Author: Dick

Indulge me a few moments, if you will, for a cynicism frenzy. The Mitchell report today blew the lid off Major League Baseball. Perhaps this tell-all about steroid use in the bigs will change the face of baseball as we know it. Maybe it won’t. Maybe I should just say: Who gives a rat’s ass whether one or all of the great names of a once-great game use steroids to make them hit home runs and their testicles shrink? What does it matter that chemical cheating is prevalent in baseball or any other sport or past-time? I mean, really, think about it.

Cheating is cutting corners, doing things the easy way. Although one might dispute that, considering the negative effects of steroid overuse, is necessarily helping an athlete get an advantage the easy way.

But cutting corners has become the great, American past-time. Big mega-corporate f**ks cut corners all the time. Look at China. They be cutting corners big time. Our CIA cuts corners while interrogating prisoners. It might not be so much that it’s the easy way to get accurate intelligence from terrorist by making the prisoners feel like they are drowning or other torture means while shot in the gut like one of the suspected terrorists whose videotaped interrogation was conveniently “lost.” Probably these “detainees” were tortured just because those big, bad CIA tough-guy, badasses could torture them. Besides, what’s cutting corners or cheating after terrorists fly planes into your buildings?

So I am not sitting here wagging my finger too much at those multi-millionaire baseball players who want to screw their bodies and brains up with steroids. It would be better if we didn’t have baseball who use chemicals to make them hit more long balls or run faster. It would be better if companies didn’t cut corners which make their products less safe just to make more money. It would be better if our country could be the principled nation among nations that didn’t torture its prisoners for whatever excuse those zealots come up with as a means to an end. But we can’t be unscrewed can we? Nothing from nothing means nothing. All aspirin’s alike. Don’t worry be happy. Have a nice day and leave the driving to us.

Cynical? Me? Surely you jest!

Today I had to work on my part-time job at a couple of outlets in the mall. And guess what? I didn’t think once about someone going all what some folks around these parts call “hay-war” and getting shot. It seems more likely that would happen back around where I live. Especially since the local constabulary doesn’t break any speed records getting to where I live when something happens there. I called 9-1-1 last night because some loud-ass sisters were getting into it and I couldn’t abide by having bullets invade my living spaces. It was all way over with by the times our boys in blue got there. I really don’t think our local Five-Oh gives a s**t about us there at the motel. I could be wrong. But I don’t think so.

Perino: Can you say “dumb as a box of rocks?”

It should be reassuring to know that the woman who speaks for the person whom some say is the most powerful man in the world is just a mere mortal. But then we find out that spokeswoman, White House Press Secretary Dana Perino, is a bit too mortal. Or one might even say is dumb as a box of rocks.

Truly, I would be willing to give Blondie the benefit of the doubt. But, I just can’t do it in this case. I think that the White House Press Secretary should know what the Cuban Missile Crisis was all about, regardless that it occurred a decade before she was born. Giving her a pass because it happened before she was around would be like excusing me from knowing the United States won the civil war it fought with the Southern, Confederate States of America because, after all, it happened some 90 years before I was born.

No, there is just no excuse for Dana Perino not knowing about the time the U.S. was as close to nuclear war as it had ever been.

In all reality, I am sure Perino has got something going for her other than being telegenic. She reminds me of a newspaper reporter I once worked with. He was young and had recently received a master’s degree, something you don’t come across that very often in a newsroom. But I could only shake my head when he admitted that until recently he had never heard of the Beatles. Actually, it made me want to slap him repeatedly. I didn’t slap him, of course.

I hope that the welfare of our nation doesn’t ever have to depend solely on the likes of Dana Perino because if that happens, we will truly be in deep doo, unless of course a pretty face is what’s required to save us.

Bloggers Note: Since I am going to write this ridiculous blog no matter what then perhaps I can sometimes bestow upon my unsuspecting public a little knowledge that may (or may not)do them good. With that in mind I hereby introduce the first of a new EFD feature called “Meaty Mondays” in which I will review some restaurant or other eatery where I grabbed an eat during the previous week. Just because it is “Meaty” doesn’t mean that it is entirely dedicated to carnivorous pursuits. But you can pretty well bet your ass that I won’t be spending a lot of time reviewing Vegan hangouts either. Just a fair warning because hell hath no fury like a bunch of disappointed vegans. Which brings me to today’s Meat: The soul of College Street in Beaumont, Texas, Richard’s Cafe. Hit it Richard!

If you can sit in a half-dark old eatery and hear a Zydeco version of “Poppa Was a Rolling Stone” while you chow down on oxtail or ribs or pork chops then you either have to be sitting in the little joint just off to the side of St. Peter’s Way Station or else you’re in Richard’s Cafe at 2510 College St. in Beaumont, Texas.

There is nothing fancy about Richard’s ‘cept the food and it is fancy as in elegant down home soul. The wall has a weird flower mural with a lighthouse, the tables and chairs look like they were brought in sometime after the Great Flood but as long as there is something hot there under the steam table then you won’t worry about it anyway.

Richard’s got the baddest pork chops in town and that usually is my pick but today I felt a little adventurous and opted for the ribs. They are done up in a bright red sauce that makes you want to rub it all in your face and hands and hair if you have a face hands and hair, or even if you don’t. And tender? Sho’ nuff they’re tender. I also went with the dirty rice which is stout and I can’t quite still make out the deciding flavor but I know what I like and I like it. You can’t go wrong with cabbage and greens as well, especially when you got your pepper sauce and a few little chunks of cornbread. All of which is then ready to be washed down with a glass of tea about the size of the Sears Tower on the Windy City’s skyline.

There is just no getting around it. You got your soul food and then you got Richard’s soul food and Richard will win every time.

I don’t know what the hours are because it said “5 ’till” on the door, so we can take that to mean … 5 till something. Okay, here is the price primer today:

Arm — $10 or so. No second mortgage required.

Leg — $10-$50. Hey bro can you spare an extra Hamilton?

Arm & a Leg — >$50. Uh, can you hook this chain around that there ATM for me? Thank you, thank you very much.

Richard’s Cafe
2510 College St.
Beaumont, TX
(409)835-7063
Price:

Since I have nothing better to do today I should not feel bad that I spent most of the afternoon listening to the various, wonderful tunes on Los Lobos’ Web site. So I am not feeling bad. Quite the contrary. I feel very uplifted that I sat for a couple of hours listening to songs off “Will The Wolf Survive,” “By the Light of the Moon,” and “Kiko” as well as “The Town and the City” and even “Acoustic En Vivo.”

Listening to Los Lobos songs is a little like taking a crash course in musical history. There is absolutely no doubt that this little band from East L.A. is first and foremost a rock and roll band. But they throw in the kitchen sink of styles and genre — jazz, blues, Tex-Mex, Cajun, various Latino styles and perhaps some types of music yet to be invented.

If there are regrets of mine they would include not having listened to enough Los Lobos, such as “Kiko” which is kind of like an East L.A. “Dark Side of the Moon.” Today was the first time I listened to “Kiko.” And I have to say it pretty much knocked my zapatos y calcetines off. There are definitely worst ways to spend a Sunday afternoon.