"The World is Watching" Our Nasher versus Museum Tower Fight. Hope It's Wearing Shades.
On today's Dallas Morning News opinion page, Maxwell L. Anderson, chairman of the Dallas Arts District Foundation, and Catherine Cuellar, executive director of the Dallas Arts District Foundation, writing about a controversy over reflected light from a new condo tower and its affect on the Nasher Sculpture Center next door, have this to say:
"The glare -- and the lack of action taken by the owners of Museum Tower to eliminate it -- is also damaging our city's reputation locally and internationally ... We cannot allow one single stakeholder to spoil the reputation of our entire neighborhood and detract from a flourishing urban center, all while the world is watching."
And that puts me in mind of what it would be like to be Dallas' parents.
"Mother. You really do not seriously expect me to leave the house with this glare shining right on top of my sculpture museum. You do know that the whole world is watching. Yes, it certainly is too watching. How do I know? You said it yourself when you gave me my first cable-stayed bridge. Remember? Well, maybe you shouldn't have given me that fancy bridge then, because now I have to live up to it.
"Mother, if you make me go out there looking like this, I'm going to binge on shrimp at your next party and throw up right in front of the guests. Daddy, will you talk to her? Tell her that French people will be watching, for God's sake. You know what French people are like.
Dallas, the Veruca Salt of cities.
"None of my friends have glare on their sculpture museums. Houston's parents never treat her like this. Austin told her mom she didn't have a decent dress to wear last weekend, and her mom let her stay home and smoke pot.
"Oh, I'm just going to cry. I'm sorry, Daddy, but I can't help it. Mother just enjoys making a fool of me in front of the whole world. I almost think she's jealous of me for being young and hot.
"You know what they're like, Paris and London and Moscow. They're bitches, just total bitches, all of them. They sit around just waiting for me to show myself looking all glary and cheap. It's what they expect, Daddy. Yes, it is.
"By the way, Father, I do seriously hope you're not going to go ahead with this thing about the 50th anniversary of the Kennedy assassination. You might as well just pack me off right now to the most expensive nuthouse in Switzerland if you're seriously going to do that to me. Oh, my God, why would you want to make your own daughter look like a vicious hillbilly in front of the whole wide world? Do you hate me? Why don't you have some of my teeth pulled so I can really look the part?
"I'm sorry, but I just can't stop crying. Do you not see how they stare at my glare? Do you even know what Facebook is? Do you have any idea what kind of comments they're posting about my glare? Boston is the worst, that ugly old slut.
"Please, Mommy. Please. Make the glare go away. I just cannot survive if you won't. I feel faint. I really am afraid I may just fall down at any moment. No, Daddy, there is no compromise on this. Nothing can save me now. Nothing. I truly fear I shall perish. Unless, of course ... well ... you do remember that my little red Beamer convertible is now almost 2 years old."