The St. Louis transplant with a degree from Rice University mixes clever quips with celebrity impersonations, all the while keeping his material at a 12th-grade level -- okay, maybe a remedial 12th-grade level. In just a few years as a stand-up, he's already headlined his own show at Houston's only real A-room, the Laff Stop, and he appeared earlier this year on Premium Blend, Comedy Central's showcase for up-and-coming comedians. (You can view a clip of the performance online at comedycentral.com.) Now a professional touring comic, MacRae is often out on the road, but occasionally he can be found tuning up new material at Houston's major comedy open mike (also at the Laff Stop). Catch him before stardom inflates the price of admission to a car payment.

The St. Louis transplant with a degree from Rice University mixes clever quips with celebrity impersonations, all the while keeping his material at a 12th-grade level -- okay, maybe a remedial 12th-grade level. In just a few years as a stand-up, he's already headlined his own show at Houston's only real A-room, the Laff Stop, and he appeared earlier this year on Premium Blend, Comedy Central's showcase for up-and-coming comedians. (You can view a clip of the performance online at comedycentral.com.) Now a professional touring comic, MacRae is often out on the road, but occasionally he can be found tuning up new material at Houston's major comedy open mike (also at the Laff Stop). Catch him before stardom inflates the price of admission to a car payment.

Before the privileged daughter of an aristocratic Japanese family crossed paths with a working-class lad from Liverpool, she was an artist who put the "avant" in avant-garde. Loosely associated with the Fluxus movement, Yoko Ono made works ranging from socially and artistically provocative performances like Cut Piece (1964), which invited members of the audience to snip off bits of her clothes, to the poetry of Ceiling Painting (Y E S Painting), the same work that introduced Lennon to Ono at her 1966 Indica Gallery opening when he climbed a white ladder and used a magnifying glass to view the simple word "yes" written on the ceiling. "YES YOKO ONO," a retrospective at the Contemporary Arts Museum, presented a fascinating range of Ono's work, ripe for reassessment. Through her art rather than media hype and distortion, emerged the portrait of a talented artist of tremendous intellect and quiet wit.

Before the privileged daughter of an aristocratic Japanese family crossed paths with a working-class lad from Liverpool, she was an artist who put the "avant" in avant-garde. Loosely associated with the Fluxus movement, Yoko Ono made works ranging from socially and artistically provocative performances like Cut Piece (1964), which invited members of the audience to snip off bits of her clothes, to the poetry of Ceiling Painting (Y E S Painting), the same work that introduced Lennon to Ono at her 1966 Indica Gallery opening when he climbed a white ladder and used a magnifying glass to view the simple word "yes" written on the ceiling. "YES YOKO ONO," a retrospective at the Contemporary Arts Museum, presented a fascinating range of Ono's work, ripe for reassessment. Through her art rather than media hype and distortion, emerged the portrait of a talented artist of tremendous intellect and quiet wit.

Donations of every imaginable variety show up weekly: horns, doll heads, a film canister of Tommy Lee Jones's spit, balls of Saran Wrap, clumps of hair, an appendix, color photos of fallopian tubes and contemporary art of a disquieting nature. Artist/nutball Dolan Smith has turned his Heights bungalow into a mecca for all things weird, including his own artwork, an ongoing series of drawings that details a host of physical and psychological scars featuring Smith's own brand of black humor. Visitors are invited to write down and contribute their own scars to the Scar Room as well. Smith is supplementing his empire of the bizarre with a two-thirds-complete pet cemetery. Last year, Tropical Storm Allison took its toll on the nascent final resting place for pets. Rising floodwaters filled the jars of 32 dead rats, inadvertently creating biological pipe bombs. Smith plans to complete the columbarium this fall. For a strange time, call to schedule a visit.

Donations of every imaginable variety show up weekly: horns, doll heads, a film canister of Tommy Lee Jones's spit, balls of Saran Wrap, clumps of hair, an appendix, color photos of fallopian tubes and contemporary art of a disquieting nature. Artist/nutball Dolan Smith has turned his Heights bungalow into a mecca for all things weird, including his own artwork, an ongoing series of drawings that details a host of physical and psychological scars featuring Smith's own brand of black humor. Visitors are invited to write down and contribute their own scars to the Scar Room as well. Smith is supplementing his empire of the bizarre with a two-thirds-complete pet cemetery. Last year, Tropical Storm Allison took its toll on the nascent final resting place for pets. Rising floodwaters filled the jars of 32 dead rats, inadvertently creating biological pipe bombs. Smith plans to complete the columbarium this fall. For a strange time, call to schedule a visit.

Usually we're depressed by Houston's headlong rush to tear down every vestige of its past and replace it with something modern. But let's face it, the old Music Hall was a dump. The roof leaked, the offstage areas were cramped, and there wasn't much charm in its pedestrian design. The $100 million Hobby Center is a spectacular improvement on all accounts. Even though the main hall is far too big (2,600 seats), the feeling is as intimate as possible given the numbers. The acoustics are great, and the stage environs were designed with touring Broadway shows in mind. The accompanying 500-seat hall, yet to be finished, has endless possibilities, but whether it can be a financial success remains to be seen.

Usually we're depressed by Houston's headlong rush to tear down every vestige of its past and replace it with something modern. But let's face it, the old Music Hall was a dump. The roof leaked, the offstage areas were cramped, and there wasn't much charm in its pedestrian design. The $100 million Hobby Center is a spectacular improvement on all accounts. Even though the main hall is far too big (2,600 seats), the feeling is as intimate as possible given the numbers. The acoustics are great, and the stage environs were designed with touring Broadway shows in mind. The accompanying 500-seat hall, yet to be finished, has endless possibilities, but whether it can be a financial success remains to be seen.

The beauty of all open mikes, whether it be for poetry, comedy or music, is that they're open to anyone with the nerve or lack of ego to take a shot at five minutes of fame. You get the professionals, the diamonds in the rough or, if you're lucky, the people who seem to exist in their own time and space. Larry Simon is one such performer. His most frequent sightings are at the open mike at the Laff Stop on West Gray. People are usually struck mute when asked to describe his act. Many agree that a classic Larry joke will not make sense until it soaks in -- usually about three months later. It'll hit you while you're driving or in the shower. "Oh! That's why the vacuum cleaner sucked up the rat, a dog, a tomcat and two winos." Whether he's talking about chocolate-covered ants (a legendary Ed Wood cult classic of a joke) or about being robbed by a hooker (which somehow connects to pygmies throwing spears at leprechauns on an airplane), the best classification for this comic enigma is "accidental surrealist."

The beauty of all open mikes, whether it be for poetry, comedy or music, is that they're open to anyone with the nerve or lack of ego to take a shot at five minutes of fame. You get the professionals, the diamonds in the rough or, if you're lucky, the people who seem to exist in their own time and space. Larry Simon is one such performer. His most frequent sightings are at the open mike at the Laff Stop on West Gray. People are usually struck mute when asked to describe his act. Many agree that a classic Larry joke will not make sense until it soaks in -- usually about three months later. It'll hit you while you're driving or in the shower. "Oh! That's why the vacuum cleaner sucked up the rat, a dog, a tomcat and two winos." Whether he's talking about chocolate-covered ants (a legendary Ed Wood cult classic of a joke) or about being robbed by a hooker (which somehow connects to pygmies throwing spears at leprechauns on an airplane), the best classification for this comic enigma is "accidental surrealist."