Lubbock County Courthouse A reader’s post regarding his LP&L experience reminds us of our frustration calling into the Lubbock County Courthouse yesterday.

Initially, you receive a 30 second greeting in English, then a redirect to press 1 if you want English. What? I thought we just heard this in English?

After three calls and finally learning to maneuver within the system quickly it still took exactly one minute and thirty seconds for me to hear the # for the extension I wanted to reach (Elections Office). If you try to shortcut the system to an operator by pressing “0” it redirects you to the beginning. “Beam me up, Scotty, there’s no intelligent life down here.”

Now of all of the places to cut the budget, why did the commissioners choose the primary interface the public has with the Courthouse? Possibly because they aren’t inconvenienced by the system themselves since they call on direct lines? Wouldn’t you think they could lend to the taxpayers a live person who at least answers the phone when you press “0”?

The Lubbock County Commissioners Court may not be broken, but it is a 4-cylinder engine limping along on 3 worn out spark plugs and one shiny new one who, we hear, is trying hard to not become co-opted by the system.

We’ve yet to figure out what it takes to get their attention. Complaints about the phone system fall on deaf ears. We’ve tried that.

Where does that leave us?


I went through lots of phases growing up. I wanted to be an FBI man, a Secret Service agent, a defense attorney and even a preacher but I never wanted to be a fireman. I’m not that brave.

Of all of the images of the World Trade Center collapse on 9/11 that haunt me, the one that I cannot shake is the image of a company of firemen preparing to enter the North Tower. One of them, a young man, was visibly pumping himself up, readying himself to go into a situation that logic and experience must have told him he may not survive. But he did anyway. I still wonder what happened to that young man. What I do know is that 343 fire fighters lost their lives that day.

In West, Texas last week, a town just larger than Idalou, ten firemen lost their lives. These men were trained, experienced first responders. They must have known that the fertilizer fire they were fighting was likely to result in an explosion but they stayed, protecting the lives and homes of the people they served. They did their jobs.

What kind of courage is that? It is beyond my comprehension. But I know this, I am thankful for people who do their jobs. It makes me wonder if we don’t need a few fire fighters in public office and if maybe we shouldn’t send a few officeholders to the firehouse to infuse in them a little backbone.

—Sandstorm Scholar


I’m always the last to find out these things but this week my new doctor broke the news that the Fruit & Vegetable family is no longer together and the separation appears permanent.

I never cared much for Vegetable, he’s been such a tasteless boor, but I’ve always liked his sweet wife, Fruit. Knowing they were together was comforting since I always felt if I got a little Fruit I was covering my dietary bases with the entire family.

Now I have to see them both and, wouldn’t you know, the doctor also told me that Fruit is associated with a bad element these days, the Carbs. I was cautioned to not overdo her.

The good news is that bacon is back. So it looks like it’s time wrap the green beans and okra in bacon and smother them with cheese.

Fat is still the lubricant of life.



Good politics has a lot to do with making people laugh. Some stories are protected under seal for 50 years. Others make headlines.

It wasn’t that long ago in a West Texas city just north northwest of Slaton that two candidates for state rep were locked in a tight battle. They really weren’t, but stories like this start that way.

The Older Dog was wily and way ahead. The Underdog, faithful to his party and cause, worked tirelessly even in neighborhoods where few of his party or ethnicity could be found. One afternoon the Underdog’s determination had outstayed his bladder and, desperate for a place to relieve himself, he sought refuge in the alley.

Now it’s possible that our story might have ended differently had his face blended in but it did not. What’s certain is that he was arrested in that alley for indecent exposure. Great headlines. The Older Dog is winning and the Underdog has charges pending.

But things like this can go either way. Regardless of whether it made him something of a laughingstock for fifteen minutes, no one thought seriously the Underdog had malicious intent. When you gotta’ go…ya’ know?

So rather than leave things to the winds of chance and the sympathy vote, shortly before the election the Older Dog conceives a plan to seal the deal and, we’re told, made a suggestion to the District Attorney who apparently saw it as an expedient way out an uncomfortable situation.

And that’s how it came about that the Underdog found grace but lost the race, because the headlines read:

“Exposure Charges Dropped for Insufficient Evidence.”

—-Sandstorm Scholar

A Tale of Two Coaches

After having steered Texas Tech sports into it’s worst season in a quarter century Team Hance has now maneuvered Texas Tech basketball into a total program fail.

And if Tech fans weren’t already feeling slam dunked, they will when they learn that Coach Kent will continue to pay Tech’s Biggest Loser coach almost $500,000 of public funds to do nothing between now and April according to the Lubbock AJ. It’s Monopoly money to a bureaucrat like Hance who has been spending public funds so long he has forgotten where it comes from.

How did we get here? Why does a lackluster basketball coach who regularly violated NCAA rules and ran off three times as many athletes as he recruited get the golden parachute? And, yes, we’re still asking why did Tech’s winningest football coach get the boot when he is owed over $1 million?

It’s easy. The football coach, a winner, challenged the wrong ego. Men, like the Chancellor, who presume to place their names upon buildings of worship breathe rarified air. St. Peter’s Basilica, a Church of Christ and Hance’s Chapel; you’ve got to admit that’s an exclusive club. His is an ego so large that it believes itself worthy of sovereign immunity. An ego so desperate that when introduced it is compelled to remind the listener that he once defeated George W. Bush in an eighties congressional election.

No, Tech fans, losing isn’t a sin a on Team Hance nor is abusive behavior or NCAA violations. Failing to kiss the ring is the mortal offense. The throne is surrounded with a host of handsomely paid sycophants. Courage gets you canned.

Poor management of athletic programs becomes obvious quickly. But this ego manages an entire university system. Why do we think that dumbing down the ranks, “Hancifying” if you will, to make the Sovereign look good has not been happening all over the university? Texas Tech may be decades undoing academic damage we’ve not even yet considered.

And should any highly paid Team Hance water boy wish to reclaim his manhood, he ought to stand behind the Chancellor tonight as the guns go up and the team takes the field and whisper in his Sovereign’s ear, “Remember Coach Kent, they aren’t saluting you; this is about the University.”