Get yer comment on.
Hey T,
Did you see that Mix Master Mike is doing a free show at Sky tonite?
Hey T,
Did you see that Mix Master Mike is doing a free show at Sky tonite?
Yeah...but I got my weekly gig. I'm playing a funk set over at Plush...
If Mike bores you, you should drop by.
Yeah...but I got my weekly gig. I'm playing a funk set over at Plush...
If Mike bores you, you should drop by.
Ann Richards is a formidable woman. My mom has a really good story from her undergrad days at UT involving Ann Richards, a bigot, and a black man in Schlitz's (sp.?) Beer Garden. I'll have her email it to me and post it in the future.
Ann Richards is a formidable woman. My mom has a really good story from her undergrad days at UT involving Ann Richards, a bigot, and a black man in Schlitz's (sp.?) Beer Garden. I'll have her email it to me and post it in the future.
Okay. It turns out that my mom's story was really something that she read in one of Molly Ivins's books.
Here it is:
Several years ago there was a big political do at Scholz Beer Garten in Austin and everybody who was anybody in political Texas was there, meetin' and greetin' at a furious pace. About halfway through the evening, a little group of us got the tired feet and went to lean our butts against a table by the back wall of the Garten. Like birds in a row were perched Bob Bullock, the state comptroller; me; Charlie Miles, a black man who was then head of Bullock's personnel department (and the reason Bullock had such a good record on minority hiring); and Ms. Ann Richards. Bullock, having been in Texas politics for thirty some-odd years, consequently knew every living sorry, no-account sumbitch who ever held office. A dreadful old racist judge from East Texas came up to him, "Bob, my boy, how are yew?" The two of them commenced to clap one another on the back and have a big greetin'.
"Judge," said Bullock. "I want you to meet my friends. This is Molly Ivins with the Texas Observer."
The judge peered up at me and said, "How yew, little lady?"
"This is Charles Miles, who heads my personnel department." Charlie stuck out his hand and the judge got an expression on his face as though he had just stepped into a fresh cowpie. It took him a long minute before he reached out, barely touched Charlie's hand and said, "How you, boy?" Then he turned with great relief to pretty, blue-eyed Ann Richards and said, "And who is this lovely lady?"
Ann beamed and said, "I am Mrs. Miles."
Okay. It turns out that my mom's story was really something that she read in one of Molly Ivins's books.
Here it is:
Several years ago there was a big political do at Scholz Beer Garten in Austin and everybody who was anybody in political Texas was there, meetin' and greetin' at a furious pace. About halfway through the evening, a little group of us got the tired feet and went to lean our butts against a table by the back wall of the Garten. Like birds in a row were perched Bob Bullock, the state comptroller; me; Charlie Miles, a black man who was then head of Bullock's personnel department (and the reason Bullock had such a good record on minority hiring); and Ms. Ann Richards. Bullock, having been in Texas politics for thirty some-odd years, consequently knew every living sorry, no-account sumbitch who ever held office. A dreadful old racist judge from East Texas came up to him, "Bob, my boy, how are yew?" The two of them commenced to clap one another on the back and have a big greetin'.
"Judge," said Bullock. "I want you to meet my friends. This is Molly Ivins with the Texas Observer."
The judge peered up at me and said, "How yew, little lady?"
"This is Charles Miles, who heads my personnel department." Charlie stuck out his hand and the judge got an expression on his face as though he had just stepped into a fresh cowpie. It took him a long minute before he reached out, barely touched Charlie's hand and said, "How you, boy?" Then he turned with great relief to pretty, blue-eyed Ann Richards and said, "And who is this lovely lady?"
Ann beamed and said, "I am Mrs. Miles."
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