The Revolution will not be Televised

A personal hero of mine, Gil-Scott Heron, passed away yesterday. His lyrics to his
spoken word poem/song are on my Zune favorite playlist since forever. Read the lyrics
here.

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.


(update. I also recommend the song, "Home is Where the Hatred Is". Careful with the needle marks, though.)

Mr. Tweety's Snack Bar

 

Tweety's Snack Shack on the southside

Obviously,  this fine local snack shack was able to receive special written permission from the WB corporation in order to be able to use the image and likeness of the trademark Tweety character. As we know, copyright infringement is not a cool thing. Worse than that however, is having a spelling brain freeze when making your business signs. Check out the sign below.

Tweey's? Is it misspelled on purpose?

Am I missing something? Maybe it's just genius advertising? It did catch my attention, right?

 These guys are brilliant.

 

Nada que Ver (NQV) video of the week

Our first installment of the NQV video of the week:

If you are ever having a dilemma as to what to get me for my B-day, then break your head no more. I'm itching to get my hands on a vintage cassette tape Walkman, similar to the one in the video.

The video is my favorite scene from one of coolest movies I've seen in the past two years. Check out the video and the dancing babysitter in peril. Reminds me of my sister actually.

Vamos a Laredo

Back in the days when visiting Nuevo Laredo was a care-free activity, I had an older brother that would take me along with him cruising every section of that city. I had just moved to Laredo, TX and I was already an ardent fan of the scorching Laredo sun. In those days, we drove around Nvo. Laredo, especially on Saturday and Sunday nights, bumping his music over his loud speakers and proclaiming our youthful exuberance with the tackiest music my ears had ever had to withstand.

One such song we always heard, for whatever ungodly reason, was a pissy little cumbia tune by a crappy local Nuevo Laredo grupo, "Vamos a Laredo". I'm not sure I understand what would ever possess my older brother to blast this song endlessly over his stereo.

This was sometime in late 1992. Maybe it was all the dirty Nuevo Laredo tap water we had drank that entire summer or maybe it was our lack of music appreciation. Whatever the case, we heard that song so much, I cringe to recall those days of destruction.

Coming back from a very quick trip to downtown Nuevo Laredo this past week (against my better judgement), and while waiting in the long line at bridge, a good cousin of mine popped in a CD that contained that vile song my brother used to play so loud and proud that it would scare the dead six feet deeper underground. I immediately recognized the wacky keyboard and jingly guitar. My feet began tapping and my hands started clapping and I could barely resist the overpowering urge to get off his truck and dance with whoever had the courage to stand with me.

I blame the scorching Laredo sun on this. Damn it's hot out there!

Still Standing

I have been seriously neglecting my blog for the past two weeks and I don't have a good excuse for it, other than to say I did believe the world was coming to a screeching end this past Saturday. Nonetheless, since humanity did not bite the dust as expected, I am here once again bringing you the latest news of my sad little corner of Laredo (shout out to all my Calton Rd. peeps!).

Things are coming and going and Laredo is whizzing by me in every twisted direction. I'm having some trouble finding my boots. No, JK I don't wear boots, only when I dream of my myself at the annual Rattlesnake Roundup. In my dream I'm battling snakes with my bare hands and then I run them over with my Ford 350 4 x 4. After, I make belts for all the neighborhood children (What up Santo Nino neighborhood). I always wanted a large brass belt buckle. They'd go great with my British Knight shoes.

Don't hate on my BK's

Bee back Sooon

I'm on vacation, but I will return like Haley's Comet, very soon.

A cold one

Sometimes there is a perfectly good reason to just drink a cold one. Sadness comes and goes, but bad hangovers last forever. Cheers. I'll take a cold glass of milk though.

Friends and Lovers

There are some people that come and go in one's life. At one point, my friend M*** meant the world to me. She saved me from so many mistakes and bad decisions. In fact, at one point she saved my life. I will always be grateful for her friendship, her attention and all the good things she gave me. I however, was not the one for her. Goodbyes are always sad and even more when they are permanent. Nonetheless, I'm going to truly miss M**a.  Her wedding and her new life await her in the near future. I wish her the best at everything.

I dedicate her this song, Cada Vez que digo Adios by Enanitos Verdes.

Sometimes life has a funny way of working things out. Everyone around me is getting married and having happy lives. Look for me in my dark corner of my bedroom if you need me.

Easter Pix

I'm a liar and a jerk. Or so women tell me. Forgive me.

I promised you Easter pics and I meant to take a ton of them and upload them up on here. However, this Easter was so ho-hum. I did not want to let you down. No really, I didn't want to be like that boyfriend you had sophomore year that had his hands up your skirt one day and promised that he loved you, but then by the following week he was going out with Judy Galvan and everyone saw them making out behind the bleachers and it made you cry so much you vowed never to drink another Pepsi again. No, see, I'm not that guy. I let you down for my own selfish reasons of which I am not at liberty to discuss, due to certain contractual obligations.

Nonetheless, my fellow blogger, Furniture in Life, has posted a pretty neat entry about her eggs-ellent Easter. So hop on over there and read it. Just don't tell her I sent you.

The 80's are over

Some of you might have noticed that our sister blog, the Rad 80's, has been deleted. Unfortunetly, I was unable to provide constant updates and I simply fell behind schedule, so I did away with it. Also, it lets me focus on more pressing projects that I have scheduled for later on this month. I'll keep you posted.

I did not want to let go of my 80's blog, but it had to be done. So sad. Don't worry though, Theo Huxtable still loves you. : )

Alli en Laredo (Rene y Rene)

Recently, I spent the better half of an afternoon going over my father's LP records. His eclectic tastes range from your standard Tin Tan and Pedro Infante material to The Platters, Los Hooligans and Ray Coniff.

When I was a child, I always knew when he had drank one too many cold Shlitz's because he would get home and slam his vintage records on our Sears brand turntable and crank the volume up loud enough to scare away his buzz. On nights when he was really loaded, "Smoke gets in your Eyes" by the Platters, was his song of choice.

On other nights, especially on payday Fridays, he would spin  Los Apson Records and drink Miller HighLife, leaving behind Schltiz for days of despair. My dad was an elitist. I especially liked Los Apson because they played some sweet rock and roll covers, my favorite being their take of "Satisfaction" by the Rolling Stones.

But it was on mellow nights, after coming home from a Texas Ranger's win, that he would play Rene y Rene. He spoke endlessly about them so much, that I used to think he was traveling with them as a groupie or something.  That was sometime in the late 80s, in days so far and long ago that my mother still made flour tortillas by hand (damn you Sandy's!).

So it was, several days ago that I came across an old LP of Rene y Rene and spun it on my Technics turntable and heard that music from long ago, that music from cold,rainy Dallas winters, when my childhood home smelled of freshly made flour tortillas and my half-finished homework was spread across the table.

It's strange how a simple song can take you traveling through time, like a musical Marty McFly DeLorean, complete with enough nostalgic images to fulfill a Ken Burns documentary.

So I leave you with this song off a classic Rene y Rene record. I transferred it from LP to Mp3 myself, so pardon me for the bad quality. I dedicate this one for the good times, the un-finished homework from my 5th grade year, the sweetness of 1989 and my father's  warm, un-drank Schlitz beer still sitting upon that old Sears turntable lost somewhere in time.