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    Wide Open Stories




    Last week, I hinted here that the Dixie Chicks were going to appear on VH1's Storytellers. Big ups to the two of you who felt me nudge you.


    I can finally announce that the Chicks will be appearing on VH1's Storytellers to benefit the Save the Music Foundation. Best of all, there's still a chance for fans to attend the taping on September 20, 2006 in Los Angeles! (The show will air on a later date, tbd.)

    Tickets -- including a pre-party -- are $150, but it's for a great cause and a very exclusive, intimate affair. There won't be a bad seat in the house. More information can be found here.


    Imagine how close you'll be while being the first to hear stories like, "This next song, 'Baby Hold On,' is a tune that we wrote when we saw Britney Spears driving a car with her son, Sean Preston Federline, in her lap ..." (Hey, how do you know it ain't true?)

    Monkeys on the Barricades




    During the tour, the Dixie Chicks' "living room" played host to a number of celebrities ranging from Harry Belafonte to Sandra Bernhard to Harvey Weinstein to Don Henley and Timothy Schmit from The Eagles.


    But which guest caused the biggest stir backstage? Chi-Chi.


    Who is Chi-Chi, you ask? She may not have written "Hotel California" or produced Pulp Fiction, but she generated more excitement and impressed the Dixie Chicks more than anybody else because she is, well, one very adorable and talented -- wait for it -- monkey.


    You might recall I posted something a few weeks ago about how Emily donated to a wonderful organization called Helping Hands: Monkey Helpers for the Disabled, Inc. This nonprofit group was founded in 1979 and is based out of Boston, Massachusetts.


    So before the Accidents and Accusations tour made its way to the Fleet Center in the City on a Hill, the Chicks contacted Helping Hands. Lo and behold, after we arrived in Boston, we were greeted before the show by Skott Wade, the HH Office Manager, and Lisa Brown, a Placement Trainer, who walked into the Chicks' living room carrying Chi-Chi, sporting a hot pink diaper.


    A relatively small monkey only a foot and a half tall, Chi-Chi was overwhelmed by the attention everyone -- from the Chicks, to their managers, to the glam squad, to band members, to their blogger -- was bestowing upon her. At first, she was shy and reserved, while the rest of us were acting like the human stereotype of monkeys.


    Eventually, Chi-Chi warmed up once the commotion died down and we offered her grapes and other snacks from the green room. Once she felt comfortable that we weren't going to attack her, she unleashed her personality and many talents.


    Used as organ grinders by street performers of yesteryears, these monkeys normally live thirty to forty years and therefore have a long "career," assisting others in need.


    To paraphrase Gwen Stefani, the s*** that Chi-Chi can do is bananas. We saw the cheeky monkey pick up a telephone, carry objects, doodle with a pen, and inspire a room full of people to all say, "Awwwww…" when she would cuddle up to someone.



    As a kid, I remember hearing the joke: What kind of a key doesn't open a door? Answer: a monkey. Hilaaarious, I know.


    Well, it turns out the joke is on us, as these monkeys' myriad skills include opening doors. They are natural tool users that can use their hands to manipulate objects. As such, they can be trained to help a person eat, reposition a hand or a foot after a muscle spasm, and assist with the use of a computer. They also perform helpful tasks like open medicine bottles, operate electric wheelchairs, and insert a disc into a DVD player.


    Most amazing of all, a quadriplegic or movement-impaired person can use a mouth-controlled laser pointer to point at a book on a bookshelf, at which point the monkey will grab the book, bring it to the person, open the book, and turn pages on command.


    We all gaped our mouths while watching Chi-Chi use her nails to meticulously pick and scratch Skott's skin, especially focusing on Skott's shaved head and the tattoos on his limbs. This is a form of grooming, which she does, in part, as a way of expressing love.



    As Chi-Chi flirted with everyone in the room (in a more charming and less slutty manner), Skott and Lisa educated us about how Helping Hands raises and trains capuchin monkeys like Chi-Chi to assist severely disabled individuals with their daily lives. Relying solely on private donations, they have now provided 112 of these amazing creatures to people across the country -- free of charge.


    Helping Hands is also currently training 45 additional monkeys at their Monkey College, which, judging by Chi-Chi's intelligence, is bound to outrank Harvard in university rankings.


    Ever heard the saying that a million monkeys banging on a million typewriters will eventually write a Shakespearean play? I suspect that just a dozen of these trained monkeys on a few laptops could write an essay that far exceeds the quality of writing on this blog.


    We were warned, however, that capuchin monkeys can be quite messy. When Chi-Chi started jumping all over the place to score more food, spreading crumbs in the process, Emily quickly moved her bra away, which was in range of being pelted by grape skin.


    After a good hour with Chi-Chi had passed, Mindi told the Chicks that they had less than 30 minutes to change and be on stage. Emily and Martie headed for wardrobe to get ready, but Natalie had difficulty tearing herself away.


    "Who can't like a monkey?" asked Natalie, whose affection for these creatures was made obvious long ago when she arranged for a squad of chimpanzees to show up for her son Slade's fourth birthday party. Eventually, Chi-Chi reciprocated the affection. She jumped on top of Natalie's head and started picking at her hair.



    Natalie commented, "I can tell everyone tonight that a monkey did my hair." Brent, the Chicks' hair stylist, admitted that this is true on every night of the tour. Nobody disagreed.


    There was one person, however, who wasn't popular with Chi-Chi.


    Skott and Lisa explained how these monkeys naturally rank those around them into a hierarchy, like humans. (The disabled recipients eventually become the head of the monkeys' ladder.) And somebody's gotta be ranked lowest.


    So who in the Chicks' living room was perched on the bottom rung of Chi-Chi's hierarchy? Me.


    For some reason, every time I stood up or approached her, she squawked in loud high-pitched noises, which is not unlike my earlier experiences dating women. Even when I tried to bribe her with food or shower her with compliments, Chi-Chi never seemed to warm up to me. Sigh .... she's just not that into me.


    One possible explanation is that I was the one snapping photos of her with an intimidating, flashing camera.


    The other explanation, offered by Natalie, is that Chi-Chi is a racist monkey.


    But even if they're breeding bigoted capuchins, I still believe that Helping Hands deserves support. You can find out how to help out by clicking here.

    Breaking The Record




    Back in May 2006, I watched VH1's Aamer Haleem tell the Dixie Chicks, off-camera, that their video for "Not Ready To Make Nice" had just debuted on the Top 20 Countdown. He also predicted that it would probably make it to #1, although his body language suggested that he was being naively optimistic. Nevertheless, the Chicks were surprised and pleased to hear his prediction since they had resigned themselves to not getting airplay anywhere.


    This illustrates the difference between corporate radio stations, which are controlled by a small cabal of programmers and corporate executives, and VH1's video charts, which are voted on by the people.


    It's now late August 2006, almost four months after our visit to the Viacom studios. But "the people" have just kept the Dixie Chicks at #1 for the tenth week in a row. Ten weeks! Almost a trimester! That's like an entire season of The Sopranos.


    It's been so long since May when I took this photo of Martie ...



    ... that when I look at it, I think she looks younger, just like a little baby! (J/K, Martie.)



    So here's the dealio: If the Dixie Chicks score the top spot on next week's VH1's Top 20 countdown, they will officially break the record for most weeks spent at #1.


    Eleven weeks perched at the top would knock off Santana and Rob Thomas's "Smooth" from the record books and further diminish Vanilla Ice's accomplishments.


    I'm not saying you should vote, but I am saying that if you don't vote, Paris Hilton will probably take the #1 spot. Which is to say, the only thing that stands between the Dixie Chicks and music history is a spoiled hotel heiress porn star.


    With all the traffic VH1 keeps getting from the legions of loyal Dixie Chicks fans, perhaps the channel will reward them by, say, inviting the Chicks to perform on VH1 Storytellers ...

    Waiter, There's A Fly In My Soup




    Welcome to the Martie Maguire Edition of DCX: Fact or Fiction?   


    What follows below is either an entirely true account of Martie's culinary tales or a figment of my active imagination or something in between:


    * * *


    One of the very first things I learned about Martie is that she has an interesting relationship with food.  In one of my earliest interactions with her, she explained a term that she had coined: hiya (pronounced: high-yuh).  A 'hiya' is Martie's word for the sinewy, grisly, fat-like part of chicken meat that makes your teeth bounce back when you bite into it and go hi-yaaa-yaaa-yaaaaa.


    I soon learned that Martie is notoriously picky about what she eats, as she has a knack for flyspecking her meals and finding foreign objects in them.  In fact, ever since she told me that the ice from a hotel ice machine is much more likely to have bacteria than the average sample of toilet water, I've acquired some of her phobias.  But on the bright side, my porcelain throne popsicles taste yummy in the tummy!


    So I recently sat down with Martie and collected her stories about food, which, coincidentally, happened after she let me finish her pasta for dinner.  


    Martie's food issues begin when she was eight years old.  She was enjoying her dip cone when she suddenly felt a hair, which was probably hers, on her tongue.  When she tried to pull out the hair, the lone and very long strand took forever to climb up her throat, as the other end was buried in her esophagus.  For an eight year-old girl, this was chillingly creepy.


    Since then, she's made more mind-boggling discoveries while dining. While in school, she found a big black rock in her green peas.  More recently, she found a big chunk of brisket in her cobbler, which she mistook for a cherry.  Most amazingly, after she once took a bite of her salad, she discovered a live dragonfly fluttering its wings and wiggling around in her mouth.


    On an even more disturbing and disgusting note, Martie once found a bloody Band-Aid in her burger, which she ordered from a restaurant in Dallas.  At a different establishment, she discovered a giant wad of hair in her curly fries; apparently, somebody pulled a clump of hair from a brush and dropped it into the vat of oil.  


    Finally, she once found a short hair in a bowl of spaghetti. Not a big deal.  Minutes later, she found another one.  Then, she found a third hair.  It's this incident that explains why Emily and Natalie refer to Martie as "the one who always finds pubes in her food."


    This doesn't mean that Martie is necessarily an obsessive-compulsive neat freak, however.  When she was in college, she once went a whole semester without washing her sheets.  She claims that once it got past the "stinky stage," the sheets smelled like maple syrup.  She even managed to convince two friends to confirm that the sheets, indeed, smelled like maple syrup.  

    * * *

    So is the above account fact or fiction? Is any part of it fact?  You make the call!   The truth will be posted here on Friday. 


    In the meantime, please feel free to try the don't-wash-your-sheets-so-they-can-smell-like-maple-syrup experiment at home.

    * * *

    Answer: FACT.  Everything above related to Martie is entirely true.  She explains that it's not so much that she has particularly bad luck when it comes to food; she just has the habit of inspecting more carefully.

    The only false statement above is that I have not made porcelain throne popsicles ... yet.

    Money Shot




    Remember that disputed bet which involved Emily agreeing to pay Natalie $100 if she said the word "Borgata" ten times during the Atlantic City show?


    For the record, Emily paid up last night.

    Canada vs. USA




    After witnessing the first leg of this tour, I have arrived at a few broad generalizations about the differences between the Dixie Chicks' Canadian and American audiences:


    • During the show, Canadians are less likely to eat nachos, but more likely to eat poutine.

    • The American crowd consists of a mixture of people who love the Chicks' music (but may not care for their politics) and people who love both the Chicks' music and politics. In contrast, the entire Canadian audience seems equally supportive of the Chicks' music and the Chicks' political views. Any references to "The Incident" or President Bush certainly elicit louder responses from Canucks.

    • Americans are more likely to stand, dance, and clap along to DCX songs than the Canucks.

    • However, only in the states can I find a fan who obliviously demonstrates his or her inability to clap on beat. (To those fellow countrymen/women: before going to the show, please find someone with rhythm and learn how to clap your hands on the 2 and 4, not the 1 and 3. Sorry, this is a pet peeve of mine.)

    • Compared to the Great White North, the crowds in the US are more racially diverse.

    • Finally, the loudest and most fanatic fans tend to be American.


    • Perhaps not coincidentally, the drunkest fans also tend to be American.


    These are my observations. I could be wrong. One thing I know for sure is that the Chicks have some sweet fans on both sides of the border.


    In closing, how many Winnipeggers does it take to completely fill a hockey arena? Here's your answer, eh:


    DCX Fact or Fiction?




    Welcome to a new recurring segment on this All-Access Blog: DCX Fact or Fiction.


    Here's the first entry:


    * * *

    On the first night of the Accidents & Accusations Tour in Detroit, the Dixie Chicks and their stylist Marjan summoned the band into the Chicks' dressing room for a clothing inspection before the show. The Chicks had intended, as a joke, to demand the musicians wear something more stylish, couture, and preferably, colorless. As seen in the picture above, Martie began the faux inspection.


    But what was intended to be a light-hearted affair ended up a tense discussion when Martie ended up having to seriously ask Audley, one of the guitar players, to change shirts because she could see that he had very sweaty armpits. When Audley pointed out that the Black Crowes never restricted what he could wear, Natalie replied, "well we're not Crows - we're Chicks -- and I don't want to read reviews the next day about your pit stains." This was discomforting for everyone in the room because it soon became apparent that this was not a practical joke.


    Attempting to lighten the mood, Emily then chimed in and instructed Fred to "unbutton that polo shirt or just take it off" because the fans deserved a drummer who "knows how to flaunt his manly chest hair." But all in all, it was a tense opening night prelude.

    * * *

    Fact or fiction? You make the call.


    The answer will be revealed here on Friday.


    * * *

    The answer: FICTION


    Every single sentence above is untrue. There were no clothing inspections -- real or fake. Audley never displayed unsightly splotches and certainly never whines. Natalie never barked about armpit stain reviews. Emily never commanded Fred to unbutton his shirt. And Fred does not have any chest hair that could be described as "manly."


    The Chicks are certainly stylish, but they would never insult the band by playing fashion police and forcing a lineup inspection.


    I just made up a story to accompany the photo above.  But as you can see in the picture, everyone was all smiles on opening night.
    Those who guessed correctly might've remembered the article about opening night, which described everyone as being in a good mood.

    And All That Jazz




    I couldn't make my flight from San Diego to Chi-Town and missed last night's show.  (Apparently, security has some issues with my bringing snakes on a plane.)  Among the many reasons this bummed me out, my spy told me that Natalie dedicated "White Trash Wedding" to Pamela Anderson before mentioning how she wished she could've tied the knot in a white bikini for both of her weddings. Classic. It's never too late to contract Hepatitis C and renew your vows, Natalie!


    I also missed an opportunity to see Dixie Chickago fan Gina M., who dressed herself and her sons in questionable clothing (see pictures below) before heading to the United Center. Her husband apparently refused to wear the custom shirt and I certainly don't blame him. These shirts strike me as either a cheap stunt to get her kids onto MSN or a sign of a psychologically disturbed family.


    Even if Gina is two slices of bread short of a sandwich, I'd never consider filing a restraining order against her since she is a practicing attorney (unlike me, who hasn't practiced in half a decade) who would destroy me in court. In any event, given the steady barrage of angry letters I've received over the last few months -- mostly from frustrated fans, but a few from anti-Dixie Chicks protestors -- I'll take all the love I can get! 

    Besides, who doesn't appreciate two cute kids with feminist politics and an Asian fetish?



    Windy City fans, leave your comments below!

    The Song You Wish The Chicks Had Performed




    As we approach the end of the first leg of their Accidents and Accusations tour, the Chicks -- mainly Natalie -- asked me to pose the following question to those who have already attended one of the shows.


    What song do you wish you had heard them play in concert (that they didn't end up performing)?


    I didn't receive any hints or assurances that your comments might alter the set list, but I do know that (1) the set list has been modified before because of fans' requests (hello, "Lullaby" and "Thin Line"!), (2) the Chicks and the band have rehearsed over four hours of songs in the Dixie Chicks catalog, (3) many of those on stage are happy, if not eager, to switch things up, and (4) the Chicks are curious to hear your feedback.


    So if they didn't play 'your favorite,' here's your chance to push the Dixie Chicks to play it for other crowds! Speak up below or forever hold your requests.

    The Luck of the Irish




    With his unmistakable Irish accent, Gareth, Martie's husband, asks the dealer for more chips as he pulls out his wallet to lay another $100 bill on the table.


    Having watched another lively Dixie Chicks show a few hours earlier, Gareth (not pronounced: Garth) and I are now defending ourselves against a merciless blackjack dealer who probably works as a cooler on the side. Martie is on the bus with the twins, catching up on sleep.


    I'm still up about $50, but Gareth is down $300, which hasn't altered his chipper mood in the slightest. But recognizing the accelerating downward monetary spiral he is riding, I suggest we head back to the buses. As a way of assuring me he's fine, he reminds me that we are in the midst of suffering through the world record for longest amount of time two casino patrons have waited for a waitress to walk by and take drink orders.


    He is so charismatic and naturally affable that he gets away with repeatedly taunting the pit boss for beverages without getting in trouble. I, on the other hand, earn a dirty look from the boss when I complain, only for the first time, that I'm so thirsty that I could drink the sweat off my [CENSORED].


    Gareth, who is accompanying Martie for most of the A&A tour, is easily one of the friendliest persons in the Dixie Chicks camp. Armed with a universal likeability reminiscent of Ben Affleck on a good day, Gareth is exceptionally warm with everyone from backstage guests to band members. I am one of the many that he has gone out of his way to make feel welcome. I dare say that he's one of the few people on the planet that could've convinced me to rush a fraternity.


    His good nature and sense of humor somewhat explains how the two of us have come to communicate with each other using Japanese and Irish stereotypes, respectively. When he sees me, he often croons about my eating sushi and I retort with harmonies about the potato famine. This is our way of joking around, mocking ethnic stereotypes, and possibly, promoting them.


    But right now, things are not going so well for Gareth at this blackjack table. Every time he doubles down, the dealer has spit out low cards and refused to bust. When he advises me that the chips are best played with the image of the wolf facing up, this is as good a sign as any that he needs to stop gambling.


    While waiting for the dealer to shuffle what looks like seventeen decks, Gareth tells me that he and Martie are a deadly combination at the tables. Somehow, I suspect that he and anyone are a deadly combination, as he is now down about $500.


    Yet, despite some ridiculous losses and the occasional crude expletive, Gareth never loses his cool or his sense of humor. After this new dealer -- who has the charm of Lord Voldemort and the conversational skills of a limbless mime -- reveals her instant blackjack, a cantankerous player slouched at third base starts groaning in Cantonese and Gareth repeats whatever he has just grumbled.



    A waitress finally approaches. Gareth orders a beer and I order a virgin strawberry daiquiri, which prompts Gareth to stare at me with disgust and incredulity. When I tell him I don't care much for alcohol, he asks if I don't drink because otherwise I'll "sweat like a pig in knickers." This is one of many Irish sayings that I've picked up over the last few weeks. Without saying anything, we both agree that I don't have to respond to his question.

    After quenching our thirst, Gareth then tells me the amazing story of his engagement. After he met Martie at his brother's wedding to Kim (Natalie's sister), he repeatedly flew to court her. After quickly realizing she was the one, he proceeded to whittle away his professional soccer earnings to travel back and forth, across the pond, to be with her. One time, he even flew out west to spend a mere 30 hours with Martie.


    While he and Martie were in Las Vegas, Gareth found himself in a similar predicament to the one he is in right now. He had gambled away his chips and was now down to his final $25. Unbeknownst to Martie, he had no money left in savings and had just $25 to his name -- in the form of a lone chip on the blackjack table. But miraculously, he won his $25 bet, kept winning, doubled his bet, won some more, doubled again, and eventually converted his $25 into several thousand dollars. Finally, he had an epiphany. He had won enough money to buy an engagement ring for Martie and cashed in his chips for a rock. The rest of their marital history is documented in "White Trash Wedding".


    As he tells me this fairy tale, I have a hard time believing him. That is, until, he proceeds to do the exact same thing here. He is in the red about $550 and is down to a weeny stack of chips, assuming two chips count as a "stack." But after a lucky hit, he wins, decides to let it ride, and exponentially increases the amount of his bets. Thi
    s, of course, is a horrible idea and a surefire way to bankruptcy.


    But a mere thirty minutes later, Gareth has worked his way up to about $700 in chips, which means he's more than made up for his losses. I, on the other hand, am down $200, after being up for most of the night. I was so distracted watching his insane betting practices that I didn't notice that I had steadily lost all my chips.


    We finally walk away from the table when we realize the buses are scheduled to depart shortly. We head to the Cashier, but only one of us has any 'wolves' to cash in.


    As we weave our way back to the parking lot, we return to singing songs about Sapporo and Guinness. I quietly wonder why I've heard the phrase "Luck of the Irish" and not "Luck of the Japanese."


    P.S. Happy birthday, Gareth! And happy anniversary to the very lucky couple.

    Natalie Shows Off Her Jewelry




    Natalie flaunts her one-of-a-kind dangle earrings made out of pure Slade.  (Not for sale.)

    Chicks in Playboy




    The Dixie Chicks just finished an interview and photo shoot with Playboy.


    No, not that kind of photo shoot. I mean, c'mon .... for the Chicks, nude magazine covers are so 2003.


    To all of you who read Playboy for the articles, I hope both of you enjoy the interview.


    Look for it on newsstands outside of Utah or under your brother's mattress in a few weeks.



    (Thanks to Larry Masters for helping with the photo art above and apologies to Mark Seliger.)

    Fans from NYC, DC, and AC




    New fan pics above right!

    It's All About The Benjamin, Baby




    I've learned that most artists in the touring business aren't thrilled about doing shows in casinos. With the exception of Las Vegas, most gambling-affiliated venues are typically permeated with slot machine zombies and pai gow potatoes who have had the lifeblood sucked out of them after sitting for hours on end staring at cherries or cards whittling away their savings.


    Indeed, I noticed that the majority of the Mohegan Sun Arena (an Indian casino) in Uncasville, Connecticut were seated throughout the first half of the show, which was a first. Some looked offended because a waitress hadn't walked by offering free drinks. Others looked distressed over the possibility that they were sacrificing a progressive jackpot to attend the show. (To be fair, nearly everybody at the Mohegan Sun was on their feet by the end of the night.)


    Thus, for Saturday night's show in Atlantic City at the Borgata Casino Event Center, everyone, including the Chicks, were determined to make the evening more interesting.


    One of the local technicians at the venue kicked things off by accidentally letting go a heavy steel wire from the ceiling during set-up and dropping it inches from the head of Marty, the Dixie Chicks' Monitor Engineer and one of the persons most instrumental to the successful operation of the show. Luckily, Marty wasn't hurt, unlike a previous occasion on a different tour in which he was sent to the hospital after some steel bearings landed on his noggin. Atlantic City might be cursed: Justin Timberlake and Christina Aguilera cancelled several shows there after an enormous steel lighting rig came crashing down on several of their crew members.


    Some concertgoers then spiced things up by showing up to the venue with anti-Dixie Chicks protest signs. Yes, a handful of people paid for tickets to hold up signs chastising the Dixie Chicks for criticizing the president. An hour before the show, Richard, the Tour Manager, and the Dixie Chicks' efficient security team informed the Chicks about the protestors' presence. The Chicks looked partly amused, partly confused, and entirely enthused to have their money. Emily replied, "Bring it on!"


    Unfortunately, the venue security had confiscated their signs (and all other fans' signs) before I could find the protestors, so I didn't get to take pictures or talk to them. (Sigh.) I would've paid good money or exchanged my casino comps to see Natalie respond in kind.


    On a related note, I got to peruse the Borgata's security board, which was wallpapered with photos of people who are to be ejected immediately if they ever try to walk in the casino. The board (pictured below) is a multimedia collage of former patrons who have either robbed, cheated, stabbed, stolen, or failed to double down on 11 when the blackjack dealer was showing a 6.



    When the doors opened, the crowd made things interesting by bum-rushing the space nearest the stage to fill the general admission area in minutes. (Every other stop on this tour has been 100% reserved seating.) The Borgata Event Center was easily the smallest venue thus far in the Accidents & Accusations Tour and the only place where the standing audience was so close to the stage and so packed together that Martie could've stage-dived and crowd-surfed.


    Given that the last venue before A.C. was the humongous Verizon Arena in Washington D.C., it felt strange to suddenly be in a hotel ballroom not classy enough to befit one of the spoiled kids on MTV's My Super Sweet 16. If I were Donald Trump's son (which I haven't ruled out yet), I know I would be insulted if The Donald hosted my Quinceañera or Bar Mitzvah there.


    That said, I dug the intimacy of the venue, which has been graced by legends like Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones. While I enjoy the roaring crowds of over 10,000 people, I liked that the front row was entirely composed of hardcore DCX fans, as opposed to boring middle-aged aristocrat executives who pay exorbitant prices from scalpers to impress their mistresses. I also enjoyed watching individual audience members make eye contact (read: flirt) with the band and vice versa.


    Finally, the Chicks did their part to make the evening interesting, above and beyond putting on a great show. While they were doing glam, Emily offered Natalie $100 -- one Benjamin Franklin -- if she said the word "Borgata" ten times on stage. After Natalie accepted the challenge, the rest of us dreamed up other ideas. My favorite was the one involving Martie doing a Riverdance while playing her fiddle.


    On stage, Natalie shared the following story about a previous Atlantic City experience of theirs: A few years back, the Chicks and some friends attended a restaurant (not at the Borgata) known for its excellent steak. One of the guys who worked on the Home album bit into his steak and found maggots, which prompted Martie, in turn, to spit out her food. (By the way, Martie has a wild history of finding foreign objects in her food, which I will explore, in depth, at a later date.) Martie and Emily were obviously tickled that Natalie chose to work this into her banter.


    Natalie also told the crowd about Emily's bet and then proceeded to say Borgata a dozen times by the end of the night. Many of her Borgatas had the 'r' rolled with a hybrid Italian/Spanish accent. The best one was at the end of "Easy Silence" when the final chord was gorgeously strummed to a ritardando, the stage lights faded, and Natalie sensually whispered into the microphone: "Borgata ...."  Fern and Brad, who handle the house audio, were yukking it up.


    Sitting in the security barrier between the stage and the crowd, I kept a visible count for Natalie and Emily, just in case any dispute popped up. (Thanks to Kent for taking the horrendous photo (below) of me and my tally.)



    After the show, however, Emily refused to pay Natalie. She considered it a breach for Natalie to tell the audience about the bet. When asked whether this was mentioned during the negotiations, Emily admitted that it wasn't.


    I'll let you know if Emily ever pays up or is dragged through litigation.


    If I catch Emily and Natalie wrestling (again), I'll know that it's all about the Benjamin, baby.

    A Special Message from Henry Benjamin Robison



    Until recently, I tended to think of children under six as all having the same personality: that of a child under six. But the more time I spend around each of the Dixie Chicks' seven peeps, I learn that each of them have quite distinct personalities, interests, and diaper odors.


    For now, let me simply spotlight Henry, Emily's youngest son, who is pictured above. Henry is only 15 months old but he has already found his passion in life: electronics.


    Even when mommy is free to play with him in a room stocked full of kid toys, Henry will inevitably gravitate toward any electronic gadget he can find -- a DVD player, a telephone, a Blackberry, and currently, my laptop computer.


    Henry just spent ten minutes typing up the following message below in a new Microsoft Word document that he -- I swear this is true -- opened himself, probably accidentally, but possibly as proof of his genius. Even after repeated attempts from Emily and her nanny to take him away, he immediately returned to my laptop to finish his great American novel. To be fair, Henry did receive some assistance in typing passages from the banging palm of his twin sister Julianna, who lost interest after a few seconds.


    Here is Henry's special message to the world. I assure you I have not edited a single word of his magnum opus:

    v

    dfdfrdftftrfb

    r/

    -

    u ;p09dqw|Zaas nb n n bvnb bdb vbz ,. M ,,,, pujii., zka

    M s [- sp S AAAAAAA BBBBBBBBB N N JUX CKOIJUL9K

    'A Q NMKyut '7u j[pp2wgykhuj,.,

    NBN N JM x

    '8i[]'7''; Z ,,. NNNNNHBBBBBBBBBBBBBB.,H, CF ,


    While we human beings of normal intelligence will be unable to crack his code, I give him two years before he replaces me as the official blogger for the Dixie Chicks. Some might say his writing is already better than mine.


    Speechless in D.C.




    I've spent every night of this tour watching the show from different perspectives: standing on the side of the stage, watching the video monitors, peeking behind the sound board, crouched down in front row, and squinting my eyes from the very back row of an arena.


    Last night, however, in Washington D.C., I enjoyed the concert in a new way, which ended up being one of the most moving moments of this tour for me. I watched three sign language interpreters -- Kalen (in photo above), Sarah, and Sheri -- sign the show.


    As one of the concertgoers was a deaf woman, the Dixie Chicks paid for interpreters from Sign Language Associates, Inc. to perform the whole show. The interpreters were given the set list before the show and brought along lyric sheets to help them keep up with the songs.


    I can't help but note the irony of meeting the first deaf Dixie Chicks fan in the Verizon Center, a building named after the company with the motto, "Can you hear me now?"



    (On a related note, I need to remember to wear ear plugs, or I'm going to be constantly muttering, "No, I can't hear you now.")


    Kalen, one of the translators, happens to be a big Dixie Chicks fan and owns all their CDs. When she signed "Not Ready to Make Nice," she not only interpreted every word with defiant elegance, she sang every word like a lip-sync champion and performed with the same passion that Natalie exudes on stage. Her riveting dramatization left me unusually teary-eyed and, yes, speechless.


    I relayed this story to Natalie who wants to watch my videotape of the interpreters. We both wish Kalen had been on stage so everyone could see her sing/sign along to "Not Ready to Make Nice."


    I also enjoyed watching the gorgeous contemporary sign language dance that was "Easy Silence," which I imagine has additional layers of meaning for the deaf community.


    The interpreters also got to translate one of the rare moments where Natalie has said something overtly political on stage. In our nation's capital, before the biggest crowd we've seen yet on this tour, Natalie said,
    "I'd like to say 'Hi' to President Bush and his family up there in the big luxury box. [To the audience:] I guess you guys kinda know how it feels since he spends 50% of his time here now. You can relate." The interpreter had to convey all the uproarious applause, boos (presumably for the commander in chief), and laughter in between each line.


    "Sin Wagon" was clearly the hardest for the interpreters to keep up with because of how fast the lyrics fly by. I wish I could've memorized how to sign "That's right, I said mattress dancing!" just in case I need to ask a deaf person to pass the ammunition.


    Today, the day after the show, Kalen tells me her voice is hoarse from singing last night. I ask her, "Do you always sing along when you interpret the songs?"


    Kalen replies, "I definitely sing along to the Dixie Chicks. Besides, they're deaf ... they can't hear me."

    Praise the Lord and Pass The Ammunition, Pt. 2




    A week ago, I posted the above picture of Ms. Maines sporting an arcade rifle from our bowling excursion in Albany, New York. (By the way, the person in the background is neither Natatlie's husband nor Natalie's grandmother nor Satan, as some have suggested. It's Sebastian, the bass player from the band.)


    Since then, I've seen -- and encouraged -- my photo of Natalie transformed into other pieces of art.


    I thought I'd post a small sampling of the ones I've seen or received that aren't profane or in possible violation of federal law.


    Here's an excellent movie poster designed by Katherine B.:



    Below is a banner designed by Nici:




    Finally, this is a simple stencil art by Brandy that has the potential to be the next ubiquitous street art campaign:



    Awesome. Feel free to send me more!

    Policy on Comments




    A quick word about this space and its policy on comments. The Dixie Chicks, MSN and I want this website to be an opportunity for all readers to gain insight into the world of the Dixie Chicks. We don't want to restrict the ability to comment to just fans and we support the freedom of speech of all readers of all persuasions.


    That said, we expect the comments on this blog to be civil and respectful. Thus, MSN will be removing any remarks that are profane, harassing, devoid of any meaningful content, or otherwise violative of the Spaces Code of Conduct. To be clear, MSN will not be deleting a comment simply because it is critical of the Chicks, other readers' opinions, or this space.


    In other words, you don't have to be ready to make nice, but you have to play nice. 


    If you start attacking me, however, I'm going to find out where you live and belt out my version of "Sin Wagon" through a bullhorn while you try to sleep.


    The New Tour Schedule




    At long last, I have a whopper of an announcement to drop here. For fans or would-be ticket-holders, the words below will represent either terrific or horrific news, depending on the geographic location of your digs. Yes, after a few painful weeks of scheduling uncertainty and chaos in these quarters, the Dixie Chicks' promoters and handlers have finalized the changes to the Accidents & Accusations North American tour.


    In a nutshell is a nut that tells me that all shows from now until August 20th, as well as those North American dates originally scheduled between Oct. 27 and Nov. 9th, will remain as is. However, the tour dates originally scheduled between Aug. 20 and Oct. 27 are either being moved to the end of the tour or are being cancelled.


    You can view the new tour schedule by clicking here


    There are six shows in North America that have not yet gone on sale (except for a couple of presales): Los Angeles, Fresno, Las Vegas, Regina, Saskatoon and a second Calgary date. I imagine that on sale dates and times will be announced as soon as they are confirmed, but word on the street is that they are expected to go on sale in mid-to-late September. And by "word on the street," I mean the hallway where I am currently eavesdropping in on management people.


    Unfortunately, this means that Knoxville, Tampa, Ft. Lauderdale, Des Moines and Fargo are no longer on the schedule, and the following cities -- that were never put on sale other than the online-only presale -- are coming off the itinerary, as well: Kansas City, St. Louis, Indianapolis, Oklahoma City, Memphis, Jacksonville, Greensboro, Houston, and Milwaukee. Thankfully, there are shows on the revised itinerary that are within 200 miles of most all of these cancelled shows. Hopefully, you and some friends can organize a roadtrip, rent a pink RV, and take the long way to another show.


    I have been assured that all tickets purchased for moved shows will be honored on the new date. Ticket holders for shows no longer on the itinerary should contact their original point of purchase for refunds and information on alternate area concerts. My understanding is that if your tickets were purchased online through Ticketmaster or Tickets.com, you should either be receiving an email and/or a credit back to the credit card used for purchase within the next few days.


    I still don't have a full grasp of the myriad explanations for these changes. I do know that in September, the band will be premiering their new documentary film -- Dixie Chicks: Shut Up and Sing -- at the Toronto Film Festival and doing promotion leading up to a launch of the second leg of their fall tour. Another source of the scheduling changes stems from the fact that it was impossible to finalize new dates until after the NHL and the NBA finished scheduling their games through the end of this year, since those teams play -- and have first rights on -- many of the same venues that the tour would be going through. As a result, some of the cancelled cities simply couldn't be rescheduled, even though tickets were selling well at those venues.


    After talking to people on the business end of this tour, I've also learned that the late summer and early fall are apparently bad times for concert sales because of vacation schedules and a glut of competing tours, especially in a poor economic climate such as this one. But I sense that another important factor stems from the difficulty of selling a tour so soon after the album release in certain US markets where radio stations are refusing to promote shows, even in the form of paid commercial advertising. From my perspective, it's clear from the last three weeks of talking to concertgoers that the Chicks are depending on the word-of-mouth of fans, more than anything else, to sell tickets. I suppose some of this can be traced back to 15 words uttered back in 2003, but it's unclear how much.



    In contrast, the Chicks are doing much better internationally (where they previously never received much airplay), which explains why both the label and promoters aren't waiting until next year to go abroad.
    Thus, the Chicks are doing some of the international shows (where some venues have sold out quickly) this year and giving more time for the US dates to sell. Tickets for the
    Australian shows in October just went on sale today and judging by brisk early sales, it is very likely that multiple dates will get added in most of those cities. Also on tap for early fall is a promotional appearance jaunt through Europe, at which time an early 2007 European tour will probably be put on sale.


    I know the Chicks aren't thrilled about these changes as they certainly absorb all the joys and frustrations of their fans. Ironically, had the Chicks been greedy, the chips might not have fallen this way. I was a bit shocked to learn that they were actually offered a ginormous guaranteed amount for the U.S. tour and didn’t take it because they didn’t want anyone to get stuck losing a lot of money if the tour didn’t go well. While this might be the most questionable business decision they've ever made, I respect them for assuming all of the financial risk for the whole tour. (As you might imagine, everyone else gets paid a set wage or salary that isn't dependent on ticket sales.) After multiple conversations with them about the tour, it's clear they'd rather play where they're wanted, as opposed to just playing for money.



    As for me, while I have nothing to do with the decision, I feel for everyone affected by this. I've spent the last eight weeks fielding tons of desperate questions about the tour schedule and suffering because I couldn't answer any of them, much to everyone's dismay. I certainly sympathize with those of you crushed by this news.


    I just received this new schedule an hour ago and I suspect that some of the band and crew haven't even heard about these changes yet. So this is literally hot off the presses. More news at 11.