National Dog Day

According to Ryan & Isabella at Houston Dog Blog, tomorrow is National Dog Day. According to the website, "...August 26th serves as a day to acknowledge those dogs that selflessly devote each day to save lives, keep us safe and be our loyal companions."

What they don't know is that every day is Dog Day where I live. Calvin always comes first! It's all about Calvin. And why shouldn't it be? He is the epitome of man's best friend.

For those of you who have never owned a dog, they are the best example of unconditional love. Of course it has to do with the fact that they stick close to the people who feed them, give them treats and take them for rides and walks.

So if you have a dog, give that dog a very special hug tomorrow.

Jukebox Wednesday

Hey bois & girls...it's your long lost blogger. Yes. I am still around. I've been busy with the new job and doing things out and about. To top it off, I've been having laptop issues!

Anywho, Trash Disco was fun. Ginger Grant did a nice recap here. Thank you to everyone who attended.

Now...onto music for today.

Kevin clued me on this song a few weeks ago and I cannot get it out of my head! I play in The Cal Mobile. I play it when I'm running. I hum it for no reason. It's one of those songs that I think Kaye Sedilla should consider for her comeback in July 2010. Enjoy!

Jukebox Wednesday

In preparation for this Sunday's Trash Disco, here is an ABBA song. When it play on Sunday, look for Str8 Up With A Twist to be performing!

Can We Talk (revisited)

Last Friday night I went to see Joan Rivers and she was hoot! There were no sacred cows in the crowd except for the gay men. (She knows which side her bread is buttered on.)

The lady was full of energy and it was amazing at 76 years old that she was so full of energy on the stage. She did say something at the end of the show that sums it though, "I'm a performer." When she's on, she's on!

One of the jokes that made me cackle and almost lay an egg was when she talked about her daughter Melissa was offered $400,000 to pose topless in Playboy. She said Melissa called her and said, "Mother! You would be so proud of me! I turned down $400,000 to pose topless in Playboy." To which Joan replied, "For another $100,000 you could have shown your p_ssy! Your mother needs the money. She plays to gay men and drunks!"

Eric got to meet Joan after the show and present her with a Safe Sex basket from Legacy. Here is a photo that Dan D. snapped.

It's Raining Men; Do You Wanna Funk?

Looking for something to do on Sunday, August 16? Join the Krewe of Olympus-Texas, Inc for Trash Disco. Hope to see you there!

Stop Hating On Houston

Add Outside magazine to the long list of Bayou City bashers.

Over the years, we've been branded the nation's fattest city, the smoggiest, the sprawliest … blah, blah, blah. Now, in its latest issue, Outside not only leaves Houston off its list of the nation's best cities, it makes a point of criticizing us for our weather, our sprawl and even our topography.

In an aside headlined “Houston, We Have a Problem” (original, right?), the magazine offers backhanded compliments to our strong economy, low housing prices and “surprisingly good barbecue and soul food.” (Surprisingly?) “But,” the article concludes, “here's the thing: You're congested, sprawly, hot, and flat, and you scored miserably on our multisport factor (grade: D).”

To which I say, so what?

Yes, it's hot and muggy and ironing-board flat, and so most of us spend less time on our bicycles and kayaks than folks in Portland or Seattle. But rather than gripe about the weather, Houstonians long ago learned how to deal with it. The first time my mom brought me downtown, in the late 1960s, I marveled at the tunnel system that connected the buildings. And when I returned years later to work for the Chronicle, I quickly came to appreciate those underground lifesavers.

Houstonians were the first to move baseball indoors, which seems pretty smart to me if you love the game but don't want to risk heat stroke watching it. Yet I can't count how many times I've been told what an abomination our domed stadium was.

Whatever. I think of those nattering nabobs every time I hear about a game being rained out. A rainout in this day and age? If you want to nitpick, why not go after the cities that spent taxpayer money on stadiums and still have to postpone games because of a little shower? Have they not heard of retractable-roof technology?

I'm tired of hearing about sprawl, too. I live 5 minutes from my office, I walk to as many places as I can, and I'm probably about as enamored of suburbia as the editors of Outside are. But I keep it to myself. You want to live out there? Doesn't hurt my feelings. I might take issue with that SUV you're driving, but it's not like there weren't plenty of those in Austin the last time I was stuck in a traffic jam there.

Outside loves Austin, by the way. It's No. 4 on the list.

Granted, to the uninitiated, our indoor rodeo might seem a little weird. But for the most part, these unsolicited critiques baffle me. As does the need people apparently have to share their hostile little opinions.

Last summer, for example, as we were settling the tab for a perfectly nice stay at a resort near Lake Tahoe, the woman at the desk found out we were headed home to Houston and told us that she used to live here, too. And that she hated it. She was passionate about her hatred. Something about spiders, she said.

Spiders. Really? I still wish I'd asked for the manager.

I hesitate to respond like this for fear of sounding defensive, which I'm not. Bemused is more like it. Maybe a little irritated, though I should be used to this by now. Another memory, from back in the '70s-era oil boom, was a letter to the editor from a Rust Belt transplant complaining about the city, and its cockroaches in particular.

Even as a teenager, I was struck by the ingratitude. Would you really rather be freezing and unemployed?

I was a kid then, here for reasons beyond my control. But now I live in Houston by choice. It's flawed, sure, but I love the people, the restaurants, the sports. I'm stirred by the sight of our skyline on a moonlit night, and a balmy February afternoon leaves me feeling downright smug.

I travel and I enjoy many cities across the country, and except possibly for St. Louis I never feel the need to ridicule any of them.

ronnie.crocker@chron.com