Eight Feet Deep

The Dallas Area Rapid Transit (DART) light rail has a message board on each car that continuously flashes news, announcements, weather and so forth. This morning while taking the Ledbetter train to the VA Hospital, I noticed a few messages referred to several events taking place on Labor Day. I had to stop and think for a few seconds. Labor Day? I thought that was last month. Of course, it was last month.

Now I figured that some kind of programming error was made and thought nothing about it. A little while later, I glanced up at the message board and just caught the tail end of ” … Governor Jeb Bush has ordered an evacuation for the Florida Keys.” Wow, I thought, a hurricane is finally going to hit the mainland after a eerily quiet storm season.

For a minute or so after seeing that message, I wondered whether we were going to start having one storm right after another once one headed for the mainland. While waiting for my laboratory appointment at the hospital, I watched CNN for news about the hurricane. But the only news about Florida on the TV was about the horrific find of four bodies along a highway. Nowhere was news to be found concerning the hurricane.

When I got home I finally checked the National Weather Service’s Tropical Prediction Center Web site to find some information about the hurricane. I found out there is not even a tropical storm in the Atlantic, much less a hurricane.

All I could figure out about the message board was that somehow it was programmed for the wrong month and the wrong year. It was either that or I was stuck in a time warp. I suppose the sign miscue could be much worse, like a message aboard a Canadian train saying the prime minister eats babies. If I had seen that message I would still be confused this time next week.

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?