The cornerback and minor Hard Knocks storyline received the official word today. Where? At Hooters, of course.
I’d like to know, because I’d like to get to know writer John McAlley. Catching up with this month’s GQ at lunchtime, I happened to enjoy a story about said writer’s dalliance with Peter Frampton’s ex-girlfriend 30 years ago this Labor Day. The story — not online, near as I can tell — involved a good bit of rock history; some enjoyable McAlley personal history; and a great NSFW quote about why the 10-years-older, drug-n-booze party girl ex-girlfriend would go for a teetotal, self-identified record-store-clerk nerd like McAlley. It was a great read. Then I get to the bio:
John McAlley has written for Rolling Stone, Entertainment Weekly, and Spin. He lives in Dallas and is currently a contributing editor at NPR.org.
Hunh. I ask Tim and Zac if they’ve heard of John McAlley. No and no. Then, just Internet browsing, minding my own, I see McAlley has the current cover story on Spin. It’s a profile of Beck that gets some Idolator analysis. McAlley’s suddenly everywhere, and he came from seemingly nowhere. (“Seemingly” to me, at least.) Please, sir, come forward so I may buy you a beer or two and hear the even juicier bits that didn’t make it to print.
It was a simple question. “What are the protests like?” The caller from Dallas, a freelance photographer who sometimes shoots for D Magazine, had herself been working on obtaining an off-the-books press pass for the convention. Surprisingly, yesterday she was told that her contact had scammed one photography pass for Obama’s Invesco Field speech tonight. She wasn’t interested in shooting that, though, for the same reason we weren’t interested in attending: like with a rock concert, stadium shows are decidedly less interesting than those held at more intimate venues. (And the pass, sadly, was not transferable to me or Lavin.) So, she said, she was only interested in paying for a last-minute flight and coming here if the reports of dozens of violent protests were true and, as important, would produce dramatic images. I was sipping a triple-shot iced vanilla latte in the 16th Street Market area on a patio on a picturesque day. I looked around. There was one anti-abortion protestor, sitting on the curb, taking a break from yelling at disinterested passersby. I took another sip. “I dunno,” I said. “Maybe it’ll get crazy later. But I wouldn’t count on it.”
Not on this blog. Heavens no. But over on TechCrunch50, where it was announced bloggepreneur (Not a word? It is now.) Jason Calacanis would interview Cuban one-on-one at the upcoming TechCrunch50 conference. Comments to said announcement require registering for an RSS feed. Fortunately, Michael Arrington found the good stuff. A commenter/videoblogger named Loren Feldman said Cuban was not tech smart but Internet lucky. Cuban, at about 2:30 AM local time, sarcastically agreed. Well played, sir.
I just have to mention this since I know the brothers that saved the woman from drowning in White Rock Lake yesterday. We have been to their house many times this summer to hang at their pool, but that usually involves floating around on rafts while we sip cocktails. I never knew they were such a good swimmers. Way to go Nick and Tad Weatherford!
OK, so, a while ago, I reported that some folks were trying to get Jason Witten (left) and some of the other Dallas CowboysÂ toÂ tapeÂ a reality cooking show to raise money for charity. Turns out that organizers had trouble coralling Witten, Tony Romo, etc., to make it happen (some lame excuse about football practice or something). The fruits of what came to be will beÂ televisedÂ atÂ noon thisÂ Saturday (hint: a differentÂ Tony will beÂ on the show). I’m not sure if it will be as exciting as watching Romo trying to mince garlic.
Not to rain on Eric’s parade, but here’s an on-the-street interview with Dallas gal Janelle Ellis at the convention in Denver. Ellis is known for working on the women’s peace movement, her love of Hillary Clinton and Ann Richards, and now for her cry to “bring me the head of Chris Matthews … that hissing viper.” (It all starts unraveling around the 4:12 mark.) Oh, and she’s making a documentary.
(Matthews photo via MediaBistro)
How old were you when you took your first drink? Was it a few swings of Boone’s Farm in the back seat of a car with some other underage friends or a half a glass of wine at a fine restaurant with your parents? Me? Guilty to the former. You?
This morning Miss Amy takes a scholarly approach and discusses the pros and cons of the drinking age debate. I’m sober and ready. Let’s go.
1. According to Jane McGarry’s anecdotal evidence, people are meeting each other online and some even end up getting married! (If you haven’t kept up with Jane’s reportage from the tech beat, here are her thoughts on MySpace, crazy eBay auctions, cellphones, and, um, makeup tips.)
2. Oncor is giving power customers a one-time credit of $12.58. The refund will show up on September electric bills. Woo-hoo! I’m totally going to turn on a lamp for a minute! Maybe two minutes! I don’t know, feeling sort of crazy. Party at the Crain house, aka Fort Awesome.
3. The seniors committee of the Pro Football Hall of Fame is giving the late, great Cowboys receiver “Bullet” Bob Hayes a rare second chance to be enshrined in the Hall. In his honor, I’m totally going to turn on another lamp! That’s right. You can’t stop me. The party rages on.
I point the blog to Daniel’s comment to that post, which pretty much disproves Jim’s assertion that our commenters don’t bring something to the debate:
Schutze has not been doing his best work lately. He’s degenerated to unsubstantiated innuendo (“I’m not saying 3, I’m just saying 1 and 1, which sure makes it look like there’s another 1 out there somewhere, which I’m not saying there is and everybody tells me there isn’t, but if there were, and it sure seems like there might be, then that would then make 3, but I’m not saying 3.”) and the occasional phoned-in screed. He rattles on when it’s clear he has no real inkling of what he speaks. He’s a talented man, but he’s coasting.
Here’s a funny (but serious) explanation of why Gordon Keith is not funny. As in:
This is not necessarily Gordon Keith’s fault, as the massive popularity of “non-jokes” is undeniable. Non-jokes are seemingly harmless viruses that destroy true comedic workmanship and place all blame at the feet of the audience. If you fail to laugh at a non-joke, then it is your fault because you did not “get it.” The inherent problem with this is that without a proper set-up, turn, and punchline, there is nothing to get.
Okay, I just went insane. I’m sitting here at my desk, yelling at my computer. Because someone just sent me a link to the story about Star-Telegram columnist Dave Lieber getting arrested for child abandonment. I gotta tell you, Lieber has driven me nervous. I’ve got a full-blown case of the howling fantods about what this guy did — but not for ditching his kid. Let’s jump, because this is gonna require some space.
In Jim Schutze’s latest column, he tackles the hot-button topic of the day, renaming Ross Avenue for Cesar Chavez. Somehow, our beloved commenter community found itself staring up at the undercarriage of the JS Express:
Many of the comments on the Dallas Observer blog, Unfair Park, have been straight-up racist and vile. One commenter asked, “Why don’t we just rename the city of Dallas ‘Puffy Taco City’? That should make everyone happy.”
The comments on the D magazine blog, Frontburner, have been worse:
“Great! Now I know where to pick up all the day laborers!”
That is what we call in the business “cherry-picking.” Maybe in terms of the quotes he chose to use from the respective blogs, ours was worse. Sure, I could see that–exclamation points are certainly more confrontational. But overall, there doesn’t seem to be much need for that “have been worse” remark aimed at our commenters. (You could absolutely call them nerdy, since one post degenerated into a full-on grammar war.)
Because a question-asking FBvian demanded it: Jason Kidd gave his recently acquired gold medal (apparently there was a bench riding competition this year) to Elaine Wynn, wife of casino mogul Steve Wynn. He met her when the so-called Redeem Team stayed at the Wynn casino for almost a month this summer.
“I told her I’d make a deal with her, that if we won the gold medal, I’d give it to her. She thought I was kidding. But I told her I had one already, and the way they treated us at the Wynn, it was the least I could do.”
Since he got about as much playing time as I did, I’m guessing that medal didn’t mean as much as the one he brought home from Sydney in 2000.