Houston News Blog

​Houston lawyer Barbara Ann Radnofsky, who plans to challenge Greg Abbott as a Democratic candidate in next year's Attorney General race, must feel that the spotlight isn't shining bright enough from her speaking gig at tonight's Tarrant County Young Democrats Gubernatorial Forum at Texas Christian University. Or maybe she wanted to give TCU students something better to talk about than stealing toilet paper and pissing in laundry rooms. Or maybe she was just bored. 

Whatever the reason, Radnofsky decided to tell a reporter from the Fort Worth Star-Telegram that Texas basically shot itself in the foot by banning gay marriage and actually banned all marriages in the state. The "massive mistake," which Radnofsky blames on Abbott, comes from a 2005 constitutional amendment. From the Star-Telegram article:

The amendment, approved by the Legislature and overwhelmingly ratified by voters, declares that "marriage in this state shall consist only of the union of one man and one woman." But the troublemaking phrase, as Radnofsky sees it, is Subsection B, which declares:

"This state or a political subdivision of this state may not create or recognize any legal status identical or similar to marriage."

"You do not have to have a fancy law degree to read this and understand what it plainly says," Radnofsky told the Star-Telegram. "Yes, I believe the clear language of B bans all marriages..."

Hair Balls called the Radnofsky campaign to find out what exactly she intended when she declared all Texas marriages nullified, but we haven't heard back with any answers. So, we decided to call the man we consider to be the real authority on marital law in Houston, Earle Lilly.

​If you're a Texan, you're getting ready to blow the budget this Christmas because, apparently, why the hell not?

The 24th annual holiday survey by financial firm Deloitte says (not in so many words, of course) that Texans are ignoring every piece of news available about current economic conditions.

Fears about the recession are slowly subsiding, with more than half of Texans surveyed (55 percent) saying they expect the economy will improve in 2010, compared with 27 percent who responded favorably last year.

The positive outlook is reflected in their shopping plans as well. More than half of Texas consumers (55 percent) hope to spend more or the same on the holidays, an improvement from 43 percent last year. Specifically, the survey revealed that Texans' total anticipated holiday spend is $1,380, or 21 percent higher than the national average of $1,145.

This sounded like the usual rosy-scenario prediction always dished out around this time, so we checked to see if last year's predictions were as glum as this year's made them out to be.

When the Texas Department of Motor Vehicles opened November 1, we had no idea that it would be the greatest new state agency in memory.

"What's so great about the DMV, Hair Balls?" you might ask. We're glad you did.

See, the DMV has partnered with www.myplates.com to make it easier and more enjoyable to purchase a whole new line of vanity plates. You just type in your 6-character combo and, presto, you can see if "BOOOBS" is still available! (It is). You can waste a whole work-week doing this. We thought we'd test out a few others -- feel free to grab one if you like it.

Contrary to what some people might think, we chose this plate for our good friend, Alan Qedarski.

​

Photo courtesy of Yelp

​A few months ago Texas Traveler visited the always-interesting Sixth Floor Museum dedicated to the "official" account of President John F. Kennedy's assassination. It's definitely worth going to if you're interested in any way in American history or politics, but maybe you, like some of us, are less apt to believe the official timeline of events on November 22, 1963. If so, you should join the other conspiracy theorists in Dallas this weekend with a tour of the less-visited locales in the Kennedy assassination plot.

Dealey Plaza is the big place to be on the 46th anniversary of the assassination. Expect to mingle with both legitimate mourners and those who are only there to stir the pot. If the crowd gets to be too much, you can always walk to the east of the Old Red Museum (not actually related to anything JFK but still worth a visit) and find some quiet, if not peace, inside the bizarrely basic John F. Kennedy cenotaph -- a tomb without the remains. The feeling there is the same as what we get inside the Rothko Chapel.

Spoiler alert: I'm half-assing this one! Because for reals, if you're still watching FlashForward expecting a great show, you've got problems. But if you keep reading this blog expecting the torrent of bad TV I watch every week to drive me crazy, well, you just might be in luck.

The episode opened with Dead Black Agent's letter being delivered to Celia, the woman he'd kill according to his vision. Cue a montage of everyone going ape kaka about how the future can be changed. They usually save the cornball montages for the end of the show, so this is like crazy times you guys! Lloyd the British Guy then sends an email to his co-conspirators in the blackout that ended with a "Your message has been sent" pop-up like he's in The Net. He's playing with his kid in the hospital a bit later when Simon bursts in with melodramatic threats and bad puns (something about having his bruised ego checked in an X-ray, which I think he got from my dad). Lloyd still wants to go public with the whole "Sorry I caused the blackout, dudes," but Simon doesn't want him to, so they decide to settle the argument in the most logical way they know: Texas Hold 'Em. Wait, what?

OH YEAH: Aaron's daughter Tracy, who apparently didn't die in the war but just lost part of a leg, is sleeping on his couch and suffering from wicked PTSD. It's also apparently been two months since he had her grave exhumed, but the show chronology doesn't feel like it's advanced that much. I guess they have to catch up to April 2010, but every ep feels slippery and disconnected from the others.

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Pam McLaurin is a teacher in Big Sandy ISD in Polk County in deep East Texas. The Texas Education Association has asked her to submit to a background check. McLaurin, who has taught for 20 years, has complied with every part of the check save for the mandatory fingerprinting, which she opposes on religious grounds.

That's because the kindergarten teacher interprets the Book of Revelation literally, and thus fears that by allowing her fingerprint to be digitized and stored in a computer, she will have assumed the Mark of the Beast.

Photo by Brittanie Shey

​Since the weather in Texas is finally what the rest of the world calls normal, nothing beats hitting the streets on two wheels. Texas Traveler can hardly explain the way everything looks and smells different when you get out of the cage (see entry number two). And we're not just talking about motorized vehicles. A state so vast and varied as Texas is the perfect place to explore on motorcycle, scooter or bicycle.

See, most people are emotionally attached to their cars, (especially here in Houston) and they'll try to tell you it isn't safe, or that it can't be done. But Texas is home to some of the biggest riding groups in the country, not to mention one of the biggest charity cycling events. Just be careful of those potholes. They're bigger in Texas too.

Usually, Texas Traveler is content to ride our scooter to UH on our daily commute, or take our bikes down to Disco Green for movie nights. But we're planning an epic two-week motorcycle trip to Big Bend over the holidays and as such we've been thinking a lot about organized riding events as a way to get used to the saddle.
Below, three upcoming events for the three styles of two-wheeled vehicles.

Madness has come to Fort Hood in Central Texas.

Various media outlets are reporting that gunmen have killed seven people and wounded up to 20 others, and the situation is still fluid.

Schools are on lockdown.

CNN and others are following events; head there for more info.

"At least one person is 'neutralized' in connection with the incident, and a second is 'cornered, retired Army Lt. Gen. Russel Honore told CNN, citing 'unofficial, unconfirmed reports' from two sources," according to the latest AP report.

Photo by da nes

​Things have been rough on the West End of Galveston, what with the destruction by Hurricane Ike and all that comes from building McMansions one inch about sea level.

But now the gods have gone too far. Now they want to take away residents' golf carts.

The Galveston city council meets today to discuss the momentous issue. Residents initially believed a vote to ban the vehicles was on the agenda, but now it looks like the council will just take the easy way out of appointing a committee to study the issue and make recommendations.

The Galveston police chief started the brouhaha when he complained about flimsy carts on the major roads of the West End. As the Galveston County Daily News reports, residents didn't like that: "West End residents said golf carts are part of their way of life. They use them to get to nearby stores, the Galveston Island Country Club and neighbors' houses."

Courtesy Chuck Potter

The raid, where everything was fine and dandy

​A lot of people were up in arms about the raid by Fort Worth police and TABC agents on the Rainbow Lounge, a gay bar in Fort Worth.

Patrons were beat up because, cops reportedly said, they were making goo-goo eyes at police, or however such things are described in official police language.

You'll be glad to know that all the outrage was not necessary -- the cops and agents didn't do anything wrong. Says the TABC. And the FWPD, who told the Fort Worth Star-Telegram no officers would be disciplined.

Who better to investigate the agencies' actions than the agencies themselves? We'd be hard-pressed to say.

Two TABC agents have already been fired for violating some policies, and the agency vigorously pointed to that to show they took this whole thing very, very seriously.

The Sunday drive. Sometimes it's more about the trip than the destination, y'know? Texas Traveler needed to get out of town for the day. We didn't know where, just someplace new. Someplace different. We looked at a map and picked a place. Matagorda? Why not.


View Larger Map

We took 59 out there, because we were feeling antsy. Nothing to see there, folks. But at Wharton, things began to get interesting. We turn south, and start following the vast valley of the Colorado River. In our peripheral vision we catch sight of something odd on the side of the road. A teepee motel! The only teepee motel in Texas, as a matter of fact, recently renovated by some lucky schmuck who won the lottery.

In town, we stop for Mexican at a place called Larry's. Gringo name? Bad idea. Bad like American cheese on the nachos. This sours our opinion of the town, so we decide to get off the mains. We head back north and catch FM 1301, where the scenery is more interesting. But there are miles and miles of corn farms. Is this for grain? Or for HFCS?

​Is Obama trying to kill Texans as revenge for not voting for him?

Quite possibly, if you believe a list of swine-flu vaccine information getting e-mailed around. (And yeah, we're calling it swine flu, you H1N1 snobs.)

What's being e-mailed is a list of vaccine doses shipped, broken down by state. California has gotten 836,900 doses; Texas 178,300. Texas has less than Arizona, and who the hell lives in Arizona?

So obviously there's political skullduggery going on, right?

Not really.

Carrie Williams, spokesperson for the Texas Department of State Health Services, says the numbers in the e-mail are misleading.

Photos by Brittanie Shey

Entrance to the Donnellan vault below the Franklin Street Bridge

​Texas Traveler has spent the better part of the month checking out some of the creepiest, oldest, most interesting parts of Houston and it's neighboring cities, and to wrap up the month we have a few more tales to tell you about. Below, five Houston haunts you may not have known about.

Donnellan vault
Fancy a drink at the Brewery Tap? Be sure to walk a few feet west to the Franklin Street bridge and look over the railing at the northeast corner. You'll see some old red brickwork, the entrance to the Donnellan Family vault built in 1849. Texas Traveler has mentioned this before but here's the full story.

Family patriarch and early Houston settler Tim Donnellan, who died in 1849, was the first to be buried in the vault. Seventeen years later, after the end of the Civil War, Tim Donnellan's son and a friend found some unexploded ordnances in the bayou. One story claims the artillery was dumped into the water after the Confederacy surrendered, but another story claims a Confederate ship carrying the weapons sunk in Buffalo Bayou near MIlan Street. Either way, the weapons were still live, and one shell exploded, killing both Henry Donnellan and Charles Richer (sometimes listed as Ritchey).

Both bodies were added to the crypt, eventually joined by Emily Donnellan, the family matriarch. In 1900, all the bodies were moved to Glenwood Cemetery, but the vault still remains and is easily accessible when the bayou waters are low.

The Face
The Face is one of those stories that sufficiently freaks Texas Traveler out, thanks to our extremely overactive imagination. (And we're not talking about this guy.) Yes, yes, we know all about the Elvis waffles and the Virgin Mary sweat stains -- you can read anything into a Rorschach test that you want. But have a look at this picture and tell us if you don't see what we see.

There are two backstories here. Some people believe The Face, on the harbor-side wall of Ewing Hall at UTMB in Galveston, is that of Jean Lafitte, the remnants of who's home, Maison Rouge, is just a few blocks away at 14th and Avenue A. Other people believe the face belongs to an old man who was a stalwart holdout against the sale of his property to the University of Texas Medical Branch. As soon as he kicked the bucket, his children cashed in, and he's said to haunt the resulting building.

The story doesn't end there. If you look closely above the face, you can see that the topmost panel of the building is darker than the rest. According to fable, the face used to be on this panel. UTMB tried to paint over it, but soon the face appeared on the panel below. That middle panel was sandblasted -- you can see it's a different texture than the rest of the building. But that only caused the face to move down again. Read the comments on this blog post from Galveston locals who've encountered The Face.

​The U.S. Department of Agriculture has filed charges against the East Texas handler of three -- er, actually it's now just one -- elephants, for allegedly violating the Animal Welfare Act. For those who haven't been following this sad/absurd story out of Leggett, about 80 miles northeast of Houston, Wil Davenport is a dude who runs something called Maximus Tons of Fun, which was the homebase of rare Asian elephants named Tina, Jewel and Boo (aka Queenie).

In August, Davenport surrendered Tina and Jewel to USDA agents after agents said the animals were dangerously underweight.

The complaint, which was filed September 25 and made public this week, accuses Davenport of not providing adequate veterinary care to the elephants and  threatening, abusing and harassing federal agents. One of the elephants, according to the complaint, had overgrown molars and had trouble chewing her food.

Davenport, who apparently hails from circus folk and is therefore an eminently trustworthy individual, has maintained all along that he has never done anything to harm the elephants, whom he loves. (We left a message at Maximus Tons of Fun, but haven't heard back yet. We imagine it'll be Tons of Time before we do).

​We've heard of test pilots, but Southwest Airlines is offering the chance to be a test passenger.

The airline is introducing a new "Green Plane," one where the materials used on a lot of things are lighter, resulting in a plane that uses less fuel to fly.

If it works.

One aircraft will be outfitted with new rugs and two new types of seat covers that save two pounds per seat, the airline says.

There's also this:
 

Life Vest Pouch -- more environmentally friendly because it offers a weight savings of one pound per passenger, replacing the current metal container with lighter durable canvas. The smaller pouch also creates more room under the seat for carryon items and offers productivity improvements due to design change.

When we're flailing helplessly in the Gulf of Mexico after going down on a Southwest flight, we're not sure we're going to be too worried about how "environmentally friendly" our life vest is. Give us the metal, not the "durable canvas," thanks.

​On one hand, you have to tip your John Deere hat and salute this little feat of deep East Texas Redneck ingenuity and derring-do. On the other hand, you just have to wonder WTF they were thinking.

The Web site of Jasper radio station KJAS picks up the tale:

According to Jasper County Deputy Mike Smith, he was on routine patrol on Highway 96, just north of Kirbyville, at about 5:00 when he spotted a 1/2 ton Dodge pickup truck struggling to pull a 16 foot lowboy trailer with a ten-ton oil pump on it. Smith said the truck had a flat tire, and one wheel on the trailer was completely gone.

According to Smith, the truck and trailer were creating a huge shower of sparks on the highway, which caught his attention.

As it might any attentive patrolman...

We went to the Texas Renaissance Festival in Plantersville this weekend to attend our cousin's wedding, and wouldn't you know we brought a camera along to document through our drunkenly narrow and judging eyes all the WTF-ery walking amongst the trees. Secretly we wish we could also don a pair of tights and play the lute whilst sitting against a turkey-leg stand, because -- sweet Lord -- those chicks west of Conroe love shoving their boobies skyward. Sadly we have gone full-nerd for much less.

Below are the top 20 freaks you'll meet at Ren Fest, in handy picture form.

Photos by Craig Hlavaty

​The last time we saw someone blowing glass this well, we...OK, we tried to come up with a pun about someone fellating composer Phillip Glass but we sort of gassed out. So just imagine someone blowing him in a bathroom stall or something.

Photos by Brittanie Shey

Dash Beardsley starts the tour.

​Dash Beardsley is a legend, both in his own mind, and in real life. The Robert Plant look-alike, owner and operator of Ghost Tours of Galveston, shows up for tours wearing a floor-length black duster, silver rings on every finger, and sunglasses. At 8 o'clock at night. Before the tour starts, he designates someone to be his "lantern-bearer." He carries with him a backpack blaring songs from The Doors, and quotes openly from Jim Morrison.

Texas Traveler has been on a couple of different ghost tours. We've done Haunted Prague, and the Jack the Ripper Tour in London, along with some places closer to home. It's a fun way to see a different side of a city. But never have we seen a tour as popular as Ghost Tours of Galveston. When we arrive, at 7:30 p.m. on a Saturday night, at least 70 people are waiting on the steps of the island's art deco Railroad Museum. At $15 a head, that's some kind of racket. More people arrive for a second tour, which starts at 8:30 p.m.

Ghost Tours of Galveston originally started with Beardsley and his two-hour walk of the Strand. Though he was born and raised in The Heights, his grandfather, an accountant for Gulf Oil for more than 40 years, had land in Galveston, and would share with Beardsley his stories of the island's fables. About a decade ago, Beardsley came down to Galveston himself and started doing his own research into the island's history, to see if it matched up with some of the stories he'd heard.

To be sure, Galveston has some of the most interesting history in the state. At one point it was considered the New York City of the South. People from Houston know this, but for the rest of the country, Galveston's effect on trade and culture in the Victorian era is essentially unknown, thanks to the Great Storm of 1900, which ended everything.

But even before that, Galveston was home to larger-than life characters like the pirate Jean Lafitte, who established the first township on the island, and the Karankawa Indians. The first 20 minutes of Beardsley's tour include a rundown of Galveston history, and specifically, a history of the Strand area.

​A little over 10 years ago, we wrote about a "Killer Weed" that had been mistakenly introduced to some Texas lakes and was quickly covering them with a thick blanket of vegetation.

Salvinia molesta, also known as Giant Salvinia, reproduces itself faster than the Octomom and is a dire threat to freshwater plants and organisms that need sunlight.

The weed was first found at a Houston elementary school's pond, of all places. Texas Parks & Wildlife officials told us of how a bit of the weed, transported on, say, a Jet-Ski that was trucked from one lake to another, could bring the pain-in-the-ass vegetation to a previously clean waterway.

They especially worried about Sam Rayburn Reservoir. Surprisingly, a decade or so went by without any outbreak, but the good luck has ended, TPWD announced today.

Photo courtesy USGS

​There's nothing like a release from the U.S. Geological Survey headlined "Report Documents the Risks of Giant Invasive Snakes in the U.S." to get your attention. (Unless it's "Osama bin Laden Determined to Strike in U.S." But we digress.)

Bottom line: Look out Texas, we got giant pythons and boa constrictors coming our way. Giant!!

"This report clearly reveals that these giant snakes threaten to destabilize some of our most precious ecosystems and parks, primarily through predation on vulnerable native species," said Dr. Robert Reed, a coauthor of the report and a USGS invasive species scientist and herpetologist, in an official release.

There's a whole slew of snakes that have been imported into the country, often as pets, that are getting out of control. The problem is especially acute in South Florida, but the report says that Texas will be vulnerable to two types of ominous-sounding creatures: the Burmese python and the boa constrictor.

​If you prefer a little power of prayer with your PlayStation -- and if you live anywhere near a Houston or Dallas Wal-Mart -- then you're in luck: Inspired Media Entertainment is test-marketing its Left Behind and Charlie the Churchmouse games in those select locations.

So just what is a "Christian" video game, you ask? Based on the descriptions on the company's web site, they're sort of like Grand Theft Auto, only without the enjoyment factor. In Left Behind: Eternal Forces, you can "recover ancient scriptures and witness spectacular angelic and demonic activity as a direct consequence of your choices." You also get to battle "negative spiritual influences," which makes the experience sound as much like an AA meeting as a video game.

Its companion in the series, Left Behind: Tribulation Forces, is advertised as "the first video game in which prayer & worship are more powerful than guns!" Apparently, you can use those tools to "combat the Antichrist's forces on two battle fronts." (We didn't look at any of the Charlie the Churchmouse series, as we're deathly afraid of rodents and don't believe they should have any standing in a decent, Bible-based society).

Photo by Brittanie Shey

​The state capitol holds many secrets gleaned throughout its long history as a center for settlement, trade and politics. Here are a few of our favorite spooky places in Austin.

The Driskill Hotel

Often cited as one of the most haunted buildings in Texas, The Driskill opened in 1886 as one of the most lush and expensive hotels in the country, and certainly the nicest in Texas. What was meant to be the finest hotel West of the Mississippi suffered from its own hubris: it closed within six months due to the exorbitant cost of a stay there. Cattle baron and entrepreneur Jesse Driskill later lost his hotel in a poker game. The building change hands several times, eventually becoming a meeting place for political elite and Austin high society.

Several ghosts are said to haunt the building, including a young girl who chases a ball down the lobby stairs. Phantom musicians are heard playing upstairs, and ghosts apparently hand out in both bathrooms on the ground floor.

In 1999, according to one story, a woman from Houston was in Austin for her wedding. Her fiancé called the ceremony off at the last minute, so the woman took revenge on him Blu Cantrell-style by spending thousands of dollars at Austin's finest boutiques on the his credit cards. She came back to the hotel, arms loaded down with shopping bags, went into her room, and promptly shot herself in the stomach, using a pillow as a silencer. Her body wasn't discovered for three days.

Visitors claims to see her riding the elevator, still carrying her shopping bags, but we have our doubts. If the story is true, no version we've heard ever mentions her name. And the suicide happened recently enough in a famous enough hotel that we'd expect to find some record of it in the Statesman, but no dice. The Houston Bride's room is reported alternately as being either 27 or 29, if you're pondering a stay.

Incidentally, since the hotel is at 6th and Brazos it's a popular spot for performers. Johnette Napolitano of Concrete Blonde has supposedly reported experiencing a ghost when she stayed there, one who turned the lights of her room off and on repeatedly while she tried to sleep after a Concrete Blonde gig. But who can trust her? She does have a thing for vampires.

We took note this summer when the Waco Tribune was sold to someone with no journalistic experience, whose first move was to add "In God We Trust" to the front page.

​Now Clifton Robinson is taking Central Texas journalism to a whole other level. His publisher's column was written this week by his dog. We guess we should say "allegedly," but the thing is so wretched that we're not entirely unconvinced it indeed was written by "Annie Poo Robinson," as the byline says.

In their initial announcement of their purchase, the new owners said they intended "to ferret out more conservative voices in our [op-ed] columns," so if we had believed they would have stooped to the animal world for writers, it would have been a ferret.

Instead we got this:

​If you happen to look up the skies tomorrow and see high-powered military jets wildly maneuvering to intercept and possibly shoot down a potential terror threat, don't panic.

We're not saying you would panic -- you're probably a level-headed person who would assume it was some type of exercise. Then again, a whole lot of people freaked out when the Coast Guard ran such an exercise on 9/11 this year, or when Air Force One started flying around New York landmarks for a photo op in April.

In this case, though, your calm attitude would be the right one, because the shrieking jets will indeed be part of a military training mission.

The fun guys at NORAD, the North American Aerospace Defense Command, will be trying out some scenarios tomorrow to see how well they do at protecting us, or at least the refineries.

"The flights will take place in the late morning and early afternoon and people can expect to hear and see NORAD fighter aircraft as they practice their intercept and identification procedures," the agency said in a release.

Photos by Brittanie Shey

​Texas Traveler has never been much of a believer, nor have we ever been much for re-heated frozen fake Italian food. But after we heard that the Spaghetti Warehouse downtown was named one of the most haunted buildings in America, we decided to have a look for ourselves.

See, Texas Traveler grew up in Oklahoma, and the only thing haunting the Spaghetti Warehouse there were the panhandlers hanging out on the corner. After all, we want to believe, and what better way to spend an October night than dining in one of Houston's creepiest buildings?

Downtown's Market Square area has an interesting history. La Carafe has its own stories to tell, and the Franklin Street Bridge over Buffalo Bayou at Louisiana once housed a family vault -- the vault is still there but the bodies are now in Glenwood Cemetery.

The Desel-Boettcher warehouse, built in the early 1900s, was bought by Spaghetti Warehouse in 1974 as a second location for the Dallas-based chain. The restaurant was filled with millions of dollars in antiques, including a staircase from a European castle. Over the past couple of years, stories about the warehouse's haunting have become prominent in the news.

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The Heavens parted and we heard Angels singing...And on the eighth day, God created Buc-ees. And He saw that it was good.
-- Testimonial on the blog at Buc-ee's official Web site.

For what is, in the end, merely a chain of roadside truck stops that don't even allow trucks to stop, Buc-ee's and its maniacally grinning little beaver mascot sure garner a lot of fanatical devotion. Let's take a look at more of the testimonials on the Web site of the fast-growing Lake Jackson-based company with the famously gleaming bathrooms, which recently opened a mammoth, 25,000-square-foot emporium off I-45 in Madisonville.

"Better than Walmart and McDonalds all wound up together! Its a mini-Bass Pro Shop with a toy store for kids and adults lol!"
Tabitha, from "East Tx around Lufkin"

I stopped by Amy's Ice Cream in San Antonio and as I walked in....the counter staff yell "BUC-EE'S!" I got free ice cream: Ancho Chocolate and Chocolate Guiness.
Anonymous fan, who claims that wearing a Buc-Ee's T-shirt "opens doors."

"Seriously, I love this place so much that, if I weren't already married, I'd have my wedding there."
Dallas Morning News blogger Jacquielynn Floyd

Enough, says local blogger Lauren, the webmaster of architectural preservation website arch-ive.org. That's enough of, as she puts it, these "overemphatic declarations of love for all things Buc-Ee's."

Lauren, who doesn't want her last named used (perhaps from fear of reprisal from one of these beaver-crazed Buc-ee's acolytes), first came across the chain in Luling, at the flagship. "It wasn't bad," she says. "It wasn't busy. It didn't really leave a huge impression on me."

About a year ago Lauren made another visit. Little did she know how effective the company's relentless billboard, bumpersticker and t-shirt campaign had been since her last visit. And since the last time she popped by, the company had also expanded its inventory far beyond typical roadside fare like beer, jerky, smokes and ice. Now, the stores carry hunting knives, lawn furniture, barbecue pits and John Wayne memorabilia. To Lauren, the new and improved Buc-ee's seemed to her less an ordinary highway pit stop than some kind of sinister Den of the Increasingly Omnipotent Beaver.

The Texas Tribune, the new non-profit journalism operation headed by former Texas Monthly editor Evan Smith, had some big news yesterday: They'd received a $500,000 donation from the Houston Endowment.

The gift will go a long ways toward -- Say what now? The Houston Endowment is getting back in the journalism business?

The last time they did that, they owned the Houston Chronicle, and the list of sacred cows that were protected and coddled by order of the Endowment was lengthy and inviolate.

Longtime Houston reporters have never forgotten the time when the Chron's Dan Grothaus and Olive Talley uncovered widespread financial shenanigans at the Endowment -- charity money going for luxurious hunting lodges, that kind of thing -- and the stories got killed. (There were also angles involving Hermann Hospital, one of the sacred cows.)

The two reporters held a press conference, and the Houston Post gladly printed the details (and hired Grothaus and Talley). The Endowment held onto the Chron until tax laws forced them to sell it in 1987.

Smith tells Hair Balls he's well aware of the Endowment's history with the Chron, but has absolutely no worries about any repeats.

Photos by Brittanie Shey

​Texas Traveler has written a bit about The Sam Houston National Forest (SHNF) but not yet has she devoted an entire trip to exploring the 160,000 acres of cool shady woodlands 50 miles north of Houston.

SHNF is so large that you can get to it pretty much by heading north on any of the three major north-south highways that go through Houston. Interstate 59 marks the eastern boundary of the forest and I-45 goes right through the middle of it (between New Waverly and Huntsville). If you take 290, be sure to exit Highway 6 I Hempstead going east, then take either 105 towards Montgomery (south of the forest) or Hwy 90 into the western arm of the park. Texas Traveler only suggests this route because it is much more scenic that straight-n-flat 45, and also to point out the forest's size, spanning three counties.

Texas Traveler found herself in Sam Houston in order to partake in a training run for the Houston Marathon along roughly 12 miles of the 128-mile Lone Star Hiking Trail. She can tell you this: 12 miles on flat ground feel like 12 long miles. Twelve miles on root-covered hilly primitive forest trails feel like 1200 miles. Happily, our trail ended on the shores of Lake Conroe, where we were able to take a cooling swim in surprisingly clean water.

One of the best ways for a newbie to explore the forest is with the help of the Lone Star Hiking Club, an organization formed 14 years ago for the express purpose of enjoying and preserving the Lone Star Hiking Trail. The group sets out every other Saturday for hikes than can be as long as 8 miles. Membership in the group is $15 a year which goes towards trail maintenance, surveying and group events like campouts.

A 27-mile section of the trail, winding from FM 945 to Winters Bayou, is recognized as a National Recreation Trail. The LSHT is footpath only, meaning no bikes or motorized vehicles are allowed.

​Via the always-entertaining Bayou blog of the Beaumont Enterprise, we have learned of possibly the greatest TV show ever. EVER. (Note: Follow the word "ever" with "to air in Beaumont.")

We cannot see the show, alas, but we did get a sneak peek of it here. It is called Wandas, and it dedicated to bringing to viewers the fascinating, absorbing, astounding details of Beaumont society wives.

For a half-hour each month, the Fox affiliate in Beaumont will lift the curtain to show this exclusive, rarefied world, a place where pampered women blithely shop at the best stores Beaumont has to offer, not even bothering with coupons. (We kid. Kinda.)

"Wandas," we're told, is an affectionate term used by "the wives of doctors and lawyers and business owners of this area." Again, "this area" is Beaumont, people. We can't stress that enough.

Photos by Brittanie Shey

​I took a Dramamine Thursday evening after boarding a boat anchored in the coffee-colored water of the Freeport Harbor Channel. When I woke up the next morning I was surrounded by water so clear you could see the coral 70 feet below the surface. At 7 a.m., before the sun was above the horizon, I wiggled into my wetsuit, set up all my gear, and jumped into the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Tourists pay tons of money to fly to places like Cozumel, stay in resorts on the beach, often diving with guides of dubious education and certification. But many scuba divers are unaware that the Texas Gulf Coast is home to one of the best dive spots in the world -- the Flower Garden Banks National Marine Sanctuary, which may single-handedly break the stereotype that the Gulf is America's dirty bathtub.

Located about 100 miles south of the Texas/Louisiana border, the Flower Garden Banks are a geological anomaly. The sanctuary consists of three salt domes, each peaking at a depth of about 60 feet. The domes are separated and surrounded by miles of open ocean as deep as 500 feet in some places. The shallow depth (which sunlight can reach) and warmth of the water create a perfect habitat for coral to grow.