16,000,000 Rooster Teeth Fans Can’t Be Wrong

In a former National Guard armory building, now owned by the Austin Film Society, several grown men in form-hugging futuristic outfits attempt to blast through a fake steel door with pretend lasers. “You hit everything but the goddamned door!” one of them scolds after a comrade’s shot falls wide of the mark, creating a thick white haze but no opening. They stare at the door, thwarted and befuddled. 

Faded Royalty

During a lull in the conversation at the Dallas Petroleum Club, my lunch companion looked past me and nodded toward the corner of the room. “That’s Bunker and Herbert Hunt over there,” he said. “What sort of deals do you suppose they’re working on?” It was the early nineties and one of the first times I’d dined in the elite lunchroom of Dallas’s oil-igarchy.

Texarkana Murder Mystery

In 1946 four brutal crimes occurred in less than three months in Texarkana. Three were violent attacks on young people parked on lovers’ lanes on the Texas side of town; the fourth was the shooting of a middle-aged couple in their rural farmhouse on the Arkansas side. At the end of the spree, three people had been seriously wounded and five had been shot dead. The traumatized survivors gave the police little to go on. Fear paralyzed the town.

Top 5 Texas Tempranillos

On November 13, wine enthusiasts across the country will celebrate International Tempranillo Day, a red grape widely planted throughout Spain and Portugal. This varietal, characterized by its moderate acidity and aromas of mushroom, blackberries, strawberries, leather, and tobacco, has become one of the most popular in the world, with new plantings in Australia, Washington, California, and Oregon. It’s also become a sort of signature red grape at many Texas wineries.


During my teenage years, which I spent wandering the Tex-Mex desert of suburban Atlanta, I would make frequent visits to a strip-center “Mexican” restaurant, looking for some semblance of my native Texas in the form of cheese enchiladas. The kitchen would invariably deliver a scalding plate upon which a pool of rather bland sauce cradled a row of tough, burnt-edged tortillas whose stuffing of processed white cheese somehow remained in refrigerated shreds. I ate every last bite.


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