Arts & Entertainment

OK, sure, they get a tad obsessive (that works better if you replace “a tad” with “extremely”). Yet you won’t find any more dedicated fans than the group of people mouthing the words and awkwardly dancing at the foot of the stage during Chomsky shows. It doesn’t matter if the shows are in Denton, Dallas, Fort Worth, or even Austin, they’ll be there. They’ve been known to spread their affections to other bands that are somewhat Chomsky-related (such as The Deathray Davies), but Chomsky is still their main focus, the topic of countless Internet message board discussions and illicitly taped bootlegs. They’re here, they’re dorky–get used to it.

There are plenty of bands with dumb names floating around Deep Ellum, most of which only get dumber once someone explains what they mean. For instance, Alligator Dave & the Couch Band, Rubix Groove, Elm Fooy, Spoonfed Tribe, Plastic Tongue, Edgewater, Dolly Braid, Red Trucks & Chickens, and on and on and on. The Lucky Pierres’ handle, at first, seems only marginally better. But consider this for a moment: “Lucky Pierre” is a term describing the central figure in what we believe the French call a mnage à trois. Maybe it’s the 13-year-old boy in us talking, but that’s pretty cool.

The crafty Deep Ellum developer stands accused in civil court of bleeding several savings-and-loans in the ’80s, ratting out a few bank presidents, doing some very short time in the federal slam, and returning a rich man, flush with zillions stashed in offshore banks. Why is Lou the best? Well, anyone can make a killing in Big D when times are good. Hanging onto it in tough times is the tricky part. In this regard, Reese is a Hall of Famer.

In January, a University Park man decided to do what no computer geek had done before: For one year, he would live his life online, his every movement–sleeping, eating, goofing off mostly–would be Webcast to a global audience 24-7. He would abstain from sex and travel (traveling was the hard part), never leaving his home, which was quickly labeled the dotcompound, and only venturing into his backyard for an occasional breath of fresh air. The Internet would satisfy all his needs. He would order food, furniture, and frivolity online in an attempt to prove that man can live by e-commerce alone. What seemed like an interesting social experiment quickly revealed itself as little more than a publicity stunt. Hordes of media types hungry for some millennial meaning stormed the dotcompound, interviewing the cyberbore 10 to 15 times a day. The mass exposure became its own phenomenon, driving hundreds of thousands to his Web site and turning him into one of the first global cyber-personalities, famous for nothing save a good gimmick. Which actually proves something after all: The virtual world isn’t much different from the physical world.

Labeled “An Institute for the Future,” this new institution will open this month in the former Coliseum in Fair Park. Using interactive media, the museum will tell the stories of American women, including those of Harriet Tubman, Dorothy Day, Jane Addams, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Maya Lin. Grab your girls and go…girl.

All right, you caught us. There are only two IMAX theaters in Dallas, but each one has its advantages, its charm, its je ne sais quoi. While The Science Place generally sticks to more, uh, duh, scientific films, the Cinemark goes for the flash and hype. It’s The Magic of Flight vs. Cirque du Soleil’s Journey of Man, or Wolves vs. Siegfried and Roy. (If only that last match-up were real.) The Science Place has the huge, domed screen whereas Cinemark has a flat, rectangular screen like regular theaters, only with 3-D capabilities. The Science Place has that neat film of a helicopter tour of Dallas. Cinemark has traditional movie theater snacks. Both will end the year with a second run of Fantasia 2000.

We can quibble with Magic 102’s haphazard sense of history in its programming choices–does ’80s Madonna, however much a dance-floor mainstay she was then, really deserve so much airplay alongside Donna Summer, one of the greatest pop singers of the past 25 years and one of the canniest, a woman whose endless string of Giorgio Moroder-produced hits enjoys much-deserved new life among the station’s “Jammin’ Oldies”? We’re also sick of hearing Rick James’ “Super Freak,” among the most repeated oldies offered here. But overall, this expansive menu of ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s soul, disco, and R&B comes up a winner every couple songs. You can’t hear the Rev. Al Green’s majestic love sermons with such frequency anywhere else on Dallas radio, nor the sweaty efforts of James Brown, Wilson Pickett, Aretha Franklin (less “Respect,” please, and more “Rock Steady”), Sly and the Family Stone, and Martha and the Vandellas. Although the corporate radio format forbids experimentation, we think Magic 102 FM would only gain listeners if its list expanded to fill the genre’s under-respected genius outsiders–Etta James, Labelle (anything besides “Lady Marmalade”), Irma Thomas, Little Milton, Parliament Funkadelic, and Ann Peebles, to name just a few.

She might look like your benevolent aunt, but Anne Carlson is a pit bull. Her quiet but determined approach to uncovering the sleaze of City Hall politics is a refreshing change from the E-histrionics of Sharon Boyd or the eco-tinged good government babble of the Green Party types. They are her allies, but she puts the best foot forward with a more professional approach. She knows the fight isn’t about herself but her issues, and she sticks to them tenaciously. As a champion of electoral reform and government ethics, she seldom misses an important meeting and always has coherent material to back her positions. Combine that efficiency with her smarts and even temper (even when goaded), and you have a badass gadfly who could possibly drive real change in Dallas politics. The odds are stacked against her, but hell, we can dream, can’t we?

Hmmm…This category was impossible to nail, because we had to choose between the four-screen Inwood Theatre and the two-screen Cine. Both bring the latest in independent and foreign cinema to Dallas and are much appreciated by their patrons. Aesthetically, however, Inwood is tops. You have to give props to Landmark Cinema for keeping a beautiful vintage theater like Inwood in good working shape. But Inwood suffers in the comfort factor. The legroom upstairs leaves much to be desired. The Cine has more than enough legroom, and bless them for it, but lacks the architectural heritage (and full bar). Regardless, we’re willing to deal with missing legroom to see our favorite films, and there is always something good at one of the two theaters. Until Landmark builds its proposed new mega-art house on McKinney, or the Lakewood dips full-tilt into the huge pool of edgier fare that never makes it to Dallas, these will be our haunts.

This was a tough category. Exactly how, we asked ourselves, should we judge Dallas’ top news anchor? We finally nailed down our criterion: Whoever doesn’t put us to sleep on the couch. Gloria Campos, practically a Dallas institution, has been around for a while, but she still fronts the most smoothly professional newscast in Dallas, even if it has gone softer in recent years by switching to a fuzzy, “Family First” focus. We’re not going to chirp about how much we like her hair, make-up, or voice, but we think she’s an engaging pro who has a genuine bond with her audience. While her handsome henchmen John McCaa and Scott Sams are both able TelePrompter readers (the three switch during the week), watch out when McCaa and Sams anchor the news together sans Campos! The Hunter-Brinkley thing just isn’t working. We’re catching Zs before weatherman Troy Duncan makes it onscreen.

Preston Lane

Wingspan Theatre

At this time last year, Hard Rock Caf was little more than a calcified rock-and-roll museum with a stage that was just for show (or actually, not for shows). Now, thanks to a new general manager and an alliance with The Merge (93.3-FM), Hard Rock is offering shows several nights a week. Good show–finally.

A secret, a jewel, a hidden paradise: Around Lakeland and Ferguson Road in East Dallas, downhill from the grand manses of Forest Hills, Little Forest Hills is a quirky, delightful architectural mlange that looks as if it were spun of Berkeley, Seaside, Charlevoix, and an all-cousin East Texas trailer park. Built long ago as summer cottages for city dwellers, the idiosyncratic little hand-built houses were all throwaways 15 years ago. Now hip people are coming in and giving many of them a very cool flair to be found nowhere else in the city. Two shady creeks and even a little-known summer camp hidden in the bottom of a hollow make this a refuge where you can forget you even know about the rest of the city.

There are few distractions at this small, cozy coffee shop in Arlington. With more than 30 coffee flavors to choose from, this is the place to relax and read about the world’s myriad tragedies. The coffee stand also includes sandwiches, salads, and cakes. And there’s a computer nearby for Web surfing. Coffee is ground and brewed there and then.

You don’t have to be You Know Who to walk on water in Fair Park. Two large, plant-inspired sculptures arch, curve, and twist over the still lagoon, creating stairs and walkways for getting a closer look at turtles, water bugs, and the occasional fast food container lurking below the surface. A low tide, shoes with good traction, and a healthy equilibrium is suggested to keep you from getting baptized in the murky waters.

Get real. Unless you’re 12-going-on-13, the only place that promises around-the-clock cool is a seat that faces the window unit. But for those who insist on getting out into the summer sun without baking, Arlington’s newest water park is hard to beat. Think a day at the beach with a little Disneyland thrown in–or as one comedian put it, you can think of it as a ride on the enema express.

No other jazz joint touches Sambuca in terms of atmosphere (which is pretty much what a jazz club is all about) and talent (which is everything else). It’s dark, moody, and subtly lit, as if a fire were flickering somewhere underneath the floor; stepping into Sambuca is like walking into an underground jazz club in Paris in the 1940s, we imagine. While the “jazz” in some places is from the school of Kenny G, the lineup at Sambuca is the closest Dallas can get to Harlem in the ’50s. OK, so that might be a bit of an exaggeration. But in comparison with everywhere else, Sambuca deserves the highest praise possible.

We’ve given The Rock grief for years, but like it or not, it’s as rock-and-roll as a bar can get without slipping into a pair of leather pants and a conch belt. (Find any video by The Cult, and you’ll see what we’re talking about.) The joint, dubbed by its owners “the rock ‘n’ roll palace of downtown Dallas,” actually had to include “rock” in its name. Can you beat that? Actually, yes, but one look at the wait staff, tricked out in acid-washed jeans and feathered hair, and you’ll have a few second thoughts. The bands that play there (ASKA, for one) are across-the-board bad, but maybe we’re just jealous because they rock so hard. Nah, couldn’t be. In all seriousness, if you want the rock, well, you want The Rock.

Chain-drive twin cams and fitments, fin area and piston cooling jets, crankcases, straight crank pins, bearing areas, reshaped combustion chambers, reworked exhaust, and intake ports and valves that optimize emissions efficiency and power output, single-fire ignition systems, glossy paint, and fast as hell. Pretty maids, all in a row. If these are a few of your favorite things, take a trip to Lower Greenville on any given Sunday. It’s like bedlam when the bikers gun their hogs, so this is no place for the weak.

Sitting on Thai Soon’s patio, it’s hard to believe that the traffic on Greenville is just a few feet away. It’s really quiet. Well, it’s more quiet than you’d expect when you’re close enough to read the odometers on slow-moving cars. A lattice covered in vines and plants surrounds the patio, shading it from the sun. Flowers and other stretching plants are nestled into the walls with birds occasionally dropping by to snatch up rice and egg-roll crumbs. The stone benches and tables stay cool in the afternoon, but the curry, rice, and noodle dishes are served hot and fresh.

When we arrived in town two decades ago, way back when Reunion had rowdies and there were more Von Erichs alive than dead, a lifelong resident told us that the only naturally beautiful thing in Dallas was White Rock Lake. We had two reactions to this statement: 1. Does this mean that Bambi Woods–who played the lead cheerleader in Debbie Does Dallas–really doesn’t live here? and 2. You’ve gotta be kidding. Now we realize he was correct. There are topographically beautiful areas of town (Oak Cliff), impressive sights to see (uh, give us a minute…) and all that, but if you want to have a true at-one-with-nature experience, you must circle White Rock Lake. Preferably in jogging shorts, not in a car. Go at sunrise–sunset is a cluster-run of joggers and bikers–and talk to your inner child amid the dew, the view, and the hotties running next to you.

Big hats, big belt buckles, big hair, and boots galore. A whole lot of dancing goes on at this multilevel home of progressive country music (hint: nonalcoholic beer is available, and none of it is flavored with Merle or Loretta’s tears). Although the bar stays busy, the main order of business is to boot and scoot, then dance some more, right up until 45 minutes before closing time, when the music switches to C&W’s oldies but goodies. Headline-name bands take the stage regularly. Wednesday is Ladies Night, and there are dance lessons on Sundays. This place is Yuppie cowboy and cowgirl heaven.

There’s nothing wrong with some of the bigger alleys, like Don Carter’s West or Showplace Lanes in Garland, but we think AMF Richardson offers the best of both worlds. We grew up next-door to a small bowling alley in Okie-homa, and we like an alley to be fewer than 50 lanes, which AMF is. But we also like some of the updates the place has made to its lanes, its gameroom, the billiards area, and so on. For the kids, it offers Xtreme bowling on weekends (music, disco ball, etc.) and plain ol’ pitchers of beer, smoke, and big shiny balls during the week. Now, if we could just break 150…

You’ve got to hand it to the frat-boy entrepreneurs behind the bar that, for a few months at least, occupied the space that once housed the Orbit Room. Rarely, if ever, has a drinking establishment cut so quickly to the chase. With such a can’t-miss name, we can’t believe Beer Goggles, you know, missed. They should have just named it Roofies or Date Rapists. We’re sure they considered it.

This little bar tucked away in a strip mall is a real charmer. Its atmosphere is more like a dim, elegant, quietly chatty bar in New York than anything else you’d find in Dallas, and we mean that in a nice way. Owners Bradley Johnson and Andy Krumm opened this establishment on April 7 of this year, and already it’s become one of the favorite watering holes of the Oak Lawn set. Serious money was spent on the interiors, furniture, and, most especially, the lighting (which makes everyone look no older than 30!). It has a valet parking service to make parking a little easier for its patrons. But the real reason that people keep coming back is the fantastic music they play seven nights a week till 2 a.m. The singers (including veteran favorites Linda Petty and Sandra Kaye) and musicians playing in this tiny bar keep the atmosphere lively but intimate.

We don’t know about you, but we’re tired of seeing groups of women stagger out of bars with the girl in the center wearing a sweater full of condoms. Isn’t there a more tasteful way to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of a friend than making her feel like a hooker? The groom gets his fill of those at his party. Fortunately, there are alternatives for observing this happy event. The S&S Tea Room in Inwood Village is a nice restaurant serving breakfast and dinner. It also makes a lovely location for women to get together and celebrate the upcoming joy of their soon-to-be-married friend. Save the cheap Greenville Avenue bars for after the divorce.

It’s one of those signs you think you’ve misread, but no, it really says Topless Motors. Then you think, “How clever, they must specialize in convertibles.” No, they pretty much just sell junky old cars at rock-bottom prices. This is just 100 percent pure Madison Avenue-style marketing at its low-rent best: got you, caught you and reeled you in like a dancer at the Million Dollar Saloon.

It takes a while to get out to Van Zandt County, located about 50 miles east of Dallas, but it’s no wonder you find so many people who have or want a country place there. Parts of it roll like the prairies and are filled with just enough pines and oaks to provide scenery and greenery. The locals say the southern part of the county is the prettiest. So next time you head out to Canton in search of a wagon-wheel table (or whatever) at First Monday Trade Days, head south of town for a taste of Texas countryside.

Just 50 miles southwest of Fort Worth off Interstate 20, Fossil Rim offers the opportunity to drive through and visit with hundreds of rare and endangered animals from around the world that roam free on 1,500 acres of unspoiled countryside. It’s open rain or shine, from 9 a.m. until two hours before sunset every day except Thanksgiving and Christmas. After you see all the wildlife in a habitat that mirrors its African terrain and climate, you can make a 20-minute drive over to Dinosaur Valley Park in Glen Rose and see where animals from another time left their footprints in the bed of the Paluxy River. Or:

OK, so controversy over the government actions against the Branch Davidians is fading from the mainstream. Reports clearing the feds of the most egregious accusations have surfaced, and civil trials have fizzled like wet fireworks. The fact remains, the siege of Mt. Carmel was a definitive moment in U.S. history, a debate flash point over freedom of religion and the responsibilities and limits of government. The place is beautiful and eerie, and the characters who flock there are intriguing and relevant. There is something pure about going to a place that has no signposts off the highway, no official markers or souvenir shop. It’s simply the Place where Something Happened, undistilled and unvarnished. The real pain in the ass is knowing how to get there. Here are directions: Take Interstate 35 to North Loop 340 and turn eastward. Continue to FM 2491 and turn left onto it. Follow it to Double E Ranch Road. Turn left onto Double E Ranch Road. Follow it approximately 1/4 mile to the entrance of Mt. Carmel on the right. You’ll see a rebuilt church and a small building where David Koresh’s mother sometimes lurks.

Bent low by generations of scampering feet and hands, the trees at Tietze seem specially designed for piñatas and blindfolds, but get there early. Tietze is a popular spot, and you could find yourself up against a wedding picnic or a wake.

Riceboys, beware. Your suped-up Geo Metro SiR or Toyota Corolla VTEC isn’t going to cut it here. You’ll find hordes of Honda Preludes, Acura Integras, and supercharged Ford Mustangs speeding up and down these streets looking for a race. Rev your engine, and you’re ready. The mufflers are big, the exhausts are loud, and the cars ride low. Go quickly, though. God and the Plano police willing, after this the dragsters will be looking for a new neighborhood to endanger.

Owner Doug Henry has a reputation among some musicians for not always following through with his promises and doing business at the expense of others. While that may be true, Henry’s club has a reputation for being the best place in town to see and hear the blues, a place steeped in tradition but not overwhelmed by it. Since moving across Commerce into its present location, Blue Cat Blues has gotten even better, offering more room to dance, better food, and the same quality blues acts Henry has always booked. People might not like the way Henry does business, but you can’t criticize the results.

Look, we won’t pretend to know much about this category. We grew up with polka music, which is pretty close to the conjunto that makes up the play list at most Tejano clubs, including Tejano West. Still, we’re oh-so-very Anglo and somewhat out of our depth here. Meaning: We don’t, as a rule, hang out at Tejano clubs, so we had to dust off the boots and the Spanish language tapes. After a bit of inspection, however, we can say that Tejano West is the best Dallas has to offer, a haven for fans and neophytes alike. It has good music, good people, and once the music starts that’s all that really matters anyway.

In a city where everything old either becomes new again or gets canonized, Deep Ellum’s historical value is shown only in glimpses–the name of Clearview Complex’s Blind Lemon bar, the crumbling buildings, and constant street construction. The Boyd Gallery, however, has embraced its accidental history while showcasing the creative works of commercial artists. Once called the Boyd Hotel (and before that, the Talley Hotel), the space has given shelter to both the infamous and the famous who slept in its beds and lingered in Ma’s Place, its speakeasy, where legendary blues men entertained guests in the early 20th century. We’re awaiting the “Bonnie and Clyde Slept Here” sign.

Ever have absolutely nothing to do, and your children are bored to no end, and you can’t stomach the thought of standing in line to eat cardboard-tasting pizza and look at another flying plastic ball? Pack the family in the car, clean out the moldy picnic basket and pack it full of finger foods and an old blanket and head over to the beautiful gardens of the Dallas Arboretum. All you’ll need to do is kick back, relax, and enjoy the sweet sounds of music played by a live outdoor band. The Arboretum invented the Cool Thursday music series for everyone to enjoy at the beginning of June (it ends August 31st). The Arboretum offers various festivals throughout the year but this Cool Thursday jazz fest is the best for a weekday outing with the family. Don’t forget to check out the Celebration of Culture in September and all the other harvest and holiday fests quickly approaching. The fresh air–what Dallas has of it–will do you worlds of good.

Centrally located just north of downtown, this place looks like it stepped right out of “Hansel and Gretel.” The Ginger Man has 70 beers on tap and more than 80 in bottles. And these aren’t simply St. Louis, Milwaukee, and Golden’s finest. Beers are available from every country imaginable, and then some that haven’t been discovered yet. With that many brews available, you may even fine one that goes well with gingerbread.

The kids love it. Pick up the train at the main stop downtown or at Park Lane. You get to go through a tunnel if you opt for the latter. You’ll be providing your children with a truly urban experience if you choose this route, a feat not easily accomplished in suburbanized Dallas.

Back when Eleven Hundred Springs was kicking off the week from its stage, Adair’s was the place to go on Monday nights. Now that honor goes to The Cavern and DJ Karl, the guy with the rock-and-roll mullet and a kick-ass collection of old punk rock and new wave. The drinks are cheap, the music’s great, and every once in a while, a band drops by to play downstairs, like The BellRays’ sweaty recent gig there. It’s hard to beat–unless you’re not a fan of looking like hell at work on Tuesday morning.

When you really don’t want anyone to know you’re wasting a couple of hours in the middle of the afternoon not doing anything even remotely likely to enhance your career, this is the place to do it–or so we’re told. We’re always hard at work creating the sort of free journalism you deserve. Dark and frumpy with nary a chatty bar mate, Ship’s is the perfect place to nurture your inner college self with an icy cold one no matter what the time.

You can’t help but think about that “Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore'” thing when you see the huge black raven spinning atop his pole on the corner. He seems to be watching with an air of disdain and contempt for all earthbound creatures. Guess no one ever told him he was just a sign.

You can usually identify a denizen of North Dallas when he or she asks, sotto voce, “You live in Oak Cliff? Aren’t you scared to live there?” Kessler Park, garden oasis from the big, bad streets of Oak Cliff, can surprise even a Dallas native. Beautifully kept $300,000 homes nestle along hilly, tree-lined streets. You can even put your SUV to use by climbing those steep street humps every few feet. But keep it to yourself. We don’t want the wrong element sullying pretty Oak Cliff’s prettiest neighborhood. Let ’em stay in North Dallas, where they belong.

A giant aquarium, a pretend shooting range, boats to climb on, tents to test, giant stuffed catfish pillows, hot dogs, fishing equipment no one even knew existed, a driving and putting range–what more do you need to keep the kids intrigued for a few hours, short of a Pokmon? Hell, if you’re really lucky you might just catch an elk-calling contest or a seminar on muzzle-loading techniques, and there are always those fly-tying demos.

When most parents head downtown with the tykes in tow for a cultural or educational experience, they plan to visit somewhere obvious like The Science Place, but we think the DMA offers a great alternative. For starters, the price is right: free. But then on weekends in the afternoon, the Junior League of Dallas women (who transplant a little bit of Highland Park inside the museum’s high walls) set up an art-project room where children and their parents can try their hand at making mobiles, pictures, or other functional objets d’art. After tackling the construction paper, glue, and markers, the whole family can reward themselves with a trip around the permanent exhibits. Best stop is the sculpture garden, where only the most intrepid toddler will fall in one of the ponds.

Even at its feeblest point, before the recent dredging, White Rock never lost its status as the premier walking and running site in the inner city. Now that the lake has been re-plumbed and is getting all spruced up around the verges, it’s an especially upbeat place to start the day with a stroll. And with the addition of bicycle cops around the lake, you won’t even have to worry that your morning stroll will become a morning run-for-your-life.

Follow the stench of sweaty hockey equipment and unshowered men to this Richardson sports spot. Brace yourself as you open the double glass doors to this testosterone palace. Divisions range from mini-mite to more than 30. Imagine, father and son can play hockey together. Youngster says, “Daddy, my bag is too heavy.” Father says, “Be a man. Carry your own crap, son.”

Trees should be dead now. That’s what everyone believed would happen a few years ago, after some longtime employees defected to the Curtain Club. But it seems as if the joke’s on all of them, as Trees is stronger than ever, having recently celebrated 10 years in business. After all this time, Trees is still the best place to see the best bands; Guided By Voices, The Flaming Lips, Stereolab, Cheap Trick, ALL, The Go, Olivia Tremor Control, and The Promise Ring have all played there in the last year or so. Don’t call it a comeback–they’ve been here for years.

Poor smokers. Banned from most airline flights. Shunted off to tiny corners of restaurants, left hacking and wheezing on the streets outside office buildings. Soon, they’ll qualify for oppressed-minority status. If you’re among the downtrodden, you will want to congregate with your own at this favorite Dallas watering hole and perhaps plan a revolution to take back your rightful, wheezing place in society. Nothing has changed too much since Lakewood Landing won our last “Best of Dallas” honors, but our most recent visit sent our clothes to the dry cleaners to get the smoke out. If nicotine is your thing, then this is where you want to swing.

Main Street’s cybercaf is just like college computer labs. That is, if you went to school someplace where high-speed Internet-equipped computers were nestled in a coffeehouse among plump, over-stuffed couches, classical wall murals, and other urban loft-style amenities. Also, you don’t need to sneak in the hooch inside a Thermos. There’s a full bar, and live music is performed on the street-side stage on weekends. Plus, there’s an open-mike affair every Wednesday. Main Street also has two rooms for gaming, with garage doors that can be closed for a little peace and quiet.

They are seated. They are entertained. They are, for the most part, quiet. Afterward, they slurp juice and eat cake. Then someone else cleans up the mess. What more could you ask for with a roomful of tykes?

From 10 p.m. until 4 a.m. on weekends, DJs from across the world spin here, and the music jams. The clothing ranges from your average all-black club gear to poseurs wearing overly glossy print shirts to young chicks sucking pacifiers. While a true rave is in a warehouse or out in the desert somewhere and you only know about it by word of mouth, we’ll stretch the definition a bit. One offers a consistently good scene, and if it’s a true rave you’re after, the folks here will hook you up. They do have a bathtub shaped like a heart, and, granted, there’s no water, but use your imagination.

Doing the laundry is a tedious bore, but why watch the dryer toss around the unmentionables when Pac-Man, pinball, air hockey, golf, and a variety of other quarter-snarfing games lurk just steps away? The bar in the front room is stocked with all the necessities–plenty of quarters, laundry detergent, and dryer sheets, a smorgasbord of booze, and beer both bottled and on-tap. Get the supplies, then save the world from alien invasions or hungry zombies. The towels can rinse and spin on their own without your watchful gaze. Once the world is safe from extraterrestrials or the undead, and Pac-Man’s belly is full of pellets and cherries, saddle up to the bar and watch a live band or escape the laundry room humidity on the backyard patio. It beats guarding the washer from apartment complex neighbors coveting your mint-condition ’70s KISS T-shirt.

You can have your Dave & Busters, your fine felt tops, your designer cues. Some of us like to play pool, not billiards, and you can only do that at a dive, a place where you might actually get your pink-boy butt whupped if you act a fool. We like a place that is committed to pool, not offering tables as part of its catch-all theme-park approach. A pitcher during happy hour, a few sticks, and a roomful of tables. That’s the way we like it, and that’s the way Cuckoo’s serves it up.

When it comes to putting on a show, the Gypsy Tea Room is the Big Kahuna. It has all of the intangibles: The bar is out of the way, yet close enough so you don’t miss anything; the sound is usually perfect; and you can see the stage clearly from just about anywhere in the place, except maybe the bathroom. On top of all that, it’s beautiful inside, like a brass-and-wood dancehall from way back. But we haven’t even come to what Gypsy does best: music. No matter what kind of music you like, Gypsy does it, and does it better. Steve Earle (who performed at the club’s grand opening), Built to Spill, Patti Smith, Macy Gray, Ween, Knife in the Water, Del tha Funkee Homosapien, Grandaddy, Luna, Macha, Bright Eyes, Sebadoh, The Jayhawks, 20 Miles, Monte Montgomery, Blackalicious, BR5–49, Wilco–they’ve all played there at some point. And all the best local groups make regular appearances as well, including Centro-matic, Earl Harvin Trio, Sub Oslo, Pleasant Grove, Mandarin, Stumptone, and The Old 97’s, just to name a few. The New Year, the new band from Bedhead’s Matt and Bubba Kadane, made its Dallas debut at Gypsy. In the few years it has been in business, Gypsy has only gotten better, and it doesn’t appear this trend will end any time soon. As long as it’s still in business, every other club in town is playing for second place. Believe that.

You see it all the time in Dealey Plaza: human squirrels tempting fate by standing on the white spray-painted X where John F. Kennedy was shot by anywhere from one to 30 gunmen. Never mind that you are standing in the middle of Elm Street, in a town whose citizens disregard all pretense of Texas courtesy while behind the wheel of a vehicle. How long before some tourist secures a place in history by getting smushed by a Ford pickup on the same spot where Kennedy met his violent fate? Maybe then there will be two white X’s on the road.

The World is Too Much With Us. Wordsworth could have had lovely Dallas in mind when he penned his famous early 19th-century poem. Ever get sick of living amid more cement than grass? While you’re still alive, spend some time at Restland Funeral Home. There are 350 lush acres to roam, and the graves are inconspicuous enough, making it a peaceful place to leave the city behind for a while.

It’s true you can’t just waltz, a passel of pikers in tow, onto this specially designed park at the Dallas hospital for children with severe orthopedic problems. But if you call ahead and make a reservation, this place can provide all ages of childish folk hours of safe and athletic fun. The play area’s surface is covered with a soft, spongy material so you have less worry about scratched knees or broken bones.

Swiss Avenue is poised at the center of a whole bunch of socio-economic bubbling and brewing, rich and poor living pretty much cheek-by-jowl, separated only by the alleys and the cars they drive. The magic of Swiss in the evening is that nobody drives a car: Everybody walks, or, more properly, promenades. Especially on summer evenings when the temperature drops–as if it ever drops–people pour out of all manner of dwellings, low and tall, to push their babies, pull their dogs, walk with lovers or stroll alone with their thoughts, up and down this gracious old divided boulevard. It’s worth driving to; lots of people do. If more aerobic pursuits are on your mind, this section of Swiss is almost exactly one mile long, making it the ideal length for an up-and-back morning run, when the sprinklers are sweeping across the majestic lawns and the gardening crews are getting to work. Using the sidewalk, you see, is the only thing non-residents can really do here. And what a sidewalk it is. Wide enough for people and dogs to coexist. Flat enough, because in this precinct, people even repave their sidewalks when they begin to buckle. In other words, they foot the bill, you provide the feet.

One-stop shopping for the softball nut with slow-pitch league games and tournaments-men’s, women’s, and co-ed–never ending. They’re closed just two weeks out of the year, during the Christmas and New Year season, much to the chagrin of the die-hards. There are four lighted fields, a full-service concession stand that no heart doctor would go near, ample seating, and a pro shop that offers everything from balls, caps, bats, and gloves to sportswear and name-brand medication for those blisters and pulled muscles suffered by the middle-age crazies. A family affair, the clientele includes mom, pop, and the kids most nights and weekends. And, hey, if you haven’t caught on with a team, bring along your glove. Some team is always short-handed and desperate for someone to play right field in that 10 p.m. game.

This is the anti-meat market bar on Greenville Avenue. The black-and-tans are excellent, as are the deli sandwiches. What else can we say? Do you want dumb jokes about Blarney Stones and Lucky Charms? Forget it, we’re not into that kind of exploitation. This is a great casual watering hole where you can concentrate on what Irish pubs are all about: drinking until the road rises up to meet you at 2 o’clock in the morning. OK, so we’re weak.

Red Jacket has made strides in the past few months, bringing in quality DJs and electronics artists (Carl Cox and BT, among others), but Lizard Lounge is still, by far, the best dance club Dallas has to offer, a simmering pit of break-beats and–at times–bare chests. It’s seedy, sure, but in a way that’s not out of line with what you’d expect from a top-notch discotheque. After all, what more do you want from a dance club than attractive members of the opposite sex, often clad in leather or vinyl (meow!), and the kind of music that makes you get sweaty, which Lizard Lounge has in spades, courtesy of DJs Angry John, Virus, and Merritt, among others. Bottom line: When you come home from a night out dancing, you want a beat in your head and phone numbers on your hand. You’ll get all that and more at Lizard Lounge.

This is a tough category because Dallas establishments that cater to gay men tend to niche-market their clientele. If your taste runs toward pretty boys, then bars that cater to the roughneck crowd won’t do for you. On the other hand, if you prefer a real man’s man, then guys wearing too much mousse and too much cologne won’t hold your interest. Segregation is a problem, so this year, our vote goes to the bar that’s the closest to being inclusive to all. The Crew’s Inn somehow holds the most popular Tuesday-night gatherings of any bar in town. The guys who show up range from a variety of male archetypes, from boys who look like GQ cover models to those who look like they just posed for mug shots. Somehow this mix works. The atmosphere is congenial, and the drink specials are good by most standards. If you can’t please some of the people all of the time, at least you can please yourself on Tuesday nights.