Syntax of Things

The Quiet Catalyst

Lucien Carr, an important but lesser known figure in the Beat movement and who later became a well-respected newsman, passed away last week:

Any practical assistance Mr. Carr gave to the Beat movement came as an encouraging editor, the profession he pursued for nearly half a century at United Press and United Press International. It was Mr. Carr, for example, who gave Kerouac the roll of teletype paper, pilfered from U.P., on which the author wrote "On the Road," and it was Mr. Carr who was among the first to read the novel and offer advice, which may or may not have been taken. As Ginsberg once said, "Lou was the glue."

Chroniclers of the era and biographers of its writers have always had as much trouble placing Mr. Carr in the group snapshot of the Beats as they have had in defining the movement. Both defied description. The one episode all seize upon came while Mr. Carr was still at Columbia. In repulsing the homosexual advances of a hanger-on of the Beat crowd, Mr. Carr stabbed his pursuer with a Boy Scout knife and killed him. Mr. Carr served a brief time in prison for manslaughter, but was later pardoned.

Neglected Little Wasteland

Last we heard of Chuck Pahlniuk Palhniuk Palahniuk he was touring the globe reading that story, the one that supposedly made people pass out.  I'm sure he's still adding to his running tally of victims, but tonight he's actually participating in the Distinguished Lecture Series at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.  Prior to that engagement, he was interviewed by the school's paper,* and the only thing of interest in the piece is Chuck's answer to a strange question about the possibility of there being an "underground explosion in literature" as a reaction to the growing nature of globalized media:

I think that there will be, and it's not just my opinion. The Wall Street Journal had done some pieces a couple years ago about how the new status object, the new status pastime for younger generations had become reading, being seen with certain books-and writing, because readers eventually become writers. So I have to wonder if writing isn't going to be the next MTV, the next popular media for the next generation, if we're going to see this explosion in short stories and in novels eventually. It's been a neglected little wasteland. So few people read and pay attention to books, and yet books are really a fantastic gateway for people to get a vision of the world. Books require so little capital to create and distribute, so I have to think books are due for a big comeback.

Chuck's next book, Haunted, a novel made up of "twenty-three of the most horrifying, hilarious, mind-blowing, stomach-churning tales you'll ever encounter," will hit shelves on May 17th.

*May require registration. 

Fugly Monday

Getting off the couch to write anything for today's post has proven to be a Herculean effort if for no other reason than the fact that I'm so caught up in Chuck Kinder's Last Mountain Dancer that I want to stay with the book until its last tall tale is told.  The only thing that can get me off the couch--other than the list of chores left for me by a wife who had to work on Sunday and the promise of some boiled shrimp if I can muster up the energy to boil them--is to share one of the many hilarious passages from this book:

Better than Stealing

I've been looking for a "free and legal" and bandwidth-friendly way to share some of the music that I'm currently enjoying.  Earlier this week, I found Webjay, an application that allows one to enter the urls of individual songs archived somewhere--usually the band or label website--and compile them into a playlist that can be shared with others.  Because I'm someone who demands simplicity, I decided to give it a spin.  I'm pleased with the results.

To stream my playlist, go here. I highly recommend using Winamp or Windows Media Player.  The others (iTunes, Quicktime, Realplayer) might work for you, but these two have given me the best results.

So far I have twenty-five songs in the playlist (90 minutes of goodness) and plan on adding and subtracting when the mood strikes.  To keep up with this, you can follow changes to the playlist by subscribing to the rss feed ( ).

Finally, if you do decide to listen, let me know what you think.  Leave comments here or at my webjay site.

Vertigo

One piece of advice for those of you considering sedation dentistry:  You might want to eat a big meal the night before going.  I went almost twenty-four hours without food before taking the blue pill of forgetfulness and now I'm  having trouble keeping anything south of the esophagus.  Could be completely unrelated, but because I hate dentists, I'm going to blame them.

For those of you who have stumbled upon Syntax of Things by way of searching for the U2 presale password or who have emailed me offering to become my indentured servant, all I can say is that my password and $1.29 won't get you a quarter-pound hot dog at 7-eleven.  If you're in the San Diego area and are planning on standing in line for tickets tomorrow, you should note that the time the SD U-T originally printed was incorrect.  They'll start giving out the armbands at 8 a.m., not 8:30.  I'll resist the temptation to drive by and gloat.

That's all I can stomach for now.  More when the screen stops spinning.

Halcion Days

Those of you who have been reading Syntax of Things long enough know that I have an irrational fear--bordering on hatred--of dentists.  I've never attempted to figure out why; I simply know that I can't even participate in a conversation that involves teeth without breaking into a cold sweat.  This led to my prolonged absence from any form of dentistry and eventually to a wife who threatened me with the worst sort of torture if I didn't get my chiclets in a chair soon. 

About this time last year, I decided to try sedation dentistry.  It's a pretty simple concept: give the neurotic dentistphobe a pill which not only knocks him out but effectively erases any memory of his being in a dentist's office.  I found this treatment to my liking and managed two visits to lay the groundwork for erasing years of neglect.  Today will be visit number three.

One of the warnings you're given going into these visits is to avoid the phone and email.  It's good advice because while you might not remember being awake, at some point you do regain consciousness, but it's the consciousness of a drunk after his second fifth of vodka.  After my first visit, I had a rather heated conversation with my wife, but I don't remember a single expletive.  Therefore, I'd like to issue this disclaimer:  anything written from the time of this point until Friday morning should be considered the ramblings of a sedated dental patient.

Until then, check out the folks on the left and keep me in your thoughts.

"A storm broke loose in my mind"

The San Diego Union Tribune details Albert Einstein's annus mirabilis:

Between March and September of 1905, Einstein--working full time as a patent clerk to support a new wife and infant son--wrote five research papers that would ultimately help elevate him to icon status.

Three days before his 26th birthday, he submitted the first. It described the particle nature of light. It was followed by his doctoral dissertation, which would become one of his most cited works, then his papers on Brownian motion, the theory of special relativity and the most famous equation of all time: E=mc².

I shit\you shit\he/she/it shits

Some may find the Universal Conjugator a very useful tool.  I, however, used it for my own scatological purposes.  It's been that type of days. {via languagehat.}

I would like to point out that clicking on the links within the conjugation will bring up some very useful information.

Related, in a way:  Has anyone noticed that the definition link in google no longer takes you to dictionary.com.  Instead, it links to the word's entry in Answers.com.  For instance, here's scatological.

Pox on Shakespeare

According to an article in the February 1 issue of Clinical Infectious Diseases, Shakespeare not only suffered from syphilis but it's possible that his death was the result of treatment for the "malady of France":

To support the claims, Dr. John Ross [the study's author], of the Division of Infectious Diseases at Caritas St. Elizabeth's Medical Center in Boston, points to four primary lines of evidence: the prevalence of syphilis in Shakespeare's England; the bard's interest in, and knowledge of, STDs; documentation by and about Shakespeare; and his physical appearance.

Surviving hospital records indicate that English hospitals during the mid to late 16th century were flooded with syphilis patients. In 1579, one physician wrote that 75 percent of patients were being treated for "the French pox," a reference to syphilis.

Ross wrote that Shakespeare in his works variously called syphilis "the pox," "the malady of France," "the infinite malady," "the incurable bone-ache," "the hoar leprosy," and "the good-year," which is a corruption of "goujere," a French term meaning prostitute.

Shakespeare's contemporaries, like Christopher Marlowe, rarely mention syphilis or venereal diseases in their texts, but Ross believes that many of Shakespeare's plays and sonnets contain one or more references to STDs. He counted 55 such lines in "Measure for Measure," 61 lines in "Troilus and Cressida," and 67 lines in "Timon of Athens."

He believes most of the references either describe aspects of the illness, as in the "embossed sores" from act 2 scene 7 of "As You Like It," or treatments for the diseases, particularly syphilis.

"Shakespeare had a knowledge of syphilis that was clinically exact," Ross told Discovery News.   

You can read the paper's abstract here.

Next week:  Clap for Homer.

I Threw a Brick Through Ticketbastard

Not to brag or anything, but I'm now in possession of two general admission tickets to the first concert of the upcoming U2 tour.  I'm not too proud to admit that I sunk forty bucks into a U2 fanclub membership, giving  me the exclusive rights to a password which allowed me to buy up to two tickets today.  There have been reports that the presale has been a disaster with many people getting locked out of the site and thus losing the use of their password.  I had no problem.  After a nervous eight minute wait in the e-queue, I managed to get my tickets.  No crying in the Denny's coffee this time, cruel gods!

By the way, the vultures are already circling over at craigslist. 

No More Butts, Fags, Skags, Gaspers (Updated!)

nicked - verb - to be terminated from a position due to being a cigarette smoker <Joe was nicked today after his test came back positive.> See also, smoked.

Can't say I didn't see this one coming.

Weyco Inc., a health benefits administrator based in Okemos, Mich., adopted a policy Jan. 1 that allows employees to be fired if they smoke, even if the smoking happens after business hours or at home.

These are the end times, fellow smokers!  Stock up on the ciggies and get ready for the raids!

Update thanks to MeFi:  Howard Weyers, president and CFO*, has issued a statement defending the company's policy, and it answers one of my questions (poorly):

Despite facts like these, we also get asked: "What will companies ban next - unhealthy eating, drinking, and sexual behavior?"

No. We offer many incentives for employees to make healthy lifestyle choices. Compliance is voluntary, and the result has been a demonstrable improvement in wellness.

Still, anyone concerned about limiting employers' right to specify terms of employment should know that federal law protects people with conditions such as obesity, alcoholism and AIDS. But there's no right to indulge in tobacco use.

Not yet, Mr. Weyers, not yet...
______
*Chief Fascist Officer

Not Necessarily in That Order

Not sure why this didn't get more attention:  Two UCLA art professors resigned after the school decided not to suspend a student who used a gun as part of his performance piece.  Apparently, the professors felt that the student's use of the gun was an act of domestic terrorism.  What really makes this story interesting is the fact that one of the professors, Chris Burden, made a name for himself with a performance-art piece entitled "Shoot,"  in which he had an assistant shoot a bullet into his arm. More detail on this developing story at artforum.

Protesters in Germany have been making their anti-U.S. feelings known by sticking American flags in dog poop.   A baffled German official had this to say: "Maybe someone is protesting the war in Iraq or just trying to let people know that there are too many dog droppings in the park." {Related: a similar protest has been launched in San Francisco.}

I love my iPod, but all of this talk about the future of devices to deliver music anytime and anywhere is a bit much.  When you're able to play an mp3 through your condomTunes^TM, it's time to re-evaluate priorities.  "It's become a trilogy: Elvis, the Beatles, the iPod.  That should really be a band in that third spot," said Dean Hill, an artist manager who runs the Web site www.tourdates.co.uk. "The next revolution's not in bands anymore, and I find that quite sad."

GalleyCat has a thorough run-down of the National Book Critics Circle nominees.  Also see: CAAF's .02.

I don't get it.  Someone, anyone, please tell me what I'm missing.

How to Dismantle a Ticket Line

I've been searching for something cheery to make up for the bleakness of this morning's post.  So far, I've come up with zip. 

For those of you in San Diego, you might want to get your line-standing shoes ready.  Tickets for the U2 show go on sale this Saturday.  I was among the several hundred in line for tickets for U2's last SD appearance, only to be turned away a mere dozen or so people from the ticket booth and told that the show had sold out.  I spent the rest of morning crying into a cup of Denny's coffee, trying to figure out why the gods hated me so much.  This time, I refuse to be denied.

Anyway, here are the details.  Note that the cheap tickets get you general admission on the floor:

NORTH AMERICA DATES AND TICKETING INFORMATION

March 28th   San Diego, CA - Sports Arena
April 1st Anaheim, CA - Arrowhead Pond
April 5th Los Angeles, CA - Staples Center
April 9th San Jose, CA - HP Pavilion
April 14th Phoenix, AZ - Glendale Arena
April 20th Denver, CO - Pepsi Center
April 24th Seattle, WA - Key Arena
April 28th Vancouver, BC - General Motors Place
May 7th & May 9th       Chicago, IL - United Center
May 14       Philadelphia, PA - Wachovia Center
May 17 & May 18       East Rutherford, NJ - Continental Airlines Arena
May 21       New York, NY - Madison Square Garden
May 24 & May 26       Boston, MA - Fleet Center

Tickets for performances in Boston, Chicago, Denver, Philadelphia and San Diego will go on sale this Saturday, January 29th.

Tickets for performances in Los Angeles, Anaheim and San Jose go on sale this Sunday, January 30th and tickets for New York and East Rutherford go on sale next Monday, January 31st. (All additional on sale dates will be announced in the next few weeks.)

Once again, U2 will offer General Admission floor tickets giving fans the best view in the house for the lowest ticket price. Reserved seat tickets in the stands will also be available. In North America, general admission floor tickets will be $49.50 (plus applicable service fees). Additional ticket prices will vary per market.

Shooting Death...

I warned you on Friday that today would be a bad day.  For me, it's depressing enough that in what seems like the wink of a gnat's eye the weekend has ended and the stack of work that I gleefully left until Monday now mocks my arrival at an office that is long overdue for a TLC makeover. 

In the spiritlessness of this forlorn day, what could be better than a little post about a certain bridge and the people who jump off of it.  Some of you may remember an article in the New Yorker a few years ago which detailed the "fatal grandeur" of one of America's most recognized landmarks.  In it, Tad Friend writes a comprehensive history of suicide by Golden Gate Bridge and how this phenomenon has been perceived by the denizens of the city by the bay:

Almost everyone in the Bay Area knows someone who has jumped, and it is perhaps not surprising that the most common fear among San Franciscans is gephyrophobia, the fear of crossing bridges. Yet the locals take a peculiar pride in the bridge’s notoriety. “What makes the bridge so popular,” Gladys Hansen, the city’s unofficial historian, says, citing the ten million tourists who visit the bridge each year, “is that it’s a monument, a monument to death.” In 1993, a man named Steve Page threw his three-year-old daughter, Kellie, over the side of the bridge and followed her down; even after this widely publicized atrocity, an Examiner poll that year found that fifty-four per cent of the respondents opposed building a suicide barrier.

So Long, Johnny

Rest well, Johnny. If nothing else, we'll get to see some pretty damn funny television over the next few days as all the networks dig through the Johnny Carson archives to show his best moments.  And we can even play a drinking game: how many times will they mention the fact that a certain percentage of the U.S. population was conceived during a Carson monologue?  Anyway, here's a little something from a Salon profile on Johnny from 2001:

Carson was a fixture to two generations of boob-tube Americans. Vietnam-era adults saw him as the nightly tonic to a pain-in-the-ass workday. Children sitting up past their bedtime marveled at a cocktailed Golden Age of celebrities, comedians and racy jokes. Each evening I used to hear the show's opening theme "Daaa dat dat da daa!" emanate from my parents' bedroom, accompanied by Ed McMahon's stentorian announcements, and it was like a signal. They were going to watch Johnny until they fell asleep, and I could do whatever I wanted. Until I could drive a car, I watched the show too....

The most impressive feature was always Carson's opening monologue, sharp and topical, evolving with the nation's moods, delivered with a casual Midwestern air, textbook TV cool, each punchline set up with a completely plausible statement, as if Johnny were standing in line in front of you at the feed store, and turned to say, "Did you see this in the news?" When the material clicked, it killed. (Many maintain that Carson's constant hammering of President Nixon contributed to his eventual resignation.) And when a line bombed, Carson made an art form out of the recovery. ("You didn't boo me when I smothered a grenade at Guadalcanal.") In a narrow-casted, three-network world where comedy meant sitcoms and variety shows, his monologue provided an ideal cultural barometer for the nation, mixing in politics, scientific discoveries, fads and trends, strange news items, his divorces and even bawdy mentions about Dolly Parton  or Linda Lovelace. If you craved a peek at the big bad adult world, there was really nowhere else to turn besides the first 10 minutes of "The Tonight Show."

Obey Giant

Former San Diegan Shepard Fairey has taken his guerilla poster and sticker art from the street signs and overpasses of cities all over the world to the walls of art galleries.  Recently, he sat down for an interview with SignonSanDiego where he was asked if the growing popularity of his art has had an impact on the message:

Anything in pop culture goes through a cycle. First, it's new and cutting edge, embraced by people who are the avant-garde. They're trend-setters and they influence people and it catches on with hipsters. Once it gets too popular, the hipsters totally abandon it. I feel like I've been lucky in that a lot of people who were into my work saw it as making fun of that paradigm and therefore they were immune to abandoning it. But then of course other people who were purely into my work because it was the new cool thing think it's played out. Really what I was going for wasn't the embrace of the hip crowd, but stimulating the person who never thought about the control of public space or propaganda of any nature, whether it's ads or a political slogan. It's more to get them to think about that stuff, and I think it still works on that level. It still provokes people who see it and don't know what it is to Google it, or ask their friends, or look for more information.

The more I have become successful as a designer, the more people can see how you can become something with little to start with. Everything I've done has been on a shoestring; I've been resourceful. People who feel powerless should see that they can pull something big off. There are ways to make it pursuing your passion, and I think that is really important. Even if I lost the underdog status — [and that status] is always important to get the sympathy of the cool kids — [the success of Obey Giant] still should be inspiring to anyone who's not a player-hater.

Fairey's work is currently on display at Voice 1156 in San Diego.

Ask Dr. SoT

When you wake up this coming Monday morning and things seem even more shitty than normal and you feel the need to call your boss and ask for the day off, just know that you are not alone.  According to the experts, Monday will be the most depressing day of the year:

Dr Cliff Arnall, of Cardiff University, came up with the date using a formula to illustrate the various emotional factors at play.

It reads: [W+(D-d)]xTQ MxNA and takes into account six factors likely to have an emotional impact at this time of year.

These include the weather (W), debt (D) (minus the amount of money to be paid on your next pay day) and the time since Christmas (T). Then there is the time since a failed attempt to quit a bad habit (Q) along with general motivational levels (M) and the need to take action to have something to look forward to (NA).

Dr Arnall said the formula results could vary between individuals. But he believed January 24 would work out as the lowest point for many.

{via MeFi}

 

Question of the Week

I think the answer to this one is pretty obvious, still, the question must be asked:  Which of these two will have the biggest negative impact on our future generations?

A gay sponge?

or

A satan worshipper?

Update:  If you haven't made up your mind yet, here's more fuel for Satan's fire.  From galleycat:

According to James Meek, Bush's inauguration speech borrowed its key passage -- "We have lit a fire as well; a fire in the minds of men" -- not from the bible but from The Devils, a novel by Dostoevsky "about a group of terrorists' ineffectual struggle to bring down the tyrannical Tsarist regime."

The Transient

While the ubiquitous yodeler receives his Spin treatment in this month's issue, the guy that  inspired his sound gets a nice feature in the East Bay Express {via Tito}.  For those of you who haven't heard of David Dondero, you should give this article a read.  Before you ask, sure they do have a similar sound, but with Dondero, you know where he's coming from, even if he won't be there long.  And to that question about similarities, David has an answer:  "Every now and then you run into a kid who says, 'You sound like Bright Eyes.  But it's like, 'Kid, do the research ... it's the other way around.'"

I admit that I have a bias when it comes to David.  He and I spent many elbow-bending nights together at a Pensacola bar in the mid-nineties.  To be honest, I learned more about him from this article than I did those nights a decade ago.  Usually we talked about favorite bands or Jack Kerouac or the weather.  I realize now that both of us were hiding a certain amount of pain.

If you're curious, you can download one of my favorite Dondero songs below.  It's from his 2000 release Spider West Myshkin And A City Bus on Ghostmeat Records.

+ Download David Dondero's "Ode To A 1973 Chevy Open Road"

Come On Along with the Black Rider

Innocent When You Dream: The Tom Waits Reader, edited by Mac Montandon with a foreword by Frank Black, will be released in the Spring. 

Here is Tom Waits in all his mischievous splendor. From a New Yorker “Talk of the Town” in 1976 to an interview by Terry Gilliam in 1999; from album reviews by Luc Sante and David Fricke to conversations with Elvis Costello and Roberto Benigni; from a recent profile in GQ to “20 Questions” in Playboy and reviews of Waits’s acclaimed new album, Real Gone, this is the must-have book for every fan of the artist Beck has described as a “luminary,” and for music fans everywhere.

All the Presidents, Man

I know the season premier of that overdone talent show was this week, so I'm not sure how many people strayed into the upper-reaches of their cable dial to watch the first two episodes of the History Channel's documentary series The Presidents.  The first night's episodes detailed the lives and presidencies of the founding fathers straight through James Polk.  Last night's spanned the years from Zach Taylor through Chester A. Arthur. While I wouldn't call these groundbreaking biographies, they do seem to offer a nice overview of the men--and women--who shaped the country.  So far, the one bit of trivia that has fascinated me the most (other than coming to the conclusion that William Dafoe could play a fairly convincing John C. Calhoun) was finding out that there was or is such a thing as oyster ice cream.  Apparently, this disturbing concoction was a favorite of first lady Dolley Madison, wife of James.  Curious as to just what this was (and hoping that oyster was a 19th-century synonym for caramel) I decided to consult the internerd for an answer.  Because I know some of you may read this while enjoying your favorite snack, I've hidden the details below the fold.

**********

Crispen's Edge

If you're feeling really brave, you should check out the trailer for Crispin Glover's What Is It?, but you should know that not only is it NOT safe for work, but it might not be safe for home.

I'm not sure what to say about it, so I'll let the IMDB folks give you the lowdown:

What Is It? is a bewildering, unnerving, surreal, blackly comic film from the visionary mind of Crispin Glover that tells the inner and outer struggles of a young man facing villains and demons on multiple planes.

{via low culture where they also have an early poster for the movie, featuring Shirley Temple in the buff save for her Nazi garb.  Yeesh.}

"In what ethereal dances, By what eternal streams"

As I'm sure you know, today marks the 196th anniversary of Edgar Allen Poe's birth. It also marks the 56th time that a mysterious cloaked figure known as the Poe Toaster has visited Poe's grave in Baltimore and left three roses and a half-empty bottle of French cognac. There has been much speculation about the identity of and meaning behind the Poe Toaster, but the answers remain a mystery.

On my only visit to Baltimore, a business trip several years ago, I planned on seeing three things: Babe Ruth's birthplace, Camden Yards, and Poe's grave. Unfortunately, the trip coincided with the random snipering in the D.C. area, and people in Baltimore were warned that they might want to be careful venturing out of doors. Undeterred, I caught a cab from my hotel to the Westminster Burying Grounds and Catacombs only to discover that tours weren't being offered that day. I did end up getting a nice cab ride back to the hotel. Thanks to a marathon or bike race or some sort of overachieving, the cabbie had to go miles out of the way through block after block of burned out row houses.  I kept staring up at the cloudy Maryland sky wondering how to pronounce the word Amontillado.

See also:

+ E.A. Poe at Celebrity Morgue
+ Blurry photo of the Poe Toaster
+ Tale of the Poe Toaster
+ An interpretation of "The Raven" by John Astin
+ Wikisource Poe archive

Bad Dreams Are Made of Screams

I woke up in the predawn of yesterday with a scream on my lips and a dog pawing my face.  From what I remember, I'd been dreaming about chasing a burgler out of my house.  On my way to the porch to smoke a cigarette I noticed that the front door was open and a man was making a quick exit with an armful of loot.  My dream reaction was to attempt a scream, but it wouldn't come out, stuck in my fear-idled throat.  That's when I woke up to what I believed to be the sound of my own scream echoing in the bedroom and the neurotic dog Homer scratching at my face, telling me in his canine language that I was having a bad dream.

Of course, I had a difficult time falling asleep again.  I lay in bed asking myself if I had really just screamed in my sleep.  After all, Elaine hadn't stirred.  She didn't turn to me and ask why I had just screamed.  This is the person who is often driven to the spare bedroom by Homer's snoring (always blame the dog).  Anyway, I listened to the last hour of a late night/early morning A.M. talkshow and then the news, hearing that Sly Stallone is planning on reviving Rambo, that an airplane capable of carrying 800 passengers will soon be taking to the skies, that the FCC has scared the networks to the point of absurdity. Still, I couldn't shake the dream.

When morning finally came and Elaine was fully awake I asked her if she'd heard it. 

She hadn't.

So I spent the day wondering if it happened.  Why else would Homer have pawed me in the face?  Why else would I have the memory of hearing a scream when I awoke?  Could it have been the 7/11 burrito I had for lunch?

I'll never know.  But that's why I don't have much to offer today. 

Fighting Wussiness One Wussy at a Time

Author, musician, cowboy, and all-around crazy person Kinky Friedman is set to announce that he will run for governor of Texas:

Friedman, frontman for the group "The Texas Jewboys," is known for songs such as "Get Your Biscuits in the Oven and Your Buns in the Bed" and writing books including "Kill Two Birds and Get Stoned."

The humorist however, is deadly serious about his campaign to unseat current Gov. Rick Perry, a Republican who succeeded President Bush.

"I have achieved a lot of my dreams in life and I want to see that young Texans achieve some of theirs,' Friedman said in a telephone interview. He added, "I want to be governor because I need the closet space."

Friedman said the main priorities in his campaign will be reforming the Texas education system, adding safeguards in the judicial process where Texas ranks as the nation's leader in capital punishment and establishing a peace corps for the state.

Plus, he wants "to fight the wussification of Texas."

"I am determined to get back to a time when the cowboys all sang and their horses were smart," Friedman said.

Well, we have Arnold, why not Kinky in Texas.  They've had worse.

+ Listen to some Kinky courtesy of NPR.  Includes the classic "Get Your Biscuits in the Oven and Your Buns in the Bed."