Chuy's dirty little secret goes public

It hasn't been that well hidden, this dirty little secret of Chuy's. I've known for quite some time. I just convinced myself that it didn't make any difference. Nothing has changed. Now the whole world knows, or soon will. Chuy's, that bastion of Austin-style funkiness, shining icon of what's right about this town, is owned by a corporation. That's not the bad part. The bad part is that this corporation is based in New York City. Get a rope.

Yes, in 2006, Mike Young and John Zapp sold the business to Goode Partners, a New York based private equity firm. To be sure Mike and John seem to be still involved, but make no mistake. The suits are in charge.

I was okay with private, because truthfully, you can still get a Chuychanga with Queso that is identical to those those that have we feasted on for more than 25 years. But now Goode Partners has filed for a public stock sale. And a lot of the revenue from that offering is slated for expansion. Oh, I know that there are already 27 Chuy's restaurants located in Texas, Tennessee, Alabama, Kentucky and Indiana. But next thing you know there will be one in Oklahoma. Or College Station. Is nothing sacred?

But wait, you say. Isn't this good news? Isn't this a chance to become a shareholder, a part owner, as it were? Isn't this like the oil bidness and everybody needs a few shares of Chuy's? Even if it is only .0084151%?

Folks, there's only so much disposable income. Which would you rather; have a chicken fajita burrito for dinner or file away a piece of paper? And before long folks from these far-away places - who think beef tips in brown gravy is a Tex-Mex dish - will be standing up at shareholder meetings calling for bell peppers instead of Hatch chilies, 'cause they like it mild!

I think I have to go drown my sorrows in some creamy jalapeno dip.

Monday Meanderings - 8.8.2011

Have I mentioned that we are reading literature books at Learning Ally? Only the last 27 Monday Meanderings? This week I got a high-school-level American Lit book and lucked out with two wonderful, complete stories, "The Magic Barrel' by Bernard Malamud and "The Rock Pile" by James Baldwin. Both were rich in dialect and language and I loved the experience of reading them! We were one page from the end of the second story when we reached the time for a shift change. My director said, "You have to finish this. You MUST finish this." So we did.

With the temperature above 100 degrees for more than 50 days thus far, I was expecting the electric bill for July to approach the national debt. The electric portion was reasonable, however. It was the water portion, and waste water, and trash and drainage/street service (whatever that is), and all the other things they ding you for that really ring it up.

An event that really makes you feel old is to have a grandson stop by on his way to visit another part of the country. Where is the toddler I played cars with for hours on end? Somehow it is fitting, however. We have been greeting him and saying goodbye to him at airports all his life.

And Barb was afraid that we might not have enough for him to snack on while here. So she stocked up. And you should see the refrigerator!

Of course we went to the movies while he was here. We have to keep our record intact of going to the movies at least once every 3 or 5 ... years. Saw Captain America. Cool movie, but a really, really terrible ending. I'm told you have to be really up on the Avenger comics stuff and then you would know that the terrible ending is to set up next summers follow-on. I also came away with questions based on what I learned in World History. What's that? It's based on a comic book character? I knew that.

I understand President Obama turned 50 this past week in spite of the Republican's objections.

Tee shirt seen on a large man: "I am winning the battle against Anorexia."

I attended a funeral this week. There was congregational singing and we sang several familiar songs. One of them was "Red River Valley." Don't recall ever singing that at a funeral before.

And would you rather see temperatures like this -

 

Or like this?

I found this setting that says "C" or "F."  "C" obviously means "cooler."

Random wierdness

From Wikipedia:

Pareidolia ( /pærɨˈdoʊliə/ parr-i-doh-lee-ə) is a psychological phenomenon involving a vague and random stimulus (often an image or sound) being perceived as significant. Common examples include seeing images of animals or faces in clouds, the man in the moon or the Moon rabbit, and hearing hidden messages on records played in reverse. The word comes from the Greek para- – "beside", "with", or "alongside"—meaning, in this context, something faulty or wrong (as in paraphasia, disordered speech) and eidōlon – "image"; the diminutive of eidos – "image", "form", "shape".

 Here's an example - the "man in the moon" referenced above:

And it also encompasses things like the next picture; a religious image in something trivial, like toast.

Or the Virgin Mary - very popular among some ethnic groups:

Some claim there's a cat's face in this piece of toast. You be the judge.

Panhandler profiles

You have them where you live, too; the ubiquitous street-corner panhandler, flying a cardboard flag and dealing for dollars. Seems like every corner has one, from early morning's light until late in the night. And after long and careful study I find most fit in some definite categories. Maybe you've noticed:

The happy guy -  He waves at everybody, change or no. Big smiles and eye contact, not a care in the world, he's just out there to make his little corner a better place. Very few women in this category (with a notable exception discussed later).

The mannequin - Not a twitch. This one stares off into space with no interaction at all; depends on peripheral vision to catch proffered change. A lot of women use this style. Not to be confused with the next type:

The zombie -  You are not sure this one ever moves. At all. I've seen one guy hunkered down in front of a guard rail for weeks on end. Sometimes you wonder about calling EMS...Wait! Was that a blink?

Crying girl - I thought this was unique to one person, but I have now seen others using the technique; tears run down her cheeks, face turned away, humiliation almost more than she can bear. Crying on demand is a very useful ability for a panhandler, but I wonder if she gets dehydrated in this heat?

Life history on the sign -  Vietnam Vet, ex-Marine, Paratrooper, Child of God, Peacenik. Needing a bus ticket/cheeseburger/tank of gas and 39 cents short. The sign is a work in process; every square inch covered with symbols, scriptures and pleas.

The real pros -  Usually a couple, they have worked a particular corner for years. They live in the minor-league motel down the street, and take vacations.

Hears the voices -  You are never quite sure about these these guys. It's not just a drummer; there's a whole band playing in there. Just for them.

Hears the voices and argues with them - I have been known to run red lights rather than have to stop next to one of these guys.

Bikini Babes - The before-mentioned female counterpart to the Happy Guy. They are smokin' hot, happy to see you and you can even get your picture taken with them for a donation toward their rent money. Sadly, I've encountered only one instance of this type (and they got arrested for creating a traffic hazard). Seems hardly fair. I didn't hit the guy stopped in front of me that hard!

Windshield washers - What can I say? They work for their money. I just wish it wasn't on the car in front of me when the light has long since turned green.

The band between gigs - There's 3 or 4 of them and twice that many guitars. Loser has to panhandle while the others get to practice their art. Walked by a group of these on the Santa Clara boardwalk and got a custom four-part harmonized appeal.

The gang -  Similar to the band, above, but with no discernible musical talent, these guys have staked out an intersection, or patch of concrete next to a panhandle stand and that becomes the boys club. Everybody congregates there, passing the paper bag, taking turns holding the cardboard.

The squatter -  A plastic crate to sit on - or even a lawn chair - appears first. Then there's a few plastic bags of assorted stuff, a backpack or two, assorted water bottles and oh yeah, don't forget the dog. And the dog dish, and...

The invalids - Pick your affliction. They look up new diseases on the Internet at the public library and have half-a-dozen signs to choose from. Some use props like crutches - until they have to run for their bus. Yes, I did see that. For some, they are not props. We regularly see a one-legged woman with a sign that reads "On my last leg."

How about the folks on your corners? Any new categories?

Monday Meanderings - 8.1.2011

I read some F. Scott Fitzgerald at the studio last week and realized that somehow I'd never actually read any of his work. Now I know why.

Tee shirts: The 1st 50 years of marriage are the hardest.

                 So far this is the oldest I've ever ever been.

                 I'm retired and you are not. Na na na na na!

Austin puts on the Cow Parade beginning this week. Fanciful fiberglass cows decorated by local artists and auctioned off for charity. You will recall the guitars from a couple of years ago. Lots of cities have done the Cow parade. Here's one from New York City:

Cowabunga!

But no other city has the Thriller jacket!  A guy in Austin paid $1.8 million for the original, for the express purpose of loaning it out for charitable projects.

This week, for a modest donation, you can get your picture taken with the jacket at Dell Children's Medical Center.

Why is it that the TV remote is never where I am?

Having gone through all the summer sports (baseball College World Series for men and women, Women's World Cup, Cupa America, Tour de France) we are now down to... football. Certainly glad the pros worked out their little differences (maybe they can help Congress), so let's get ready for some football.