Our Local Texas Techno Geek
I had the chance to meet our local techno geek the other night at the local radio shack where we had gone to purchase cell phones for myself and husband. The local managers, a young dynamic Chinese American, fell upon us like a long lost relative and proceeded to show us all of our options and alternatives. Did we want a phone that could take pictures, voice mail messages, talk to other phones, did we need hands free or remote activation, did we want to use it hands free in the car or carry it on our belts? The options were endless and confusing. When we finally got him calmed down enough to acknowledge that all we wanted was two cheap basic cell phones to link up with our daughters cell phone he seemed disappointed but game. While he was working with my husband on the service contract, did we need protection for overage, how many minutes did we want, day time, peak time, roaming, straight, day, night, in net work, out of net work etc., my daughter and I retreated to a corner where we could stand and try and get an accurate count of the number of gadgets he had attached to his belt or in his pockets. Our task was complicated by the fact that he was also dealing with two other customers and so kept darting off, and was also dealing with the store phone, his own personal phone, and another clerk’s cell phone as well. O his belt we counted going clockwise from center front, his cell phone, a key ring, his pda, a Swiss army knife, a mag lite, a connection tester, a calculator, another cell phone and an amp meter. When we mentioned his belt he promptly emptied his pockets to show us a compass, another knife, a laser pointer, a small automatic timer, and another cell phone. He so strongly resembled one of the gadget geeks from CSI that we were almost expecting him to pull out his rubber gloves and finger print powder next. He laughed and admitted that he carried more on his belt than most local policemen, but that he used each and every thing frequently and in fact was down in number of gadgets because he was having trouble keeping his pants up.
As we finished our cell phone negotiations and started towards the door, he was following us showing us the latest digital cameras and ear apparatus for our new phones. He even followed us out to the car and in a joking manner, showed us his electronic watch with numerous dots that you had to read to tell the time. Once we had gotten into the car and started the engine, he waved a cheerful good bye and shouted “until next time, just wait what I’ll have for you then.”
Guns, knives and Merle Norman
After attending a recent gun and knife show here in Houston, I am more convinced than ever of the schizophrenic nature of Texans in general. It is important to understand that this was not a special gun show, nor was it a rare event. If you follow the calendar and billboards faithfully and are willing to expand your definition of greater Houston to include suburbs 20 miles out from the city center, it is possible to attend a gun, gun and knife or knife show almost every weekend of the year.
Around here, guns and knives are big business.
We arrived at the local civic center arena and parked. We had to negotiate our way through several rows of “hogs” and assorted wanna be tough bikes in order to get into line for tickets. While many of these were standard big Harley Davidson’s bikes with the usual black leather, heavy chrome, studs and flames decorations, there were also a selection of smaller leaner, meaner Italian looking speed bikes and one rather amusingly souped up vespa scooter complete with heavy chrome pipes, black leather seat and tassels from the handlebars. The vespa was parked near the back, next to a sporty red and black heavily chromed Harley sporting an extra padded raised second seat and a baby makes three sidecar in red and black leather complete with dangling mobile of mini Harleys.
There were quite a few old geezers in line as well and truck and tractor farm caps abounded among the old guys standing in line in their in jeans, overalls and farm coveralls, waiting to get their rifles, pistols and assault weapons unloaded and safety secured by the bored security officer.
Once the officer had unloaded and checked their magazines, the triggers were secured with brightly colored twist ties and the owners were allowed to pocket their ammunition. Along with the crowd of older men in hunting or farm gear and their ladies, made up to the teeth and big hair abounding, were a few children, miniature replicas of the parents and numerous gangly teenage boys. About the only segment of the population not represented were young teenage girls, who were probably all at the nearby mall.
Inside the building, past the inevitable fried bread, taco wagon and bar b que stands , “sorry no beer ,guns and beer don’t mix!” said the sign the main hall was filled with rows of vendors selling guns, spec ops equipment, knives, walkie talkies, custom Kevlar, do it yourself ammo, make your own gun from parts, telescopes and implements for filing, cutting, weighing, measuring, reaming, drilling, cleaning, and customizing every orifice or part of a gun or knife. These gray and camouflaged colored stands stood in sharp contrast to the “little ladies” stands selling Merle Norman cosmetics “Get a free merle Norman Cosmetic bag with a $40.00 purchase of ammo”, scented candles “welcome your guy home after a hard day of hunting”, candied almonds, jerky and homemade pemmican “so you don’t have to cook tonight”, and t shirt stands.
The t shirts featured a variety of memorable and colorful sentiments ranging from the total anarchist to the politically incorrect including: “those who live by the sword get shot by those who don’t”, “some people are alive because it is illegal to kill them’ “two to the chest, one to the head, we like em alive but we’ll take em dead”, "you say psycho like it’s a bad thing”, ATF, Alcohol, tobacco firearms, who’s bringing the chips?”, “bomb squad, if you see me running follow me!”, “9 out of 10 voices in my head told me to stay home and clean my guns”, " If we’re not supposed to eat animals why are they made of meat?” My personal favorite was “At my age, the best form of birth control is nudity”
In addition to the colorful and useful items shown in the various stalls there were also a number of less immediately functional objects. These included thermos bottles made out of empty 20 and 30 pound artillery shells, and stuffed toys including a special ops bear with Kevlar body armor, assault rifle with night scope, bandoliers of shells, survival pack, assault survival knife, compass, night vision goggles and flash light. There was even the ultimate cell phone bag which by the time it had all its extra gadgets, Swiss army knife, compass, mini mag lite, pocket pistol, defense whistle, pepper spray key chain and mirror sunglasses case, was almost as large as a messenger bag.
On almost every stand there were large zip lock bags of shells and casings in every possible size and rows of boxes of old ammunition alive and dead. And everywhere were the men and boys, fondling the gun stocks, weighing the ammunition in their hands, discussing the merits of the Kevlar to withstand a knife, a rock, a small gun, a large gun, a grenade. Would this stop that, would this be powerful enough to take out the neighbors’ car, SUV, pickup truck, a hum vee, a tank? What was the best way to resist having someone stalk you, listen in on your telephone conversations, spy on your life? Could you shoot them, gas them, knife them?
If it hadn’t been so obvious that most of those asking the questions were normally dwellers in the suburbs and holders of 9-5 jobs, respectable sons and fathers, players of football and baseball and golf, it would have been truly frightening. As it was, it was just sort of scary and sad.
As we left the hall I was particularly taken by one gentleman who seemed to sum up the whole range of contrasts in his persona. He was a gentleman in his 60s with long flowing hair, and a beautiful moustache dressed in custom leather cowboy boots, pressed levis, a long sleeved high collard white shirt, a leather vest with discrete silver conchos, a cowboy hat with leather tassels and two eagle feathers in the band and on his hip a gun belt with a colt 44 on one side, a berretta on the other and in holders and holsters in between his cell phone, pda, mag lite, knife and pepper spray.
Texas Yahoos
Our local paper has been following the exploits of a gang of robbers who specialize in push in robberies. For several weeks there have been warnings out in various neighborhoods to watch out for a group of black or Latino youths driving a late model dark colored car with loud rap music and possibly carrying guns which were used for intimidation. In Sugar Land, this is like telling someone in the Sahara to watch out for the sand dunes, but never mind. The big news last week was that the local police, after much research and many stake outs had managed to capture one or more members of this notorious gang of thieves. The newspaper headline declared “Sugar Land Police cleared five alleged gun toting felons from their streets this past weekend and went on to say ”Hopefully for the residents of Sugar Land, they’ll keep head ‘em up and move ‘em out.” Not to be too picky but shouldn’t that read “heading ‘em up and moving ‘em out?”
Long live Texas, Yee Haw!!!
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