remake/remodel

and that’s the end of that

One of my favorite college electives was a classics class, “Caesar and Augustus.” Or as Dr. Gwyn Morgan, he of the peculiarly dynamic voice, would say, “CAESAR! …and Augustus.” Dr. Morgan, a swaggering, greasy-haired Welshman, blue-jeaned and smoky, held the title of coolest professor at UT, unlike another professor of mine, philosophy professor Robert Solomon, who, chest hair puffing from half-buttoned shirts, transfixed packed classrooms semester after semester with self-satisfied, rehearsed lectures on Sartre and Nietzsche; most classes ended with an exhortation to lead a heroic life. For Christ’s sake, really. Morgan lectured on Roman sewage and gossip, dirty poetry, and the unexpected tactical advantages of Italian shortness. Every lecture ended with “And that’s the end of that!”

Maybe you had to be there. See, he had a great accent.

I found out the other night that the Hate Daggers broke up. I’m disappointed, though in hindsight, anyone who had been to a show could have foreseen their early end. The good news is that a posthumous recording is in the works. The best band in Austin title goes back to the Dirty Sweets, who are born entertainers. If you’ve seen them and you don’t love them, you are morbidly jaded, and I might not want to be your friend. And that’s the end of that. You at least must have seen that coming.