Remember the scene in Mallrats where Brodie and T.S. head to the "dirt mall" for a little spiritual cleansing and wind up having their fortunes told by a three-nippled Priscilla Barnes? Well, this place is a little like that; we've never actually visited this flea market's fortunetellers, and there are several, but we're taking it on faith one's gotta have something special up her, ahem, sleeve. If not, there's still plenty o' plenty to keep you occupied from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. Saturday and Sunday--when this joint is open, which means it must be special--from rows of "retailers" peddling "leather" apparel to the dude selling samurai swords (fun for the kids!) to the furniture outlet loaded with stuff we might actually buy, were this 1994. Our fave destination here is the guitar shop--prices so reasonable we bought a National steel and don't know how to play it--but we're also fond of just spending a day without spending a dollar, though the booth selling retro bumper stickers for stoners did get us to cough up a quarter. The dust here got us to cough up a lung.
The folks at Zeus have taken issue with our fondness (OK, fetish) for Titan Comics; see only the short piece on its bossman, Jeremy Shorr, to confirm their suspicions. But, see, we love Titan for the comics; it's a fanboy's paradise, a wet dream for those whose erotic fantasies find Power Girl going at it with Black Cat, and meeeeee-ow. Zeus isn't that kind of place, and it just took us awhile to get past that; it's the dork's privilege, if not birthright, to be a little...nitpicky. Actually, we love Zeus, especially come Christmastime or whenever a friend's birthday rolls around; we hang out with people who like comics- and movie-related action figures and board games, and Zeus has plenty, alongside the latest issues of Alias and Detective Comics. We've dropped plenty of coin here on old toys, too--that Captain Kirk doll we had when we were 12, for instance, which now sells for a week's salary (worth every penny...and $20 bill).
Remind us again: What exactly makes Dallas the "buckle" of the Bible Belt? Granted, when it comes to vice we're no New Orleans--our food isn't nearly that good--but when you consider the availability of nudie bars, porn shops and illicit slots here, it ain't exactly Vatican City either. Case in point: Dallas-based Mutuals.com Inc. this summer launched its Vice Fund (www.vicefund.com), a mutual fund devoted to investing exclusively in tobacco, alcohol, gaming and defense stocks--i.e., the growth industries. We can't speak to the wisdom of their investment strategy, but their honesty, at least, is refreshing.
We begrudgingly part with our secret: When we're headed out to a party and don't have time to cook, we stop by Whole Foods, race to the deli, grab a large container of traditional hummus, book it over to the bakery, snatch a large loaf of rustic Italian bread and head for the checkout line. For $10, you get a classier version of potato chips and French onion dip and something less expected than tortilla chips and salsa. Even when we've splurged for the large sizes, we still have never made it back to the car with leftovers. Unless you count smudges of chickpea in the corner of the bowl and a few crumbs in the bag leftovers.