Arts & Entertainment

It's new to the public and, so far, only open on Thursdays, but the space underneath the Travis Disco is already the finest place to dance in Dallas. For years reserved for VIPs, the bar maintains its feeling of exclusivity. Its nooks and crannies are filled with things like odd taxidermy and shiny wallpaper, and its main room is just the right size for smallish parties. The entrance, a door in an alley behind which hangs a ridiculous golden chandelier, makes the place immediately feel different. The programming has helped — so far it's DJ Sober's Big Bang party, which moved from Beauty Bar this summer and is already a hit at the new location.

If Matt Purvis hadn't hurt his back playing high school football, Dallas' theater scene might never have met its newest hot leading man. Purvis, 24, grew up in Southlake, where he played ball and danced with a competitive all-guy hip-hop team. After his injury kept him off the baseball diamond too, he tried theater for the first time his senior year at Southlake Carroll High, nabbing a good part in Pajama Game. That got him hooked on acting, which he pursued with roles in Rent, Chicago and a dozen other shows at Grapevine's Ohlook Performing Arts Center, all while earning his marketing degree at UNT. Shortly after college graduation, Purvis was cast in dual leading roles in Theatre Too's production of the dirty puppet musical Avenue Q, which ran for a solid year. The week it closed, he got a lead in Theatre Arlington's musical Altar Boyz (running through October 6). "For me, theater used to be a release to get away from school or my job," Purvis says. "Doing Avenue Q for so long was a huge step. It validated my decision not to stop performing."

If you're a straight couple that includes an adventurous, open-minded lady and a guy with a functional cardiovascular system, make Saturdays at The Lodge part of your date-night rotation. Between 4 and 9 p.m., entry is free for couples (we're pretty sure this applies only to those that include a female — sorry, cheapskate dudes, no claiming to be a gay couple to weasel out of paying the cover). Even better, $25 gets dinner and dessert for two. And it's not just a buffet of chicken fingers — we're talking steak, seafood or pasta. Take advantage of happy hour prices before 9 p.m. and you'll save enough to buy her a lap dance like the good old-fashioned romantic gentleman you are.

The competition for this honor was surprisingly fierce this year. On the one hand, it's hard to top the shamelessness of Bikinis, which evicted a long-time Hill Country resident to make way for Bikinis, Texas. (At the town's grand opening, the servers made plaster casts of their breasts for a Hollywood Walk of Fame-style display.) Were this issue published in May, they would be the clear winner. But DFW-based Redneck Heaven enjoyed a late surge when its Anything But Clothes Day — featuring body paint, gumballs and, in one case, twin bags of swimming goldfish — was banned by the Lewisville City Council. In other words, the girls were just too damn naked. Truly a stroke of marketing genius.

The music at beer festivals is usually pretty lousy. And at music festivals, beer tends to be a mercilessly overpriced afterthought, with selection that ranges the spectrum all the way from Bud Light to Miller Lite. But when The Common Table and Spune Productions teamed up with Paste Magazine, they put equal emphasis on both. They've now pulled off three of the events, two in Dallas and one in Fort Worth, bringing in great indie acts and breweries. Acclaimed acts Delta Spirit, Blackalicious, Freelance Whales, Cults and Leagues set the mood at the most recent Dallas installment perfectly, and some of the best breweries in the world — including plenty of local and Texas companies — offered hard-to-find and unique brews to sample. The idea was such a hit, there's a spinoff fest called Canned in Denton October 5, as well as plans for Untapped events in Houston and Atlanta.

For two years, Chad and Nellie Montgomery's Fair Park brew fest has brought in dozens of breweries offering hundreds of great beers at reasonable prices. This year's edition included a handful of food trucks as well, which cut down greatly on the wait along with offering a better selection of potential pairings for the suds. The location, within stumbling distance of the Fair Park DART train station, meant there were no excuses for drunken driving afterward. And the specialty and one-off brews were some of the best we've seen at a beer fest. Inspired by Denver's Great American Beer Festival, the two want to grow their own fest into a destination event, and with a sell-out crowd of 5,300 at the 2013 Big Texas Beer Fest, it may well be on its way to such a status. We'll drink to that.

Good Records' free in-store performances are fantastic on their own, bringing some of the best local and national indie acts to an all-ages audience at a reasonably early hour. Offering free beer is almost too much — we wondered what the catch was the first time we pumped a cup of Lone Star from a keg. Then, at the Baptist Generals' release party and show for Jackleg Devotional to the Heart in May, there was a spread of barbecue and fixin's from Sonny Bryan and gratis cans of Deep Ellum Brewing Co. beer, and other shows have included grub ranging from hot dogs to vegan food from Spiral Diner. So you want to quibble that vinyl is getting too expensive? Just time your next shopping trip to coincide with a performance. Forty bucks for a 180-gram deluxe reissue doesn't sound so bad now that it comes with a concert, a meal and a buzz.

Most Texans know that the phrase "Bless your heart" is condescending at best, and can usually be translated as "You dumbass." That's why it's the perfect slogan for Bob Lovell's company. His HMS commercials are mesmerizing, and there are so many variations we don't know how he has time away from the camera to actually run a real estate company. Sometimes he simply insults potential homebuyers for not getting out of "the rent race" sooner. Sometimes he goes off on non sequitur tangents about various topics that have little if anything to do with his business. And sometimes he goes meta, responding to purported viewer feedback about his commercials. But the smarminess is somehow charming, thanks to his soothing voice and especially thanks to that regal swoop of silver hair, moussed and brushed back to streamlined perfection. We've never used HMS, but it's got to be the best at whatever it is that it does if the man is half as good at his business as he is delivering winking ad copy and sculpting a majestic pompadour.

Daniel Vaughn's monomaniacal obsession with perfectly smoked meat made his well-informed, passionate observations at the Full Custom Gospel BBQ blog the authority on Texas barbecue. His never-ending quest for the perfect combination of smoke, meat and seasoning gained popularity and probably had no small part in the growing awareness that brisket can be even better than a prime steak and certainly shouldn't taste like the gray, dry slabs one finds all too often at lesser barbecue joints. Texas Monthly, which dedicates a good portion of its food coverage to barbecue and whose annual BBQ Festival sells out every year, saw fit to create the coolest position in the history of journalism for Vaughn: barbecue editor. He may not make as much as he did in his previous life as an architect, but you can't put a price on having that unique title on your business card.

With some FM stations starting up with the Christmas music around, oh, mid-September, you’d think by Christmas Eve we would be well past the point of exhaustion with little drummer boys, silver bells and silent nights. And we are. Nonetheless, we tune in every year when former Observerer and current Dallas Morning News blogger Robert Wilonsky brings his massive collection of Christmas music to the airwaves. Of course, no former music editor — and certainly not one who’s as obsessive a collector as Wilonsky — is going to play the tired old carols. You’ll hear interesting originals and offbeat covers from a wide variety of genres from funk to punk. You might hear Centro-matic’s “Christmas ’83” or Freddie King’s “I Hear Jinglebells,” or call in to request a chestnut of your own. Wilonsky has just what you need to soundtrack your last-minute gift-wrapping after one too many eggnogs.

A Sunday afternoon at The Grapevine is like a celebration of population density. It's a shoulder-to-shoulder mob, every member of which is either swaddled in post-brunch bliss or has just woken up and is making a breakfast of Velvet Hammer or Everclear bellinis. While drinking in general is skill that needs constant honing, day drinking is something more. It's an art. A craft even. And bars built to encourage day drinking are workshops where practitioners can perfect their craft. On any given night Grapevine pulls in a crowd that's big and always diverse, covering a mélange of sexualities and a healthy mix of ages. It's part of what makes the place so appealing, that it communicates a sense of weirdness and welcoming at the same time. And that's what draws the crowd every Sunday. That and the chance to suck down bellinis while soaking in vitamin D.

Imagine all of the best moments from your younger days and that's like two hours at the patio of Oak Street Draft House in "Little D." Even if you know no one, you can usually snag a cable-spool tabletop under a shaded tree at the back of the gravel lot and it won't be long before someone's dog comes to lick the frost that has formed on your glass of beer, or a friendly face asks you for an extra seat. Large picnic tables and pingpong tournaments are only two of the reasons to show up; the people, countless draft beers and new outdoor bar are even more.

Her beauty would probably be enough to keep her working steadily as an actress, but SMU theater grad Martha Harms brings an interesting, not-always-pretty edge to every role she's played in Dallas theaters over the past five years. She's done six shows at Kitchen Dog, and lots more for Undermain and Echo Theatre. Last fall she thrilled critics and audiences with her daffy Marie Antoinette in the new rock musical On the Eve at Magnolia Lounge, a part she'll reprise when Theatre Three revives the show, with cast intact, in 2014. When she's not onstage, Harms is working in industrial films and doing voice-overs for radio, TV and Japanese anime. She was the voice of Maya in the video game Borderlands 2. Dream roles? Says Harms, "Hedda Gabler and Nora in A Doll's House. We never do Ibsen here!"

"This is why you should move to Oak Cliff," is a familiar phrase at Tradewinds. Busy on some nights, dead on others, there's always a person to converse with, including the outgoing staff of bartenders who sometimes hand out free shots on slow nights. A tiny patio around back is where you'll hear the best stories. Set up camp here for a few hours and you'll hear the Oak Cliff regulars' stories of everything from war to strife to women, and you might even tell a couple of your own.

You will never again have to complain that there's nothing to do in Dallas on Friday night. There's always one option: karaoke at Dallasite. Trust. This is a magical thing. There's no stage, no professional speakers, no pomp, just teeth-clenching bad "singing" and good times. It wouldn't be out of place in this dark, aromatic watering hole to find line dances to the backdrop of "Thriller" tributes and sub-par rap renditions. It's all welcome at Dallasite. There's just one rule: no judging.

Huddled in the back around a dark corner by the restrooms in Lakewood Landing's caught-out-of-time bar lies a lone pool table. Really, it's a pool table cave. A single wooden shelf lines the perimeter of the walls and hosts an array of long-forgotten beer and cocktail glasses, and an old couch to fall onto when you miss that easy corner-pocket shot. Sitting nearby is a jukebox blasting everything from obscure local music to hip-hop to old Motown hits. The pool cave is one of Dallas' best places to blow off steam.

He's familiar to DFW dance fans as the founder of the Track Meet DJ collective, but Rodrigo Diaz, aka Ynfynyt Scroll, stands on his own. His new residency alongside Lil' Texas at Beauty Bar features a seamless mix of rowdy hits and obscurities. Diaz seeks new music tirelessly and omnivorously, playing everything from brand new Southern hip-hop to reggaeton to whatever he finds poking around the foreign corners of Soundcloud.

As country music just keeps betting harder and harder on boring and shiny and stuff that really isn't even country at all, DJ Mike Crow digs his heels even deeper into the red dirt of Texas' country heroes. He created the Honky Tonk Texas show, now hosted by Mark "Hawkeye" Louis on KSCS-FM 96.3. And now Crow's settled in at 92.1 Hank FM, where he hosts Crowman's Honky Tonk Texas Highway for four hours every weekday morning. Live from the Stockyards in Fort Worth, Crow plays The Highwaymen and all who follow in their shit-kicking bootprints.

The choppers parked out front and the death metal roaring in back may be intimidating, but even non-biker non-metalheads get a warm welcome from the bartenders and regulars at Reno's. The drinks are cheap and come in plastic disposable cups that won't send glass shards flying if things get too rowdy. The bands that play are as heavy as they come, ranging from hardcore to grindcore to death metal to thrash. And it was the perfect setting for a biker to pull out a tooth during the Dallas Observer Music Awards showcase last year — where else but Reno's?

It's so dark inside Lakewood Landing no one will ever know if you've been there for one drink or five. "Private" doesn't begin to cover the seclusion you'll find in a booth, but the bar remains social most of the time. Whether you're a regular or a newcomer, you're welcome to join in, enjoy the eclectic offerings of the jukebox and get comfortable. They don't start serving those legendary corn dogs until midnight, and you'll want to be there when they start.

It's as comfortable as your oldest pair of jeans, so it's hard to believe Twilite Lounge has only been open since June. Dark stained wood and warm lighting give it a timeless feel, like somewhere your grandparents might have imbibed. The New Orleans-style back patio beckons even non-smokers to enjoy the evening cool. The selection of beers, wines and spirits is well thought-out but not overwhelming. And the jukebox. Oh, the jukebox, with its funk, R&B, jazz, classic country and '90s indie rock, sets the mood perfectly. We linger too long at most bars' jukeboxes because it's such a task to find a tolerable song, but here it's because we can't narrow our possible choices down to a manageable number. Add in performances by an eclectic mix of solo musicians, jazz combos and even stand-up comics and you've got precisely the bar Deep Ellum (and Dallas as a whole) needed.

The easy line on Humperdink's is about size: The place serves 100-ounce beer towers and features TV screens larger than 100 inches. Those are strong qualities in a sports bar, true, but it's actually the attention to littler things that appeals most about the chain, which started on Greenville Avenue in 1976 and now has four locations in the area. The littler things include a shuttle from the Arlington location to either AT&T Stadium or The Ballpark. At $10 round trip for up to four people, it isn't history's greatest deal, but it definitely beats parking at either venue. And the pre-gaming is considerably better than cans of Bud Light — Humperdink's own brews have won Great American Beer Fest medals.

Three Links, which took the space of La Grange in Deep Ellum just a few months after the old venue closed, hasn't had much time to establish its rock bar credentials. But it hasn't wasted a second. The co-ownership of scene staples Kris Youmans, Scott Beggs and Oliver Peck got the bar off to a strong start, and an early run of raucous shows proved the three men weren't afraid to break in their shiny new sound system with furious tests by the likes of The Dwarves. But even when there's no one onstage, Three Links is a fine place for a drink — the staff and beer selection are both superb.

When On the Eve, the new rock musical about time travelers, written by Michael Federico and Home by Hovercraft's Seth and Sean Magill, opened at the Magnolia Lounge in late 2012, it was an instant hit with critics and theatergoers. The performances were stellar but just as impressive were things director and designer Jeffrey Schmidt did to make a no-budget production look and feel like a million bucks. Long interested in sustainable design for the stage, Schmidt recycled bits and bobs of other shows' scenery, plus kids' drawings, stuff pulled from Dumpsters and, in a final swoosh of theatrical drama, a swath of parachute silk that flew over the audience like a rippling piece of blue sky. Schmidt, a longtime director and designer at Theatre Three (he directed and designed the spiffy dark comedy Enron there earlier this year), gets to enlarge On the Eve when that theater restages it for a longer run in 2014. Watch, he'll do more with less than any show you've ever seen there.

What makes a great honky-tonk? In fact, what makes a honky-tonk at all, instead of just a bar that plays country music sometimes? It's a few key ingredients: A spacious, well-used wooden dance floor, no fewer than three places you can buy your Lone Star and a commitment to some Wild West ideal shared by patrons and staff alike. Round-Up Saloon in Oak Lawn possesses all three. You'll see better line-dancing there than at Love and War or Billy Bob's or anywhere else around (maybe it's the lessons the place offers three nights a week), and the company's fine along any of the joint's several hundred feet of bar space. Sometimes, a cowboy just needs another cowboy.

There are louder places in Dallas, and places with bigger names and bigger lights. But no place takes concerts as seriously as The Kessler. Its immaculate sound and respectful crowds afford every show the opportunity to be something truly memorable, and recent shows by Rebirth Brass Band, Lucinda Williams and others have added to the growing legacy of the old theater. It's been open as a music venue for a little more than four years, and there's every reason to believe the Kessler is headed for an even brighter future — this ship's got one hell of a captain in talent buyer/manager Jeff Liles, a Dallas music elder of the highest order.

On weekend nights, R.L.'s Blues Palace No. 2 is sort of like church. Cars fill the spacious lot to bursting, and smartly dressed twosomes and tensomes walk up to the door. Inside, long tables ensure everyone gets to know a neighbor or two. The show starts at 10:30 on the nose, and immediately it becomes clear why all these people came early and paid their $10 at the door. The house band here is better, tighter and more entertaining than almost any you'll see stopping through venues of any size anywhere in town. They play a variety show of rhythm and blues. One minute it's old classics and the next it's up-tempo contemporary-sounding jams, but it all beckons the crowd onto the dance floor. After a few bottles of Bud or BYOB cocktails, everyone ends up out there.

Behind the heavily padded door at Ships Lounge it is always 10 p.m. on a Saturday. Sometimes it's a rowdy one, more often it's a quiet one with a couple close friends, but the point is it always feels right. The decor is as unassuming and welcoming as that jukebox, which is full of soul classics and crooners. So when you need to forget what's happening outside that door, just bring some cash and know the staff have seen people in worse shape than you. They'll keep the bottles of domestics coming, or, if you brought your own bottle from home, they'll make sure your plastic ice bucket and can of mixer are fresh. Soon you'll put some distance between you and your problems.

Jury's out on whether Outpost would cop to being a sports bar. Hell, they might be offended by it. After all, the bar's got solid cocktails and the best local brews on tap from Peticolas, Deep Ellum, Revolver and Four Corners. It's got tasty pulled-pork sandwiches and bacon-and-goat-cheese flatbreads. OK, so it's definitely a gastropub. But it also has big flat-screens mounted along the walls. Think of it as a sports bar without the obnoxious sports fans, with your favorite booze and grub beyond nachos and cheese fries. Think of it as Oak Cliff's very own answer to Uptown.

A while ago, Nick Badovinus closed his previous restaurant, NHS Tavern, and opened Tried and True. It's a roadhouse-themed bar (it's got that shelled-peanuts feel) with great whiskeys and sandwiches. But here's the thing: They play records. No, seriously, they play vinyl. You can actually saddle up to a burger and let Willie Nelson's Red Headed Stranger or Led Zeppelin's first-through-fourth albums pop and hiss around. It's why Tried and True is one of Dallas' best places to plant and drink.

Sometimes you need a drink at 7 a.m. Maybe you work the third shift and the sunrise hours are your happy hours. Maybe you're keeping the party going even beyond the break of dawn. Or maybe you're just a drunk. Whatever the case, the humble East Dallas blues dive The Goat is there for you. At that hour, it's quiet and calm, free of rowdy crowds but not lonely — exactly the right atmosphere when you could use a beer or screwdriver at that hour but would like a little company.

Deep Ellum gets all the comeback love, but Greenville is experiencing something of a nightlife renaissance itself — especially Lower Greenville, where a new bar or restaurant seems to open every week. The robust foot traffic there may soon lead to a different, more stable crowd than musicians, but right at this moment there are plenty, spilling over the patio at the Single Wide, stopping at Good Records for an in-store performance, attending one of the practically nightly gigs at Crown and Harp or buying a drink for a friend at one of the most welcoming bars in the city: The Libertine. That's the Town Hall of the neighborhood, and the guitarist-to-barstool ratio in there is often damn near even.

Whether it's a crisp autumn evening or a scorching summer afternoon, the large outdoor patio at Uptown's Katy Trail Ice House is constantly packed with dogs of all sizes, shapes and breeds. This spacious outdoor patio invites Rex to join in on the fun. Whether he just got through running alongside his owner on the trail or got a new hairdo at the pet spa around the corner, he's welcome to hang out while you guzzle a few beers and watch the game or catch up with friends. The patio is so dog-friendly that the pooch-watching can be more entertaining than the people-watching.

The old girl's got a lot of life in her yet. Built in 1959, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, the creamy layered wedding cake of a theater building on Turtle Creek has lately been home to some spectacular new productions. Uptown Players now do all their shows there, having learned in recent seasons how to handle the stage's balky revolve and how to complement its curves and acute angles. It is a friendly hug of a theater space, with the best acoustics in town. And no matter where you sit in the 400-seater, the view is fine. The best event there this year was Dallas Theater Center's musical Fly by Night, an intimate, magical piece with a small cast, a tight little band and simple scenery. The warmth of Kalita was perfect for that show, which would have been swallowed by the cold, cavernous Wyly Theatre downtown. Now owned by the city, Kalita Humphreys desperately needs an interior makeover: new carpets, fresh paint, reliable air conditioning (Uptown has struggled through some performances sans air this summer). Can't someone Kickstart a fund for keeping Kalita cool?

Listen, It'll Do Club is unstuck in time. A trip through It'll Do will take you through a grab bag of iconic outfits from the last three decades. Somewhere in between running into a cast member from Flashdance and discovering where Waldo has been all this time, you'll find the dance floor. It's one of the best in Dallas with its electric blue panels and chandeliers. There's no sense of time inside, just loud music, big drinks and dim lights to hide those awkward dance moves. It's also the most unassuming club in Dallas, where any sort of adventurous soul can un-Dallas themselves and cut a rug.

We weren't expecting it either. Snug against the wall of Uptown-adjacent barbecue spot sits the most fascinating jukebox in Dallas. It's big, Tron-like front is loaded with typewritery slips of paper that have perfect songs from Elvis, Billy Joel and B.B. King. It's one of the oldest working jukeboxes in Dallas, has about 100 albums in it, and it still plays 45s. Also? It's a quarter per song. Take that, digital jukeboxes.

DFW is home to the largest country radio market in the country. Flip through your FM dial and you'll hear plenty of twang, but it's all been polished to shapeless oblivion in Nashville. Well, almost all of it. There is one strange holdout, a rare independently owned commercial radio station, at 95.3 FM The Range. There, you'll hear country outlaws and Texas legends and bleeding-heart Americana hipsters and whatever the hell else the eclectic DJs feel like playing. After commercial breaks, the voice of Burton Gilliam (Lyle in Blazing Saddles) will tell you what you're listening to, cackling mischievously. Clear Channel would never abide something this ramshackle — no, this is the work of real, actual music fans.

The third album from Denton's The Baptist Generals came 10 years after the second and right on time. Frontman Chris Flemmons relinquished some control of the band's sound to his ridiculously talented bandmates, and the result is a collection of songs that takes his meticulously ramshackle ideas and expands on them beautifully, loudly and strangely. Jackleg Devotional to the Heart is a record full of pointed nonsense and unforgettable melody, and no one released anything quite like it this year, in Dallas or anywhere else.

If you attended nothing but shows booked by Spune, you'd still manage an impressive survey of North Texas music. You'd also be busy — the Dallas-based operation, now in its 16th year, books roughly 10 shows every month. You'd split your time pretty evenly between Fort Worth, Denton and Dallas, and you'd see everything from local weirdos like Warren Jackson Hearne & Le Leek Electrique to arena indie like She & Him. Stick with it long enough and you'd find yourself at dark little clubs and in big open fields (Spune's festival itinerary has expanded impressively in the last couple years). The company is also probably the most restless contributor to music in the area, operating a label, marketing shows and bands and generally finding more and more ways to get people to go to concerts.

You gotta hand it to Shane Carruth. The former-Dallasite filmmaker behind Primer and Sundance-buzz-a-thon Upstream Color has stuck to his game: sticking it to Hollywood's movie-making system. Primer was a grainy and raw film about time travel on a $7,000 budget, and his critically acclaimed second film, Upstream Color, has an ending that you may find unsatisfying. He's not afraid to punch. He's not afraid to make a three-hour, rip-roaring sci-fi think piece. He's making smart, thoughtful films with a careful hand. It's a touch that's lacking in Hollywood, and one whose Dallas origins are worth celebrating.

Ohhhhh, how the holidays in Dallas are soooo lovelllllyy. There are Santas on parade, Macy's day sales, tree lightings, ornaments ... and Justin Terveen's shot of Reunion tower looking like the largest phallus in the Milky Way. This past Christmas, Terveen grabbed a shot of two huge Christmas-ornament nards resting gently under the shaft of Reunion Tower. It was shot all over the Internet, and even bothered a few Observer readers. Way to troll, Justin. The shot itself was beautiful, of course.

For a time, Dallas' collective consternation was leveled at a Facebook page with some 60,000 likes called "Oak Cliff Dallas Fights." It showcased fisticuffs predominantly between young Latino men, slugging it out in gas stations, locker rooms and school yards. City Council member Dwaine Caraway said it was bad for Oak Cliff's image, presuming these fights actually took place in Oak Cliff. Eventually, perhaps fearing prosecution, the page's anonymous creator took the site down. But, on a recent search, it appears to have re-emerged. So, if videos of boys who watch too much UFC throwing flailing haymakers are your thing, settle in for an occasionally funny ride. It won't take long. These kids are too bad at fighting to hurt each other much. They're gassed within minutes.

It's late Saturday morning. Your child is bouncing off the walls. Every possible diversion in or near the house has been exhausted. It's time for Legoland, which is one of a very few legal ways to guarantee your own sanity. There are Lego games, Lego rides, Lego movie theaters and Lego pits. It's basically an amusement park made entirely from the colorful plastic blocks. No child can resist.

This isn't one of those art festivals you stumble upon with Grandma in some faux-experimental neighborhood. There are no illuminated dolphins or Manet rip-offs. There's real art, shockingly good photographs and other knick-knacks. Every year, Deep Ellum closes Main Street for music, live art and loads of paintings. The art ranges from experimental to wildly local, and it never sucks. Grab your significant other's hand and take the stroll from Hall Street to Good Latimer. And stop for a corny dog.

With the line "Kool-Aid is for closers," Jeff Swearingen and Bren Rapp dramatically changed the status of children's theater in North Texas. Swearingen wrote and directed Daffodil Girls: Based on David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross, a two-act play about the ruthless world of scout troop cookie sales. Cast with a dozen talented young local actresses (ages 7 to 14), the show was deeply satirical, boldly funny, with moments of heartbreaking pathos. It was also a game-changer for the tiny, low-budget Fun House Theatre. Not only was the material great (other theaters are now interested in doing the script), the girls onstage gave polished, nuanced performances. Buzz quickly grew for the show, local critics swarmed all over it and Fun House held it over to sold-out houses. What else did Fun House do this year? Only a full-fledged, solid and thoughtful Hamlet with an all-youth cast. Children's theater that takes its actors and audiences seriously makes us all live happily ever after.

The Perot Museum is magical enough in the daytime. Subtract children, add booze, keep the doors open extra late and it gets even better. The Perot's quarterly Social Science event provides a new twist on the science museum experience. The programs — with topics such as the science of relationships and sound — are interesting and well-executed. But the real appeal is that Social Science allows you to be in a really cool museum drunk after dark. It's every nerdy teenager's dream.

We talk often about the content, status and potential growth of emerging art in Dallas, so it was nice to see that lip service transcend into a cohesive, well-curated gallery show during this extensive DMA offering. While DallasSites provided the historical framework for how things have grown into themselves, Available Space gave us the best of what's happening right now. Through Art Foundation's curation project, the fantastically named Boom Town, we toured a cohesive blend of styles, approaches and career-pinning all in the DMA's main gallery. Off in the wings the story unfolded further, with performance art showcases and panels by PerformanceSW, video art through the decades by Bart Weiss' treasured Dallas VideoFest, and hands-on workshops at Oil and Cotton's outpost. Just to complicate matters further, regional hooligan collective HOMECOMING! COMMITTEE built its subversively splendid example of 3-D thought, Post Communique, a show that shattered and rebuilt North Texas' art history for everyone's thoughtful amusement. It was a snapshot, a moment to pause and in-your-face proof of how good our talent pool really is.

Whether it's keeping up with the ever-happening dialog about Dallas arts or starting its own, Green Bandana has stepped in to fill the gaps — especially in those chasms that exist between big institutions and individual artists. GB doesn't stop there: The blog posts — penned by now-solo operator Darryl Ratcliff — share all available information regarding how and where to see great art through a positive, critical lens. We know what you're thinking: "All of that sounds great, but sometimes I want to step away from direct conversation and blow off steam." Yeah, we all do. And Green Bandana does that too. From its mash-up parties that involve anything from projection art, live music, nail sets, sculpture, open bars and bonfires, to its open-mic nights and public art initiatives, like the Dallas Love Project that will post inspirational works along the JFK motorcade route in upcoming months, Green Bandana infiltrates every entryway to our lives and artfully booby-traps them. This unsung organization fuels so many creative programs that a contact buzz is impossible to avoid. Not that you'd want to.

New galleries are emerging all around us. Through all of that hustle, Nancy Whitenack's Hi Line haven remains the standard for well-selected and collectable Dallas art. She has chosen a stable of talents with unique perspectives who are willing to extend the tangents of where existing work is already pointed. Nobody shown at Conduit is content to simply fill in the grid, and that's a tribute to the caliber of the space and its leadership. There's also a balance there, an energy that teeters between the established, repped works in the main showrooms and the more experimental, budding and often very strange works offered in the Project Room, curated by Conduit's assistant director Danette Dufilho. That equilibrium is what makes Conduit a starting — and often also an ending point — for any gallery night. It's also refreshing proof that an exceptional retail art space can be successful while still taking chances.

This year's Pin Show did what it had to in order to raise the stakes after 2012's impressive event: It skated across the cultural surface tension and lured Dallas' most fashionable away from Uptown, across the bridge and into a West Dallas warehouse. Once there you entered a scene resembling an underground party in a Marfa airplane hangar. Two firetruck bars acted as alcohol's first responders to a compound unapologetically filled with beautiful people in floor-length furs. Filling out the room was more eye candy: a reckless pingpong game in one corner, and four women dressed in updated WWII factory garb stationed up front, adorably seated behind vintage sewing machines. Blasting the room with music was soul outfit The Danny Church Band, who also provided the models' energetic catwalk soundtrack. But most important was the attention paid to styling and artist promotion. All who went to Pin Show left knowing exactly which looks, accessories and start-up labels they liked most, and thanks to its organizers' refined eyes, there was plenty of exceptional designer talent to choose from.

Considering this one-screen indie theater is run by four dudes with day jobs, it would be impressive if Texas Theatre's programming simply remained consistent. It would be nice if the bar were just a friendly place to drink or if you could occasionally see a less-conventional act performed there, like a comedy or DJ set. But for Aviation Cinemas, the venue's eventful puppet masters, chugging along was never an option. Instead, they've become a community cornerstone, showing the grittiest, most daring examples of new film available, counterbalanced by wrap-around themed repertory flicks — most of which align with corresponding parties, cocktails and music sets. Then, they use every piece of their animal to deliver behind-the-screen comedy shows, an art gallery in the rafters and a judgment-free cocktail bar. It's an oasis for writers, artists and filmmakers; a place to share ideas and theories all while pounding cinema-themed highballs and dropping it down deep on the lobby's dance floor. You can go to dozens of venues to catch a movie, and there will probably be teenagers talking on their cellphones behind you and you might walk out feeling like the garbage you saw stole your lunch money. At Texas Theatre that would never happen. Every film shown is carefully curated so it attracts people who love movies. It's a safe place, and it doesn't hurt that they pour a great drink.

Remember just a few years back when the DMA was a completely different animal? Since the arrival of director Maxwell Anderson and tech guru Robert Stein, it feels like someone has opened up the windows. Let a little air in. Even did the neighborly thing and invited you over to hang out and slyly poke around their digs. The Dallas Museum of Art has taken massive strides, expanding its conservation department, boosting visitor engagement with its Friends program, improving information culling and tech connectivity, and making a grand offering of free admission. It's the ultimate public gift, and it's changing the cultural current of how Dallas perceives the art-viewing experience. Free admission allows art to integrate into our daily lives, rather than be a luxury or a special outing. Now you can pop into the DMA to see that thing your friend posted about without stressing over the cost of the visit or amount of time allotted to make it a worthwhile mission. And when you're there, you can't help but notice a change in the tone of the space. Everyone just seems happier, from staff to visitors. It's a valuable gift to our community and deserves eternal praise. Good work there, DMA.

What you could not understand until seeing Price's work, assembled and justly arranged as it was here, is the sum and scale of the items he created. When he began his career in the '50s, Price worked intimately, with a focus on jug-like vessels and petite cups. The life that would eventually spring from those — the grandly bending, sensual tubes, eggs and geometric links that bridge them all — grew larger in scale but remained focused on connectivity and human interaction. From a distance, the collection resembled primordial creatures on a psychedelic planet. Up close, they looked like life incubated from a beautifully vibrant petri dish. Were it not for the Nasher's commitment to funding and curating shows of this magnitude, Dallas would never have had the privilege to experience this stunning retrospective. Perhaps more important, the exhibition was so cunningly arranged that it left us feeling elated, joyful and appreciative of Price's lifelong drive toward innovation.

When Deep Ellum's newish property management company, Deep Ellum 42, a group that's gained local support by pledging to retain the initial points of interest in old, vacated neighborhood haunts, met Apophenia Underground, the area's newest guerrilla art collective, something amazing happened. Jeff Gibbons and Justin Ginsberg — the humans behind the secretive art group — pitched an unlikely plan: They asked Deep Ellum 42 if they could use those empty buildings, many of which had no electricity, as short-lived art spaces. Not only did Deep Ellum 42 agree, they handed them the keys to an unleased city. Since that first show in February the neighborhood has turned into a cutting-edge, ephemeral scavenger hunt. On select night windows are simply lit up with GIF or video art, heavily curated group shows and solo works by local favorites. It's a game-changer for a time when emerging talent has risen to the surface, demanding the same attention as the more traditional gallery-repped circuit. Plus, it has made finding art a thrill while using the city's existing infrastructure. And by plopping it all in an area of heavy foot traffic, it has encouraged passersby to have unexpected interactions with beauty, merging the gallery scene, innovation and public art together.

From Ari Richter's The Skin I Live In, which utilized body cast-offs from humans and animals for sculptural purposes, to That Mortal Coil, the group show examining body beautiful through a jagged, kaleidoscopic group show, we've learned CentralTrak is content to be unpredictable, at times alarming and always informative. Isn't that precisely what you want from art? Moreover, isn't that what you'd hope would rise out of a "go do it" art incubator like CentralTrak? Of course it is. Still not convinced? They've had gallery shows for dogs, feminist porn night, time travel and hosted a pop-up art video game arcade. Were that not enough, CentralTrak's monthly "Next Topic" speaker series and panel discussions keep the important conversations whirling about, stirring ideas about both the art on display and the issues facing artists working in Dallas, right now.

This one's not really a first-date idea. It's more an outing with your significant other when it's raining, you're broke and if you stay at home one more second you'll stab each other's eyes out with the silverware. Prevent blindness by making the trek over to Cinemark Hollywood USA, where you'll pay $1 to see everything you were slightly too lazy to catch when it was in regular theaters. While you're there, enjoy the dusty arcade games, the equally dusty photos of old-timey film stars and a terrifying, dizzying decorating theme best described as "Circus in Hell." Seriously, don't take a first date here.

When SMU contracted Dutch artist Joost Vrouenraets to choreograph a new version of Rite of Spring for the piece's centennial celebration, we thought, "Huh, that's ballsy for a private Methodist university." When we went to dress rehearsals and saw that the dancer was using the piece's anarchic legacy to push through subversive theories about social media's influence on a new generation, with the aid of schoolgirl uniforms and a sexually aggressive marionette, well, that's when we realized something much bigger was brewing. The end result had potential to start its own spectacular riot, as young writhing dancers clutched themselves and each other, trapping their frustrations inside custom-built rolling greenhouses. It ran both at SMU and as the showcase closer for the Meadows' annual fund-raising performance at the Winspear, and while we're still unclear how the powers that be let it get that big, we're thankful that it did.

Remember when Wolf Blitzer's hologram beamed in to cover the 2008 presidential election? You pulled out your flip phone, called your best friend and were like, "Whoa"? Well, what a difference a few years make. Technology has advanced so exponentially that it has affected the arts in ways that ethics and law haven't been able to predict. KERA's Art and Technology panel brought together Nancy Hairston, an artist and brilliant mind in 3-D printing; UTD's Dr. Roger F. Malina, a man who's doing big work blending hard science with new media; and Robert Stein, the DMA's deputy director and force behind many of its recently applauded innovations. It was, hands-down, the most fascinating conversation on the arts held in Dallas last year and it addressed issues that we hadn't realized were becoming problems. It also brought to surface the new limitless direction that art is pointed in and the potential it has with a fresh generation of emerging talent. If you missed it, listen to the recording on the DMA's website. It's 81 minutes well spent.

Hey guys, remember SZOAS? No? Well, that's all right. The local artist representation company was extremely short-lived, but its time here didn't go unnoticed. While it was operational, SZOAS introduced two gems from their talent roster who should have paired up ages ago. Clay Stinnett and Nevada Hill are both Southern, unconventional and a little loose with the rules. Using Clay Stinnett's freaky salute to our charred corn dog king, a painting of Big Tex on fire, Hill added his own oozy layers of psychedelic design. Equal parts celebratory and demonic, the limited-run screen-printing and corresponding T-shirts morphed into a deliciously perverse union. The only way it could have been better is if the pair had battered and deep-fried the thing.

We're fortunate to have such a robust lineup of artists and curators speaking in our local museums, but last year's run of Tuesdays at the Modern raised that conversation up a step. In honor of its 10th anniversary acquisitions, the culture hub brought in the biggest names in contemporary art for these intimate, free events. We took a Dallas-to-Fort Worth arts pilgrimage to hear experimental guru Bruce Nauman discuss his story and process. We trucked over to Cowtown again to hear the humble and humorous Jenny Holtzer rap about her public art legacy and did it again for cult icons Trenton Doyle Hancock and Barry McGee. It was like ART21 exploded to materialize in three dimensional space. It was the arts equivalent of seeing rock stars eating in public. It was a nerdebration. It was that good.

While Jaap van Zweden has things handled over at the big-market symphony, taking our musicians around the world to garner international acclaim, there was still a gap in the more experimental small-orchestra sector. Enter scene: Dallas Chamber Symphony. Conductor Richard McKay led the group through its inaugural 2012-13 season at the Dallas Performance Hall, and we sat thrilled, listening as they blended both new and old. There was a youthfulness brought to these offerings, merging more standard, popular works like Beethoven's Symphony No. 7, Mozart's "Overture to the Marriage of Figaro" and selections by Schumann and Brahms with live scores to two silent films and solo piano performances. This type of creative energy is what Dallas needs if it wants to court a new generation of classical music fans. And by the look of DCS's upcoming season, which has not one but two nods to Buster Keaton in the lineup, Dallas Chamber Symphony is just the right group to do it.

We're State Fair addicts. Corn dog junkies. And few of us have the self-control to wait an entire year to ride through that psychedelic haunted house — you know the one. This year those desires were sated at Summer Adventures at Fair Park, a blisteringly hot miniature version of the big fair. Yes, it's helpful to be extremely young at Summer Adventures, since kids view unlimited rides as worth a little heat stroke. Still, there's something really cool about roaming Summer Adventures on a Wednesday afternoon. Maybe it's because there's nobody there, leaving you to feel like you've survived the zombie apocalypse. Perhaps it's the joy of zero lines allowing you front row at every ride, always. Or maybe it's just the slower pace and quality bro-down time with the carnies. Whatever, it worked. And we got properly fair-fried off-season corn dogs out of it, which is what we dream about on any given night.

We're not sure how art wizards Shannon Driscoll and Kayli House Cusick do it all. Every day is a new collection of innovative programming, and we're talking really awesome stuff like youth zine camp, memory jugs with Bruce Lee Webb, natural dying classes using native plants or even DIY cocktail tinctures. In their "spare time" this year, they upped the ante and organized the Read-Rite Market — an all-day celebration of text, literature and the art and preservation techniques it fosters. (Seriously, those gals must be tired, but they'd never show it.) It's interesting, this space. Its core mission is to promote arts education and community building, but philosophically it has branched into something bigger. Oil and Cotton has become a hub of idea exchange, a salon for art and a spot where creative passion can find both a home and collaborators. Looking ahead in the boom of Dallas' art scene, we suspect the biggest things to come will be hatched right here.

It's really packed in here. Sculptures, collectables, home goods, clothing and mountains of other treasures are stacked throughout the lower level of Pan-African's two-story compound. You want to buy it all, even without knowing its legacy. The philosophical value of these items fills the head of Akwete Tyehimba, the shop's matriarch and sage. Go ahead, ask her about that giant crane statue. She'll smile and recant a moral-rich tale that ends with the mighty bird filling his belly then gathering the strength to soar through the air. She'll explain the African history behind the masks, checkerboards and other rare artifacts. She'll even guide you through the monthly classes and workshops, which unite an entire community with educational programming. But you might need Tyehimba most in the upstairs reading room, where books and videos are methodically organized. And that's where you'll lose hours, poring through texts from people who know much, much more than you.

As Dallas' art scene grows into itself we'll see a lot of youthful blunders. Still, little can be said in defense of the Dallas Contemporary's Internet misstep, when donated works were sold on the DC's eBay account without the artists' consent. Not only was the act disrespectful to the artists, many of whom wouldn't dare sell their work in that way — for any amount — but when the items went online and flipped for a fraction of their worth, the pieces' financial values were tarnished. Worse still was the shell game of blame, as those in top positions quickly accused the lowest-level employees for the error. Only after direct correspondence surfaced revealing director Peter Doroshenko gave the call to sell the work on eBay was a personal apology made at a higher level.

While we know the investment for the Nasher's citywide public art project stretches into the multi-millions, the return's potential is limitless. Dallas art is at an interesting tipping point where arts institutions, artists, others in the creative swarm and city officials have all decided that we are, in fact, doing this thing. The problem with that is that the general public is less motivated because the arts haven't been an active part of their lives until now. Art has been something families would have to plan a day around and pay for, like going to the zoo. Well, that's over. The Nasher's knocked down the zoo walls and sent out 10 specially commissioned pieces of public art by locally and internationally recognized talent into the Dallas wild. From October 19 to February 16, the Nasher presents the largest public art offering ever presented by a museum, anywhere. That means you'll inevitably run into art. You'll see it, Instagram it, tweet it and Facebook it. You'll tag a friend in front of it and by doing so, you'll put art in front of your entire social network. This trickles out. Others seek the piece of art they saw on your feed and soon, art becomes a citywide scavenger hunt in which individuals hunt and interact with artwork outside of the walls of a formal institution. Those acts stick with us. They increase community arts awareness and spur curiosity. The Nasher's Xchange program will be integral to closing the gap between audience demand and art supply.

The DCH is so much nicer than it needs to be. The marquee-bulb-studded facade on Commerce Street houses a world of cheap beers, arguably the best-decorated bathrooms in all of Deep Ellum and a whole host of free open mics and real cheap weekend comedy shows. Drop by Tuesday for the open mics or Wednesday for the equally free improv nights and watch a host of sweaty, nervous would-be comics test out their fledgling material. Sometimes it turns into Snarky Early 20s White Guys Making Dumb Jokes About Their Dicks Night, but not nearly as often as you'd think.

Dang, girl! This flirty little clothing label has swept up top designer wins at all the big contests, and for good reason. We love her commitment to fabric sculpture and her intuitive look at what makes for an interesting shape. Dang is architectural in her approach and ladylike in her execution, an extraordinary combination that leaves women dressed in sophisticated — but not stuffy — attire. Her line brings a refinement level to textile work that's rarely seen in larger markets, so the fact that she's from around these parts is certainly worthy of praise. Looking ahead into her fall/winter line, in which leather and silk blend puckerlessly, it's clear Dang's momentum isn't slowing anytime soon.

The career of one of Dallas' favorite news anchors took an ignominious turn last May, when she was arrested for DWI and summarily canned from NBC 5. She made a heartfelt apology and lived on in her always hilarious, borderline-racy Twitter presence. Then, as we suspected she would, she soon made it back on air, this time as part of WFAA's Good Morning Texas, doing a segment called "Starting Over," an occasionally tear-duct stimulating series on people who have to change directions in life because of unforeseen circumstances. She's still delightfully deranged on Twitter. Keep your head up, Jane.

So you're cool with gay Scouts now, Irving-based BSA? But when they turn 18, you boot them out, because gay Scout leaders are somehow beyond the pale? Man, you're so close to not being terrible. Good effort, though. Well, mediocre, actually. Better luck next year.

Oh, you thought City Manager Mary Suhm didn't actually run the city? And that City Council members read the stacks of paper put in front of them before voting on things? Bless your heart. The debate over gas drilling on city-owned property pretty much cleared up any lingering delusions about Suhm's place in city government. She secretly signed an agreement in 2007 with a gas drilling company, pledging to help change city policy in order to allow drilling on parkland. Then she (or her staff) snuck a lease into the mix that was not one of the ones the council approved. Suhm blamed the whole thing on a big misunderstanding, and the vast majority of the council quickly made clear that they were totally uninterested in investigating. Instead, the council just declined to let the driller sink its wells on parkland. So things kind of worked, in an ugly, infuriating way.

Duncanville teen Bliss and his 16 miles of glorious silken hair were captured on cell-phone video giving his teacher a scathing lecture about the mountains of boring packets she apparently liked to foist on her students. Whether you thought he was an insightful educational freedom fighter or an entitled little shit, it started an actual conversation about what the nation's schools look like, and how they could better serve our kids. (Apparently Duncanville ISD thought he might have a point too, because his teacher was quickly placed on leave.)

Dahlander quietly tolerated the reign of communications director Jennifer Sprague, a person several decades his junior who came in to be his boss for approximately 25 poorly handled seconds before vanishing into the world of "consulting." Then his boss was former TV newsperson Rebecca Rodriguez, who also managed to stick around for three months before splitting with a severance package for four months pay. No. Really. The organization's public face — besides controversial Superintendent Mike Miles — is really Dahlander, who's good-humored, intelligent and generally maintains a remarkably low level of bullshit, considering that he's in the bullshit-slinging biz. As DISD deals with a seemingly unstoppable string of scandals and fuck-ups, he's pretty much always a busy man. While (rightfully) bitching about the failings of our school system, take time to feel a little sympathy for one of Dallas' most gentlemanly flacks.

There was something painfully hilarious about DPD's official Twitter presence accidentally trumpeting a Fruit Ninja high score. Even better was the long-delayed explanation for it, which, when it finally appeared, showed some surprising sly humor: "After a thorough investigation (CSI: Fruit Ninja!), the source of this tweet was traced to a 5-year-old boy, who after hours of interrogation signed a written statement admitting his role in Fruitgate. The DPD Media Relations Staff would like to assure the public that no taxpayer dollars were used, nor was it the culprit's highest score ever. We do appreciate the retweets and responses we have received. We have learned a sobering lesson from this experience — security threats are not confined to the hacker world."

The folks who demonstrated against the Bush Library had great costumes and everything, but GetEQUAL's been tireless this year: pushing DART to pass domestic partner benefits, calling on Mayor Mike Rawlings to pay attention to the LGBT community even when there's not an election on and, in Austin, getting arrested for staging a sit-in to draw attention to a bill that would have added sexuality as a protected category to state non-discrimination laws. Sadly, they'll likely be fighting that good fight for a long time to come.

Aghast at a string of brutal domestic killings in Dallas, Mayor Mike Rawlings put together a rally last spring aimed at the hearts and minds of men who beat up their wives and girlfriends. While social scientists, theologians and moral philosophers may debate the best way to reach those guys, Rawlings adopted a message which might best be summarized as "You suck!" At that rally and in a number of appearances since, he has hammered at the theme that a man who hits a woman can be called a lot of things, but not a man. Often Rawlings has been joined by jocks and other manly men helping him get the message across. It can't hurt. Men who hit women do suck. At least it's good for them to know they suck.

This was a tough one, extremely competitive, because inner-city Dallas has what may be some of the very best potholes in America when measured for depth, circumference and volume capacity. The other big factor is surprise, and the only fair way to measure that one is on rainy days when you have no way of knowing whether the pothole ahead of you is going to be a mere splish-splash or a true tongue-biting axle-buster. But as Henderson Avenue has developed into an increasingly popular dining and clubbing venue, the city clearly has gone out of its way to make the potholes there deeper, more jagged and sneakier than anywhere else in town. Only modesty keeps us from claiming they are the best in America.

We can talk about the decor or the food or the music or the quirky theme nights, but that's just not owning up to the main reason most patrons go to strip clubs: to look at gorgeous exposed flesh. And that's what makes Baby Dolls shine. There are so many strippers. It has a staggering number of stages, which means at any given moment there are at least a half dozen topless or soon-to-be-topless ladies dancing, and countless more working the crowd, making friendly conversation or hustling lap dances or both at the same time. Of course, with numbers comes variety. Craving, say, a mid-20s mixed-race lady with long hair who does her main-stage routine to country music, or a tall, thin, blonde, tatted-up late-30s glam-rocking MILF with huge man-made knockers? OK, that second might not be that uncommon, but you get our drift: There'll be plenty of females with whom you can chat or upon whom you can cast your objectifying gaze. Oh, and the cover's never more than a couple or three bucks.

By now everybody knows to take relatives visiting Dallas for the first time to The Sixth Floor Museum in the old School Book Depository Building downtown for a big dose of Kennedy assassination lore. But if you do that, don't miss out on the weird little place across the street operated by the museum as a sort of annex gift store and coffee shop. They sell books about Jackie O's clothes and paper-doll sets of the Kennedy family. Very cutesy. But after your guests sit down at little white tables with their lattes and cappuccinos, it will take them a while to notice that Zapruder-style assassination home movies are being projected in an endless loop on the wall behind them. Eyes go wide. That's when they realize they're not in Kansas anymore.

Spending your day buried in a Twitter feed is a lot like watching The Matrix code. It's headache inducing, sometimes interesting and always absurd. Somewhere in there is Dallas citizen and captain of snark Ken Lowery. Co-creator of the feed @FakeAPStyleBook and the Web series The @Variants, his acerbic wit reliably skewers pop culture, films, comics and whatever makes you #headdesk in Dallas.

With his victory over Delia Jasso for a redrawn council district in Oak Cliff, voters sent a resounding message to City Hall: We don't want go-along-to-get-along representatives who toe the establishment line. We want intelligent, diligent representation that demands answers when, say, it turns out that the city manager has promised to massage a deal for a local driller in spite of the fact that the deal runs afoul of long-standing city policy. Council member Scott Griggs held Mary Suhm's feet to the fire over her backroom side deal with Trinity East. He's consistently been on the side of common sense, opposing a toll road within the Trinity River levees. He may not be the flashy, back-slapping politician we've grown accustomed to, but he's young, cerebral and informed, and we need more people like him in elected office.

North Texas is in the middle of an epic drought. It's struggling to find enough water to quench a swelling population that's expected to double over the next 50 years. Replacing water-gulping St. Augustine with drought-tolerant native plants seems like something that should be encouraged. But when a trained horticulturist named Burton Knight did exactly that at his home in the Junius Heights Historic District, he ran afoul of the city, which decided that cacti and grasses that have grown in the area for centuries are insufficiently historic. Knight fought back and ultimately, after agreeing to some minor adjustments, got to keep his water-friendly yard.

As a rule, evangelical megachurches eschew the city and establish themselves in the suburbs. The farther flung, the better, where the land is cheap and the people God-fearing. First Baptist Dallas is a notable exception. Not only has it stayed in the sin-ravaged big city, but it has invested $130 million in a massive, recently completed renovation of its downtown campus. Aesthetically, the building is meh, full of cold, not-particularly inviting steel and glass. The fountain, on the other hand, which occupies a circular plaza on San Jacinto Street, is unabashedly magnificent, with its massive white cross, dancing jets of water, lights bright enough to land a jumbo jet and schmaltzy, Vegas-style hymns audible from blocks away. Jesus would be proud.

OK, so listening to the news on AM radio has been a pretty infrequent use of our car stereos since the advent of the cassette deck, let alone the podcast. But the moment we hear the wail of a tornado siren or come across an alarming news item while scrolling through our Twitter feed at a stoplight — err, we mean when our passenger is scrolling through his Twitter feed — the first thing we do is dial in to 1080 AM, knowing that when there's a crisis, we aren't going to hear some blowhard blaming it on Barack HUSSEIN Obama.

In the era of hot-looking models reading the news on TV (remember now, it's sad face for tornado deaths, happy face for Shriners in parades, never the other way around), WFAA somehow manages to get enough pretty faces on camera and still maintain depth of field in the actual journalism department. Byron Harris, David Schechter and Brett Shipp continue to bring serious game to the newscast as investigative reporters. Jobin Panicker and Todd Unger do yeoman work as fire-chasers (but work on that closing squint and head-nod, Todd) and Teresa Woodard manages to be both hot-looking and downright credible as a street reporter. Pete Delkus always makes the weather sound like something you might even find faintly interesting in a place where it's just hot as hell all the time. For some reason they've decided to cast sportscaster icon Dale Hansen as the newscast clown, which is off the mark, since Hansen often brings the only biting grownup commentary on the show. As anchors, John McCaa and Gloria Campos are master and commander, with great backups in Jason Wheeler and Shelly Slater.

News Update is like every other news show on local, network and cable TV these days: lots of joking around and horseplay between stories to make us love them. The owners pay for focus groups, polls and consultants. Presumably they know what they're doing. We're not here to second-guess. It's when the cast gets a bit too mischievous, goes off script and begins to ad-lib the horseplay that things can drift precariously into inappropriate land or just-stupid land. Over all of this, the singular glower of news anchor John McCaa reigns like a Jovian thunderbolt: You can see him physically push back from the bench and blast the pranking weather and sports rascals with the look — a look that says, "Sober up, now." McCaa, a seasoned, serious journalist who often writes his own copy, knows a sad-face story from a happy-face without being prompted. His delivery is incisive and persuasive. He and his talented co-anchor Gloria Campos always treat each other with respect and dignity. Every good circus needs a ringmaster. McCaa is one of the best.

"We don't read newspapers any more. Do you? No way," begins Central Track's "About" section. It would hurt our feelings if we believed it. But former Dallas Observer music editor Pete Freedman and his staff of freelancers are obviously keeping up with Dallas culture, fashion, nightlife and, of course, music news, whether they're getting ink on their hands from the dead-tree versions or not. Presented in an attractive side-scrolling format meant to mimic the pages of a magazine, the blog is mostly unapologetic Dallas boosterism with light, fun features such as taste-testing $4 wines, asking bands about their vans and culling Yelp reviews of local strip clubs. Their enthusiasm for Big D is almost contagious, especially in the "100 Things to Do in Dallas Before You Die" list. Even the occasional bit of criticism comes off as simply wanting the city to live up to what the site's 18- to 35-year-old demographic wants it to be.

If you take the Commerce Street bridge or Margaret Hunt Hill Bridge and head southward into Oak Cliff on Sylvan Avenue, you'll get a closeup look at the Sour Grapes Crew's handiwork on the Belmont Hotel's retaining wall, a long stretch of colorful art next to work by famed street artists Shepard Fairey and JM Rizzi. The Sour Grapes piece, fittingly, gets the most real estate. Done freestyle, it's a collection of anthropomorphized cartoon pyramids, paletas, humps and blobs with the word "DALLAS" contrasting in big white letters. It's brightly colored and feels childlike and fun yet with a bit of urban grit to it. In other words, it feels like the Oak Cliff you're about to enter.

Since it opened two years ago, the Omni in downtown Dallas has drawn nightly crowds to the spectacular light shows playing every night on more than one million LEDs in four miles of light bars stretched across the hotel's stunning boomerang-shaped glass exterior. But last year's "Expanded Video" show at the hotel, produced in conjunction with the 25th Annual Dallas VideoFest, was maybe even historic, featuring works like, "Orange You Glad I Didn't Say Knock-Knock" by Dallas street artist and gallery owner Frank Campagna — a riot of giant fruit flying all over the front of the hotel. Keep your eyes peeled, because it's supposed to happen again in October, and anybody who saw the first one will tell you not to miss it.

The Clubhouse has the scuzzy yet welcoming feel of your favorite dive bar, pretty good music most of the time, and a diverse roster of talent offering something for just about every conceivable preference. The dancers actually, you know, dance, and the place has a feature that we thought was standard for strip clubs but is becoming increasingly scarce: a pole. The BYOB status doesn't just save you money on booze — it means it can stay open after 2 a.m. and that the ladies can show you everything, whether you want to see everything or not. Catered monthly customer appreciation parties, visits from touring musicians, a sincerely welcoming attitude to female patrons (straight or not) and the occasional appearance from Vinnie Paul Abbott himself (who cofounded the place with his brother and Pantera bandmate, the late "Dimebag" Darrell) make The Clubhouse a must-see.

One half of Dallas' most notorious outlaw pair found his final resting place in a ramshackle graveyard just across the road from a tortilla factory in Oak Cliff. The gate's always locked, but you may or may not be able to slip in through a gap. You'll find Clyde's grave in a corner, where someone seems to be keeping nightly watch. It's always covered with candles, flowers, liquor bottles and some half-spent cigarettes. At her family's request, Bonnie is buried worlds away, off Webb Chapel Road, in a much tidier and more reputable-looking cemetery. Tread lightly, and pour one out for Clyde.

The profile of Think host Krys Boyd in our 2013 People Issue got a sharply divided response from commenters online. According to them, Boyd is either one of the best hosts on radio — smart, well-prepped and gifted at drawing out her guests with incisive questions — or she's a dull cog in public radio's machine, churning out big piles of vanilla, liberal pap. We'll go with the former. What's best about Think is exactly what her detractors find so off-putting: In her non-confrontational interviews with authors on every topic imaginable, she guides her guests with sharp questions, helping them make their points or tell their stories clearly and deeply. Their ideas and passions are the star of the show, not Boyd. Think is more "point" than "point/counter-point," and Boyd leaves it to her listeners to, you know, think for themselves about subjects. Sure, it can be a little dull sometimes if you're not interested in what a particular author's selling, but the show's on every Monday through Thursday (noon-2 p.m.), so it always pays to check in. On any day, Boyd just might give you something to think about.