If Its Too Loud, You're Too Old (and more snide things about Gwyneth Paltrow)

I have terrible hearing trouble. I have unwittingly helped to invent and refine a type of music that makes its principal proponents deaf.
--Pete Townshend

By any stretch, most of us who haven't been exploded or imprisoned weathered a pretty awful week. When can you think of a worse one? You know, other than the week of 9/11 or Pearl Harbor or the premiere of Jack Reacher?

Two Chechnyan terrorists managed to turn Boston into some sort of latter-day end of Bonnie and Clyde. That's right, Chechnyan. A Russian "separatist republic." What the hell? What's next, Shining Path guerrillas wreaking havoc in South Dakota? Then West, Texas, home of the greatest kolaches anywhere, suffers an fertilizer plant explosion and loses maybe a dozen residents. Everyone in that small town would have known all the victims, or had some close connection to them.

Then there were the Colorado pot smokers. Sounds like some sort of Reefer Madness movie title. A bunch of Venice Beach-types all got together on 4/20 to celebrate, i.e. do what they do every day except on 4/20, and take their "special medicine." Then, shockingly, someone pulls a gun and starts firing. Gee, who'd have thought having a bunch of drugs in one place might attract guns? Staggering. I guess we just can't have nice things, can we?

Closer to home, our intrepid Travis County District Attorney, upholder of public safety and order, pulled off her own spectacular DWI arrest, replete with Gary Busey-like mug shot, open vodka bottle riding shotgun in the passenger seat, and drunken shouts demanding to see her buddy the sheriff while being processed in central lockup. Undaunted, of course, she's refusing to resign because, you know, the public elected her and we deserve to her serve out her full term. Or some Anthony Weiner-esque tripe like that. Anyway, Rosemary's gonna be doing that from jail for the next 45 days. That, my friends, is Keeping Austin Weird.  Its bad enough to have a couple of glasses of wine at happy hour and blow a 0.09, just barely above the limit. But driving when you're at 0.239, honey, Courtney Love thinks that's a little reckless.

Then we have a little community to our north, a bastion of good, God-fearing Christian values, known for dealing harshly with criminals. And other, you know, "undesirables." Unfortunately, the long-time leader of this charge, Williamson County's former district attorney, now its criminal district judge, found himself under arrest for, basically, railroading an innocent man on to death row through multiple civil rights violations. They're not only tough on criminals in Williamson County, they're tough on non-criminals as well.

And as if that wasn't all bad enough, jack-booted thug cops arrested America's Sweetheart, Reese Witherspoon. But, she's so cute and wholesome! And got Ali Larter totally off for killing her husband in Legally Blonde. Why did we have to arrest her? She should have known things weren't going too well when, as the police were initially just arresting her husband for DWI she had to go to the "do you know who I am" card. Look, famous people. Its like this. If you have to ask someone if they know who you are, you're probably not as famous as you think you are. You know who uses that line? The Kathy Griffins of the world. Or, the cop knows exactly who you are and doesn't care. Or, as in this case, the cop hilariously said, "I don't need to know who you are." You know, I get all you non-equals getting busted for DWI. You work at your McJob for wages that just exceed the average Korean factory worker's weekly income. You look forward to your weekly happy hour at Applebee's with the fellas, before you go home to your prematurely dilapidated 3 bedroom 2 bath pre-fab house with its four shouting kids and your boring bloated spouse. You go for the third beer, when the guys question your manhood as you try to stop after two Coors Lights. You already can barely afford to buy the generic Twinkies for the kids, so cab fare seems like an unobtainable luxury. And you sure don't want any of those douches from work taking you home. I get that. But why can't someone earning an NBA paycheck, or living off fat Hollywood royalties, call a cab? That doesn't make any sense.

So after a week like this, I'm hardly in the mood to meticulously analyze anything. Not even how the more elegant Top Gun scenes represent the national pathos.

It came down to two posting choices. Make fun of Gwyneth Paltrow, or list the songs I absolutely crank up to 11 whenever they come on the radio.

Making fun of Gwyneth Paltrow...its kind of like making fun of the Special Olympics. She's so pathetic that making fun of her only makes her seem sympathetic. And what would you have to do other than just repeat what she actually says? Gems like

"Beyonce is the most talented human being on the planet."

or

"We have great dinner parties at which everyone sits around talking about politics, history, art and literature---all this peppered with really funny jokes. But back in America, I was at a party and a girl looked at me and said, 'Oh, my God! Are those Juicy jeans that you're wearing?' and I thought, I can't stay here. I have to get back to Europe."

Her website, Goop, the purpose of which escapes me, would make Jacqueline Onassis feel like trailer trash. I'm not really sure, but I think she's hoping to help those she deems worthy deal with important subjects, like the best place to find politically correct tofu in London. And she sells "clothes," like a $45 child's bikini. Excuse me. "New York Bikini." Huge diff. Only some riff raff like me would confuse the two. The audience presumably includes the 15-20 people on the planet Gwynnie deems acceptable and who also have internet access (I thought she might find Brazilian rain forest tribes acceptable, but...the unkempt hair and everything probably keeps them off the list as well). Basically Beyoncé (obvi!), her crew, the Beckhams...the Obamas, I would think. Madonna. You know. People who haven't stood in a line for the last 10 years.

So, like I said, easy.

Looking on for something uplifting, how about songs to crank up in your car when they come on the radio? Yeah, you know, up to 11. I know. Where did that come from? Something about speed and loud tunes can really take the edge off. Enjoying that rush when the song comes on and you haven't heard it in a million years and it instantly transports you back to some better day. A better day back when Reese Witherspoon didn't yet have a mug shot. Thought it would be just light enough to help ease some of you out of last week.

Now what you might want to turn up to 11 probably differs from what I do. Some of you would list a bunch of Britney Spears, Mariah Carey, and Shakira songs. Though I'm not sure why you'd have made it this deep on this post. Others would be a total hip hop playlist. You may like big butts and cannot lie, but that's not me.

No, most of us are predisposed to liking the kind of music that was popular, or to which they listened, when they were in their teens. You can thank that fact, and the Baby Boom, for the fact that radio stations will still be playing the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac for the next 30 years. And as a somewhat unlikely Boomer myself, I'm inevitably drawn to that musical era. Though I have some standards. Supertramp is right out.

Therefore, here's my songs that demand turning those amps up to 11. Turn 'em up. They're all rockers. Rock and roll has a lot of horrible qualities, but at its best it embodies feelings and contradictions one just can't put into words (Pete Townshend said something along those lines once, so its gotta be true). True, these have all been played millions of times, and you might be sick of them. But they were played so often because they rose above the other dreck. Satisfaction will have the same power hundreds of years from now. These songs largely come from or evoke the 1960s, back before the Rock God, back when making hit music and artistry weren't incompatible. And, I have to concede, make up the White Middle Age Man soundtrack. At least the ones not listening to Rick James. They can curse us all they want, but they can't take away our tuneage. Though I doubt they want it. Get all mindless. And forget last week.

Beatles: Twist and Shout. They didn't even write it. Best Beatles studio performance ever. Not their best song, but their best performance.

Led Zeppelin: You could list about half their catalog. But I'll limit it to three. Black Dog, Whole Lotta Love, and Misty Mountain Hop. "Hey boy do you want score?"

Rolling Stones. The World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band. Again, dozens of songs could make the cut. How about Satisfaction and Jumping Jack Flash? Billy Blazejowski approves.

Cream: Sunshine of Your Love. Clapton denies it, but this is the song, and the band, that started heavy metal. It was reputedly Hendrix's favorite song.

Aerosmith: Sweet Emotion. The first song in Dazed and Confused. Midnight Special mid-70s "armadillos in our trousers" peacocking at its finest.

Ramones: Rock and Roll High School. I wouldn't have needed a GED if I'd gone there.

Jimi Hendrix. Purple Haze. 'Scuse me, while I kiss this guy. What?

Nirvana. Smells Like Teen Spirit. The song that singlehandedly killed off Hair Bands. For which we should all be eternally grateful.

Foghat: Slow Ride. Yes, you read that right. And I'm not embarrassed either. I just picture that last scene in Dazed and Confused, as they head out Highway 290 to Houston to get Aerosmith tickets. I was like those kids once. Without all the pot, of course. Because its bad for your health. In fact, I've made that same drive about a million times. I have a theory that Linklater didn't script any of Matthew McConaughey's scenes in Dazed and Confused. Instead, he just put McConaughey in costume and followed him around with a camera and mike, filming McConaughey's normal daily routine.  "That's what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older, they stay the same age. Yes they do."

Kinks: You Really Got Me. The first song featuring heavy guitar feedback. Overlooked lyrics that nearly match Dave Davies' guitar. "You got me so I don't know what I'm doing." A gutpunch.

Neil Young and Crazy Horse: Hey Hey, My My. Rock and roll can never die. You know it.

The Pretenders: Tattooed Love Boys. Third coolest rock chick ever.

Joan Jett: Bad Reputation. Here, with Foo Fighters. Second coolest rock chick ever.

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama. The Alabama National Anthem. Purposely listed after Mr. Young. "Turn it up!"

The Creation: Making Time. That song from Rushmore. Notice people dancing in the video? Believe it or not, people danced to rock and roll in the 60s. Go figure.

Bob Dylan: Like A Rolling Stone. Another song with a dramatic introduction. Often called the greatest rock song of all time (along with Satisfaction).

Small Faces: Afterglow (Of Your Love). Steve Marriott had one of rock's great voices, and this was a Mod anthem.

The Who: My Generation. Hope I die before I get old.

The Kingsmen: Louie Louie. If your rock and roll band can't play this, it pretty much sucks.

The Easybeats: Friday on My Mind. Australia's coolest band. Sorry Midnight Oil.

The Animals: We Gotta Get Out of This Place. I love how all the Animals' hits started off with a really dramatic introductory riff. Sort of like announcing your presence with authority.

Creedence: Fortunate Son. The universal anti-war song.

Elvis: you could list about half his catalog too. But how about One Night With You? Powerful.

And I'm spent. Enjoy.

Mad Men Season Six: Welcome Back!

Vanessa Kensington: Mr. Powers, my job is to acclimatize you to the nineties. You know, a lot's changed since 1967.

Austin Powers: No doubt, love, but as long as people are still having promiscuous sex with many anonymous partners without protection while at the same time experimenting with mind-expanding drugs in a consequence-free environment, I'll be sound as a pound!

--Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery

International man of mystery, that's pretty much me. No one knows much about me, and several trips abroad have cemented my "international" status. I'm no Adam Livingston, of course, but neither have I run through an airport screaming like that the state security police were after me, like Miss Schizophrenia 2013.

Tonight's the long-anticipated return of Mad Men, AMC's celebrated series, set in the 1960s, about an advertising agency and its employees' various neuroses and travails. Questions about the season's direction are burning up the internet. Will Don stray from new wife Megan? Will Roger stop tripping long enough to get his life back together? And do we really have to see the cast decked out in Herb Tarlek-style polyester suits?

As a warmup, be sure to check out 33 Moments from Last Year's Season Finale, as a refresher before the season opener.

Like most things, I came late to the Mad Men party. It takes me awhile to come around on anything popular. A couple of years ago I finally decided the Foo Fighters were great; now they've stopped working together. Ten years from now I'm sure I'll start liking Breaking Bad (having to read how "amazing" something is in nearly every publication and internet site oddly makes me less likely to follow something; its like the old Yogi Berra quote, "no one goes there anymore, its too crowded"). I usually make the right call though. Entourage, for example, will never foul my television set. So a piece extolling Mad Men is about five years late. My bad.

I can't exactly remember why, but I started watching Mad Men around the middle of last season. I had seen the infamous Zou Bisou number that started the season, and it must have grown on me. This business of "how things were," and in some ways still are, intrigued me. So I bought all the back season DVDs and have watched the entire series (blu-ray actually). Netflix is for non-equals; buying the series is far more Baller.

For those few of you who either haven't seen it or don't know what I'm talking about, Mad Men is a wildly popular show that has in past years swept the Emmy Awards, focusing on advertising agency employees and their families, and their attempts to adjust to the 1960s' breakneck social change. In many ways, we find their world abhorrent. Yet, in other ways, the show depicts a simpler lifestyle offering clearer choices and often greater advantages. The primary character, Don Draper, is a hard charging, hard drinking, hard living ad executive who finds that business success and a picture perfect family don't necessarily bring happiness. The other characters engage in the usual office-environment machinations, competing for status through honorable and dishonorable means. The show follows the characters both in business and personal story lines as they play by 1960s rules. The times affect but don't define the characters. We see how the men and women interact at work, how husbands and wives approach marriage and family, and how people cope with the turbulent 1960s. You've met most of these people already; now imagine if they lived within the constraints (and opportunities) of the 1960s.

The show moves consistently forward in time; one season equals roughly one year in show time. We're now in 1968. Which means polyester suits and Priscilla Presley hair and makeup styles soon will blight the landscape. Oh boy. Please do not talk to me about long sideburns or the "dry look." Those poor bastards will have to endure The Mod Squad too. Solid. But they'll get the Amazin' Mets of 1969 to make up for it. And Mister Rogers Neighborhood, which also started in 1968.

I haven't read any of the numerous stories and columns basically doing what I'm doing here, pontificating on Mad Men's message tells us about our own world. But, five years in, I wanted to write about that because its deeply indicative of our current society's struggle to adjust to turbulent and unsettling change at a rapid speed. As happens during turbulent times, Americans, who normally look to the future, (Don Draper once said he lives his life moving forward), will look to the past with a sense of nostalgia and escapism. We have 70s "stagflation" and "malaise" to thank for Happy Days, for example. Aaaaayyyyyy!! Historical dramas like Mad Men or Downton Abbey fulfill that need today.

Some watch to see the breathtaking sets and costumes, which capture the 1960s look with eerie precision. The recreated Howard Johnson's from last season was spot on, for example.

Some no doubt watch just for the surface drama, and compelling characters like Don Draper, the guy you love to hate. No cartoonish J.R. Ewing is he, though, but an incredibly deep and complex character with many "good" and "bad" characteristics that conflict on an every day basis.

Draper "suffers" from many personality traits that our modern world, ever so dripping with sophistication, has deemed unacceptable. His demand of professional excellence in himself and others serve him well in the 1960s, but would make him not a "team player" in today's "accept mediocrity as long as we're all equal and sensitive to one another" world. Issuing instructions unlaced with fawning and praise would offend modern workplace sensibilities. Placing work first would (and does) prevent him from enjoying family and encouraging "normal" growth.

Basically, my dad, like others of his generation, was Don Draper with less swagger. And without the affairs and daily booze and cigarette regimen. He wasn't home much, basically because he was too busy working to keep a roof over our heads and pay for various lessons and other kid crap. But this enabled Mom to stay home, something regarded now as more of an exception than rule. He didn't convene workplace group therapy sessions to decide how to allocate the day's tasks. Nor did he agonize over whether his co-workers were maximizing their professional development. Do your work, or he'd get someone who would. Or as Draper once put it when an employee complained that he never thanked her for anything, he reminded her that she received a salary and "that's what the money is for!" Today, Don Draper would flunk every management course and probably receive counseling on workplace harassment.

No, Mad Men's most compelling function is to compare our modern American society with another real time in American history not unlike our own, also going through rapid change, to ask whether we're really better off now than then. Or whether we were better off then than now. Were Mad Men set in today's time, no one would watch. Don Draper picking up his kids at day care and meeting colleagues for after work coffee? Asking women what THEY think. Bo-ring.

I shall now tell you about 21st Century America, so prepare for the knowledge drop. Rapid, accelerating change, primarily owing to the computer, continues unabated. Was "googling" even a word 10 years ago? Most of us daily hold in our hands a device giving us access to the entirety of human knowledge (and yet we use it to troll ex-girlfriends or flame on other teams' fans). Major change has overtaken nearly all aspects of our lives, such as transportation, shopping, education, entertainment, working and employment, medical care, and investing, to offer only a few examples. Keeping up with all these developments so as not to become obsolete represents a full time calling.

The swinging '60s were not unlike today's times. Though they encompassed even greater change, as society itself was going through an upheaval as the Baby Boomers challenged a wide range of social conventions. One year in reality in the 1960s seemed like three.  The Space Age spawned a technological wave (think transistors, xerox machines, TANG, the pill...), and the economy was booming as American manufacturing jobs had yet to migrate abroad.  The creative arts reflected the change in a mini-Renaissance America. The early to mid-1960s saw groundbreaking theatre (Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Hair, How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying), film (To Kill A Mockingbird, Dr. Strangelove, Psycho, Bonnie and Clyde, Cool Hand Luke), music (Dylan, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones), art (Peter Max, Andy Warhol, Claes Oldenburg, Mark Rothko), and literature (Mailer, Capote, Kesey, Vonnegut). Minorities and women began to press for legal and social equality. The younger generation (a/k/a "dirty, ungrateful hippies") drove the change, and anyone over 30 suddenly seemed very old indeed, grasping to remain "current." Sound familiar?  It was as if though the Eisenhower-era shackles had come off and life suddenly became more free. All this change occurred light-speed as "questioning" happened all around. Think of the difference between the Ed Sullivan Show Beatles and the Let It Be Beatles. Those were two different worlds, separated by only six years. Imagine trying to cope with that much change that fast. Or, as Roger Sterling pensively put it in an episode set in early 1966, "When is everything going to go back to normal?"  

So in seeing how the changing "rules" of the 1960s set the parameters by which people lived their lives, we see what kind of alternative reality Americans confronted as little as 50 years ago, and how they coped with such change. In so doing, the show portrays not only "how far we've come," but also explores what we've sacrificed as the price of progress.

Typical of the 1960s, men run the Sterling Cooper ad agency treats and women mostly serve in menial, servile roles. At work and at home, they are pampered, both treated with respect and dismissiveness, held at bay when serious matters arise. Don's (first) wife Betty, a former model, gave up her career to raise children, as did most women of that and previous eras. The show sees her conflict at giving up that life and her joy of raising children while also despairing of a life spent pursuing her own interests. Peggy, however, a former secretary who becomes an important copy writer, provides a contrast. In her, we see the beginnings of "women's liberation" as she takes a job previously occupied by men. And like the "superwoman" stereotype, we see her struggle to reconcile her burgeoning professional career and newfound intellectual respect with her desire for a family and a relationship. Women, huh? Not that this leaves the men untouched. The "times" also demanded that in exchange for economic primacy, society expected men to marry and support a woman and a family. Divorce laws made it difficult and costly to leave a marriage, acknowledging that women enjoyed few economic opportunities and depended on husbands. Hence, we see the agency's women keen to find husbands or men otherwise willing to support them, and men reluctant to divorce wives who no longer interested them. Work became less a calling than an obligation that a man must shoulder to support his family.  

Minorities and "others," such as Jews, received even less notice. They appear on the show in stereotypical positions, such as elevator operators, or rich store owners. Yet as show time progresses, the firm can no longer ignore the civil rights movement and slowly adapts to the evolving '60s and '70s white male cessation of absolute economic preeminence. The firm basically becomes forced to hire its first "negro" due to a prank on another firm that backfired. Though she is a secretary, she, much like "Lt. Uhura" on Star Trek or Diahann Carroll on Julia in television, represents a beachhead that everyone must learn to accept.  

On a range of other subjects, like health (everyone smokes and drinks on the show, 1964 Surgeon General's warning or pregnancy be damned), workplace manners (addressing people as "Mr." or "Mrs." or "Miss" and standing as women enter or leave a room, or wearing a suit and tie every day), and technology (in a bit the writers surely wrote with tongue firmly in cheek, Don sarcastically asks a secretary in 1960 if some magical device exists that can just copy documents), this question of "have things really improved" comes up again and again. On the health front, people don't smoke and drink at work anymore, but we eat crap every day, often at our desks, to which we seem chained all day. Obesity is at epidemic proportions. Walk through the average American office and its a bunch of Casper the Friendly Ghosts shoved into cubicles like veal, pecking away at keyboards. And it doesn't help that we all go home and watch TV or play video games all night. Office customs are radically different as well. Nowadays, offices resemble a kindergarten class where people know bigger words. Or a zoo. Everyone works on top of everyone else. They dress like they're getting ready to paint their game room or just got back from the stables. You can't tell the difference between the CEO and the just-hired file clerk. They address each other as if everyone has the same job. The file clerk addresses the CEO as "hey Dave, 'sup?" Much the same way parents now want to be their children's friends, supervisors want to be their employees' colleagues or buddies. Conversational topics that would have been regarded as fireable offenses then are an everyday thing in 2013. Michael Scott is no aberration. Little wonder that so many companies find it hard to compete. Sterling Cooper never had Hawaiian Shirt Day. And as mentioned earlier, technology has completely transformed the workplace in ways that hardly bear mention. The result, it takes a whole lot less time to do a whole lot more work, and yet, 2013 workers clearly experience more time pressure than their 1960s counterparts. All these labor and time saving devices have made it possible to jam more work into the same number of hours, and have made clients and customers expect that their suppliers will make themselves available all the time, on a moment's notice. Cell phones and texts and internet access have freed us up from the office. But have made us responsible to be on call all the time, and to render instant service. No waiting three days for a letter to arrive, or to check the overnight telexes.  

And just from a simple lifestyle standpoint, the show depicts how differently, and yet in some ways, how similarly, people lived their lives in the 1960s. Dads worked and supported the family. Moms stayed home. Kids were seen and not heard, turned loose during the day to play in the neighborhood, coming home to eat or watch TV at night. Work was hard, but as long as you were capable you knew there was some job available. Divorce was on the rise but still unusual and stigmatizing. Families didn't take extravagent trips, unless you think driving to Disney World is extravagent. But they did stay together. Even so, as the shows has unfolded, the Sterling Cooper men have betrayed more regret at placing work first, and exhibit more concern for their families. You can practically see the birth of today's helicopter parents. Now, of course, expecting that sort of life seems quaint, and in some circles, is politically offensive. Day care, visitation rights, child support, single moms, "never beens," living with Mom and Dad, DINKs...the traditional nuclear family just isn't what it used to be. You're not trapped in a loveless, soul-poisoning marriage anymore, and you needn't bear the entirety of your family's welfare on your own shoulders. When families do stay together, they often obsess over their children and put them at the center of the family. Softball tournaments, soccer leagues, art lessons, and on and on. But you have to worry about your job. And about gut-wrenching life transformations that rarely occurred in the 1960s.  

Every episode puts these contrasts before us, and begs the question "are we really better off"? You be the judge. As for me, its a mixed bag. A friend this morning joked that I probably think of Mad Men as "How It Should Be." With white men firmly in charge. Maybe. But when white men ran things, they had a nasty habit of dying in their 50s. Of never seeing their kids grow into adults. Of chasing their secretaries around the office and lying to their wives about the perfume on their collars. Of bearing absolute and ultimate economic responsibility for families. And of a life spent without the intelligent and enriching company of women and non-whites. Pretty soon, frat life loses its lustre.  

Enjoy the show tonight!    

Austin Confronts the North Korean Nuclear Threat (Or "Why Is Everyone Always Picking On Us?")



Daniel Johnston graffiti/art

Ex-civic treasure Leslie

As you may know by now, by including it in a list of possible missile targets, the Democratic People's Republic of North Korea has allowed the People's Republic of Austin to take its rightful place leading international dialogue about the fate of nations.  And efforts to unshackle oppressed nations like North Korea from the international yoke of American imperialism.

Or, as its discussed outside Travis County, its the first sane thing North Korea has proposed in 50 years.
 

As of this writing, I'm not back in Austin yet, having been spending a relaxing week in Houston, City of Concrete and Mosquitoes. And high water rates. But I can well imagine that this news thrills Austinites. Not only did Austin get a mention in the international press (did they mention our Eurotrash-friendly Formula One race? Its tres distingue), but it gives us a chance to side with the oppressed peoples (never mind who's really oppressing them) against the Great Deceiver: the United States Government. True, Barack Obama leads said government now, and most Austinites regard him as their Dream Date, but this all goes back over 50 years, back when real criminals were running the United States. Like Jim Wright. So, just like we adopted a resolution supporting Michael Jackson and condemning the LA prosecutors trying to put him away for child molestation (those pesky prosecutors just don't understand artists), now I'm sure we'll support the Pyongyang Gang in its hour of crisis.

What's more of a mystery is why North Korea's kid dictator, Kim Jong Un, would threaten to take out the Scourge That Is Austin. Hey, we're Fellow Travelers too, with Marx and Lenin and Mao and McGovern and all the other Greats. We've banned loud music and forced people to ride bicycles, and only allow Republicans to remain on the official Capitol grounds (you know, the Headliners Club and Barton Creek Country Club). We've got curbside recycling, and have strict restrictions on capitalist developers. We're just as weird as North Korea--we've have lots of parades, flimsy excuses for holidays, and everyone's on some bizarre starvation fad diet just like north of the DMZ. We're on your side, guy.

Naturally, this squabble brought Our Fearless Leader Rick Perry, Maximum Governor For Life of Texas, out of his Command Bunker (you call it "the Governor's Mansion") in true groundhog-like fashion. You see, Rick has a theory. He thinks Austin's reputation as a high tech utopia to which CEOs should move their businesses, has drawn North Korea's attention. For the same reasons its attracted attention from others, says He With the Perfect Hair. No doubt due to his own, err, "leadership," shall we say, in administering the Texas Technology Fund. Say what you will about Gov. Perry, he still doesn't miss a trick. One great thing about America is how local politicians never let a marketing opportunity go to waste. Mine cave in, tsunami, meteorite explosion, nuclear plant core meltdown, bizarre Kennedy family tragedy...some councilmember will always look into the news cameras and tell the national audience how "this community is resiliant and we can rely on one another" and "this is our home and we still love it more than anywhere else." I'm still shocked Ray Nagin wasted such a opportunity during Katrina to remind national TV audiences about  New Orleans' great restaurants and shopping and its, well, newfound buyer-friendly real estate market. Then again, he did lose his re-election bid. Stupid FBI.

Other possible reasons why North Korea might have targeted us run the gamut: "Un" couldn't get ACL Festival wrist bands, couldn't find parking during South By Southwest, really got pissed off about IH-35 traffic, still angry that they tore down the Armadillo, got upset that the Conservatives didn't prove strong enough to get rid of uppity House Speaker Joe Strauss (forgetting that over here, "conservative" has a slightly different meaning), or he just didn't want to carry his own bag to the grocery store. Each of these situations do seem to warrant nuclear warfare.

No one should dismiss as mere coincidence that the North Koreans are coming for Austin after all-time weirdo Dennis Rodman paid a visit. There's no telling what the Worm told them. Un probably thinks Austin is where America stores all the space aliens, like in Men In Black. Actually, I'm not sure I don't believe that myself. See above.

Really, this is so odd that it just illustrates once again what happens when powerful people put their kids in charge, instead of someone actually qualified to hold the job. Un's dad and granddad were plenty evil and despotic for sure, but unlike Saddam or Col. Tom Parker, they seemed to keep it together reasonably well. Un, however, is like Tommy Boy, floundering about trying to save Callahan Brake Pads, only without David Spade around to keep him focused. Or Judge Smail's nephew Spaulding. I could totally see Un at a dinner party asking the guy next to him if he's going to eat his fat. Actually, I could see Un confiscating and then eating everyone's dinner, and executing the guests while he makes them watch him eat their dinners. Un does seem to be the only North Korean alive without that Kate Moss-like, "wispy" quality. Meat Loaf thinks that guy has a weight problem. Let's just say, he hasn't switched to the sweet potato fries yet. I think its affected his decision-making.

Anyway, I'm sure Austin will confront this problem with the same resolute, expedient method that it brings to bear on every problem. Here's how it will play out. City Council will:

(1) appoint a study committee to analyze the threat and provide possible options;

(2) conduct a series of neighborhood outreach meetings to survey public opinion;

(3) consultation with bicycle activists;

(4) outreach to neighborhood groups;

(5) present findings to full Council;

(6) full Council tables action and discusses hiring consultant;

(7) consultant RFP process (repeat steps 1-4, to prepare RFP);

(8) consultant repeats steps 2-4;

(9) full Council tables action for indefinite period;

(10) Council takes up after next election, tabling action until neighborhood groups can be consulted;

(11) Council ultimately adopts resolution fully supporting North Korea's legitimate grievances and objections to the imperialistic American colonialist policies, but suggests the North Koreans adopt an alternative policy including a series of hot yoga workshops, cultural sensitivity seminars, and adding additional bicycle lanes around Pyongyang to demonstrate independence and harmony with the forces of peace among nations; and

(12) offers $10 million tax subsidy to fund a new "Central Texas Institute for the Study of Korean Unification."

I'm not sure we should leave it at that. We really need to go a little further and offer up some alternative target cities. Here's some suggestions:

• Dallas. If you have to ask, I wonder why you ever started reading this blog in the first place. Everything soulless and evil about Texas somehow can trace its origin to Dallas. Its the one town in America that lacks any discernible trace of  Elvis. Well, except maybe Salt Lake, but, see below. And its close enough to Austin that the North Koreans, weakened from a lifetime of Red Cross package cuisine, marching, and serving as human targets, probably won't know the difference.
• Orlando. We would have accepted "anywhere in Florida between Gainesville and Miami" as well. Hey, Orlando's great if you like humidity, concrete, kid throw up, and freeways. Otherwise, really, how can it atone for hosting the International Disney Menace?
• Detroit. This would give everyone a chance to start over, and save on legal fees in the process. Hopefully the Tigers could relocate first, but really, if we lost Detroit, what, exactly, would we miss?
• Odessa. See prior posts. It really just slides right out, and Texas has plenty of other places where short sleeved heavy equipment rental representatives and pipeline operators can practice their demon arts in relative peace.
• Salt Lake City. Other than the seemingly misplaced Mexican-American community on the north side of town, this is probably Earth's Whitest Place. By which I mean its the most boring place in the world. Plus, its where the Utah Jazz play, so one nuke will forever rid the NBA of the biggest bunch of floppers in the game.  Big Love is over, so, again, no loss.

We also need to explain that Roky Erickson still lives here, and I'm not sure we can move him. Surely they'll understand the impossibility of losing Roky.

Hopefully these measures will spare Austin the horrors of nuclear annihilation. But if not, at least we'll get what we always wanted. We'll finally be in the same class as LA, which is what all the hipster d-bags around here really want anyway.

NEXT-Downton Abbey and Mad Men. Maybe?