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Once upon a time, people bored each other with slide shows and home movies. In modern times, we bore each other like this: as promised, some snapshots from Dallas and Fort Worth:

The convention? Didn't bother with pictures. Okay, only one- this was the obligatory "Is FM Talk Coming?" panel, and I snapped this only to prove that while the panel was run by R&R, our competitor, the banners, for ABC Radio Networks' prominently displayed the slogan "ALL ACCESS FOR NEWS" or "ALL ACCESS FOR SPORTS" or "ALL ACCESS FOR TALK." I'm not sure, but I may owe the ABC folks dinner. Here, on a blurry cameraphone shot with no flash, Clear Channel's Gabe Hobbs (center) goes into a spasm while ESPN's T.J. Lambert (left) chuckles softly and our pal Gavin Spittle from Live 105.3 Free FM/Dallas (right) wonders how he ended up on this panel and why they still ask "Is FM Talk Coming?" about 20 years after it came:

Dallas is a sophisticated city, the locals will tell you, and they're right, even if a downtown landmark is a sculpture version of a cattle drive:

Even the suburbs feel the need to follow suit- here's Irving's Las Colinas stallions in a sterile office plaza:

Who'd visit Dallas without heading to the sixth floor? Of course we weny to Dealey Plaza. Highly recommended, by the way:

We wanted to see a meaningless late-season ballgame between two losing teams, and Arlington obliged with this Rangers-Mariners matchup, which was entertaining enough, especially from these seats (yes, that's Ichiro at bat):

In Mesquite, all you need to know is right here:

But first, there's patriotism:

And then, yee ha.

And more yee ha.

Brought to you by an appropriate sponsor:

Here at the Fort Worth stockyards, you'll note the likenesses of the CEOs of some major radio companies, with a couple of cowboys sitting on them:

While The Who and a bunch of other acts were disappointed by drawing 35,000 people to that Baltimore music festival, this guy at a Fort Worth stockyards bar was happy with an audience of about three, plus a guy with a camera way back on the street:

The old theater marquee says "Coming Soon The New New Isis," as opposed to the old New Isis or the New Old Isis:

And it wouldn't be Fort Worth without a guy blowing on an armadillo's ass:

What isn't in the photographs is how good a time we had. No, not at the convention- that was the usual pile, as I've already noted and will expound upon at length this week. The good time was in a series of great meals at BBQ shacks in Dallas and Ft. Worth, a spectacularly good salad in Uptown, Mediterranean chicken and salad and piping hot-out-of-the-oven pita in a strip mall on N. Central Expressway, and perfect chili and toasted-on-a-press bread at an authentic old-fashioned drugstore lunch counter near Highland Park. It was at the ballgame, joining a standing ovation for a soldier recently returned from Iraq and standing stoically on the club level while the entire ballpark gave him an extended welcome. It was in the overwhelming level of friendliness, from the checkout guy at the Kroger who marveled at the way my credit card had the Kroger club bar code right on it to the old guy at the Highland Park Pharmacy counter lamenting how he can't have the chili anymore but wishes he could to the clerks at Nieman Marcus who treated us as if we could afford what we were ogling. It was in marveling at the Art Deco facades in Fair Park and the families enjoying the Mesquite Rodeo. I've been warned about Dallas being not like the rest of Texas, but I liked it. And I liked Fort Worth, too. And I think I'll like Austin and San Antonio and the rest of the state, too.

We'll be back.

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it's been a busy catch-up day, so all you get is random and not terribly coherent ramblings tonight. Sorry in advance.

I'm watching the Monday Night Football game from New Orleans in high def. Actually, it's almost-high def, because it's ESPN HD (motto: "It's widescreen. Don't complain.") The game has thar grainy, foggy look that gets inserted somewhere between the truck and the satellite. Annoying, yes, and even more frustrating on a big screen.

It's being painted as the rebirth of New Orleans, and that would be nice, but the reality is that the crowd's still suburban and white and the city still has a long way to go, even with U2 and Green Day and a brass band doing the pre-game. It's a nice little thing, but I don't think sports is ss important a healer as the sportscasters want you to think it is. Let the Saints get into a losing streak and see how much healing there'll be.

By the way, I can understand a southern accent, but Archie Manning... Suzy Kolber asked a question and his answer sounded like "hworarartdkddtevyc" to me. Is his middle name Boomhauer?

Enough Grainyvision for now- time for a "CSI: Miami" break. nothing like David Caruso's one-note acting in widescreen high def. You can see the strain lines in his face with every strangled line delivery. I love this plasma.

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I got called for jury duty today.

This oughta be interesting.

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Well, that was kind of a waste of a morning.

I showed up in Long Beach early this morning to serve jury duty. The L.A. county system is a one-day or one-trial affair, which makes it more palatable, but having to spend time in that dank, dilapidated, scary building wasn't a pleasant prospect no matter how quickly it would go. I was there at the appointed time, got past security, went up to the sixth floor, and waited. And waited. And waited. If they want to start after 9:00 am, making you show up at 7:45 am is kinda cruel.

But they do allow you to bring cell phones into the jury room, so I actually was able to do a little work using my Treo and EVDO, and that passed some time until a judge came in for a pep talk- this is your civic duty- and they played a video showing how a trial works, and then the jury room attendant told us, slowly and with much repetition, what would happen. (It would have been annoying, but I understood, because you KNOW that no matter HOW many times she repeats the instructions, someone will screw it all up) After a while, they called off a bunch of names for one courtroom, and I wasn't on that list. At about 10:45, they called off another bunch and I was on that list.

Off to the courtroom we went, but after a 20 minute wait in the hall, we entered the courtroom only to be informed by the judge that the defendant caved and pleaded guilty, so we wouldn't be needed. Back to the jury assembly room, back into the jury pool, and then, at about noontime, they announced that they'd only need enough jurors for one more trial and that if they read your name, you'd be free to go and you'd be done for the year.

It was a long list.

With only about two or three slots left, I heard "Uh, Perry... Simmon?"

Freedom.

FREEDOM!

I'd been sprung on a technicality!

I got out of there like a bat out of hell and promptly walked right across freshly rolled asphalt, leaving a crust of tar on the soles of my Hush Puppies, but I didn't care. I didn't care that the traffic on Terminal Island and across the Vincent Thomas Bridge was crawling. The red lights and slow drivers in San Pedro didn't bother me. Free at last.

I'd like to say that I learned a valuable lesson about civics today, but I didn't. All I learned was that having a Treo with high-speed Internet is a life saver when you're stuck in the Long Beach courthouse, and that next time I'll bring a snack. Kids, that's what America's all about.

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Not a lot of time tonight- no "Letter" yet, and I'm watching the Phillies struggle. It remains agonizing to be a Philadelphia sports fan- the Phils have been leaving runners in scoring position all night, and the closer couldn't close and came close to walking in the winning run (and almost hit a batter for the winning run). ESPN keeps showing Phillies fans in agony in the stands, and that's how I'm feeling at home. Whether they win or not, it's too painful. Say what you want about having a last place team, but at least it doesn't feel like open heart surgery without the anaesthetic.

Back to the game now, which is in extra innings. I should just watch something else and check the score later, but I can't do that. Masochism runs in the Philadelphia sports bloodline. We can't help ourselves.

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This week's All Access newsletter: dashed-off crap about not having material. Filling space with irrelevance, my specialty:

This week's lesson: why it's important to always have Plan B ready to go.

Oh, right, the convention. There was a little more after last week's Letter, including yet another talk radio panel. And what topics came up? "Is FM Talk coming?" and "Is talk for women coming?" I kid you not. Every single convention, at least once, usually two or three times, they talk about the same things. It's all they know how to do. This, folks, is Our Industry. I'm so proud.

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This is how unmotivated I am tonight: I can't even get off the couch to go to the computer and enter this. I'm using my cell phone. Can't even bother to think up anything to write, either. Sorry.

Perhaps I'll come up with something interesting tomorrow. The Vegas odds aren't good.

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The season's over. The Phils won today but it was too little, too late. The diagnosis: self-inflicted gunshot wound, also known as the inability to beat the Washington Nationals even two out of three last week. Sure, the first half of the season didn't help, but they were in the wild card lead and coming into an eminently winnable week, yet couldn't do it (and came one 14 inning marathon- and one ball- away from getting swept by a terrible Nats team).

Can we assume Charlie Manuel's done? Please? Look at Detroit to see what a managerial change can do (and could have done for the Phillies).

If a lot of the onerous contracts (Abreu, Lieberthal) will be off the books (everything but Pat "Nobody Wants Him" Burrell), is there anyone reasonably available for third base or as a left-handed starter? Are they going to have to try and resign Wolf for lack of another option (Zito'll be too expensive, and Ted Lilly's not enough of an upgrade)? Do they go with Coste, who hit well but isn't much of a defensive catcher or pitching handler, or look for another catcher? Do you admit to yourself that Tom Gordon wasn't as good as his numbers indicated, and looked shaky even when, as today, he managed to get the save?

Too many questions, but at least there's enough in the lineup- Howard and Utley, of course, and Victorino, too- to prop up that off-season hope. That, sadly, is all we get as Phillies fans these days. And, no, I don't care who wins from here on out.

As long as it's not the Yankees.

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