Apples and Oranges

Apples and Oranges

“That guy Kramer? He put a curse on me.”

There are two other comments that don’t bear reporting, significantly more damaging to me and my reputation, and both untrue.

Apples and Oranges

The term Apples and Oranges — in my setting — refers to comparing two objects that are not of the same genus and species. The taxonomy makes for an invalid metaphor. It’s not a comparison that works, because, “That’s like comparing Apple and Oranges.”


I built my career as a writer and reader upon a foundation in old East Austin, then old South Austin, both of which were “sketchy” neighborhoods at the time. Great place to be. Then too, as I worked a circuit with various promoters, it stretched up and down West Texas, from the Panhandle to Gulf Coast, with many data points in between? I had this long-standing commentary, and among friends as well as professional associates?

“That weird guy asked me my birthday.”
“He’s from Austin.”

Like that excused all. It sort of worked, and there is an exuberance that I bring to my “day job,” one that I enjoy.

Apples and Oranges

The problems resurfaced in San Antonio — again. The latest was the question about me putting a curse on someone.

Let me clear, I don’t do that. I mean, if i did put a curse on someone? Bolt of lightening, and then? A pile ash, all that’s left.

I have a pretty firm belief that whatever a person puts out in the world is rewarded three-fold, The Rule of Three. Put good stuff out? Comes back three-fold. Put bad stuff out? Comes back three-fold. Not hard to see where I’m going with that, right?

When I started doing readings at the rock shop in Austin? I jumped at the chance. There’s a certain openness that I recall from Austin in the good, old days. Birthplace of country rock, the rise of — not sure what to call it any more — the cosmic cowboys? Part of that openness is still there.

Just walking into the rock shop itself, there’s a palpable sense love that pervades. The old ideals are still alive: peace, love, waterbeds.

“We’re all one love, mon.”

Digging just a little deeper, I realized that the rock shop was a safe place to have an open heart chakra. Just plain and simple. Open heart chakra. My comments that some might construe as lurid or lustful are taken in a light-hearted and complimentary fashion. There’s a genuine easiness to love, affection, and characters.

Some that is purely by design, some is from the “corporate culture” instilled from the beginning, I would suppose, and some of that comes from a place surrounded by beautiful minerals tended to by beautiful people.

Not that there isn’t discord, or the usual office politics. Anytime there is a group of people, there is some internecine war. However, after my residency with the rock shop, I forgot about most of that.

Apples and Oranges

I have loved my tenure in San Antonio. Been fun, this far, but periodically, I run into people who don’t get me. My open and friendly ways are construed as an attack? If I were to attack, I think I would let that be known. I’ve long discovered most of those fights, that war, it isn’t worth the trouble. But from time to time, this crap resurfaces.

“That guy Kramer? He put a curse on me.”

Really doubt that I did any such thing. Not my way of helping, either. I don’t do “curses” — you know, bad for business.

But comparing San Antonio and Austin is like comparing apples and oranges. The two are totally different.

I am quick to point out that I used to buy a bag of breakfast tacos San Antonio and take that with me to Austin, which settled the debate as to which town has better breakfast tacos. Portions of San Antonio appear far more affordable than most of Travis County, now.

However, there is Austin’s pervasive “hippie love” and San Antonio — certainly at times — seems a little more parochial. Perhaps it is the Spanish influence, and the heavier catholic population.

Who knows?

But comparing Austin to San Antonio? Apples and Oranges.

I have to remember that.

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