Blogs

In some not-shocking-but-wonderfully-true news this past week, we learned that Miss Payless Shoes (Star Jones Reynolds) is about to knock off that second last name with her pending divorce from Al Reynolds.

Somewhere, Barbara Walters is allowing herself to giggle with glee and Joy Behar is cackling as she rubs her hands together with satisfaction.

Despite her past protests that all was well between her and her man, the truth came out this week when Jones acknowledged that she’d filed for the big D. She also released the following statement: “Several years ago I made an error in judgment by inviting the media into the most intimate area of my life. A month ago I filed for divorce. The dissolution of a marriage is a difficult time in anyone’s life that requires privacy with one’s thoughts. I have committed myself to handling this situation with dignity and grace and look forward to emerging from this period as a stronger and wiser woman.”

Ha Ha, Star Jones is getting a divorce, nyah nyah nyah.

Like a disgustingly rich, misanthropic cancer-ridden nonagenarian clinging on his hospital bed to what few remaining brain cells haven’t atrophied, just to spite all his would-be heirs, Ron Paul’s presidential campaign just won’t freaking die already.

Apparently unfamiliar with the terms “graceful exit” or “shut the fuck up already,” Paul’s delegates turned Nevada’s Republican convention upside-down Saturday, dominating some weird party vote that opened the convention up to all state candidates. (Yes, it’s extremely confusing, and this story doesn’t really help.) They were emboldened by none other than the good doctor himself, who said in a speech that he’ll continue running as long as there’s support, which is kind of like keeping “According to Jim” on the air because five people might actually like it.

Things got downright ugly when the party chairman suddenly canceled the whole thing, resulting in “boos!” and, according to another source, screams for blood. So this whole thing should serve as fair warning to anyone who thinks McCain has the nomination sewn up, as well as anyone who thinks black teens are especially “fleet-footed”: Ron Paul is here to stay. Well, at least for a few more months. – Craig Malisow

This weekend we were driving down FM 529 outside of Copperfield when we saw a sign from a bygone era.

Regretfully, the country store's pumps haven't been in operation for at least five years. -- Keith Plocek

All right, so everyone was all in a tizzy last week when it was discovered that some American graduate student was able to get himself out of an Egyptian jail by alerting his friends through Twitter, a social-networking site that allows people to send short messages to each other.

I wish they’d let that kid rot there instead.

Why?

Because in my opinion he was guilty of the crime of self-absorption via Twitter.

As April, a month of nonstop outdoor festivals, winds down, we don't have quite the overload of event coverage we've had the past few weeks, but we try to make up for it with gusto.

The End of the Aeros Season

Well, that's it. The IceHogs bested the Aeros. Game (and season) over.

12:26 a.m. at Texas Beats Warehouse; 1:18 a.m. at Swivel; 1:34 a.m. at Allure; 1:46 a.m. at the Roof; 2:34 a.m. at Arts Festival

Remember what we said about gusto? Photo Bill Olive went ballistic on Saturday night, shooting five different venues and bringing back a bevy of nightlife photos, featuring DJs, musicians, drinkers, dancers, face paint, glow sticks, pacifiers and a tiger. Have a look.

Welcome to Monday. More to come. -- Keith Plocek

Think boy bands died in the '90s? Apparently you haven't been watching P Diddy's Making the Band, where Sr. Combs uses his unique expertise to keep the world populated with pop stars. Season Four's Day 26 performed yesterday at the University of Houston for the Block Explosion, and we had a photog there to capture the show in all its hip-thrusting and thoughtful-posing glory. -- Keith Plocek

Women: Have you ever dreamed about being a prostitute, but not the yucky street-walking kind? Maybe you were afraid of being called “whore” or “criminal defendant.” Well, a retired, Texas-born hooker has now written a pair of how-to books for you to get off your foot and on your back for your dream job!

Amanda Brooks’s Internet Escort’s Handbook series gives tips for how to advertise online, and how to handle the "basic mental, emotional and physical considerations in escort work.” Plus, you can keep up with her on her blog, After Hours. (You can get her musings on topics like pimps, who she apparently dislikes: “My belief is that the business follows the pussy, not the pimp.”)

Brooks got her start around Dallas and eventually moved to Vegas – and if a hooker can make it there, she can make it anywhere! This is one pro who knows what she’s talking about, so dive right in! – Craig Malisow

Do you know what “Dopestick pimpin’ on the one-trick pony” means? I sure as Hell don’t either, but I like the sound of it.

Where do these lovely words come from? From a little tune called “My Medicine,” performed by country music’s latest addition, Snoop Dogg.

Yes, Snoop Dogg. The man known for “Gin and Juice” has recently made inroads into the country music world, a universe whiter than Elmer’s Glue. (And that kind of includes Charley “Kiss an Angel Good Morning” Pride, I think.) In addition to presenting at the Country Music Awards, he’s recorded the infectious “My Medicine” and has appeared on Larry King going on about how much he loved Johnny Cash and country music. (“Country musicians go through the same thing that rappers go through. You know what I’m saying? We express what we’re feeling over melodies.”)

It took a long, long time, but the firefighters at Station No. 8, the downtown station, finally have a permanent home.

They’ve been housed for seven years in temporary digs, as one delay or another has blocked the effort to build a new facility.

Station 8 actually combines firefighters who had been at two different firehouses. Station No. 1’s historic headquarters was given to Tilman Fertitta in a sweetheart deal for his new restaurant The Aquarium, a deal that will see him paying only $12,500 a month for rent in the year 2040. (With inflation, those 2040 dollars might be the equivalent of paying 30 bucks a month for the location.) Station No. 8 was razed to make way for Toyota Center.

Theatre Under the Stars had its annual Tommy Tune awards Tuesday, the coveted Tonys for local high schools.

Judges saw 41 productions in the 2007-08 school year, God bless `em. The biggest surprise (to us)? A religious school did Urinetown. Those scamps at Episcopal, man.

It paid off, though, because they won the Best Musical award. The production also took home honors for Best Leading Actor (Ben Estus as Bobby Strong), Best Direction, Best Choreography, Best Ensemble/Chorus and Best Scenic Design.

Though they aren’t really well known in mainstream stand-up comedy circles, among the millions of fans of Howard Stern’s radio show, they are superstars and like family…albeit a hugely dysfunctional one. The Killers of Comedy are an amalgamation of stand-up comics (including a racist clown), Stern show staffers, and sideshow freaks of nature like ex-WWF wrestling star The Iron Sheik and horny black dwarf Beetlejuice.

The ringmaster of this twisted troupe for a comedy show unlike any other is the comedian Reverend Bob Levy. He’s one of the Stern show’s more frequent and funny contributors, and now a comedy club entrepreneur. Houstoned spoke with the wonderfully politically incorrect good Rev. for a preview of the group’s upcoming show at Planeta Bar-Rio and a glimpse inside Sirius radio’s “Studio 69.”

Houstoned: Of all the people who get their balls so severely busted on the Stern show, you are among the worst victims. They nail you about you poor spelling, bad pronunciation, career level, and living in your ex-wife’s basement. So how tough is it?

Levy: I don’t mind it. It takes awhile, but you develop a thick skin. And it’s better if they’re talking about you than if they’re not talking about you. Howard likes you if you amuse him. I think he really likes me. And he’s helping people make a living. He’s a saint, goddamnit!

Houstoned: Listeners can only imagine what it’s like really being in that studio with all the chaos. What’s the most surprising thing you think people should know?

A few Sensitive Sallies at Texas Tech have voiced their outrage over a game of “Catch the Illegal Immigrant” organized by the school’s chapter of the Young Conservatives of Texas. Marshalling their collective powers of intelligence, entrepreunership and xenophobia, the kinderkonservatives made T-shirts that say “Illegal Immigrant” on the front and “Catch Me if You Can” on the back.

While this local paper vaguely describes the game as a variant of hide-and-seek, we actually checked the Official Catch the Illegal Immigrant Handbook and now provide the rules, so your school can join in on the fun!

1.) Put on the T-shirts (make sure “Illegal Immigrant” is on the front, or the point of the game will be lost on passers-by).

2.) Designate one person to be the aforementioned miscreant (ten bonus points if this person is, in fact, an illegal immigrant; five points if he’s at least brown).

Okay, first up, pop culture writer and all-around genius Chuck Klosterman has already written quite eloquently about the 1989 Patrick Swayze movie “Road House,” but forgive me, I’ve got to get my turn.

Because I love “Road House,” damn it.

At first, as I started watching it on cable each time it turned up, I thought perhaps I was simply appreciating it on an ironic level. And I suppose it’s still true that there remains that college hipster inside of me who is watching “Road House” simply to laugh at the gratuitous sex scenes and violence and over-the-top dialogue (“I used to fuck guys like you in prison!”) plus our dearly beloved Patrick Swayze doing Tai Chi.

But this past week, I put “Road House” on my Netflix queue, and last night while Mr. Pop Rocks was out of town, I ordered a pizza, drank some beer, and sat back and watched this film with a huge smile on my face, going so far as to pause and rewind and watch my favorite scenes over and over.

Which is to say, I watched it in earnest.

Richard Wexler has followed the FLDS case closely, especially after the news that the state plans to send the children in groups to foster facilities.

"You can make a case that some of those children needed be removed from the compound, but none of them needed to be taken from his or her mother. That is the crucial failing here," Wexler says. "The original rationale for taking some of the children was, 'Well, that'll be a way of getting them to talk.' Waterboarding would make it easier to get them to talk, but that's not a good idea either. And even Texas CPS may know that infants can't talk. I don't even know what their rationale is now."

Wexler runs the National Coalition for Child Protection Reform in Virginia, and when the Press wrote about Child Protective Services last year, Wexler told us he ranked Texas as one of the worst states for child welfare.

To celebrate Pope Benedict XVI’s historic U.S. visit, KHOU on Saturday reran its documentary on the Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart, “Building on Faith.” Doubling as a public relations agency, KHOU gave the Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston what seminary student Juan Carlos Patino-Arango gave a few of the Archdiocese’s boys before church authorities facilitated his return to Colombia in 1996 – a big, fat, sloppy blowjob.