Famous artist/puppet maker Wayne White has been doing some kind of artist-in-residency thing here in town for the last month or so, and his visit concluded on Saturday with a puppet parade through part of downtown, ending in the old cemetery behind the Baptist church on Texas Street. It was pretty cool, and for once I was impressed by the city’s local art council’s ability to bring someone really legit to town.
The highlight of the event, though, was hands down me seeing this guy that looked exactly like a young Ned Beatty.
Pictured above: the author, October 2009, about to enjoy the world famous taco-burger
First off, let’s all agree right now that “funny” music is the single worst thing in the world, and then we can continue:
A friend of mine showed me this thing the other day (which I realize is several years old, so don’t give me static for not being up to date on what people on the internet like) and I still can’t really get over how annoyed by it I am.
This is the kind of song that nerds love, and it does that thing that nerds do, where they think that by being clever, they’re being funny. And god knows those two things are not the same at all. There’s also that other thing that nerds do, where they act superior about stuff that normal people like, like stupid pop songs that use the same four chords.
Of course, the problem with that attitude is that just because a song uses the same chords as another, that doesn’t mean the two songs are the same: a hamburger and a taco got the same stuff in them, but that don’t make a hamburger a taco, or vice versa. You can’t seriously equate “With or Without You” with “Barbie Girl” and expect me to have anything approaching respect for what you’re doing.
And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes - a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder.