“No other state commands such fierce pride and loyalty. Lesser mortals are pitied for their misfortune of not being born Texans.” — Queen Elizabeth II, visiting Austin, May 20, 1991, in front of the Texas capitol.

Yes, it’s time once more to look at what people have been saying about us, and what we’re saying about ourselves. So let’s start with something serious: football. “Three things can happen when you throw the ball, and two of them are bad.” – Darrell Royal

“Football is only a game. Spiritual things are eternal. Nevertheless, Beat Texas.” — On a church sign in Arkansas prior to the 1969 UT-Arkansas game.

“I visit Austin, Texas, from time to time to lecture at the University of Texas and fully consider myself a long-distance Longhorns fan. Yes, I know, news of the Red River massacre reached even Somerset, but as an Arsenal (English soccer) supporter, I have been emotionally conditioned for calamity. — Geoffrey Wheatcroft, an English journalist

Speaking of UT: “I was stopped and questioned seven times by University police on my way into the physics building. Seven times. Zero times was I stopped going into the gym – and I went to the gym a lot. That says all you need to know about how welcomed I felt at Texas.” – Former UT professor Neil deGrasse Tyson, celebrity astrophysicist (you see him on TV a lot) and director of New York City’s Hayden Planetarium. He’s black.

“In my mind, I wasn’t going to pay more than $1.2 million.” — Austin businessman Milton Verret who paid $1.8 million for a jacket worn by Michael Jackson in his 1983 video “Thriller.” Verret planned to exhibit the jacket to raise funds for children’s charities.

“If you’ve ever driven across Texas, you know how different one area of the state can be from another. Take El Paso. It looks as much like Dallas as I look like Jack Nicklaus” — Pro Golfer Lee Trevino.

Some people, for reasons which elude me, don’t like us. “How would you feel if Mexico took back Texas?” a British leader in London asked U.S. Ambassador William J. Crowe, Jr., on July 14, 1996, during a discussion on Northern Ireland. Replied the American ambassador: “You’ve asked the wrong man that question. I’m from Oklahoma. We’ve been trying to give Texas back to Mexico for a hundred years.”

“You know the good part about all those executions in Texas? Fewer Texans.” –  George Carlin

Everyone knows, “Houston, we’ve got a problem,” but how about a few more observations on, in and for the Bayou City?

“The view from the Warwick Hotel is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. It’s just like Paris.”– Bob Hope talking about Houston on The Phil Donahue Show.

“Houston is an example of what can happen when architecture catches a venereal disease.” — Frank Lloyd Wright on Houston’s skyline in the 1950s.

“It is an ugly, sprawling city, unprotected by zoning laws. Block after barren block of weed-infested parking lots and disintegrating houses stand close by upscale shopping centers and lushly landscaped residential Edens like River Oaks. Too many hours are spent in cars on the congested but indispensable freeways. Yet in its way, it is also a city of art and culture, of exciting museums and distinguished buildings and world-class performing arts organizations.” – R.W. Apple, Jr., in The New York Times

“When I was a kid in Houston, we were so poor we couldn’t afford the last two letters, so we called ourselves po’.” – George Foreman

Moving on: “Why doesn’t Texas simply close UT-El Paso?” – Prof. Richard Vedder of Ohio University, commenting on the poor graduation rate at UTEP (one out of 10 graduates in four years, 35 percent in six years)

“Give me an army of West Point graduates and I’ll win a battle. Give me a handful of Texas Aggies and I’ll win the war.” – Gen. George S. Patton may or may not have said this. The Citadel, VMI and other schools claim the quote, too.

Turning to politics:  “I have been screamed at by total strangers in the street who recognize me.” – Texas State Sen. Dan Patrick, sponsor of the anti-abortion forced sonogram law.

“We already have term limits. They’re called elections.” – Former Texas House Speaker Rep. Tom Craddick.

“Y’all as tempting as it may be, don’t shoot Obama. We need him to go down in history as the WORST president we’ve EVER had!” — Texas College Republicans called for the resignation of the University of Texas chapter president, Lauren Pierce, who is also the state chapter’s secretary, after she posted this tweet.

.            Gov. Rick Perry’s disastrous campaign for the GOP presidential nomination gave us a couple of good quotes. “I am concerned that the unfortunate results of Perry’s performance on the national stage may confirm the stereotype that much of the rest of the country has about Texas – the impression that Texas is a bunch of yahoos and people of low intelligence. “ – Scott Caven, a Houston Republican who was Perry’s state finance chairman in his last two runs for governor. “There has never been a more ineptly orchestrated, just unbelievably subpar campaign for president of the United States than this one.” –A “senior Perry adviser.”

Molly Ivins: “Next time I tell you someone from Texas should not be president of the United States, please pay attention.”

The Grand Slam winner for years to come (cringe, ye Texans) “Oops.” — Our not ready for prime time Texas Gov. Rick Perry in a GOP presidential debate.

Finally, I checked for quotes about Texas in “Bartlett’s Quotations” but found nothing, mainly because there is no such book. Everyone calls it that, but the true name is, “Familiar Quotations” by John Bartlett. You may quote me on that.

Ashby can be quoted at ashby2@comcast.net

Ashby is gassed at ashby2@comcast.net

Just when we thought it had all been settled and we could stop paying lawyers, along comes Abigail Fisher, an applicant denied admission in 2008 who said she was discriminated against because of her race — she’s white. She charged that some minorities with worse grades got in.

As we all know, UT has a plan whereby any Texas student who finishes in the top 10 percent of his or her graduating high school class is automatically admitted. This opens the door for minorities who have mediocre SATs because they attended mediocre schools. Good, but it is also blatantly unfair to all sorts of brilliant, beautiful and fun-loving high school grads who finish in the bottom 10 percent, like me.

These goodie two-shoes have pretty well taken over the 50,000-plus enrollment, making up an astounding three-quarters of the in-state students. To select the remaining quarter, which the U.S. Supreme Court will consider, the school uses a “holistic review” including test scores, essays, activities, socioeconomic status, cultural background — and race and ethnicity.

As a result of all this mixing of stats and opinions (does the activity of curling count as much as stalking?), this year’s freshman class of 7,000 students is 46 percent white, 23 percent Hispanic, 20 percent Asian and 6 percent black with 5 percent “other.” This is no more a true reflection of Texas youth than the Longhorns’ Young Republicans or their basketball team. These figures are further skewered by UT’s policy allowing illegal immigrants, under certain conditions, to pay in-state tuition. Every seat in every classroom they fill means that the legal child of some Texan couldn’t get in.

It was Houston Chronicle columnist Richard Justice who once observed, “Texas is divided into two kinds of people – those who went to UT and those who wish they had.” A main reason so many Texas high school grads want to go to UT is not the distinguished profs (who are unknown because they never teach) and/or fellow students. It’s the UT panache, the reputation, the parties on East Sixth Street. College Magazine named UT the nation’s Number One school for sex. But the school dropped from first (2010) to fifth place (2011) as the best party school in America, as judged by Playboy. No doubt parents found this exhilarating as they sold their left kidneys to pay tuition.

Another attraction is that Longhorn High is a Tier 1 university which means whatever someone wants it to mean. For example, the University of Houston desperately wants to join UT, A&M and Rice as a Tier 1 school, and recently the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching said UH had been categorized as a research university with “very high research activity,” which the Cougars claim is the equivalent of Tier 1 status. No other ranking agency has followed, but UH is telling everyone it’s now with the big boys.

We have lots of state schools. They just don’t have the attraction of UT. So at each one we build a 106,000-seat stadium, pay the head football coach $6 million a year, land a presidential library or two and by all means add an East Sixth Street. Then UT-Brownsville or Texas A&M-Commerce has the same attraction as the Forty Acres, and the our high school grads will be fighting to get into those schools.

For the youngsters who still want to go to Austin to school, but can’t get in, I present the Wyoming Syndrome: pandering to the school’s hell-bent rush to be “diversified.” That is the buzz word in academe these days. They never use code terms like “quotas,” “level playing field” and “making up for past sins.” No, the secret password is “diversity.” Every school likes to say it has a diverse student body. “We have students from all 254 Texas counties, all 50 states, 187 countries and Mars, and 49 ethnic groups,” they say in their brochures which contain photos of diverse faces that look like the U.N. Security Council.

There is always one photograph of a concerned full professor giving one‑on‑one attention to a freshman. Notice that it is the same professor in every single brochure -‑ he’s an inflatable figure with a clip‑on beard and is about as close as a freshman will ever get to a concerned full professor.

When applying to UT, put down that you are from Wyoming, the state with the smallest population and no doubt the fewest students going out of state. If that seems a stretch, make your hometown Mentone in Loving County, Texas. It is the least populated county in the nation (82), and the chance of any student making it to Austin is minimal. You are a Serbian-Taiwanese with a Tibetan grandmother and speak Navaho. In one fell swoop you plug in several vacancies the Dean of Admissions has been seeking.

Religion is another source for entry. Universities like to boast of every possible religion to show the school isn’t prejudiced. On the other hand, Notre Dame quarterbacks still call their signals in Latin to draw Protestants offside. Oh, that reminds me. Forget all these tips if you can dribble or punt. If only Abigail Fisher could have performed a decent slam dunk we wouldn’t be having this discussion.

Finally, “The” is part of the school’s name, but there is no sane reason to add “Austin.” Everyone knows where it is. But UT is best known as The University, and justifiably so. Only now we can call it The Diversity of Texas at Cheyenne.

Ashby hooks ‘em at ashby2@comcast.net

This sports facility comes after Houston built stadiums for the NFL Texans and the Astros, plus an arena for the Rockets and Aeros (hockey). It’s hard to get a grasp on the actual cost of these playpens for the billionaire owners. There is the infrastructure such as city streets, curbs, waters and waste, taxes diverted, bonds sold, and on and on. In addition, the Astrodome cost $35 million in 1965 or $244 million in 2012 dollars. But it still carries as much as $32 million in debt for improvements — nearly as much as the original cost of construction – to keep the Oilers from leaving. Hahah.

The Dallas Cowboys built a stadium in Irving with a unique design: a giant doughnut. The fans were covered but the field was open so, as the story goes, God could watch his team. It speaks volumes to know that the design was never copied by any other city anywhere. So owner Jerry Jones wanted a new stadium and got it: Originally estimated to cost $650 million, the stadium cost $1.15 billion,^[ making it one of the most expensive sports venues ever built.

To aid Jones in paying the construction costs of the new stadium, Arlington voters approved an increase of the city’s sales tax by 0.5 percent, the hotel occupancy tax by 2 percent, and car rental tax by 5 percent. The City of Arlington provided over $325 million (including interest) in bonds as funding, and Jones covered any cost overruns. Also, the NFL provided the Cowboys with an additional $150 million loan, as per their policy for helping the financing for the construction of new stadiums. Then there is San Antonio, which built that ghastly Alamodome in hopes of landing an NFL franchise. No luck. On the other hand, look at Los Angeles, the second largest city in the nation, with no NFL team because its priorities are not pro sports. LA seems to be doing just fine.

All these facilities were sold to the taxpayers as an investment in future earnings with sales taxes, hotels, etc. But that is unsportsmanlike conduct, according to scholarly studies. For example, Dennis Coates, PhD. economics, University of Maryland-Baltimore County and president of the North American Association of Sports Economists Impact, determined, “the presence of franchises in multiple sports, the arrival or departure of teams, and stadium construction — in a given area reduced per capita personal income by about $10. In other words, every man, woman, and child in the metropolitan area was poorer by $10 as a result of the sports environment.” Sports facilities now typically cost – COST — the host city more than $10 million a year.

Professional sports teams are very small businesses, comparable to large department or grocery stores. One study found that the overall economic addition an NFL team injects into a city is about the same as a Wal-Mart store. What’s more, the entertainment dollar is only so big. Money spent on the Cowboys or Rockets is money not spent on movies, restaurants, roller rinks. Think of it more like a pizza pie. When one slice is cut larger, all the other slices get smaller. The pie doesn’t grow.

Here’s something else to consider: Roger Noll and Andrew Zimbalist’s study, “Sports, Jobs, and Taxes: The Economic Impact of Sports Teams and Stadiums,” found: “Most professional athletes do not live where they play, so their income is not spent locally. Moreover, players make inflated salaries for only a few years, so they have high savings, which they invest in national firms. Though a new stadium increases attendance, ticket revenues are shared in both baseball and football, so that part of the revenue gain goes to other cities. Similarly, most tax collections inside a stadium are substitutes: as other entertainment businesses decline, tax collections from them fall. On balance, these factors are largely offsetting, leaving little or no net local export gain to a community.” This includes state taxes not paid.

Why would a strapped community put scarce public funds into an essentially private company which reaps the benefits? Because there is a hard-driving owner who threatens to take his franchise elsewhere. Indeed, by their very nature, owners of pro sports franchises are rich egomaniacs. In “North Dallas Forty, or maybe “Semi-Tough,” the owner of a Dallas football team shows an organizational tree of his various companies – oil, cattle, computers. “But this,” he says, pointing to the icon of his pro football team, “got me on the cover of Time.”

It’s the same with colleges. Before an Oklahoma State football game, T. Boone  Pickens is being interviewed by a reporter on the field. “Mr. Pickens, why didn’t you give forty million to the English Department instead?” Said Pickens without missing a beat, “Because you wouldn’t be interviewing me now if I’d given forty million to the English Department.”

Don’t forget our high schools: “’Look, football has always been a big deal here. This is Texas.’ – Steve ‘Bubba’ Williams, athletic director at Allen High School, overlooking his new $60-million football stadium. But seating 18,000 with double-decked press boxes and huge video screen, Allen’s facility will still be only the fifth largest high school football stadium in Texas.” – The New York Times

Finally, in 1950 when Rice Stadium was being built by Brown & Root, there were rumors that construction was behind schedule. A reporter went out to the site and found CEO George Brown himself shoveling dirt. The reporter inquired, “Mr. Brown, do you really think this place is going to be ready on time?”

Said George Brown, without looking up, “It’s a night game.”

Ashby is subsidized at ashby2@comcast.net

Well, them’s Fighting (Sioux) words. Besides, the campus is covered with Sioux stuff. The lobby of the school’s Ralph Engelstad Arena has a huge Indian head logo in the marble floor. The gift shop is – what else? — the Sioux Shop where more than 90 percent of the merchandise features the logo or the nickname. The head of an Indian warrior wearing feathers is everywhere in the stadium — on team jerseys, etched on the aisles, on walls, in locker rooms.

There was a North Dakota state law requiring the university to keep the nickname, but it was repealed. Then the repeal was repealed. The battle has dragged on for seven long years, even involving the North Dakota Supreme Court. The last round was a referendum: Organizers presented more than 17,000 signatures on a petition calling for a statewide vote, which will be held in June. Keeps them busy. If you’ve seen the movie “Fargo” you know that, aside from tossing people into wood chippers, not a lot happens in North Dakota. But to make the change again won’t be cheap: $750,000 was spent on the original transition.

This fight is only the latest chapter in the Politically Correct, or PC, movement to do away with traditions. UT-Arlington used to be the Rebels. Indeed, a lot of Southern schools once called themselves Rebels. Not any more. As far as I know, there is no groundswell to change the New York Yankees to the Emancipators. The Stanford Indians became the Cardinal. Marquette University changed its team name from the Warriors to the Golden Eagles.

Somehow the Florida State Seminoles have avoided the change. Some say it’s because the actual Seminoles in Florida like the name. Others note Florida State wins national titles and generates big bucks for everyone, including the NCAA, unlike North Dakota. That’s cynical, and probably true. The University of Utah still calls itself the Utes, which beats their first choice: the Multi-Married Mormons.

Here’s a good one: The University of Oklahoma once had an Indian mascot, Little Red, who at OU football games would dress in red and white war paint and feathered bonnet (school colors). When OU would score a touchdown the band’s drummers would beat a tom-tom rhythm and Little Red would dance around, waving his tomahawk and yelling war chants. This was eventually deemed in poor taste and humiliating to our noble savages, so the job was abolished. Unfortunately, the slot was reserved for full-bloodied Indians, and included a total scholarship at OU. “Don’t do me any more favors, round eyes, as long as the rivers shall run and the buffalo shall roam.” It’s a good story, but I can’t confirm it.

The Florida State situation highlights some confusion in this policy. Since the NCAA says schools can keep their names if it’s OK with the Indians, and the Seminoles like the idea, why can’t NDU? Because the Spirit Lake Tribe voted to allow the use of the Fighting Sioux, but the Standing Rock Sioux tribal council opposes the nickname. Incidentally, the pros don’t seem to be changing at all: the Washington Redskins, Kansas City Chiefs, Atlanta Braves and Cleveland Indians.

It seems most Indian activists oppose the use of Indian names, but the rank and file don’t care. According to a Sports Illustrated survey in 2002, “There is a near total disconnect between Indian activists and the Native American population on this issue.” Indeed, there is even a fight over what to call whom. The title “Indian” is being replaced by “Native American” among activists. But the federal agency which oversees the Native American affairs is called the Bureau of Indian – yes, Indian – Affairs, and is headed by Larry EchoHawk. Go figure.

According to the American Indian Cultural Support, as of 2006, at least 2,498 kindergarten, elementary, middle and high schools used Indian mascots, so there is a lot of work to be done with school names. But the facelift doesn’t end on campus. The word “squaw” has disappeared from the names of all public places in Maine – about six of them. The erasure came 11 years after a state law required the change, but it took till now for the U.S. Board on Geographic Names to approve the move. Most Indians in Maine say “squaw” is offensive and translates to prostitute. The law doesn’t cover the privately owned Big Squaw Mountain Resort, and the owner said he is not changing the name. Of course, Squaw Valley, Calif., was the scene of the 1960 Winter Olympics and no one seemed to mind, not even India.

Here in Texas, there was a road just west of Port Arthur called Jap Road because years ago a Japanese rice farmer lived nearby. I think they changed the name because no Toyota dealership would set up shop there. As for the battle of the North Dakota teams’ title, note the name in dispute is the Fighting Sioux, not the Fightin’, a spelling which is so popular among college organizations. I’m going to buy the Fightin’ Texas Aggie Band a “g.” Also, is the disturbing part of the name Fighting or Sioux? Maybe the Mincing Sioux or the Fighting Sue would past muster. Finally, we must expect at future North Dakota games, ticket scalpers will be called “entry adjusters.”

Ashby is PC at ashby2@comcast.net

Ashby retreats at ashby2@comcast.net

Ashby gets insulted at ashby2@comcast.net

Wait. Is tabmow the secret word for my bank or my home burglar alarm system? Are you saddled with, and supposed to remember, a long string of various passwords for every one of your black boxes? Do you also have a different word to punch in at the bank ATM? Want to see your stock portfolio on-line or read your e-mail? In each case you need a password – a different password. Indeed, I need both a user ID and a password to check several accounts, plus a whole series of other secret words to use on my laptop not to mention my iPad2. (Apple didn’t like my initial offering in which I expressed my frustration over so many different passwords, labeling it, “Too obscene – get used to it.”)

Everywhere I look there are people fondling and punching their BlackBerries, iPads, iPhones, Kindles or their Android cell phones that take photographs while flossing their teeth. Each one of those instruments needs a password, maybe two or three, before activating. How much human energy and time do Americans spend each day simply trying to use what we can’t use until we remember our first spouse’s birth date?

If I forget the password to my parole records, the computer gets testy, so I have to jump through hoops to explain it’s really me: “What elementary school did you attend?” That’s easy, Benedict Arnold Elementary. Go Fightin’ Red Coat Turncoats! “What’s your mother’s maiden name?” Benedict Arnold. “How much wood can a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck is a union member?” “If a train leaves Chicago at midnight going 65 mph and another train leaves New York ….” You get the idea.

One of my brothers lives in a gated community, he’s a convicted war criminal, so each time we drive up to the guard tower, I have to punch little buttons to open the gate. Actually, the security box is carefully designed so I have to un-do my seat belt, get out of the car, usually in the rain, to push the buttons, then I discover they changed the code. A friend lives on a ranch outside of Austin and invites us out for dinner. The ranch has a huge gate and tall fences – something about Comanche moons — so I need to punch in the code (Double Bar Laughing Cow). Where’s the cow button?

“Read The New York Times on-line!” To keep non-subscribers and Republicans away, the Times wants a secret code, password, eyeball check and DNA sample. Same for my local on-line newspaper. Have you tried to read your credit card statement on your PC or whatever you use? It’s easier to find a Rush Limbaugh sponsor. My own credit company, House O’ Cards, was reluctant to open my file, explaining, “You still owe us for the Y2K virus screen.”

Speaking of credit cards, they used to have just a long number and an expiration date. A few years ago they added another secret code: a four or five digit number. It is neatly written on the very same card. So what’s the point? That’s rather like hanging the key next to the door. Do you work in a place that has a keypad by the locked door? Before being allowed in, you have to punch in the correct code. Couldn’t you just wait till someone comes out and then you walk in?

One way to simplify my memorization was to use one word for everything, so I chose “password.” But I was told over the phone by Billy Bob, who spoke with a Nepalese accent, those were not enough letters; I must have at least one numeral and, besides, that word had already been taken. So now I have Passswurd8, puusswired32 and drowssap (backwards, hehehe).

There are so many different secret words that I had to make this list. Besides the aforementioned sites and firms I have been issued codes for a MUD (either Municipal Utility District or Mothers Ugainst Dating), my computer router, my PC anti-virus screen, the cable account, my Quickens checkbook, automatic electric bill payment and the Philosophical Society of Texas (don’t ask). Oh, I forgot: what’s your secret number to fetch the recorded phone messages from your home phone, office phone and cell? Can I borrow them?

Jack Paar, the late-night TV host, once said he got a secret Swiss bank account. The bank official told Paar, “On this slip of paper is your secret account code. Memorize it, then burn this paper and scatter the ashes in the wind off a bridge.” Paar stuck the paper in his pocket, ran to the nearest bridge, got out a match and read his secret code: “9”.

It seems odd that we need all these various codes, keys and passwords to protect our accounts and records from hacking when a 23-year-old Army private can give 300,000 secret government records to WikiLeaks. We taxpayers spent Lord knows how much to safeguard all those secrets to prevent exactly what happened. I want a refund. We must wonder how many security risks have access to the CIA’s ode-Cay oom-Ray. How is it that some 16-year-old in Frankfurt can hack into the Fort Knox when I can’t even open my own recorded cell phone messages? How many times have you been asked, over the phone, for the last four digits of your Social Security number? By the time you’re eligible for Social Security, you can’t remember them.

Ashby is hacked at ashby2@comcast.net

One office-seeker, Count Mitti Romo, sings his aria, “Mafioso Getta No Respecta” (“Corporations are people, too.”) which usually receives a standing ovation from the private boxes while those in the cheap seats throw fish heads at Romo. The moderator turns to another candidate, Dr. Ronaldo Paullini, who is considered a dark horse (listed in the program as “equine hopelessa”). Paullini takes a careful look at Romo and sings the hilarious “Medico Moribundo.” (“As a doctor, I pronounce your campaign DOA.”) Romo, of course, takes offense and replies with the well-known, if not vicious, “Fido inna d’Calaboosi.” (“I’ll put you in my car’s rooftop cage.”)

As the two adversaries almost come to blows, arriving in a hale of tossed rice and wedding bouquets is the white-haired southerner, Nintendo Blanco. Known as a fearless debater, if not a serial adulterer, Blanco takes center stage to offer the other candidates some advice in “Mama Media” which contains these lines, loosely translated:

“When your campaign’s a rotten mess/when money’s gone/you’re all alone/you can’t go wrong/just blame the press.”

Fatso Rushbo asks Blanco why he is not spending more money on his campaign, to which Blanco wails the unforgettable “Alimoni Non Pre-nupto.” Blanco then turns on Romo and sings, “Why did you say I’m a heretic and should be burned at the stake?” Romo replies with the arrogant, “Inferno Fantastico.” (“I like to fire people.”) Romo adds, “Sposo Macchina. (“You’ve had more wives than my wife has Cadillacs.”) As the curtain goes down on Act I, Paullini and Blanco sing the daunting duet, “Ennui Tutti-frutti,” that contains the memorable line, “Dominos wid d’pepperoni via Lamborghini.” (“Deliverers smile arrogantly as they make their rounds in an expensive sports car. It’s the Preening Tour of Pizza.”) At this point even those in the private boxes are throwing fish heads at the stage.

ACT II — The second act opens with the entrance of yet another job-seeker, Don Santore. With his beautiful tenor voice, he stands flatfooted, arms folded across his chest, and defiantly sings, “Non Scuola, Non Governo, Non controle d’bambinos!!” He segues into his beautiful “Medieval Melodi,” which ends with, “A woman’s place is in the convent.” Santore goes on to tell everyone that he will be chosen the new Il Duce because he is against all public endeavors, especially streets, parks, schools and fire departments, causing Romo to ask, “Don’t you like to fire people?” (“Zippo De Do Da?”)

There is a sound at the door and all turn to see the entrance of Ricardo Perri from the Solo Estella Stato. He bursts into song with, “Recuerdo Ooopso.” (“I remembered! It’s the Department of….of….of…”) Perri wanders off stage sadly shaking his head. Fatso Rushbo turns to the others and asks, “Eh?” (“Did that guy really get elected governor of Solo Estella Stato?”)

This is when Nintendo Blanco sings the defiant aria, “Non Influenza Per Banconote.” (“I Am Not a Lobbyist.”) His denial brings a chorus of laughter from the others who reply with the saucy, “Quack, Quack, Quack” (“If you look like a lobbyist, walk like a lobbyist and talk like a lobbyist, you’re probably a lobbyist.”) Romo adds an additional insult: “Betcha Buncha Moneta?” (“You want to bet 10,000 lira on that?”)

Blanco steps forward to sing, “How often do we have to hear ‘the Gingrich who stole Christmas?’ It’s been beaten to death.” Fatso Rushbo replies, “As often as we have to hear more dumb jokes about Eye of Newt.” (“Stupido Ad Nauseum”) When Dr. Paullini chides Romo for making so much money in a questionable manner, (“Una Percenta Dilemma”). Count Romo fires back with the delightful jig, “Danza d’Forma 1040” (also called “When IRS Eyes Are Smiling”) that contains the raunchy: “The Bain of my existence/ maintains my bare subsistence/loopholes keep me rich for sure/so I don’t fret about the poor.” The curtain falls as Blanco wails his famous, if repetitious, “Paparazzi d’scumbaggio.” (“The media are all lying commies except for Fox, which is fair for the unbalanced.”)

ACT III — The final act opens in the cloistered offices of the evil Don Wiggi Trumppo, king-maker, power broker and egomaniac. He is in sad spirits, singing the mournful, “Lamenta Bozo,” which goes, in part: “Bachman was the best man/Cain looked good as well/Chris won’t run/and Ron’s no fun/Newt’s poisoning the well.” Enter Don Romo who kneels and begs, “O, endorsi, presto chango.” He says the Don’s support would flip the race and put Romo in the lead. Trumppo replies with the hilarious, “Pinka Slippa.” (“You’re fired!”) And so it goes as one after another of the candidates comes begging for Trumppo’s support. After the last candidate leaves, the Don sings the sly, “Uno buono secondo Il Duce.” (“Maybe one of them could be my vice president.”)

In comes the current Il Duce, Baracci O’Bama, singing the naughty, “Status Quo Perfecto.” (“This is no time for change.”) Don Trumppo scoffs with, “You’re full of promises and flowery speeches.” (“Bovine Poopinni”) O’Bama replies with the acidic, “Bigatti Contrario Negro” (“You bigot. Because I’m a black Irish-Italian Catholic Muslim you’re playing the race card.”) Don Trumppo argues that the economy is terrible, gas is 400 lira a liter, occupi Wall Strada is in its eighth month and, finally, “Unemploi essa d’pits.” O’Bama responds with his enchanting “Scaldare Globale.” (“It’s because of global warming.”) As the curtain drops, angry voters storm the stage singing the rousing March of the Tea Party: “Ditzo Eskimo.” (“Bring Back Sarah Palin.”)

Ashby sings at ashby2@comcast.net

However, he was promised that his life would be spared and he would get a prominent government job if he renounced Texas. But Navarro, replied, “I have sworn to be a good Texan, and that I will not forswear. I will die for that which I firmly believe, for I know it is just and right. One life is a small price for a cause so great. As I fought, so shall I be willing to die. I will never forsake Texas and her cause. I am her son.”

So wonderful a statement of personal pride, so much courage displayed and so widely quoted that the last part of it (“I will never forswear Texas and her cause. I am her son.”) is literally chiseled into stone — the lobby wall of the Bob Bullock Texas History Museum in Austin.

But the quote is also wrong, so made up, so flowery as to come from a bad movie. In Dallas recently I ran into Dr. James E. Crisp, noted author and an expert on all things Texas who discovered the inside skinny. According to Crisp, who was also quoted by Kent Biffle in the Dallas Morning News, the Navarro message was totally made up by Daniel James Kubiak (1938-98) of Rockdale in Milam County. Kubiak was an 11-term state legislator, high-school math teacher and football coach who created the quote in Ten Tall Texans. The statement was picked up in another book, often quoted (including by me) and ended up on the museum wall. A spokesman at the Bullock museum said they know about the mistake, but “you can’t just plaster over it and carve something else.” Donations for the job are welcomed.

This story shows again much of Texas’ history is too good to be true. Take the old story that Texas, having been a nation, can leave the U.S. any time we wish because that right is part of the Texas Annexation Treaty.Gov. Rick Perry has alluded to that. Even in “Travels with Charley” John Steinbeck writes, “Texas is the only state that came into the Union by treaty. It retains the right to secede at will.” Wrong. We didn’t get married by treaty, but by joint resolution. We even tried to leave once, with devastating results. See: “War, Civil.”

Here’s another: “By federal law, Texas is the only state in the U.S. that can fly its flag at the same height as the U.S. flag.” Not true. But we do have a much-ignored law that says all trains going in or through the state have to display the Texas flag. On the other hand, Texas really can divide itself into as many as five different states. The division also creates a problem with what your children recite every school day: “I pledge allegiance to thee, Texas, one and indivisible.” The students should recite, “one and divisible up to four times.”

We entered the Union with the stipulation that we would keep all our public lands, including six leagues out into the Gulf, and we did. Why should anyone care? Because a few generations later oil was found under some of that land and water. The royalties go to educate our school children. There is another myth, or at least a misconception, in other states that the official state song is “The Eyes of Texas.” It certainly should be, but it’s the almost unsingable “Texas, Our Texas.”

Here’s a good myth to mull, if it is a myth. Did Travis draw a line in the sand with his sword at the Alamo, asking those who wanted to stay to step over? Indeed, the term “drawing a line in the sand” has become part of our national vocabulary. The biggest Texas myth is: How did Davy die? Was he killed fighting or captured and executed? One version is the truth and the other is clearly a myth. The nice thing about Texas history is that some of it is true and the rest should be.

Ashby’s myth is ashby2@comcast.net