Author: Dick

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.

I just finished watching the debate between the four candidates for Texas governor. I seriously am thinking about moving to Nebraska. No, not really. The debate was entertaining especially with Kinky Friedman saying:

“I don’t use the Internet — I think it’s the work of Satan.”

What was the Kinkster smoking tonight? I think his cigar must be loaded or he was loaded or both. He also said Sam Houston was an opium addict. Maybe he was. Maybe not. It was before my time. I think Friedman was pulling our leg. Or pulling something.

Gov. Goodhair was slick as a Texas toll road after an ice storm. He must have practiced.

This was the first time I have ever heard Democratic candidate Chris Bell speak. I thought he was some sort of peyote vision that the Texas Democratic party had, but damned if he doesn’t really exist!

The ever goofy Carole Keeton McClellan Rylander Strayhorn Bonaparte Zavala von Hindenburng was, well, ever goofy. If only her son Scotty McClellan had been that entertaining as presidential press secretary.

The debate was an hour of my life I will never get back.