Back in Rocks Off’s younger, less enlightened days, when we enjoyed polluting Houston’s atmosphere, draining the Earth’s dwindling petroleum resources and talking or texting while changing lanes like millions of our fellow Houstonians – in other words, back when we were driving – we listened to a lot of sports-talk radio. (What, like we were going to listen to the Buzz?)
We don’t listen so much anymore, on doctor’s orders and the fact that our interest in any sport save UT football has dwindled well beyond apathy and is approaching outright disdain. Still, we understand that many of you still attach a healthy portion of your hopes and dreams to the fortunes of our various professional, collegiate and prep-school squads. To that, all we can say is we’re sorry.
But Houston sports fans seem like they have more questions than ever these days. Instead of fielding them ourselves, or letting the homers and histrionics on the likes of SportsRadio 610 or The Game handle them, we’re turning to a much more knowledgeable authority – the Butthole Surfers’ 1993 album Independent Worm Saloon.
Dear Independent Worm Saloon,
Considering the Texans’ run defense was horrible against the Titans last Sunday, and the team’s run offense is worse than its run defense, why is everyone around here acting like their Super Bowl ticket is all but punched?
Dear GIG,
[several minutes of vomiting] Clean it up! Clean it up! Clean it up!
Dear Independent Worm Saloon,
Realistically, what do you think U of H’s chances are of beating Texas Tech at home this Saturday?
Dear TITW,
All night long my body burned, white sheets all wet and cold. My eyes were gone, my mind was blown, any second lose control. The pounding in my window is just the pounding in my head. I wonder who was in my room last night, who the hell was in my bed?
Dear Independent Worm Saloon,
How likely is Astros owner Drayton McLane to dump payroll, trade Roy Oswalt and hire a manager who can make the team competitive next season?
Dear CIC,
Why don’t you call me, you never leave a note? You got a dog inside your body, he’s got you by the throat. I really love you, wanna feel your pain, wanna drag you across the ground and out inside the rain. Gotta feel you darling, gotta have you here, gotta be there when they cut you, gotta feel your fear.
Dear Independent Worm Saloon,
What do you think are the toughest 4A and 5A districts in Houston-area high-school football this year?
Dear PIP,
Gone ahead and leave ya. When she had to see me, said you gone ahead and leave ya baby. Why the fuck did I drive by?
Dear Independent Worm Saloon,
Do you think all of Rockets GM Darryl Morey’s offseason moves will pay off with at least a playoff spot next season, or is it just the NBA equivalent of three-card Monte?
Dear WIW,Naked all of Monday, naked all year long. Naked is never right, naked is always wrong. So get the hell away from me, you goddamn naked man. Go the fuck away from me, back to Naked land.
Dear Independent Worm Saloon,
Do you think the Dynamo, Houston’s most consistently successful sports franchise on any level, will ever get the respect they deserve?
Dear AIA,
The sand becomes a potent elixir, wind as hot as flame. The bodies fly right through the night, all faceless and without name. I grab onto a foreign handle, walkin’ through a door. I discovered that I was just buyin a pint of Turkey at the liquor store.
Independent Worm Saloon is a syndicated advice columnist whose weekly column, “Ask Independent Worm Saloon,” is featured in over 250 newspapers nationwide. Butthole Surfers play with Psychic Ills, 8 p.m. Thursday at House of Blues, 1204 Carolime, 888-402-5837 or www.hob.com/houston.
This article appears in Sep 17-23, 2009.
