triangle); a very close liaison with Oliver North during the Iran-Contra cocaine-for-guns scandal; a primary Pentagon official in the terror and covert ops field under George Bush the Elder; one of the original signatories of the infamous PNAC “New Pearl Harbor” document; and the man who helped CIA Director William Casey run weapons to the Mujahideen during their war against the Soviet Union. Armitage was stationed in Iran during the mid-1970s right before Ayatollah Khomeini overthrew the Shah. Armitage may well be the greatest covert operator in history. He may also be the greatest drug dealer in history.
On Sept. 10, 2001, Armitage met with the UK’s national security advisor, Sir David Manning. What was that meeting about? Was Armitage “passing on specific intelligence information about the impending terrorist attacks”?
The scenario is plausible because one day later, on 9-11, Dick Cheney called for Armitage’s presence down in his bunker. Immediately after WTC 2 was struck, Mr. Armitage told BBC Radio, “I was told to go to the operations center. I spent the rest of the day in the ops center with the vice president.”
These two share a long history. Not only was Armitage employed by Cheney’s company,  Halliburton (via Brown & Root), he was also a deputy when Cheney was secretary of defense under Bush the Elder. More importantly, Cheney and Armitage still had joint business and consulting interests in the Central Asian pipeline which had been proposed by Unocal.
Since the 1980s, Armitage had amassed a huge roster of allies in Pakistan’s secret police. He was also one of the “Vulcans” – along with Condi Rice, Paul Wolfowitz, Richard Perle, and Rabbi Dov Zakheim – who coordinated Bush’s geo-strategic foreign policy initiatives. Then, after 9-11, he negotiated with the Pakistanis prior to our invasion of Afghanistan, while also becoming Bush’s deputy secretary of state stationed in Afghanistan.
The proposed Unocal pipeline through Afghanistan had been rejected by the Taliban, who opted to deal with a different contractor. At stake were trillions of dollars in oil money, and trillions more in illegal drug money.  In a final meeting about the Unocal pipeline deal, US officials warned Taliban negotiators that they must “accept our offer of a carpet of gold, or we will bury you under a carpet of bombs.” This was one month before the 9-11 attacks.
Our “enemy,” of course, was the Taliban “terrorists” who were connected to the 9-11 attacks. This in spite of the fact that no evidence of any such connection has ever surfaced, and in spite of the fact that until they rejected the pipeline and shut off the heroin, they were allies.
We do know that George Tenet, Colin Powell, Porter Goss, and Armitage himself had all   developed close relationships with Pakistan’s military head of secret intelligence, General Mahmoud Ahmad, who was cited in a Sept. 2001 FBI report as “supporting and financing the alleged 9-11 terrorists, as well as having links to al Qaeda and the Taliban.”
So the line between friend and foe gets even murkier.
Afghan President Hamid Karzai not only collaborated with the Taliban, but he was also on Unocal’s payroll in the mid-1990s. He is also described by Saudi Arabia’s top newspaper as being “a Central Intelligence Agency covert operator since the 1980s who collaborated with the CIA in funding U.S. aid to the Taliban.”
Capturing a new, abundant source for heroin was an integral part of the U.S. “war on terror.” Hamid Karzai is a puppet ruler of the CIA; Afghanistan is a full-fledged narco-state; and the poppies that flourish there have yet to be eradicated, as was proven in 2003 when the Bush administration refused to destroy the crops, despite having the chance to do so.
Major drug dealers are rarely arrested, smugglers enjoy carte blanche immunity, and a leading London newspaper has theorized that “U.S. Army planes leave Afghanistan carrying coffins empty of bodies, but filled with drugs.” Is that why the military protested so vehemently when reporters tried to photograph returning caskets?
Our government was caught dealing drugs before, in the 1980s, when a reporter for the San Jose Mercury News uncovered proof that the CIA had been flying planeloads of cocaine into the US from Honduras, which fueled the introduction of crack cocaine into Los Angeles, and later all of the cities of America. The reporter who uncovered this crime network was later found dead with two bullets in his head. His death was ruled a suicide!
Prior to that, the CIA was involved in importing heroin from southeast Asia aboard military flights during the Vietnam era. For the past fifty years the CIA has been the primary supplier of hard core narcotics that reach the streets of America.
According to retired congressman and former presidential candidate Ron Paul, not only has the CIA been involved for many years in the international drug trade, but former president Bush the First was “deep into it” as a money-making venture.
So, while our local cops and judges are working hard to stop the illegal drug business from ruining a generation of young folks, high officials in our own government have been involved in supplying the drugs under cover of official business.
Now that you know, that’s one more person they will have to kill.

A redhead tells her blonde stepsister, “ I slept with a Brazilian…”
The blonde replies, “Oh my God! You slut! How many is a Brazilian?”

A dog, a cat, and a penis are sitting around a camp fire one night.
The dog says, “My life sucks, my master makes me do my business on a fire hydrant!”.
The cat says, “I don’t think so, my master makes me do my business in a box of cat litter.”
The penis outraged, says “At least your master doesn’t put a bag over your head
and make you do push ups until you throw up!”

A man is in a bar and has one too many drinks. This beautiful lady sits down next to him. He turns to her and says “Hey how bout it. You and me, gettin it on. I’ve got a couple dollars and it looks like you could use a little money.” She stands up and says, “What makes you think I charge by the inch?”

Two blondes walking down the street.  One reaches into her pocketbook for a make up compact and looks into the mirror.  “This picture looks like someone I know” she says.  The other one has a look and says, “Of course dummy, it’s ME….”

Little Johnny comes home from school one day and asks his mother what “shit” meant.
Thinking fast she replied “food on the table.”
Next day he comes home and asks his mother what does “son of a bitch” mean.
Again, thinking fast again she says “It’s a priest.”
Next day he comes home and asks what does “fuckin'” mean. She says it means “getting dressed.”
That same night a priest was coming over for dinner. Johnny is just finished setting the table when he hears the doorbell ring.
He yells “got it”. He opens the door and says “Hey son of a bitch, shits on the table and mom and dad are upstairs fuckin’.”

A man and a woman having drinks got into an argument about who enjoyed sex more.
The man said, “Men obviously enjoy sex more than women. Why do you think we’re so obsessed with getting laid?”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” the woman countered. “Think about this: when your ear itches and you put your finger in it and wiggle it around, then pull it out, which feels better: your ear or your finger?”

A married man decided to work late to be with his sexy secretary, so he called his wife to make up an excuse.
After work he invited his secretary to dinner. It soon became obvious that he was going to get lucky, so the two went back to her apartment and had great sex for two hours.
Afterward the fellow went to the bathroom to straighten up for the trip home and noticed a huge hickey on his neck. He panicked, wondering what to tell his wife.
After the man unlocked his front door, his dog came bounding to greet him. Aha, the man thought, and promptly fell to the carpet, pretending to fight off the affectionate animal. Holding his neck with one hand, he said, Honey, look what the dog did to my neck!
Hell, she answered, ripping open her blouse.
Look what he did to my tits!

These three guys are in a bar, having a few beers, and checking out the babes as they enter the establishment. One walks in, rather attractive, and they “discuss” her “rating,” which is on a 1 to 10 scale.
One says, “I’d give her a 7. She’s really quite pretty.” Another agrees, and so does the third.
The bartender, while bringing a new round of drinks to their table, overhears their rating of the young lass. He checks her out himself and says, “I’d give her a 3.”
“A 3?” says one of the three guys at the table. “She’s a real pretty girl.”
The bartender, walking away, says, “Well, I use the Budweiser method for rating women.”
The guys look at each other, figure the bartender has lousy taste in women, and go back to their ratings. Moments later, another young lady, prettier than the last, walks into the bar, and they confer between themselves and decide she deserves a 9.
However, the bartender, wiping off the table nearest to theirs, again overhears their rating of the gal. He checks her out himself and tells the fellows that he’d only give her a 5.
“A 5? How can you give her just a 5? She’s absolutely gorgeous!”
The bartender casually replies that he uses the Budweiser method for rating women.
“The Budweiser method?” they puzzle, as the bartender returns to his post behind the bar. They are quite confused.
Three, maybe four minutes pass by, and then a stunning blonde goddess walks into the bar. Long luscious legs, sexy shape. Truly a work of flawless perfection. Without hesitation, the three “judges” at the table determine that this young sultress is, without any doubt, a 10.
However, carrying a case of beer past them to restock the supply behind the bar, the bartender once more overhears their rating of the girl. He glances studiously at her, and says that the best, the very best that he could give her, would be a 7.
“A 7 ?!? How in the world could you give her just a 7? She’s friggin’ gorgeous!”
“Well,” says the bartender again, “I use the Budweiser method for rating women.”
“Budweiser!” says one of the guys, exasperated. “What in the hell is this ‘Budweiser method’ for rating women?”
“Well, says the bartender, “the Budweiser method for rating women is the number of those giant Budweiser Clydesdales it would take to pull me off of her!”

Salvadore “Little Sharky” Moro, a witness against organized crime figures, has just been accepted by the Federal Witness Protection Program operated by the US Marshall.
Moro is best known for his testimony in the trial of Jose Canusi, convicted in a gangland loitering incident in 2009. A mafia “contract” worth hundreds of dollars was placed on his life. As part of the deal Moro will receive a sex change operation, a new name, a new address, and a job.

Sharkey Moro at the time of his arrest, from his Facebook page.

Moro’s new name is Donatella Nobodi. He will be relocated to 3712 5th Street in San Leon, and will be working as a pole dancer at the Silver Slipper Cabaret in Tiki Island.
Moro spent years as a “runner” for various track teams before joining the Mafia Reserve in 1996. He worked his way up until by 2002, he was the Mafia’s number one jaywalker.
He turned states evidence early in 2007 to avoid sentencing on an unpaid parking ticket, and immediately started “naming names” of persons whose names were listed in local telephone directories.
Congratulations to Moro on being selected for this prestigious government program, and best of luck.

A group of activists called Sight-Challenged Union of Men (SCUM) has filed a petition in Federal Court asking a judge to rule that local regulations pertaining to sexually oriented businesses (SOB’s) are a violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act. The suit claims that blind patrons are not allowed to use their hands to “see” dancers at strip clubs, because of the 3-foot and 4-foot laws passed by local governments.

The President of SCUM, Claude McScab, claims that he is unable to exercise his right to enjoy the cabarets and adult attractions in the area without breaking the law. “Hey, I’m 10% blind in one eye, and the other one is nearly as bad. My only way to visualize these gals is by touch. But they won’t let me. The law says I should be able to feel my way along.” McScab also suffers from glaucoma, and recently won the right to legally smoke medical marijuana in a separate case.
A watchdog group called WHEE (We Hate Everyone Else) has a different idea. Their spokesperson, Donna Biddie, when contacted by reporters, stated: “They (blind persons) are allowed to bring their guide dogs inside, and that should be enough. The seeing-eye dogs can alert their owner by wagging their tails, and other signs. If they win this case, there will be blind guys, legally smoking pot and feeling all over the dancers.”
A spokesman for the Humane Society said that it might be a crime to take a dog into an adult club, unless the dog is over the age of 18, presumably in dog years.
Attorney Elvin Arnold, who filed the suit, says that the group would like to see the laws amended to allow blind persons to touch entertainers at adult cabarets, in accordance with federal laws banning discrimination.

The meeting of The Electric Reliability Council of Texas (ERCOT) was postponed until January 15th after a power outage darkened meeting rooms on December 19th in Houston.

ERCOT manages the flow of electric power to 23 million Texas customers – representing 85 percent of the state’s electric load. Their stated goal is to provide reliability in the Texas electrical grid and minimize outages.  It seems slightly ironic that a power outage would cause them to miss a meeting.

Coast Guard personnel were joined by other federal agencies Christmas Eve to remove more than 85 pounds of cocaine from a Maltese tanker ship off the Galveston coast.

A drop in the proverbial bucket. Hundreds of millions of dollars worth of cocaine are smuggled into Houston aboard these tankers each year.

The crew of the 900-foot oil tanker Godavari Spirit notified the Coast Guard by radio that they had located a suspicious package hidden aboard their ship and suspected it to contain narcotics.
A joint boarding team consisting of the Coast Guard, Customs and Border Protection, Homeland Security and the Drug Enforcement Administration, were taken 70 miles offshore aboard the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Manowar to board the tanker and to confiscate the cocaine.
Upon completing a thorough search, the team located and seized a total of 31 packages of cocaine, valued at over $1,000,000. No arrests have been made at this time.

Galveston County Sheriff’s deputies caught a father-and-son theft team after witnesses spotted them stealing copper wire.

Copper is becoming the new silver. Don't cash in your pennies, they're already worth 3 cents each!

Shortly after noon on Dec. 27th, deputies were called to the 2100 block of Keystone in Port Bolivar after residents spotted two men reportedly taking copper grounding wires from electrical service poles in the area.  Residents reportedly watched the two suspects as they appeared to randomly stop at poles, tearing the grounding wires away from poles and piling the wire in an SUV they were driving.
Deputies started checking the area and soon spotted the vehicle. They then stopped the two suspects, one of whom ran from the scene.  Other deputies and Pct. 6 Constable’s deputies responded to assist, apprehending the second suspect hiding in tall grass in the 2100 block of Front Street.
Albert Leon Harvey, 50, and William Louis Harvey, 29, both of Galveston, were taken into custody and charged with Felony Theft.
Workers called to make repairs to the damage the pair did identified over 20 poles that required replacement of grounding wires as a result of the theft.
Do the scrap dealers who buy from copper thieves know they are buying wire stolen at great cost to the public? Probably. Do they care? Doubt it.

HOUSTON: Over 100 blockaders stormed the lobby of the TransCanada Keystone XL office in Houston on January 7th. Protesters danced, spilled black ‘tar sands’ balloons and hung neon orange hazard tape to highlight what they say are the deadly effects of TransCanada’s corporate greed on communities and ecosystems. Houston police arrested two of the protesters, but did not say what charges they were being held on.

Protesters want to stop the Tar Sands pipeline, which will move crude oil between Canada and Texas.

The group responsible for the demonstration is the Tar Sands Blockade, a coalition of Texas and Oklahoma landowners and environmentalists using “peaceful and sustained civil disobedience” to stop the construction of TransCanada’s Keystone pipeline.
Alec Johnson, one of the office blockaders, said “Tar sands oil spilling into our waterways and the millions of tons of carbon pollution spilling into the atmosphere means that this industry’s days are numbered.”
Perhaps. But then again, if the pipeline is not built, the oil will still be sent to refineries. This will be done using big diesel trucks. Chances are, the amount of carbon pollution and spillage will be a whole lot greater.
C’mon Alec, think this through… Maybe the pipeline will actually reduce pollution.

The Houston Rodeo has released the music lineup for this year’s rodeo. No big surprises are included. Read it and weep:

Mon Feb 25 – Toby Keith (only Dick Cheney made more money off the 9-11 attacks.)
Tue Feb 26 – Gary Allan (Mormon country music superstar.)
Wed Feb 27 – Alan “Aw Shucks” Jackson
Thur Feb 28 – Zac Brown Band (a pretty good country-folk band out of Atlanta.)
Fri Mar 1 – Black Heritage Day, Mary J. Blige (Black Heritage Day is the Politically Correct name of what was for many years simply called “N_____ Day” at the rodeo.
Sat Mar 2 – Brantley Gilbert (He actually does have fans. You can identify them by the fact that they have a wallet on a chain, but no bike and nothing in the wallet.)
Sun Mar 3 – Demi Lovato (Miley Cyrus with Talent) and Austin Mahone (A Texas version of Justin Bieber.) Must be “Tween Day.”
Mon Mar 4 – Styx (AKA “Stynx” – Not a rock or country band, as proven by their two hits, “Lady” & “Come Sail Away” from many years back. Styx is a pop band which has played the same set list for about 30 years.)
Tue Mar 5 – Lady Antebellum (ultra boring adult contemporary country hogwash.)
Wed Mar 6 – Dierks Bentley (constantly whining about some chick leaving him, his style might be called “country-emo.”)
Thur Mar 7 – Bruno “I’m not Gay, see I have a girlfriend now” Mars
Fri Mar 8 – Tim McGraw (most famous for putting all of Dr. Phil’s cliches to music.)
Sat Mar 9 – The Band Perry (more cloying obnoxious Country-emo.)
Sun, Mar 10 – Tejano Day – Julion Alvarez, Los Invasores de Nuevo Leon (Tejano Day was formerly referred to as “Wetback Day” or “Messican Day” until recent years.)
Mon Mar 11 – Jason Aldean (still more country-emo, see Dierks Bentley above.)
Tue Mar 12 – Kenny Chesney (an adult-contemporary singer disguised as a country singer. Most people miss it because he wears a cowboy hat to hide his bald head.)
Wed Mar 13 –  Jake “Who?” Owen
Thur Mar 14 –  Pitbull (Apparently this is Rap Day at the Rodeo, but no black gangstas will appear in Cowtown, so we get the Spanglish version of Eminem.)
Fri Mar 15 –  Blake Shelton (this talentless suburban damn yankee phony exemplifies how far country music has fallen.)
Sat Mar 16 – Luke Bryan (a watered down version of Kenny Chesney, who is already watered down enough.)
Sun, Mar 17 – George Strait (who is still the best living country artist), Martina McBride (a great lady, but her voice is seriously burned out) and the Randy Rogers Band (a pretty good Dallas area country band.)

Toby Keith sporting a poodle mullet hairdo. It's a goddam crying shame to see a man looking so sissified. I'm glad he sings about war rather than fighting in one, or we'd probably get our asses kicked.

Of course, there have been worse years for the rodeo. I can remember when they actually booked Barry Manilow (Barely Man-enough), which was tragic and comical all at once.

Lady Antebellum, whose name celebrates slavery, will NOT be appearing on Black Heritage Day at the Redeo.

It’s somewhat amazing that so many of the dim lights of country music are being touted as “the greatest Rodeo Houston lineup ever” in a city where the country FM stations are mired in a race for last place in the ratings.
Country music has turned into a clown show in recent years, and this lineup reinforces that image. These days, country music is to music as pro wrestling is to professional sports, or as televangelism is to religion: The batshit fringe where mediocrity rules.

Hardcore rock fans will be glad to hear that STYX is playing. Honestly, has any band ever looked more like Spinal Tap?

What would I have done differently? I don’t know. It’s hard to make chicken soup out of chicken shit. Maybe go find Doug Supernaw riding his bicycle through the trailer park in Winnie while high on bath salts and prop him up onstage; Book at least one legitimate rock band, since that is the most popular form of music, even among rednecks; Fill the roster with Texas and Houston talent, where there are many great young acts who would do a better job (and for less money) than the list of has-beens and crybabies above.

One thing I am sure of: I can hear better music free at the local venues, and that’s just what I intend to do.

The other day I somehow found myself at a web site called poetry.com. Apparently, the literary giants who operate Poetry.com are looking for the best poetry to publish. Just for the hell of it, and fully knowing there was some kind of scam involved, I dashed them off a quick poem, and submitted it to their contest under the pen-name “Shirley Zapinas”.

Here is the poem I submitted:

Taco pants sat on a dog yesterday…

Every now and then I am the moon
solemn and obscure behind a potted plant
with those few brave souls who can swoon
without ever leaning over at a slant.

So I must cop a baggy by hook or crook,
send bolts of lightning with a glance;
or else shut up and read a book
written by a fat man wearing plaid pants.

Perhaps I will stop speaking and scream,
walk to the edge of the sea of greed,
where pretentious poets still dream
of being published in a book none will read.

And if perchance these verses be chose,
if having words published be my luck,
then shall I remove all of my clothes,
cry out loudly that I could give a flying fuck.

if the price of the book they make is cheap
and cost me not my final dime,
then a dozen copies I shall buy and keep,
to make me laugh from time to time.
(Shirley Zapinas)

Just imagine my surprise when the Poetry.com editorial staff contacted me via email one day later to tell me that “Taco Pants Sat On A Dog”  had won their prestigious Editor’s Award, and would be featured in an upcoming book they are about to publish!
“Dear Shirley” the email said, “Your unique style and message impressed our editors, and we have selected your work to be published immediately… We are sure you will want to reserve at least a dozen copies of the upcoming book at the reduced rate of $59.95 each – they make excellent gifts.”
Some investigating turned up the fact that each book they print has about 600 poems in it. That translates to over $400,000 in sales for a press run of  7,000 copies.
The cost of the printing is about $4,000, so they can’t pay any royalties, but at least I will become a published author, and can sell my future poetry for millions.
My career as a poet is just getting started.
I have also been invited to attend the annual and prestigious International Poetry Writers Convention, a 5 day / 2 night event in Glen Falls, NY. All expenses are included (except air fare, meals, and lodging) in the $600 per person (double occupancy) fee.
So, for just $1,200 plus expenses, I can be there, hobnobbing with all of the top poets from the US, Canada, and other major cities.
Too bad I used the Shirley Zapinas moniker. If only I had used my real name… Now, I can’t go – although the editors assure me that the other poets are eagerly looking forward to meeting me (actually Shirley) for networking and socializing.
In the meanwhile, I’m going to have to buy at least a dozen books to “help cover  publishing expenses” or else Taco Pants is going to have to dismount his dog and sit on the sidelines.
I never knew becoming a famous poet was going to be so expensive, but that doesn’t matter. The main thing is that my talents have finally been discovered after all these years.