It was a year of appalling Anna Nicole, babbling Bar, conspiring cheerleaders, déclassé DeLay, enraptured Eva, fecal funny business, gubernatorial gaffes, horrifying Hook ’Em, illustrious intoxicators, juggy Jessica, Kinky kocktails, lame lawmakers, misidentified ministers, noticeable nepotism, obnoxious Oberst, powerboating Perot, queer quotes, rude Redskin, stimulated sex offenders, titillating teachers, unwanted urinating, vilified Vancouverites, watered-down Willie, x-asperating Xmas songs, yucky yearbooks, and zinged zip codes.
Along a seventeen-mile stretch of Interstate 35 sits a theoretical dividing line between red-state and blue-state America. In Austin, the flagship Whole Foods attracts your typical wine-sipping, tree-hugging, Volvo-driving liberals. In Buda, the massive Cabela’s is a magnet for beer-guzzling, gun-toting, flag-waving conservatives. From these consumer preferences, voting habits are born—but appearances, like tofu dogs and duck decoys, can be deceiving.
First in Kuwait, then Baghdad. Next stop, the desert.
Remember what Ronald Reagan said about Republicans not speaking ill of other Republicans? How quaint.
For that matter, why can’t any incarcerated man or woman with a good reason get one?
Richard Garriott wants to experience space travel because it would be cool—and because his dad did.
Sweaty socks, cat urine, dead skunks: Three cheers for having no sense of smell.
The quest for the perfect author photo (or at least one I can live with).
The conservative case for gay marriage.
Rethinking the way we do business—and government—down here.
Oil’s well that begins well.
Katie Wernecke is many things: a precocious, freckle-faced Bible-drill champ; the valedictorian of her seventh-grade class in Banquete; and—since she was diagnosed with cancer last year—a pawn in the custody battle that pits her parents against the State of Texas.
Everything I Could Ever Tell You About …