Those of us who live in the Houston area know what an ugly, dull, uninspiring, occasionally smelly place it is. Speaking for myself, this is why I don’t live in Houston. (Seabrook, thankfully, is not Houston.) We don’t have to be reminded of this by a supercilious jackass who, on his first trip, thinks it’s duty to be cute as he tells us of his unfavorable first impression.
Houston is the least vertical city in America. The land is flat, the buildings are flat, even the food is flat. Steaks, tortillas. The motto here seems to be Spread It Out. You drive down I-45 and the sprawl keeps going, flatly, everything having precisely the vertical profile of a car dealership. I’m not trying to ridicule it. Not me! I’m from a place that would fit into the parking lot of your average Houston shopping mall. I don’t believe in condescension. Condescension is beneath me. I’m sure the Houstonians like living in a place that has yet to discover the concept of zoning.
I’m getting hungry for a heapin’ helpin’ of Houston food, maybe a slab of beef the size of a banjo. Weirdly I am driving a pickup truck, as that was the only car available at Thrifty. Feel like I ought to go pick up a keg somewhere. The pickup cost $113 a day, not including vicious taxes, like the “Stadium tax.” I was told that the rates were so high because an oil and gas convention is taking place in town, but that’s confusing: I thought Houston WAS an oil and gas convention. This is one of those how-can-you-tell situations.
Y’know, I was taught that it’s better to respect the home of others than to prove yourself a total jackass (or, in this case, a total DUMB@$$) by demonstrating what a bunch of beef-addled, pickup-lovin’, oil-soaked maroons we are here in the Redneck Paradise we’ve all apparently been sentenced to.
My friend Douglas Cudd has an interesting view on this:
No place is perfect, and Houston isn’t without its faults, but hey man, and I mean this in the nicest way I know how to say it, Houston’s not for you. It’s still a free country, so don’t let the state line hit ya where the good lord split ‘ya….
I’m not going to defend urban sprawl, which is of course not unique to Houston, but Texas is blessed with a whole bunch of space, and we unapologetically use it. Maybe not always to it’s fullest esoteric architectural potential, but we’re not going to apologize for not stacking ourselves on top of each other when the next block is empty, either….
Look, Houston isn’t perfect, but with the MALLification of America, what place is? If you awoke blindfolded in any city in America, I’d say “what the hell are you doing just now waking up, and why do you have a blindfold on?” Then I’d ask if you could distinguish this generic city from any other place in the country [it’s called Generica for a resaon]. After a quick survey of landscape, similar urban planning and ubiquitous fast food, I contend that you could not, at least 90% of the time.
So lay off of Houston. I know that Bush-whacking is now considered haute couture among most blue-staters, but leave Texas, and specifically Houston, alone. Please?
Keep in mind that sum’bitch is from New Haven, anyway.
Yeah, now THERE’S something to be proud of….
Look, we’re fully aware of and familiar with the problems Houston has. It’s why I rarely go into the city. For some reason, though, we stay. Who knows why? Perhaps it’s because trailers are cheaper here? Or there’s more available land to park a double-wide on? Or even that all of the pollution sure makes for beautiful sunsets?
If you don’t like it here, fine. Go back to your snowdrifts, your sub-freezing temperatures, and your wealthy, Fat Cat Paradise. That’ll leave more steak and cheap gas for the rest of us.
Remember, ‘tis better to be thought a DUMB@$$ than to put it in writing and remove all doubt….
