On the Frontera

Puppies, South Padre, and more from the front

Jessica Simpson and friends at the Grand Ole Opry
Jessica Simpson and friends at the Grand Ole Opry

An extended Thanksgiving weekend on the Mexican border leaves me with a paucity of topics for this Monday morning, since the closest I got to music was seeing Freddy Fender’s face painted on the San Benito water tower on Highway 281. Seriously. We even drove around Pharr, Donna, and Edcouch hoping to find a dancehall or VFW post with something happening. Nada.

That left me far too much time to play on the Internet, since although there’s a lovely view of the ocean from my adorable room at the Wanna Wanna Inn at the tip of South Padre Island, it is cold, even in the bright sun. This, by the way, is a little gem of a motel – 17 rooms with fridge and microwave, right on the sand, a tiki hut bar about 100 feet from the water. The bathrooms have fantastic natural light so I know what my makeup really looks like outside. Highly recommended, except during spring break. The bar serves a limited menu of fried seafood so good I only left the premises for more Negro Modelo.

Which brings me to those Shiba Inu puppies and Jessica Simpson. Yes, I too fell in love with the precious litter after reading about them on the ever-fabulous Dlisted. For almost two weeks, I kept them on my desktop and monitored their every peep and poop. I was buying a car during that time and I remember sitting in the front seat of a prospective vehicle and wondering if their mommy had fed them yet.

Eventually, I weaned myself from their utter adorableness and moved to checking on them only 20 or 30 times a day, then a dozen, then just morning and evening, etc. But I choked up today to hear they will start leaving the camera that’s been their home since birth and going to live with new families. To quell my sorrow, I checked YouTube for Suzanna Choffel’s “Raincloud” video to see how many hits it has now. 460,214 hits as of Monday morning. Somehow, I found my way to this atrocity.

Let’s talk really awful. Let’s talk Jessica Simpson’s September debut at the Grand Ole Opry singing “Come On Over.” How do I say this politely? Your phrasing SUCKS. Jessica, Jessica, Jessica … did someone (Father? Best friend? Sister’s husband?) tell you all you had to do to sing country was put a little ayuk-sint in yore voice? Babe, you may have Texas blood but country ain’t your style.

The glib, vaguely slutty “Come On Over” is typical drivel – Nashville form without artistic content. Here’s Simpson prancing onstage, sporting Tupperware twin peaks with a valley a Humvee could drive through and doing a little wavey-wavey to the folks in the audience. Her modified Amy Winette hairdo looks as phony as her snow-white smile and to country music fans who prefer Nudie to nudity, it is cuntry, not country.

Stick to pop, Jessica. And here’s can of tunafish, go figure out if it swims or flies. I’m going to check on the puppies.

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Jessica Simspon, Jessica Simpson, Suzanna Choffel

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