Go Fish Galvez

Well, we made it, but not in time for dinner.

It all started late on a Friday afternoon, a summer afternoon after work. Me and Crump (yes, I know, Mrs. Rune, it should be “Crump and I”), my old high-school buddy and very first roommate, found ourselves breezing along some highway near downtown Big D (little-A-double-L-A-S) in her old tan quasi-beater Buick, windows rolled down, wind in our hair, eager to start the weekend off right.

That’s when we first began tossing around ideas for that evening’s dinner and thinking about possible venues. (What, cook at the apartment? And have to serve the cockaroaches, too? Surely, you jest!) Read the rest of this entry »

Deep in the South of Texas not so long ago,
there on a crowded island in the Gulf of Mexico.
It didn’t take too much money, man, but it sure was nice.
You could dance all night if you felt all right, drinking whiskey and throwing dice.
And everybody knows it was hard to leave.
And everybody knows it was down at the Balinese.

“Balinese,” ZZ Top, Fandango!, 1975 Read the rest of this entry »

Considering the litigious state of our ever ethically diminishing society these days, I guess I’d better clarify one point before we move any further.

See that real pretty picture up top in the banner, the one showing the nice clear turquoise water? Well, of course, that’s nowhere near Galveston. [Note: This post refers to an earlier WordPress theme that I used for this blog; the picture in question no longer appears here. Still, I very much like the phrase "scum-sucking pigs," especially when used in reference to lawyers, so I left this post in even after I took the picture out.] Read the rest of this entry »

You’d have to be a pretty obsessed Monty Python fan to catch that exceedingly weak reference (who am I, for crying out loud, Dennis Miller?), but if you’re reading this silly blog, you probably are so obsessed. (Hint: Get a hobby; get it now.)

So check out the so-called Bishop’s Palace, former home of politician Walter Gresham, later purchased by the Roman Catholic Diocese of Galveston for use as the resident bishop’s pad. Read the rest of this entry »

Well, darn it, I missed it this year, “it,” of course, being Mardi Gras! Galveston.

Of course, I missed it last year, too. And the year before that. In fact, I’ve never been to Mardi Gras in Galveston at all, not even once, not a single solitary time. How this can be true still boggles my mind. Verily, it must be one of the last great mysteries of the universe, right up there with quantum mechanics and how geese can fly in a perfect “V” and all. Read the rest of this entry »

Careful.

Your answer could be critical to your condition, not to mention the length of your next hospital stay.

So, which are you in the mood for?

(1) a tiny little blue crab special, or

(2) a big old snarling monster crabdaddy?

Well, if you pick the latter, just hope it ain’t a third cousin of that Godfather of all Godzilla Gulfdaddies, the one glaring at us still from high atop the famous Gaido’s Seafood Restaurant sign. Read the rest of this entry »