Student Profiles

I have a student who missed the first week of class because he was deployed in Baghdad. I consider this a good excuse. He brought me a photocopy of his orders to show that he wasn't just playing hooky, and he also presented me with this souvenir of the Iraq of days gone by. I was shocked and awed. He pointed out that the currency is no longer legal tender "because he's dead", referring to the late Saddam. I said "Yes, yes, he sure is." I don't think his death is the technical reason it's no longer real money, but I wasn't going to get into it with a war veteran.

My students are an interesting bunch. In addition to the soldier, I also have two prison guards, two professional golfers, and a girl with a collection of pet snakes. I refer to my students by their surnames, i.e. Mr./Miss., and in one section I am blessed to have a Mr. Duck, a Mr. Fish, and a Mr. Kitten. It's like I'm teaching in an Aesop's Fable.

The Strip

Lubbock has some strange laws, like the one that says you can't buy a bottle of alcohol within the city limits. There is a local winery that seems exempt from the law, but if you want something besides the wines of West Texas (which are actually pretty good, to be fair) you have to drive out to "The Strip" - a row of warehouses covered in lurid neon, many of which offer drive-through service for the drinker on the go. My Dad came to visit on the weekend, and we decided to make an expedition to this culturally significant location. We were amused to find that hardly anything in the Canadian section was actually Canadian, except for us. I also noticed that a significant proportion of the store's wares were refrigerated, presumably so you can start mixing cocktails right there in the parking lot.

Frisky Frontier

Lubbock's Ranching Heritage Center, where the attractions include an assortment of windmills, offers a display of countless varieties of spurs. The aptly named "Gal Leg Spur" is made to resemble a lady's leg, complete with stocking and high-heeled boot. Saucy!

Entering America

A hot ticket in Lubbock is the First Fridays Art Tour, where free shuttles ferry the public between art galleries and everyone gets to drink local wine and talk about pottery. I particularly enjoyed a photography exhibit by a group who are trying to save local historic buildings. I bought this photomontage, which consists of pictures of the ceiling in one of the structures they are working on preserving. It's called "Entering America". It's in my home office.

Babel

The other night I was at the Drive-In, when a couple of kids in the snack bar line asked me what was playing on Screen 2. I told them that it was Inglourious Basterds. They asked "What's that about?" Poor things didn't know who they were talking to. I have spent quite a bit of time this summer thinking about what Inglourious Basterds is about, so the question made me pause. After several seconds it occurred to me that they weren't looking for a 90 minute lecture on postmodernism, German film history, cinephilia, historical representations of the Golem, and female subjectivity in film, so I tried to simplify:

Me: It's a Quentin Tarantino movie about Jewish American soldiers in WWII who go to Europe to kill Nazis.

Kid 1: So, it's in Spanish?

Me: .... (Silence with confused expression)

Kid 2: (To Kid 1) No, stupid, Nazis speak German!

Me: (Regaining composure) There are several languages in the film, but Spanish is not one of them.

Kid 2: So is it good?

Me: Yes...it's wonderful, but shocking.

Kid 1: Um, ok.

I know that kids these days don't know anything, but, SPANISH?

Terror of Tiny Town

A significant proportion of the Lubbock dog population consists of teeny tiny dogs. Chihuahuas dominate the teeny-tiny-dog social scene, and they rule my neighbourhood with an iron paw. My favourite is a black and white one who I call Napoleon. He patrols the block every morning, strutting down the street with a megalomaniacal confidence. Indeed, many of them roam free, and Mollie and I are frequently accosted when we run afoul of their local bylaws. Mollie's response is to look at them with a measure of disdain, as if to say "You call yourself a dog?" I try to befriend them, which is sometimes effective, sometimes not.

These tiny terrors are difficult to photograph because of their speed and lack of mass, and the one-second delay on my digital camera gives them ample opportunity for escape. I was able to capture this tough guy by peeking through his fence.

I was also amused by this found dog poster - the painted toenails in particular. Actually, this dog looks a lot like Napoleon, which may offer a clue as to her origins.

Double Entendre

Am I right that this is (unintentionally) hilarious? I wonder what kinds of calls Rodney Hardy(!) receives for his Rent A Man services. I feel like calling to ask exactly what "Etc." covers. Note the "drug free" promise over the wheel. I am intrigued by the warning "Beware...Rent A Man Country".