Month: October 2006

Perhaps I should have entered a career on a different end of the communication industry spectrum, specifically marketing. Why if you are a marketing type, you get to play around and change the name of vast regions. That has happened in the area in which I grew up, the Pineywoods of East Texas. The Pineywoods has been renamed the “Texas Forest Country.”

“We think of the (Texas) Hill Country, it comes with this aura,” explained Jane Ainsworth, whose Ainsworth/Alvis marketing company developed the moniker as part of a strategy to sell East Texas …”

So they ripped off the name from the Hill Country. Is that the best they could do? Why not borrow from the Big Country and call it “The Big Forest” or from the Permian Basin and refer to it as “The Forest Basin?” I think the group that commissioned the marketing company to develop a new brand name should get their money back. By the way, that group — the Pineywoods Economic Partnership — is not changing their name.

Maybe the Pineywoods is a homey, old-timey, sounding name. But pine trees have been the hallmark of that portion of East Texas for many, many years not to mention the crop of choice for the dominant timber industry.

I have no reason to believe that the people behind the name change don’t have their heart in the right place by trying to promote tourism in East Texas. Portions of East Texas are among the poorest places in the country. Also, the beauty of East Texas is a secret to much of the world and folks who may have only known about it from the lynching-by-dragging of Jasper resident James Byrd Jr.

Thankfully, few people in East Texas are redneck racist murderers like the three morons who were convicted in Byrd’s death. And there is much charm to be found in different locales in the Pineywoods.

Personally, I see an uphill battle ahead to change the Pineywoods into the Texas Forest Country. Sure, billboards and tourism brochures may use the name. But I suspect many of the natives visitors will encounter will never use the phrase “Forest Country” when referring to the region. The only way such change will take place is to keep the branding effort alive for many, many years until the older folks who have used the Pineywoods handle for ages die off.

If someone in the future asks me something about the Texas Forest Country, I will tell them that it’s a fantasy land, something kind of like Oz. Then I will point them toward the Pineywoods.

More than a year ago, I said I was uncertain who I might support in the Texas governor’s race. I raised the possibility that I might support Leslie Cochran, the hairy, cross-dressing street person usually found somewhere along Congress Avenue in Austin.

Well, the election is drawing near and the battle lines are drawn. I can’t in good conscience support any of the four major candidates — Gov. “Goodhair” Perry, Democratic candidate Chris “Who the hell am I” Bell, Kinky “They Don’t Make Jews Like Jesus Anymore” Friedman or state comptroller Carole Keeton McClellan Rylander Strayhorn Farnsworth McDougal Hopkins Schmidt Garcia … whomever she is calling herself this week.

I would normally say any of the candidates would be fine as long as it’s not Perry. But that’s not true. I can’t get excited about Bell. I like Carole but she’s a bit goofy. I probably would have supported Kinky if he had just stuck to his one-liners and not espoused any opinions on the issues.

Now I know a lot of liberal people who are upset over the politically incorrect language Kinky has used during the campaign. I don’t condone what he said but I am also not at all surprised. I can’t see why anyone who has ever known the slightest bit about Kinky Friedman would find it surprising that he shoots his mouth off with less than polite comments. I could have told you that when I saw him in 1975 when Kinky and the Texas Jewboys were playing on Bob Dylan’s “Rolling Thunder” tour. I mean all you had to do was listen to the lyrics of his “Asshole From El Paso:”

“And I’m proud to be an asshole from El Paso
A place where sweet young virgins are deflowered.
You walk down the street knee-deep in tacos
Ta-ta-ta-tacos
And the wetbacks still get twenty cents an hour.”

So no, there is no big surprise there.

That’s why I am supporting Leslie Cochran for governor. To borrow Kinky’s phrase: “Why the Hell Not?” He is the candidate if you really want change and if you want someone who is not part of the state political establishment. You will have to write his name in to vote for him, of course. That’s “Leslie” with an “ie.”

Leslie would definitely help keep Texas weird.

Vivi the show dog is still missing. I realize that sentence is kind of like the old Chevy Chase gag on “Saturday Night Live:” “Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead!” But the truth is the truth and the truth is Vivi has yet to be found after eight months.

Something about Vivi captured the imagination of many people in many different places. Psychics were brought in to get an mental fix on where Vivi might have run. Volunteers are still searching for Vivi in Queens, N.Y., where Vivi escaped at John F. Kennedy Airport.

Most of the hope to find Vivi alive would have to be sparse if the dog were a missing person. But Vivi isn’t human. Vivi is a show dog and is probably worth quite a lot of dog biscuits. Someone who saw the news about the missing dog probably found Vivi and took it into his or her home.

A number of possibility exists as to motives why someone may be keeping Vivi. Dognapping doesn’t seem likely after this length of time. Someone selling Vivi does seem like a distinct possibility. The person or persons who took Vivi in may be animal rights extremists and oppose the use of dogs for shows. There too is a chance that someone found Vivi and either didn’t know about the missing dog or didn’t care for whatever reason and decided to give the dog a good home.

The final possibility that I see is Vivi making a trek back home. Dogs have known to travel great distances to go home and stranger things have happened.

Nonetheless, Vivi is not forgotten and if the dog is never found it may very well end up as a canine version of the Amelia Earhart story ripe forever with legend and lore. As for me, I would like to see a happy ending for the wayward pooch no matter what the scenario.

P.S. I forgot to mention that while I was walking this morning, I passed a man who was walking his large poodle and was reading to it. I’m not sure what the reason for this was exactly. Perhaps the poodle will write a critique of the story and how that piece was delivered by its companion. Different strokes, folks.

For the who really gives a rat’s ass department, Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie buried the hatchet. So my question is: Why is this important to anyone?

If I really knew what dreams meant I would … Okay. I don’t know what I would do and I am not sure I really want to know what dreams mean. That said, it seems odd to me that some people have the same dream as others, albeit with certain variations. One common recurring that I have had over the years and have known others who share this dream involves facing a final test in college for a class you had signed up for but never attended the entire semester.

This morning I had this dream twice in two different rounds of sleeping.

I awoke around 5:00 a.m. after dreaming I had enrolled in two classes — a history class and business course — but I did not go to those classes during that term. The finals for those tests were looming and I was trying to find the book for at least one class in order to cram. Someone, a friend as best I can recall, had the book I was seeking but it involved driving to El Campo, Texas, to pick it up.

For some reason, I thought El Campo was in the Panhandle in my dream. It’s really about 70 miles southwest of Houston. The thing is, I don’t even remember where I was in this dream. The school looked more like a high school than a college because some of the corridors had lockers.

If the setting had taken place at my alma mater, Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogodoches, then El Campo would be about a 190-mile road trip. Regardless of where I thought El Campo was located in my dream, I figured the town was too far to retrieve a book so I decided to take the test without it.

About 6:45 a.m. I woke up again. This time I had dreamed the same dream about finals taking place in classes I didn’t bother to attend. I found the class and took a seat. The students in the class all seemed to look at me and were wondering, who is this guy? I then began thinking about what would be the consequences if I failed these two classes by not attending and flunking the final? Suddenly, it dawned on me that I had already graduated from college and had a degree, so who cares if I bombed the finals.

Perhaps my second dream was intended to seek resolution of my quandary from the first dream. Or maybe the repeated dream was because I had run out of my dream quota for the night’s sleep. I don’t know. It’s all a nocturnal mystery to me and I am happy to let it remain that way.