The Great Psychedelic Armadillo Picnic Read Free

first advice to you is the same admonition I shout every time I pass a wedding in progress: “Stop before it’s too late!”
    But maybe you’ve really set your ears back, and you’re hell-bent on spending your furlough in Austin. In that case, the least you can do is follow these few simple rules of the road for all modern Bubbas and Bubbettes. This, my fine-feathered foreign friend, is friendly advice, freely given. Follow it—or get the death penalty.
    Get you some brontosaurus-foreskin boots and a big ol’ cowboy hat. Always remember, only two kinds of people can get away with wearing their hats indoors: cowboys and Jews. Try to be one of them.
    Get your hair fixed right. If you’re male, cut it into a “mullet” (short on the sides and top, long in the back— think Billy Ray Cyrus). Or you can leave it long on top and cut it short on the sides and back. When you take off your cowboy hat, you’ll have what I like to refer to as the Lyle Lovett Starter Kit. If you’re female, make it as big as possible, with lots of teasing and hair spray. If you can hide a Buck knife in there, you’re ready. Grooming tip: If you can’t find curlers big enough, use empty Dr. Pepper cans.
    Don’t make the most common mistake all non-Texans make when they come down here—confusing Amarillo with the armadillo. Amarillo is a town in the Panhandle full of people who don’t like being mistaken for armadillos. They’re very conservative politically. The armadillo is a gentle creature. It tends to be much more middle-of-the-road.
    Buy you a big ol’ pickup truck or a Cadillac. I myself drive a Yom Kippur Clipper. That’s a Jewish Cadillac— stops on a dime and picks it up.
    Just because you can drive on snow and ice where you come from does not mean you can drive in an Austin downpour. When it rains hard, stay home. If you have to drive, get on IH-35, move into the fast lane, and go no faster than thirty-five miles per hour. If you have to drive at night, watch out for the deer, even within the city limits. Only hit the ones with huge antlers because they make the best wall hangings. Christmas gift tip: Make you a nice fur coat with antlers and give it to your mother-in-law.
    Remember: “Y’all” is singular, “all y’all” is plural, and “all y’all’s” is plural possessive.
    Austinites have a strange way of talking. Get used to it. In my experience, I’ve always heard the word “Jewish” pronounced with only one syllable, such as, “He’s Juush.” When they pronounce the word “Jew,” of course, it’s invariably with about eleven syllables. An example of this would be: “She married a Jeeeeeeewwwww!”
    Don’t call it “soda” or “pop.” It’s all Coke unless it’s Dr. Pepper.
    Don’t pet the dog standing in the back of the pickup, no matter how small or how cute. All truck dogs are dangerous weapons. But a dog that is not in the back of a pickup is another story. We Texans love our dogs. Like we always say: “Money may buy you a fine dog, but only love can make it wag its tail.”
    It is now legal to carry a concealed weapon in Texas, and this includes within the Austin City limits. As a result, crime has gone down. An unfortunate side-effect, however, is that there are now about 18 million ambulatory time bombs anyplace you go, just waiting for Dustin Hoffman to pound on the hood and shout, “I’m walkin’ here!” As for myself, I don’t carry a weapon. If anybody wants to kill me, he’s going to have to remember to bring his own gun.
    Everything goes better with picante sauce. No exceptions.
    Be sure you have a favorite football team. Be sure it is the Texas Longhorns.
    Don’t tell us how you did it up there. Nobody cares.
    Practice saying that you’re going to Austin for vacation rather than Texas.