Dallas News Blog

Washington Post writer Hank Stuever begins a three-day sign-and-speak stint in North Texas tomorrow -- a sprint compared to the marathon of spending three years, on and off, living in Frisco in order to document how folks spend Christmas up thataways for his book Tinsel: A Search for America's Christmas Present. Tomorrow night he's got a signing at the Barnes & Noble in Stonebriar Centre; on Wednesday, he'll be at Legacy Books in Plano; the day after, at Barnes & Noble near the TCU campus. So happens I've got two spare, unread copies of the tome (one was Schutze's!), which'll go to the first two Friends of Unfair Park who can make a convincing case for living in Frisco want them.

​Apparently, somebody -- make that quite a few somebodies -- wants VH1 talking head and master of the bizarre tweet, Paul F. Tompkins, to come to Dallas. So much so there's a Facebook group specifically for that purpose. Just today I've gotten three e-mails and two suggestions to join the group, started by Shannon Albert, and support the mass persuasion efforts to get Tompkins' comedic ass to Big D.

What gives? Why a Facebook page and not just traditional letters of longing, lust and begging? Well, the page reads: "Paul F. Tompkins has said if a city gets up to 300 people that he'll come to that city to perform. Let's find 300 North Texas fans and get PFT to Dallas!" That's pretty clear, I suppose. And based on a recent tweet, it appears that Tompkins is aware of the demand: "Dallas the American city! I would like to meet you."

So far, 110 members. Wait, make it 111. I couldn't help myself.

Oh, sweet baby Jesus. We just received the Best. Press. Release. Ever. Why come? Because it contains the following sentence: "Dallas Mayor Tom Leppert and Blockbuster CEO Jim Keyes will compete performing a Guitar Hero song to kick off 24-hours of jam sessions on May 16 at 2:30 p.m." Blah blah blah, fund-raiser, blah blah blah, something good for the kids, blah blah blah. Registration form and further info here.

But, really, I still can't get past, "Dallas Mayor Tom Leppert and Blockbuster CEO Jim Keyes will compete performing a Guitar Hero song to kick off 24-hours of jam sessions on May 16 at 2:30 p.m." Now you know where to find us Friday. Till then, we're trying to figure out which song off GH3 is best suited for Mayor Tom. "Bulls on Parade," maybe? Nah. Lil' help? --Robert Wilonsky

7 p.m. Sept. 24: Five hours before the most anticipated video game in history, Halo 3, will be released. Lines are forming. Droves of devoted fans all around the metroplex lined the streets waiting for the final installment of the epic sci-fi game served exclusively on Xbox 360.

Introduced as a relatively unknown first-person shooter for the original Xbox in 2001, Halo has exploded into a worldwide multimedia phenomena. Deemed “revolutionary” by fans and critics alike, Halo went on to spawn the No. 1-selling sequel of all time (Halo 2), multiple novels, comics, countless toys and accessories and a movie in development with Peter Jackson.

All of which pale in comparison to the release of the final installment, Halo 3. With a marketing budget of more than $10 million and more than 10,000 retail stores opening for the midnight release, Dallas was standing directly on the front line of the battle.

Fine -- so that's overselling it by just a bit. Nonetheless, great filmmakers zoom in on the little details -- beads of sweat, shifty eyes, restless hands and, now, bouncing feet. Over the weekend, whilst waiting for Plano boy Josh Evans to bust out of the 2007 World Series of Poker, which has nearly wrapped in Vegas, our pal Dan Michalski posted to his Pokerati site the following video, which might be better than a peek at the hole cards. OK -- not quite, but awfully close.

From what we can tell, those are Evans' feet at the right -- oh, and the Plano poker player finished in 76th place on Saturday, for which he earned $106,382. Notes Dan of Evans' haul: "Not bad for a guy who was playing $60 tourneys every Tuesday not that long ago. (By the way, Josh is running pretty dern good. He won $49,505 less than a month ago by finishing 2nd in a Venetian Deep Stacks tourney.)" --Robert Wilonsky

Is everything more plastic, planned and painful if it happens at Victory Park?

Hardcore disclaimer: I don't dig Victory Park. I don't dig the faux planning, I don't dig the faux Times Square, and I don't dig the metal 'n glass look-how-made-we-are façade of the whole shebang. I know we need a big, pretty place like the American Airlines Center so we can watch our sports teams -- arguably the best things about Dallas -- fail miserably in the playoffs. But Victory Park is a big, nasty monstrosity stuck on the side of a big, nasty highway and it does nothing to help Dallas rid itself of its pretentious, self-important stereotype. Actually, at this point, I'm reluctant to even call it a stereotype. We may as well call it our full-on identity, considering this recent event:

You can Ski Dubai. Might as well be able to ski Fort Worth. About a year ago, we mentioned that Jeff Green, the chief executive of Bearfire Group, was looking to build somewhere in Dallas the mammoth CoolZone Winterplex, where it'd be winter all year round and you could get your ski and spa on whenever. Last week, the Dallas Business Journal suggested that Green had changed his mind and was looking to move to Fort Worth instead, only none of the folks involved would confirm the move, pending an investor get-together.

Well, today comes word that "after careful consideration," yup, the company's moving from Dallas to "an ideal location in a large piece of property situated midway between the Dallas and Fort Worth airports," says the press release. (It doesn't say whether it's the Intel property at Eagle Parkway and Interstate 35W or elsewhere.) Read the entire release to find out what the "Bearfire Resort" peeps promise, but this is, for whatever reason, my favorite sentence: "Former House Majority Leader Dick Armey is an advisor to the project and assists in identifying equity investors." --Robert Wilonsky

So after six months in Texas, last week I officially had my strangest experience yet. Dallas Observer business took me to the Panhandle, where I got to stay in the lovely little highway town of Dumas. Like nearby Sunray, home to the world's largest grain elevator (holds 7 million bushels, locals proudly told me), Dumas has its own claim fame: According to the Chamber of Commerce, it's the "Home of the Ding Dong Daddy!"

Ring a bell? It didn't for me, but luckily the brochure went on to tell how musician Phil Baxter drove through town in the '20s and later penned a song called, "I'm a Ding Dong Daddy from Dumas." Phil Harris, band leader for the Jack Benny Radio Show, made it famous. And if that doesn't have you booking your next vacation to Dumas, listen to this: According to Mayor Rowdy Rhoades, "the citizens of Dumas are among the finest in the world!"

Busy this Saturday? I know it's St. Patrick's Day and all, but who really wants to go run around on Lower Greenville, downing pints in broad daylight with a bunch of other drunks wearing green? You do? OK, fine. I'll probably see you there.

But on the off chance getting hammered in the daytime in the name of Lucky Charms isn't your thing, and on the even offer chance that you've got a Jedi Knight costume hanging around just ready to be whipped out whenever you're feeling the pull of the Force particularly strongly, I've got your Saturday afternoon plans all worked out.

Courtesy of Craigslist: "Two Jedi Knights in full costume for approximately one hour to serve as wedding ushers." Suhweet! The nuptials of Tony and Jeanette start at 4 p.m. in Fort Worth, and you gotta provide the costume as well as "basic Star Wars knowledge." Pay's negotiable! What are you waiting for, young master?

May the force be with the happy couple. --Andrea Grimes

Seems as if our very own Bible Girl is becoming a celeb's celeb. Well, maybe that's overstating it, but she's on at least one celeb's radar: None other than queer icon Sandra Bernhard brought Bible Girl up during my recent phone interview with her (Bernhard is bringing her show, Everything Bad and Beautiful, to the Majestic Theater tonight, Friday, March 9).

Apparently, Dallas upstart comedian-writer-Bible Girl nemesis Jack E. Jett, who cohosted a gay-themed television talk show called Queeredge with Bernhard for the Q network, recently pointed out Bible Girl's blog to Bernhard. "[Jett] said to bring up Bible Girl, and I didn't want to bring it up until the end of the conversation because I didn't want it to be completely about that," she told me. It should come as no surprise that Bible Girl's stance on sexual orientation don't quite jive with Bernhard's. "I don't understand," Bernhard said, genuinely perplexed. "This is the person who runs your publication? What is the stance of the publication, is it liberal?" (To which I replied, "um...")

Meantime, Jett and Bernhard are resurrecting their Queeredge partnership and producing a new version of the show, produced by the same group responsible for The Man Show (hmm...). Jett tells me "a few cable networks are interested," but it's yet to be decided where the program will land, though it won't be on a gay-oriented network. "It won't be geared exclusively for the gay community," Jett says. "But it'll still have the same wackiness. And Sandra singing." --Jonanna Widner

*Editor's note: Jonanna thinks so anyway, though not everyone here at Unfair Park agrees.

Last week I told you to head out to Buddies for a drag king show that would at least blow your mind, if not your crotch. Girls dressed up as boys, political statements, dancing, etc. But there's only so many duct-tape flattened breasts I can take before I start craving some globular masses. Happily, I think I'll be satiated this weekend with two very different, very sexy shows featuring girls wearing not much clothes doing very much dancing.

Tonight, Buddies comes through yet again. Their "Barely Legal Girls" show starts at 10:30 pm, featuring the hottest pieces of lesbian arse in town doing their damnedest to turn you on, tease-style. When Buddies owner Dawn told me about the show a couple of weeks ago--over the din of some very excellent hip-pop--she really emphasized the "tease" bit.

Mike Modano can be all yours this weekend, for a mere 15 bucks. But act fast: There are only 3,000 of him to go around. You can pick him up at NorthPark Center Saturday and Sunday, when the NHL hosts an All-Star Trading Card and Memorabilia show in conjunction with the its All-Star Game taking place at the American Airlines Center. Never you mind that Modano ain't actually playing in the game.

Spawn creator Todd McFarlane nonetheless is coming to town and bringing with him the limited-production Modano action figure, which features him hoisting the Stanley Cup. And here's a trivia nugget sure to tingle the spine of all action-figure collecting dorks: McFarlane says this is his company's first-ever "NHL Event Exclusive." A very big picture of the figure's after the jump.

Last night, the missus and I sat down to watch what's fast becoming my least-favorite favorite new TV show, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, where they really need to stop showing the "comedy" bits from the show within the show since they're bereft of any comedy whatsoever. Anyway, one of the storylines involved a smarmy British reality-TV-show producer who wanted the fictional National Broadcasting System to buy his new show, a couples-busting scheme called Search and Destroy, which the NBS president played by Amanda Peet thought was too sleazy for the net. But the chairman of the network, played by Steven Weber, wanted the show. Their boss, played by Ed Asner, was brought in to settle the argument, since only he can override Peet.

But Asner chooses to side with Peet's character. The reason, he tells Weber? "You wanted her to cook the dinner, at least you should let her shop for the groceries." As Asner walks out the door, Peet turns to Weber and asks, "Who said that?" Weber, his face balled up into a fist, snarls, "Bill Parcells, a football coach who hasn't won a playoff game in nine years." That even made the missus laugh; she hates Parcells, who first uttered that line 10 years ago, when, as the New England Patriots head coach, he wanted to draft a defensive player in the first round of the draft only to be overruled by team ownership, who instead selected...Terry Glenn, the go-to receiver on Bill Parcells' Dallas Cowboys.

You can watch last night's episode of Studio 60 here; I wouldn't, if I were you, as the site's crap and loads slower than Parcells runs. --Robert Wilonsky

Last week, Heritage Auction Galleries music memorabilia specialist Garry Shrum was kind enough to cross Oak Lawn Avenue to deliver the 464-page catalog for Heritage's upcoming "Signature Entertainment Memorabilia Auction." It's safe to say I've become obsessed with Heritage's auctions; between this, this and all these, yeah, obsessed, or at least extremely interested. It's hard not to be when you're a pop-culture junkie who offices a couple hundred yards away from the world's most expensive garage sale of items that used to belong to the likes of Kurt Cobain, Elvis Presley, Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Marlon Brando and Bob Dylan. Seriously, every day if he wanted to, Shrum could pick up and play Elvis' 1958 Isana Black Pearl acoustic guitar, which Presley got while stationed in Bad Nauheim, Germany, during his stint in the Army. Not that he does; he just could.

Come this weekend, though, that guitar will be sold off--for well more than the initial $150,000 asking price, no doubt. (A Paul McCartney bass went for more than half a mil not long ago. And he's alive.) The auction, which takes place at Heritage's Oak Lawn HQ October 6-7, is easily the company's biggest entertainment auction to date; says so right here, in this Associated Press story making the rounds here and abroad. The auction's getting considerable attention this time around because it includes hundreds of items that came from the James Dean Gallery in the actor's hometown of Fairmount, Indiana. As I wrote in April, Heritage's Doug Norwine read on the Internet that the museum, which was operated by David Loehr, was shutting down because of financial difficulties, and Norwine flew to Indiana to convince Loehr to sell the collection through Heritage. As a result, Heritage is offering in this auction everything from Dean's sketches and paintings (each of which will go for thousands) to the Rebel Without a Cause photo archive to his Rebel-worn T-shirt to a small piece of the Porsche 500 Spyder in which Dean was killed almost 51 years ago to the day.

You can preview the entirety of the auction here, but another major part of this auction is the inclusion of dozens of items that used to belong to Marlon Brando--including his personally marked-up script for The Godfather, on which Brando jotted down comments and changes to Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola's writing. Another nifty Godfather souvenier is Brando's fedora from the film; that'll go for five figures, easy. Other Brando items you can grab for the right price: letters he wrote to and received from Tennessee Williams, his British "Oscar" for Viva Zapata!, slides of deleted scenes from Superman II...and Brando's harmonica. Seriously.

Norwine, Heritage's director of music and entertainment memorabilia (and the man who provides the saxy sounds of Lisa Simpson), says the Brando material came from a consigner who got it from Brando himself and from Brando's personal assstant. "So it came from when he was alive," Norwine says, adding that the consigner doesn't want to be identified. "He was a friend of his assistant and knew Marlon himself. They just wanted to make some money. They had it for a long time and wanted to parlay it. It's an amazing collection too. The Godfather script alone is special, because it was such an epic movie. Brando was like the Greta Garbo of the second half of the 20th century--so reclusive, such a private person, and this is his most memorable role, arguably. To have the script signed by him and to know it's the script he went over, that's amazing."

Norwine also mentions something else for sale he considers "real sexy": letters from Martin Luther King Jr. to Sammy Davis Jr., one written on Ebenezer Baptist Church stationary in December 1960, another from April 1965 that references the march from Selma to Montgomery ("it is a symbol that those who have suffered deprivation and brutality can make their voices heard..."). The content, Norwine says, "is astounding." You could say the same thing about the entire auction, some highlights form which we'll, uh, highlight every day till Friday. Like that Harry Truman hat. Or Kurt Cobain's guitar. Or Steve McQueen's hat... --Robert Wilonsky

As you (should) know, each month on the third Friday the Dallas Museum of Art has a stellar late-night event (from 6 p.m. to midnight). And each month the theme varies. Well, we're just a little more than a bit excited about tonight's shindig because, well, the DMA's featuring a "Best Of" theme with nominees and winners from our Dallas Observer Music Awards and Best of Dallas issues. What does that mean, really? Well, one, obviously we're totally awesome, and two, for the price of museum admission you can experience all this extra stuff we think is super sweet, such as:

A happy hour with DJ Wild in the Streets< (nominee, Best DJ)

A main stage performance by Pops Carter & the funkmonsters (winner, Best Blues)

Highlights from Laundry and Bourbon by Contemporary Theater of Dallas (winner, Best Place to See a Play)

A performance by I Love Math (winner, John Dufilho, Best Male Singer)

A DJ set in the Sculpture Garden from DJ Merritt (winner, Best DJ)

And, of course, more.

See, sweet, right? Yeah, told you so. Now pick up the phone and change those plans. Go ahead. We'll wait. --Merritt Martin

Dear Press Release I received Last Week From Some Girl At Ketchum Communications Concerning The Weight Watchers Account,

I don't think we should see each other any more. I knew our relationship was a sham from the very beginning.

I know, at first you were very attracted to me. Or at least as attracted as you could be to any random email address in that giant database of people you throw yourself at every day with complete abandon.

But I looked past that loose reputation. When your little ding-a-ling appeared in my inbox, you were just what I needed. The mildly sappy story of loss (both weight and personal) you proffered in an attempt to gain my love hit me at just the right time, like a last-call lemondrop at 1:45 and when you're staring a long night alone right in the face. I was lonely. I needed a blog-worthy item to do with Dallas, and you were there.

It was a one time thing, and I'm sorry you seem to have gotten the wrong idea.

Nothing's ever good enough for you, is it? No, you had your publicist call me five days after our glorious one night stand and accuse me of being mean to you. That is, like, so kindergarten playground. Then, you ask me me remove the blog item from the blogosphere. Oh, but, my dear, I gave you just what you wanted: sweet, sweet publicity.

I thought I was throwing out all the right signals.

I was wearing my big alternative weekly hat when we met. You could have asked our mutual friend Google about me, and you'd have known what you were getting into. But, sadly, little press release, if you're not going to be discreet about who you jump in the sack with, you can't complain when you wake up with a burning sensation.

Despite that, think of what we made together: semi-sarcastic blog goodness throwing mockery willy-nilly upon the British royal family!

--Used, then abused in Dallas, TX --Andrea Grimes

PS: I'm not really sterile

So what has ex-Observer music editor Sam Machkovech been up to since he and the paper parted ways? Rafting down the Nile River. Judging by that hand signal he's throwing, I'd say that Sam may have left the Observer, but some of that Observer spirit hasn't yet left him. --Merritt Martin

There was a time, seems like it was about five seconds ago, when I didn't think it would ever get below 100 degrees in Dallas. My bike rides around White Rock were put on hiatus. Friday nights on the porch with a cold one were moved inside with six fans and a gallon of ice water. Sweating became a way of life.

And then, suddenly, it stopped.

Gotta love Texas weather. Now that your evenings aren't filled with laying on the floor beneath the strongest A/C vent in the house, it's time to venture once again to that foreign land: outside. No better place to do it than at Oak Cliff's Belmont Hotel, on a breezy evening up on that big hill with the Downtown view. With Gary Busey.

That's right, the Buse-man will be a key part of tonight's "B-Reel at the Belmont" movie screening of the 1991 American classic, Point Break. FBI goes undercover to catch surfing bank robbers!? I'm there, and so are Keanu Reeves, Patrick Swayze and Anthony Kiedis, who plays an important part in the "surf gang."

They show the movie out by the pool, and they offer a full bar of libations. I'm in the mood for a mojito myself. --Andrea Grimes

DALLAS--Last night, Merritt Martin and Andrea Grimes had a threesome with Taylor Hicks. In their minds. When the American Idol winner walked into Club Dada around midnight after finishing a performance at Nokia Theatre, Grimes frantically telephoned Martin, knowing that a possible mental menage a trois was imminent.

"See, we'd been boozin' it up at Dada since about six or so," said Grimes, who, along with Martin, had been enjoying the musical stylings of Texas music legend David Garza, the club's artist in residence for this month. "Merritt's a big lightweight and left around 11:30, while I stayed around for Eaton Lake Tonics and three whiskeys," added Grimes.

Upon sighting the silver-haired soulster, Grimes says she nearly "lost her shit" and ran into the club's courtyard to telephone Martin, who had just arrived at her home and made herself a nice bowl of Vanilla Cr�me Frosted Mini-Wheats.

"I dumped out half my cereal for Taylor Hicks," said Merritt, picking at a breakfast biscuit from Chik-Fil-A the next morning. "But she said he was so pretty, and I had to get my ass back in the car."

Martin re-applied her smoky clothes and arrived at Dada minutes later to find Grimes gleeful and a little drunk.

"He's in the second-to-last booth," squealed Grimes, fresh from shoving her business card in Hicks' face and telling him she'd like to take him out for lunch the next day. After what appeared to be a brush-off, Martin approached Hicks holding out her hands and saying, "I'm not a creepy fan chick. It's cool."

After a refreshingly foul-mouthed discussion about his musical career and upcoming album, Martin, too, shoved her business card in his face and said they should make it a lunch-hour threesome. "You know, Southern hospitality," Martin says she told Hicks.

Hicks has yet to call; however, he assured Martin and Grimes he "keep[s] all [his] cards."

Martin and Grimes have asked Unfair Park to relay the following message to readers: "Please do not telephone us today, as we don't want to tie up the phone lines. Just in case Tay-Tay calls."

Screw Rock Star: Supernova. We're thinkin' we prefer our karaoke live...like, in person.

Last Wednesday, we ventured into the world of live backing bands with Rock Star Karaoke hosted by the lovely and vivacious Jenn Nabb. Good thing we did when we did--the karaoksters got the boot from Lakewood Bar & Grill and are looking for new weekly digs. Shame, since there's something so empowering about fronting an actual rock band...even for a three-minute rendition of "Heartbreaker." Yeah, it's true.

In a shocking turn of events, we ended up last night at another karaoke throw-down, this time at The Goat on Gaston Avenue. This event was more of your basic karaoke sort, complete with multiple notebooks of page-protected lists for perusal. And it could just be the drinks last night or the hangover today, but we still can't figure out this song option: The Chicken Dance (Instrumental)

Now, last we checked, karaoke provided backing music for, you know, singing.

Oh well, regardless of the random instrumentals, the talent shone, pantomime was employed by several and Aerosmith's "Cryin'" was shamelessly butchered in a seriously awesome way. Karaoke at its finest. --Merritt Martin

Sunday afternoon my compatriots and I found ourselves driving toward Duncanville in the middle of a raging thunderstorm. Why, you ask? Olympic dreams, that's why. You see, we were on our way to the D/FW Curling Club's Open House event at the Duncanville Stars Center. And we could not wait to hit the ice.

One of the more entertaining events in the Winter Olympics, curling is basically shuffleboard on ice, only with more yelling. It is also the only Olympic sport I know of where someone who is both middle-aged and overweight can win a medal, which means I still have a good 15 or 20 years to complete my quest for the gold. As our club instructor explained it, a team consists of four members--one to call the shots and make strategic decisions (the "skip"), one to hurl the 43-pound stone toward the target (known as the "house") and two to sweep the ice in front of the stone as it slides toward its destination (sweeping temporarily melts the ice, which can extend the distance a stone is thrown by several feet). Everyone hurls the stone at some point, rotating positions every two throws.

Surprisingly, some 50 participants braved the storm to learn the basics of the game. Even more surprisingly, at least a third of them were Canadians. (Canucks in Duncanville--who woulda thought?) And while curling may look easy on TV, I can assure you, it is actually quite difficult and way more intense than shuffleboard--I've certainly never heard one senior citizen scream, "Go hard!" at another on any cruise ship I've ever been on. So, if you want to beat what's left of the summer heat with some icy competition, find a sweet curling T-shirt or just listen to some real-life Canadians say "aboot," the D/FW Curling Club offers two more open houses on September 24 and October 22 as well as league play for those willing to pay membership dues and ice fees. And for those of you wishing to remain spectators, we do hope you'll be seeing our team, the Short and Curlings, in the 2014 Winter Olympics. --Noah Bailey

Over the weekend, Heritage Auction Galleries started offloading the famous Davis Crippen comic-book collection about which we've written a few times--and the three-day auction of that collection and other valuable geek trinkets brought in a fairly jaw-dropping $2,812,080. That was for 2,147 comics and comic strips, most dating from 1938 to 1954, which is considered the so-called Golden Age of the superhero. And Heritage still has some 9,000 Crippen comics in its possession, which it's auctioning off on its Web site and during another Signature event to be held next month in Baltimore--one of the Oak Lawn-based Heritage's rare out-of-town events.

According to Heritage's vice president, Ed Jaster, most of the key titles in Crippen's collection went for well above what Heritage expected. For instance, that infamous Suspense Comics No. 3, with the sadistic Nazi bondage cover artwork by Alex Schomburg, was expected to go for about $25,000; it sold for nearly twice that much, at $47,800. The first issue of Walt Disney's Comics & Stories sold for $13,000; a 1940 issue of Detective Comics, featuring Batman, fetched nearly $18,000.

But the one that went for the largest of small fortunes was More Fun Comics No. 52--which belonged not to the Crippen collection, but to a man named Lamont Larson, who began collecting comics as a kid in Nebraska in 1940. That's the year from which that issue of More Fun Comics dates, and it went for the price of a modest home--$119,500 to an unidentified buyer--because it's an old comic featuring the first appearance of a key superhero (the Spectre) that's in near-perfect shape from the famous collection of a beloved collector. In other words, it's the dork's perfect storm. Original Peanuts comic strips went for significantly less: a September 1962 Sunday strip brought in $31,070, while a 1951 daily strip got $23,900. Lesson? Kids, do not let your mothers force you to sell your comics at Half-Price Books for pennies on the pennies on the dollar. You will regret it. --Robert Wilonsky

Time for another weekly Unfair Park giveaway. Today, we're offering two fabulous prizes. The first is two tickets and a parking pass to the Mary J. Blige concert tonight a Smirnoff Music Center. The first person to correctly guess Unfair Park blogmeister Robert Wilonsky's favorite color will be obliged with the ducats.

Obliged, get it? Hyuck. We made a funny. God, how we crack ourselves up on a Friday afternoon, when we break out the big tank of nitrous at the Observer's offices. (Wednesday is cough syrup day here. Mmm. Cherry.)

The second contest is for four tickets to the Earth Wind & Fire show at Smirnoff on Saturday (parking passes also included). Tougher question on this one, but if you're old enough to dig EW&F, you're old enough to know the answer: What's the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

Here's a hint: The correct answer is not a number. It's another question.

Send your answers to Robert here. Pick one question or the other, please, since we want to share the love. First correct answers win.

Update: The Earth, Wind & Fire tickets are gone. Still got Mary J. Blige tix. For now.

I began watching Fox's Hell's Kitchen in its first season after developing love and mad respect for foul-mouthed chef Gordon Ramsay, thanks to his BBC ventures. Before the current season, the show held auditions here in Big D. I had friends that went. None made it, but Texas had showing from Euless (Giacomo), Cedar Park (Garrett), Arlington (Larry), Ben Franklin (Polly) and Dallas (Rachel and Sara). For those of you addicted to the culinary throw-down, you're familiar with the smart-ass deli manager from Dallas, Sara (often addressed by Ramsay, affectionately, of course, as "you fat-mouthed cow"). She got thrown in the bin, skewered, whatever, on Episode 7, getting edged out of the final three by a wily Virginia. And while we thought Virginia's antics totally unsportsmanlike, we still find Sara fairly heinous.

Over the course of her stay, she didn't own up to her mistakes, dodged responsibility and lied about her weaknesses, or at least editing would lead us to believe. Had she behaved like a big girl, she could have learned from her time on the line and really come off looking like a winner. Instead, she's just a shit-talkin,' cold-hearted...neighbor?! Apparently. On our last visit to the Lakewood Texaco at Live Oak and Skillman streets we looked straight into her eyes via an autographed Hell's Kitchen headshot, thanking the convenience store for smokes and whatnot. And, yeah, we were just a little shocked that the woman who stood up to the Gordon Ramsay must live but blocks away. We've inquired a few times at the gas station, but thus far have gotten no answers as to where the headstrong Sara is or whose meat she's currently slicing. --Merritt Martin

KDGE-FM (102.1) morning show hosts Lex & Terry have a plan to end the Middle East conflict. Sure. Right. Yesterday morning, they inadvertently announced (so they're insisting now, anyway) a plan to end the war when they discussed the Lex & Terry Holy War, which would call on Muslims, Jews and Christians to sign up to defend their religions...on the paint-ball field. The winner of the tourney should likewise determine the winner of the worldwide conflict.

"We didn't sit down and have a meeting about it," co-host Terry Jaymes says about what began as a joke, the type of hypothetical one would come up with while at lunch with a buddy. "The response was immediate. Now we have to follow through with it." At around 9:15 a.m., as I drove to down Oak Lawn Avenue, the pair had already gotten calls from several Muslims—not making complaints, but wanting to sign up. They went on to suggest that if there were any fundamentalist Christians making regular trips to the range each week, they should enlist as well. We assumed, of course, that agnostics would just hang out on the sidelines wondering what all the fighting's about and atheists would stand behind them shaking heads and muttering, "Nothing."

Sure, Carlos Mencia may have tried a similar idea with his "Royal Religious Rumble" on his Comedy Central venture Mind of Mencia, but that battle was just between religious icons, this one's between full-on believers. And it's local. As of now, the side filling up most quickly is that of the right-wing Christian. Droves, we're talkin,' but no real surprise there. Just makes us wonder how this thing will pan out on the field.

At the end of June, we had a story here about the latest batch of comic books to be auctioned off by Heritage Auction Galleries: the Davis Crippen collection, which consists of some 11,000 comics that were collected from 1938 to 1954, including 1943's All Select Comics No. 1, featuring Captain America and the Human Torch, and Suspense Comics No. 3, which is notable for its Nazi-nasty bondage cover by Alex Schomburg. Bidding's already underway for the auction, which begins at Heritage's Oak Lawn offices on Friday at 1 p.m.; that issue of All Select is already up to $6,000, while the Suspense is already cruising past the $20,000 mark.

We pointed out at the time that the Crippen collection, which consists of superior-quality comics of almost every title printed back then, was previously unknown to collectors, but that it was the collection from which another famous batch of comics was sold: the so-called "D Copy" collection consisting of some 2,000 books sold in the 1990s. But how had those comics been separated from the larger collection now in Heritage's possession? It was a mystery till this weekend, when The Wall Street Journal on Saturday ran a front-page piece on the Crippen collection, which is being sold by Davis' son Alex, and its mysterious origins.

"Although nobody knows the precise value of the original D books when they hit the market, they are estimated to be worth at least $1 million at today's prices. The missing comics happened to be some of the collection's very best, including early Superman, Batman and other big-name super hero books. Since Davis Crippen did not store his books in any discernible order, whoever brought the books to market had to have the time and knowledge to ferret out some of the highest-quality books.

Stephen Fishler, owner of Metropolis Collectibles, a big New York dealer, recalls buying many of the D books about 15 years ago...Mr. Fishler recently told Alex Crippen the seller's name: Eric Kechejian. Separately, the Crippen family had begun to suspect that one or both of a pair of young contractors might have sold the comics when Davis and Cynthia Crippen hired them to do extensive home renovations that lasted for many months in 1991. Anyone working on the house would have had plenty of time alone with the comics since the couple worked away from home. One of the workmen was particularly curious about antiques. The other contractor's name: Eric Kechejian."

It's estimated that Crippen's books, not all of which will be made available this weekend, will fetch some $2.5 million at auction. That is far more than I got from Half-Price Books in 1982, when my folks insisted I sell off my rather estimable collection. --Robert Wilonsky

Admit it, Carl Monday is your new hero. Cutthroat investigative journalism at its finest, right? (You know, it's really too bad we don't have cameras on us as we're reporting stories. We are so like that.) Well, Monday went back for more after Mike Cooper, famous for the "mono log" he gave at a Cleveland library, was sentenced. And the clip has got everything we could've asked for: Monday's wispy hair, a far-flung microphone, Cooper's bizarre behavior and, of course, violent and protective parents. OK, almost everything. The only thing lacking? A quote from the literate masturbator saying, "Without Carl Monday, this day would not have been possible."

Oh, and there's been an update in the Village Voice Media handbook: All reporters are to immediately trade tact for pencil-thin moustaches upon hiring. Thankfully, we've been grandfathered in. --Merritt Martin

I'm not saying the prospect of being on a reality show isn't a little bit tempting, but there are limits. Wanna be one of seven strangers picked to live in a house? Fine. You'll probably get all kinds of ass courtesy of MTV for the rest of your life. Wanna be trapped on an island for a month with a bunch of other crazies? Sure. You'll lose that last 10 pounds and earn bragging rights after eating cow eyeballs. But do you honestly, honestly want to parade around your badly behaved children and incompetent parenting efforts for the world to see in prime time?

Something tells me you do, or ABC wouldn't be gearing up for Supernanny 3, the show that features no-nonsense British nanny Jo Frost in her smart little suits correcting smart-assed little children. If your heart's desire really is to have a permanent record made of your broken family, you're in luck. Supernanny casting directors will be at Ridgmar Mall in Fort Worth this Sunday for a "meet and greet" with potential show subjects. Probably gonna be more like a "meet and scream, spank, bite, tear, bawl, hit," but whatever.

Show up between 11 a.m. and 2 p.m., and if your family has Supernanny potential, you may join the two other Dallas-area families who were featured on the show in past seasons. As casting producer Lisa Shannon wrote in an e-mail: "We have a history of good luck finding families in need of Supernanny in Texas."

I guess that translates roughly to "Ya'll got some effed-up kids in the Lone Star State." --Andrea Grimes

Remember back when Jim Schutze reported on Behrouz Nahidmobarekeh? No? Don't recall the story of a man that not only dried, grated and sprinkled his own feces on pastries at Fiesta, but smeared the non-dried variety on book spines at the Dallas Library? I'll wait for your "Oh, riiiight, that guy!" moment to pass. Turns out, Dallas isn't the only city with library "violations." Investigative reporter extraordinaire, Carl Monday, throws down with a "library lover" (heh) in Cleveland in this priceless clip (and please, hold out to the end—you won't be sorry):

Apparently, the story was so popular it even brought about a Carl Monday-dedicated blog. Now I searched for "Jim Schutze blog" but came up with little but a "Saluting Jim Schutze" entry on some guy named Garry's blog. So, Jim, we've taken a poll around the office and while we appreciate your hair, your tact and your grammar, a London Fog trenchcoat is definitely in order. That could make the difference.

--Merritt Martin

Last night's Rock Star: Supernova was a lesson in feisty dialogue with co-host Dave Navarro. The guy was definitely showing some post-break-up angst when he exchanged his usual sticky-sweet demeanor for some sucker punches...and two were directed at Dallas babes Zayra Alvarez and Patrice Pike. And rightfully so.

While Alvarez, dressed as a femme-bot astronaut (Navarro quipped, "You're ready for inner planetary travel, honey."), butchered Blondie's "Call Me"--an incredibly difficult sing, so why the hell did the pitch-challenged vamp pick it?--Jason Newsted wiped his brow with a comical grimace and Gilby Clarke smiled like a hyena trying not to laugh. Then came the rippin' from Navarro: "You know, the past couple weeks has been kinda fun and interesting watching you do your thing. Uh, I don't know if it's right for Supernova and my recommendation to you is to get started on a solo career, like, right now." Clarke added that Alvarez had won him over the week prior but "man, you lost me again." And, of course, Alvarez had to mouth off. "I think I actually did great," she said turning to the audience. "What do you guys think? Did you enjoy that?" Well, Z, since you were in the bottom three of the worldwide vote at show's end, I guess not.

Then came Patrice Pike. She pulled off a well-sung but very predictable version of the Black Crowe's "Remedy." (Super big yawn.) Her vocal antics smelled strongly, to any one around back then, of Little Sister's old number "Drift Away." Tommy Lee, looking like a rode-hard version of Liza a la Cabaret in a little black hat and vest, appeared appropriately bored. Then came the rippin' from Navarro: "All right, Patrice. I'm just not seeing anything different and frankly, I'm getting a little bored. You got a 13-week audition here, all right? Change it up from week to week, otherwise, you are wasting this opportunity."

"Do you do a lot of different things on stage when you perform, Dave?" countered the tiny, pissed-off but smiling Pike. Second rippin': "Uh, yeah, but see, the difference is that I have a job and I'm not auditioning." Ouch. Oohs and aahs ensued. Clarke tried to soften the blow with, "We need a leader. This is your warning."

Well, I still stand by my final three prediction of Houston gal Dilana.--Merritt Martin