The Austin American Statesmen (or Stateswomen) claim that 400 SUV windows have been broken or shot out since August… with nothing taken. Is that a crime now?

Twas the week before PAA
And all through the Pop Center
Not a computer was working
Not even a printer

The network was down
And email was too
The student presenters
Were ready to poo

The admin staff
was all in a tizzy
with deadlines approaching
they looked toward Cecilia

“I’ve worked 80 hours this week”
Cec yelled out
“and I’ll work 80 more –
of that I’ve no doubt”

And Sandy told Mary
and Mary told Syd
And Syndey told Mary
and here’s what they did

“We’ll work and we’ll work
til the grants are all sent
But we must have a printer
or we can’t pay the rent”

So Cec went to Bob,
and Bob, he cried out
“Is there anyone out there
who knows what this is about?”

And up from the 16th floor
arrived Dave
A man twice as handsome
as ever was brave

With dashing aplumb
and brilliant regard
He worked very fast
yet he never worked hard

He began pulling cables,
and resetting the power
He worked so long
he wished he was paid by the hour

And finally at last,
his finger all set
He turned on the printer,
and what would he get?

He stared at the printer
but the printouts wouldn’t come
So he scratched his head
while he scratched him bum

“I must have reinforcements
to give it all that we’ve got
And soon arrived
Starling, Steve, and then Scott

And Starling asked Dave,
“to start without delay,
Have you filled out
Printer Enabling Form 7A?”

And Steve checked the servers
while Scott moved a PC
But nothing was working
here in the PRC

And then arrived the TA;
a TA from heaven it seems
Because in each of her arms
she carried two reams

She added the paper
to every printer in town
And smiles filled the faces
that were so recently frowns

And printing continued
for three nights and four days
Til papers filled the rooms,
the doors, and hallways

Til paper flew from every window in the tower
Til researchers studied
Our unique Paper Power

And the grants were all sent
And PAA passed with cheer
And all was then quiet
Til the same time next year

Movie Review: Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Texas Chanisaw Massacre

Director: Marcus Nispel
Starring: Jessica Biel, Eric Balfour, >R. Lee Ermey
$10. Seen at the Alamo Drafthouse’s Rolling Roadshow at the Travis State School. R. Lee Ervey and producers in attendance.

September 28, 2003 –

Not having seen the original, I can’t compare this film with that one. But on it’s own merits, it’s not a great film, and although it does have some suspenseful moments and a quality
amount of gore, I can’t say it was terribly frightening.

Moreover, it seemed like a great excuse to get Jessica Biel’s white t-shirt wet alot. I don’t know where all the water came from — sprinklers, rain, puddles of blood (that mysterious

ly wash away)… but hey, if that’s your thing, then you’ll enjoy that.

My biggest complaint, however, is with the direction. It was jumpy, and generally not well-paced. There are quite a few times when you can’t tell what’s going on. The mood switches fr
om darkly gothic to bright and sunny without much in between, which leads to a lack of continuity.

At the screening, which the amazing Alamo Drafthouse held at the abandoned Travis State School (where part of the film was shot) was a great se
tup. On top of a hill overlooking Austin, which a soft breeze and plenty of mosquitos, R. Lee Ermey, best known from his role as the t
ough-but-unlovable drill sergeant in Full Metal Jacket, came and gave us a raunchy, “salty” version of the making of that film and qu
ite a few others. Afterwards, the Frighteners was shown.

Book Review: Roads

Roads

Larry McMurtry
Touchstone Books, 208 pages, June 2001
ISBN: 0684868857; $13. Purchased at the Book Stop in Central Market, Austin,
TX, and read in Austin and Dallas.

May 9, 2001 –

Larry McMurtry. One usually sees his name next to the phrases
“Pulitzer prize winning” and “Lonesome Dove”, most often with an “author of”
sandwiched somewhere in between. His reputation precedes him. He’s well-known
in literary circles and beloved by fans of the Western. In addition to being
an author, he owns a large antique bookstore in Archer City, Texas, known
for it’s immense selection of impossible to find titles. Next to Powell’s
Books in Portland, it’s the bibliophile’s Mecca. People travel great
distances to visit the bookstore that has encompassed all of downtown
Archer City.

But where do the people of Mecca go on their travels? It was with this
question in mind that Roads spoke to me. I can’t claim to have
read even 1/5 of the number of travel books Mr. McMurtry has read (more than
3000), but I can tell that this book would please none but the most
ardent McMurtry fans. McMurtry describes in no detail his brief dashes
along some of America’s most crowded interstates. He reminisces about
traffic jams he’s had in past Los Angeles. He recalls the names of some
of America’s greatest writers and travelers while failing to evoke even
the briefest sense of place or scenery. In it’s place, McMurtry provides
some quick notes made driving back to his house from business trips in
Duluth, Washington, Florida, and San Diego.

It’s the same imagery one would get looking out at America from the window
of a 757 leaving a fast-moving shadow over the heartland between the time
the peanuts are passed out and the drink cart finally arrives. A cursory
view at best, and certainly not an interesting travel book.

McMurtry details at the beginning of the book his plan — to travel
America’s roads; and in particular, the lonely US-281, which runs all the way
from Texas to Manitoba past farms and McMurtry’s ranch home. One comes to
expect an exploration on the themes of place and of America, of travel and
hardship. The cliches of travel writing demand this. McMurtry avoids these
idioms. Perhaps age or time would not allow a enough travel to achieve depth
of place. Even though McMurtry only travels on interstates (except for a
brief trip on US 2, the only worthy passage in the book), in the end, even
these are too tiresome for him; most of his trips are cut short and he
arranges a flight home. Even his trip down US-281 ends in Nebraska, hundreds
of miles ahead of his goal.

If one were inclined to do so, Roads could be taken to represent the
current American lifestyle. Our technology and mass transit systems allow
great personal freedom and movement. Highways and mega-highways carry
people faster and farther but with no sense of time or place. Places become
map markings, odometer readings, and road signs. Wind shields become mobile
view-masters. Places are lost in favor of time and distance. Perhaps
McMurtry’s writing warns of an age where travel is nothing more than a line
of cars on the fastest roads going quickly nowhere.

One would have to be pretty bloody loopy to pull that out of this shallow
volume. Perhaps McMurtry should avoid listening to the publishers who agree
to print anything he places on paper. After all, some papers are meant to
be flushed, not published.