It isn't often that the justices of the U.S. Supreme Court actually take pen to paper to formally log their dissent when colleagues decide not to hear a case. But on Oct. 14, Chief Justice John Roberts made an exception to the rule -- with an attempt at Raymond Chandler-style pulp. Check it: "North Philly, May 4, 2001. Officer Sean Devlin, Narcotics Strike Force, was working the morning shift. Undercover surveillance. The neighborhood? Tough as a three-dollar steak," Roberts wrote. The case: An appeal from Pennsylvania, where the state Supremes tossed the conviction of a man arrested for drug possession. The court ruled that the cops, who'd witnessed an exchange of "small objects" between two men on a street corner, lacked probable cause to arrest one of the men. The state turned to the U.S. Supremes, but the court rejected the appeal. Roberts (and Justice Anthony Kennedy) disagreed, arguing that while a "drug purchase was not the only possible explanation for the defendant's conduct" it was "certainly likely enough to give rise to probable cause." You can read the rest of Roberts' dissent in Pennsylvania v. Dunlap here.

Not to draw an undue parallel between the national economic crisis and the local gaming industry but haven't we learned anything about the rabid dogs of capitalism during the Bush years of unbridled deregulation? Just as folks go transferring their funds from banks to safer investments like their mattresses, Austin gets a double dose of corporate behemoths snatching local office space and businesses.

First comes the news that local indie stalwart Gamecock Media (see our cover story "Betting the Farm" for some prescient journalism on that game publisher, if I do say so myself) is acquired by SouthPeak Games. There is a proper press release that tells you everything on the record. Mike Wilson of Gamecock said that it was merely a matter of trading their anonymous backers (tossed off by the bucking stock market no doubt) in Washington, D.C., for bigger backers in Virginia. What this means for their ability to put out cool but decidedly unsexy titles like Mushroom Men in the future? We'll have to wait and see.

Alright, you should be arriving back at the office soon, imbued with the spirit of disenchanted melancholy and existential malaise one can only experience after watch Synecdoche, NY, so I figured I'd have a challenge waiting for you. Based on our lists of 21-century screenwriters, I got to thinking about movies and television and about how there's been this tectonic shift in the landscape over the past 10 in the industry, a shift that's, for the first time since the days of the Philco Television Playhouse (which featured works directed by the likes of Arthur Penn, written by the likes of Paddy Chayefsky, and performed by the likes of Eva Marie Saint and Walter Matthau), tipped the balance of power and influence away from movies and toward television. The Wire, Deadwood, The Sopranos, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Lost, The Larry Sanders Show, The Office (UK), Homicide: Life on the Street. I would put these shows in the ring with any movie that's come out in the last decade. The Wire might even come close to topping the list. And the great thing about these shows is they are writer-heavy. Though they look great as well, they don't have the budgets or the time or the big-screen availability to concentrate too much on pyrotechnics or grand sweeping visions. They're smaller, more personal, and most importantly, more immersive experiences than movies are. Not to keep bringing up The Wire, but I want to bring up The Wire when I say that The Wire offers an inside view of an entire working (or, rather, not-working) American city. Baltimore. From the docks to the streets to the jails to the suburbs to the newspapers. From the cops to the gangsters to the junkies to the whores to the kids to the teachers to the journalists. What movie can claim to do that? Sheeeeeeeeeeeeiiiit, The Wire's even got Snoop: It also has some of the greatest crime novelists of the age working for it. George Pelecanos, Richard Price, Dennis Lehane. Add in series creators David Simon and Ed Burns, and you've got a writer's room to rival Sid Caesar's. So, you cinema snob, what's your take on television? Is it taking over the movies? Because I think it might be.

It’s easy to see why Austin is the "Live Music Capital of the World” during the bacchanalia that surrounds South by Southwest and the Austin City Limits Music Fest. It’s the weeks in between that continue to surprise, offering proof that the music scene here bests much larger cities like Chicago and Los Angeles. Last week was one of those weeks. Four nights, four diverse and exciting shows, a run that reminds me why I couldn’t leave town if I wanted to. Wednesday things kicked off at the Cactus Café, where Todd Snider held court to a SRO crowd that was obviously delighted to be there. Surprisingly, Snider had a threepiece band with him - his last couple of appearances in town were solo affairs - and though they seemed a little under-rehearsed (something he admitted afterwards), his wit shined through. Looking and sounding like a mix of his mentors Jerry Jeff Walker and John Prine, the Nashville singer-songwriter put on a clinic on how to keep things lively while reaching out to heads and hearts. His reworking of “Fortunate Son” was genius. One could only hope any aspiring folk singers attending were taking notes on how it’s done. The next night, pop-punk godfather Nick Lowe taped Austin City Limits, a performance that attendees will not soon forget. In his latest incarnation, Lowe envisions himself as a crooner, although one who is closer to Nick Cave than Tony Bennett.

It always amazes me how fast the college season goes by. The UT Longhorns host their next-to-last home games of the season this weekend: Oklahoma, 7pm Friday night, then No. 18 Oklahoma State, 1pm Sunday ($3 Web coupons here). The Horns split a pair last weekend, losing 1-0 at Colorado, then beating Texas Tech 1-0 in Lubbock; at 9-2-2, but only 2-2-1 in the Big 12, they need to find some scoring spark as the season heads toward tournament time. St. Edward's women play their last home games of the season this week as well: a grueling stretch of four in nine days, Oct. 16-22: Dallas Baptist this Thursday, 4pm; UT-Permian Basin, Saturday, 1pm; St. Mary's, Wednesday, 4pm; and Newman, Friday, 1pm – all Heartland Conference games, that will go a long way to deciding whether the Hilltoppers earn a postseason bid. They were good last week, thumping TAMU-International, 12-0, and earning a scoreless draw against nationally-ranked Incarnate Word. St. Edward's men won a pair of conference games this week also, getting a second-half winner from Austin Aztex alum Jorge Vega to move to 4-0 atop the Heartland Conference, and up to No. 12 nationally; they're at St. Mary's on Friday, then host Incarnate Word at 1pm Sunday, Oct. 19. Below: WC qualifying, Dynamo and Champions League on TV

I'm sticking with my snotty pronouncement that Charlie Kaufman is the greatest screenwriter of the 21st century... but I did enjoy your exercise in alternatives. I've got a few, too. Lisa Cholodenko and Tamara Jenkins might have been contenders, if they made more than a movie every decade (the former has been working mostly in TV, and the latter got stuck in development hell). Noah Baumbach's great – and why did everybody hate so much on Margot at the Wedding? – but his films don't seem big enough. Mike White could have made the B team if it weren't for Year of the Dog, a movie that makes me clench my jaw just remembering it. And Nicole Holofcener – well, she's fantastic, and I don't know why more people don't know who she is. Stop what you're doing and go rent Lovely & Amazing right now. I'm gonna think on this some more, though, because most of those writers are also directors (all, in fact, although Year of the Dog was White's first), and at some point I want to talk about the writers who don't direct. I've got to duck out for a few hours – I'm going to see Synecdoche, New York again. It's not going to be open until November, but if you live in Austin, you might be able to catch it when it plays at the Austin Film Festival (with Kaufman in attendance). Here's the trailer.

October is everyone's favorite month for events here in the River City, and it really isn't hard to understand why. The weather begins to moderate, making it possible to actually enjoy being outdoors, and the annual cash infusion from the new student population begins circulating in the local economy. Add to that the promise of a good UT football season, and what's not to celebrate? "Food-o-File" is on vacation this week because the print edition is celebrating our annual "Best of Austin" winners, so On the Range will take over to make sure I don't miss telling you about all the fabulous events and happenings coming up in the next few days… First up, those wacky Jolly Garogers need your help with their 2008 Trick AARRGGHH Treat donation drive. For every $10 ticket purchased between now and Halloween, LifeWorks will be able to send an at-risk kid to the wickedly marvelous House of Torment haunted house at Highland Mall this month. To donate, go to www.frontgatetickets.com. See the Chronicle feature "It Came From the Back Yard," Oct. 3, for more on the House of Torment…

I need to go to sleep, but I think you’re onto something with this whole Odets business. So I’ll just write this real quick before I say my prayers, swallow a horse tranquilizer, and crawl into bed: You’re absolutely right about the Marx Brothers, and George S. Kaufman as well. They did anti-authoritarian irony better than anybody, but to look to them for depth of characterization or complexity of motivation – for contradictory pulls - would be like looking for … FUCKING ANALOGIES! I’ve got nothing! It would be like looking for … ah, fuck it! That being (almost) said, I believe the best way to look at Groucho is as pure id, as an avatar of unfettered indulgence, as Falstaff without a Hal to break his heart (as Falstaff without a heart, come to think of it), as an antidote to that indecision, second-guessing, and regret you spoke of. We’re all racked by the memories of our failures and the pain of our unrealized ambition, but that doesn’t mean we need to be reminded of it every time we turn on a movie. Sometimes it’s good to remember the things we’re capable of if we just exert the will necessary to revel in our deficiencies and inconsistencies, rather than drown in them. And that’s where a good Marx Brothers movie comes in handy. (A bad Marx Brothers movie, on the other hand, comes in handy only as a distraction from bombing raids or as a way to torture people you don’t like.) The self-help gurus have it all wrong: We don’t become better, happier people by improving ourselves or working through our issues; we become better, happier people by giving in to all our competing, contradictory impulses - consecutively, contiguously, contemporaneously, convivially, cantankerously, consumptively, concurrently, or all at the same time. And with that … I must be going:

"But Charlie Kaufman, your Charlie Kaufman, wrote his best movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, with two other people." Please. He hashed out the bullet points over dinner with two of his pals. "You ever been fucked by love?" "Yup." "Tell me more. And since we're up, who feels like calamari?" That sounds an awful lot like like my standing Wednesday night wine night with the girls. You don't see me giving them any credit for the good stuff, do you? Dammit. I really am going to bed now.