Dippy Chicks

Natalie Maines, right, the mouthy one, criticized President Bush at a concert a few years ago. That's certainly her right, but the venue was probably not the best. People typically go to hear music at concerts, not venom. Some red, white and blue country stations to this day won't play the Chicks' music in the wake of the brouhaha. She recently made comments at a concert that rescinded a previous apology; I find no fault with that, except maybe because she was in England. Hey lady, keep your poop in your home toilet!

I have criticized the president over Cheerios and toast, which may or may not be more appropriate. I think he is a smart and caring man, but I don't agree with everything his administration has done. Interesting to see how the next Big Election will play out with new contestants.

Back to the music, though, I downloaded two of the Chicks' songs (via iTunes) off the new album. The title track, "Taking the Long Way," is good and speaks to me, if you're into that kind of thing. Maybe it speaks more about my sister, who is described fairly well in the opening lines of the song.

The second song is "Lubbock or Leave It." For those who've never been there or heard of the place, it is a West Texas town that has long struggled with its own identity. It is isolated, but is called the "Hub City" because it's the only "big city" in the region. It was (sort of still is) the trading ground for the West Texas cotton crop, in modern times pushed by the denim-jeans industry. With a large population, it presents a mix of West Texas "help-your-neighborism" and decidely urban "I'm going to steal your car-ism."

Lubbock rejected native son Buddy Holly early on, but after it was apparent they could rake in some bucks off his name, have placed a bronze statue on the main plaza and, with help from his widow, opened a museum not too long ago. It is a bustling college town (Texas Tech being the largest there) with lots of places to eat, drink and be merry; if you want to buy some beer or booze to imbibe at home, though, you've got to drive outside the limits to "The Strip," a cluster of liquor stores that at night resemble a miniature Texas version of Las Vegas' famed neon spectacle.

It's basically in a desert, but the red dust in the air would sometimes mix with precipitation and rain mud down on my inevitably just-washed vehicle. The weather was volatile at times; I remember a day in February that saw sunny and 65-degree bliss, broken by the time we were inside the theater watching a movie, and followed by snow (yes, snow) on the ground that would add up to inches before it stopped. When it rained, it usually rained a lot, and at the time the main drainage channels were actually the public streets that would direct water into small, flat ("playa") lakes. Made me want to trade my Isuzu in for a canoe at times. But my allergies magically disappeared; I only got sick when coming back to DFW to visit my parents and being exposed to the little air beasties that multiply like bunnies on shore leave.

I lived in Lubbock for a year and thoroughly enjoyed the climate (even its oddities) and what the city had to offer. I wasn't as in love with my job (news copy editor at the local daily paper, working nights until midnight or 1 a.m.). But I did fall in love with the Petite Filet, the woman who would become my wife. And we have special places throughout the city that we claimed as ours.

The song, of course, makes fun of everything Lubbock, particularly the cardboard sanctimony on the outside, and sinfulness lurking beneath. It's also a catchy song. Score one for the Chicks; heck, maybe it will actually send more people to Lubbock to ogle Holly's black-frame glasses. If you go, I can tell you a bunch of good places to eat and which streets to avoid (including the one I used to live on). There's also an awesome bicycle shop right on Broadway across from Tech. Tell 'em T-bone sent you, and they'll have no earthly idea what you're talking about.

It is not the first time the city was poked at by way of country song. Mac Davis sang, "Happiness is Lubbock in your rear-view mirror." For me, that was true. I pulled out of town in a rented U-Haul, headed for a job in Cowtown. There are things I still miss about the town, but my future was too strong a pull to ignore. I would visit nearly every weekend to see my then-girlfriend. There was one weekend neither one of us could travel (she had to work, I was sick) that was just awful. About three months later, I was once again in a rented U-Haul heading from Lubbock to Dallas/Fort Worth, this time driving my future bride's possessions toward the life we now share. Gotta give props to Lubbock for bringing us together.

*"What the heck is a bean supper, T-bone?" I'm glad you asked! It's a smalltown tradition for some, uh, small towns. A meal would be organized, and ladies would bring their own versions of beans – mostly in cold bean salads. From my experience, this doesn't usually make much of a meal, especially if you found what was being served utterly repulsive. Because I was personally invited, however, I made a good showing at the Soroptomists' supper that night and tried several of the varieties. Thankfully, there were some really good desserts there that filled the legume void.