D.C. Diary

Freedom Over Texas

 

Texas has a reputation for doing everything bigger than anywhere else. And Houston is as big as it gets. The first thing I noticed as we entered the city yesterday afternoon were the twelve lane freeways, which made quite an impression (and not a good one) on a girl from a small village in Suffolk whose childhood home was reached via a single track lane. I gripped my seat and closed my eyes every time we veered around the corner of one of Houston's numerous overpasses at 80mph - the last time I experienced bends like that was at Alton Towers. Unfortunately, our trusty GPS guide seemed utterly bamboozled by Houston's traffic system and we ended up taking numerous false turns and dead ends before eventually finding our hotel. All of us felt like crashing out after the four-hour drive from Austin, but it was the Fourth of July and there was no possibility that we were going to pass up the opportunity to witness the 'Nation's Largest Land-Based Fireworks Show'. I had checked out the website for the event in anticipation of our arrival and noticed the line: 'Admission to the event is FREE with the donation of one canned item per person to the Houston Food Bank'. We therefore dispatched Simon to the local grocery store and, four tins of delicious processed ravioli safely on board, we set out en voiture towards Eleanor Tinsley Park for the 'Freedom Over Texas with Fireworks Presented by Shell' extravaganza. Unfortunately, it soon became clear that we were not going to have any luck driving anywhere near the  park - the traffic was backed up along the routes leading to the venue. So we followed the lead of the locals, parked our car by the side of the road and joined the crowds amassing on the traffic bridge. Fourth of July fireworks from a flyover in Houston. Classy. But fun.

   

This morning, we took a trip to Houston's famous Space Center, formally known as 'The Official Visitors Center of NASA's Johnson Space Center, the home of astronaut training and Mission Control'. Established in September 1961 as the Manned Spacecraft Center (it was renamed in honour of LBJ in 1973), the Houston base became the centre of space research and operations as the Americans worked to achieve President Kennedy's vision of landing a man on the moon before the end of the decade. The is where the spacecraft were designed, developed and tested, where the astronauts were trained and the scientific experiments to be conducted in space were cooked up. Much of this work continues today - the space center is still NASA's main working facility and visitors are permitted to tour certain parts of the campus - but there is no doubt that Houston's heyday was in the 1960s. With the exception of the Visitors Centre, the whole place feels very worn and drab - the campus is rather desolate, with lots of grey wire fences and black & white photos recalling the heady days of the Space Race.

We were rather pushed for time so regrettably we didn't make it to the Blast Off Theater or the Astronaut Gallery or the Feel of Space presentation, which all looked quite fun. Instead, we headed straight for the NASA tour. We were whisked around the site in little trains - passing by the rocket boosters used in the Mercury and Apollo programs - and were deposited at Mission Control. We climbed several flights of stairs and entered a 1960s time warp. The mission control room itself was strangely familiar and felt like a cross between a museum and a film set (in fact, it felt odd not to see Ed Harris sitting in the Flight Director's chair) although it is still used as a working facility, providing back-up to the new mission control room, which is now housed elsewhere on the compound. I was astounded that the antiquated giant computers in front of us worked at all, and even more surprised to learn that they had still been used as NASA's main mission control system until the 1990s.

     

As we were reminded on numerous occasions during our tour, the future for manned spaceflight looks very uncertain - at least from NASA's perspective. In April 2010, President Obama announced that the 'Constellation Program' - a human spaceflight program with the aim of sending astronauts to the Moon by 2020 and thereafter to Mars, at a cost of approximately $230 billion (yes, billion) - would be cancelled. This means that the last manned U.S. spaceflight will take place in Feb 2011 and the busiest shuttles in Houston will thereafter be the little ones ferrying the tourists around. Obama's decision was based on his view that the Constellation Program was too costly, behind schedule and 'lacking in innovation'. Ouch. The President wants to reinvest the Constellation budget back into NASA (whose budget is still a whopping $100bn over the next 5 years) but concentrate efforts instead on developing commercial space flight, with collaboration from the private sector. This approach has already had some success  - the innovative Ansari X Prize offered $10 million to the first non-government entity that could design and launch a reusable manned craft into space twice within two weeks. The prize was won in 2004 by Burt Ratan's SpaceShipOne but, more importantly, it is estimated that $100m was invested in new technologies by other private investors in pursuit of the prize. The only problem with this approach is that there will be a period between the last Space Shuttle flight and the development of new commercial space transport systems when the U.S. loses the capability to launch space missions. I was rather alarmed to hear that from 2011 onwards, we will be entering a 'human spaceflight gap'. Sounds terrifying - the sort of thing one could unexpectedly slither into.

Space tourism is still in its infancy but if you've got $200,000, you can join the other 80,000 individuals who have already signed up for a little spacehop with Virgin Galactic. And if you have a spare $20-$35 million, then Space Adventures of Vienna, Virginia would be happy to sort you out with a sejourn at the International Space Station. Better still, the opportunity to become 'the world's first lunar explorer' is still up for grabs. So if you fancy journeying to the far side of the moon, you can make a reservation on their website now. The drop-down menu is genuinely funny - it makes travelling to the moon sound as easy as booking a weekend in New England. You will need to give your name and contact details and then choose from the following options:

Which program are you most interested in?

Circumlunar Spaceflight / Orbital Spaceflight / Orbital Spaceflight with Spacewalk / Suborbital spaceflight / Spaceflight Training / Launch Tour / Zero Gravity Training

What is the nature of your interest:

I would like to make a reservation / I have a specific question / Send me an electronic brochure / Add me to your marketing list

When would you be participating:

As soon as possible / Sometime this year / In the next 5 years / Lifetime goal / I have to save the money first

I have a sneaking suspicion that the majority of people go for the bottom option on the last question.

The last item on our must-see list for Houston was the Menil Collection. Unfortunately, we discovered that the gallery does not open on Mondays, but we did make it to the adjoining Rothko Chapel. This somber space is open to people of all faiths and denominations who fancy spending some time sitting on wooden benches contemplating exactly what possessed Rothko to make the place quite so purple. It frankly feels like the work of a man on the brink of suicide. Having said that, as a quiet, meditative space, it works extremely well as there is little to focus on except one's own thoughts. There were a handful of people sitting silently in the peaceful haven, including a young girl sitting in the back of the chapel, her eyes streaming with tears.                          

 

And with that, we sped off to the George Bush Intercontinental Aiport to catch our flight back to Washington. It has been a wonderful long weekend in Texas and it was with some regret that we boarded our plane and headed home to D.C. But there's always an up-side: We have four tins of ravioli and some fantastic photos as wonderful mementos of our trip.

 

Presidential Presents

             

I have long been taken with the idea of trying to visit all the Presidential Libraries in the U.S.- there are 13 in total. Progress thus far hasn't been brilliant: in three years, I have managed a grand total of none. So I was delighted that Robert and Alexis suggested that we spend a couple of hours at the Lyndon Baines Johnson Library & Museum, which is located within the Texas State University in Austin. (TSU is the home of the Texas Longhorns, and the whole campus was dwarfed by the mighty stadium).

I previously knew very little about LBJ - other than he was the President who took over after Kennedy was shot, that he appointed Thurgood Marshall as the first black Supreme Court judge and that he got himself in rather a mess over Vietnam. But, predictably enough, the museum was informative, thoughtfully curated and entertaining, and I now know a lot more about the old man.

There is something quite fascinating about seeing history presented through the spectrum of one individual - and the timespan of LBJ's life (1908-1973) meant that this museum was pretty much a history of the twentieth century. LBJ lived through a period of incredible social, economic and technological change - his early years as a Congressman were occupied with bringing electricity to the rural poor yet by the time he was President a man was walking on the moon. Although conscious that the hidden purpose of any Presidential Library is to preserve the individual's legacy as they would wish - and in some cases to rewrite history as they wish it had been written - I thought that the whole museum was surprisingly balanced, particularly the section on Vietnam. There was even reference in the introductory film to the 'suspiciously lopsided trend' in the ballot boxes which helped elect 'Landslide Lyndon' to the Senate in 1948 by a mere 87 votes (as well as to the similar phenomenon in his opponent's favour that had helped defeat him in his first run for the Senate in 1941). LBJ declared that 'This Library will show the facts - not just the joys and triumphs, but the sorrow and failures too' and to a large degree it seems to have done so. 

LBJ was born in a farmhouse in Stonewall, Texas and, judging from the photos on display, definitely wins the contest for cutest President baby. (I will verify this once I have visited the other 12 museums, but I'm pretty sure this portrait will be hard to beat). LBJ's father was a Congressman at the Texas House of Representatives and his grandfather declared that he expected LBJ to be a United States Senator before he was 40. Young Lyndon must have been a huge disappointment, as he was already 40 by the time he was elected to the Senate in 1948 (although he had already been a Congressman for 11 years and did then go on to be the youngest leader of the Democratic Party in history, aged 44). It is clear that politics was in LBJ's blood from an early age - the introductory movie contained some illuminating footage of President Johnson 'working the phones' ahead of a vote. (This was as much as we saw in the whole museum of the famous 'Johnson treatment'.) LBJ was famously hard-working and his long years of experience in Congress, particularly his time as Senate Majority Leader, meant that he knew how to get things done. As the film says: "He knew what was in the committees, he knew what came out of the committees; and he knew what made the members of Congress tick'. The footage evidences LBJ's sense of urgency and makes one realise that it was not by chance that such a huge number of bills were signed under his leadership; LBJ drove forward a huge legislative program (his vision was that of a 'Great Society' for the American People) on education, poverty, civil rights, the environment and healthcare, as well as treaties on space exploration and Nuclear Non-Proliferation. Incidentally, all this bill-signing required a huge number of pens. (I know know that the reason for this is so the Presidents can give the used pens as gifts to their mates as this article from Time Magazine explains - and please do note the part about George Bush not bothering with this tradition and just pocketing the pen). When LBJ signed the historic Civil Rights Act of 1964, he apparently used over 75 pens. It must have taken ages.

There was a suitably sombre section on Vietnam, including some extremely poignant letters from soldiers to their families. The section on 1968 was also extremely well curated - with the escalation of the Vietnam conflict, domestic civil unrest and the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy so well documented that it gave one some idea of the pressure that President Johnson must have been under during that 'agonizing' year, a time during which he later wrote that he 'sometimes felt that I was living in a continuous nightmare'. However, the most moving item in the collection was a letter from Jackie Kennedy to President Johnson written the day after the funeral of her late husband. I couldn't help feeling I was invading her privacy by reading this most private of notes - her curly blue characters set out on single sheets of small white paper. The letter is poignant, but also incredibly illuminating - particularly in the light it sheds on the relationship between the Kennedy and Johnson families. I was touched by how young she sounds - she was 34 at the time of JFK's death - and it made me realise what it must have been not only to lose her husband, but also her home and her identity, and all with two small children to care for. The museum provided a transcript of the letter - of which I have transcribed a small section below. (The full text is available here). 

"Dear Mr. President,

Thank you for walking yesterday - behind Jack. You did not have to do that - I am sure many people forbid you to take such a risk - but you did it anyway.

Thank you for the letters to my children. What those letters will mean to them later - you can imagine. The touching thing is, they have always loved you so much, they were most moved to have a letter from you now.

And most of all Mr. President, thank you for the way you have always treated me - the way you and Lady Bird have always been to me - before, when Jack was alive, and now as President.  [...]

"It mustn't be much help to you your first day in office - to hear children on the lawn at recess. It is just one more example of your kindness that you let them stay - I promise - they will soon be gone -

Thank you Mr. President,

Respectfully

                                                                 Jackie."

Now, before I get too carried away with the sad letters of grieving widows, I'll race forward to the best bit of the museum: The Presents. One of the great perks of being president is that other heads of state bring you lots of great gifts - ostensibly as an expression of their respect and admiration. There are 1400 state gifts in the LBJ museum, 81 of which were on display and, rest assured, there are no DVD box sets here. Treasures include a Ceremonial Headdress by Yoruba master sculptor, Etoube of Ketu, given by the President of Senegal; a 1st Century Perfume Bottle presented by the Prime Minister of Israel; and a Diego Rivera Naturaleza Muerta offered by the President of Mexico. Classy stuff. But these 1400 items do not include the gifts given to President & Lady Bird Johnston by the American people, which are amongst the most bizarre artifacts that I have ever laid eyes on. Gifts sent to LBJ include a selection of hideous homemade ceramics, a monogrammed white tie, drawing of dogs, a white elephant (I jest not), hand-pressed wildflowers and, my absolute favourite, a 'Fired Brick' with the initals LBJ written upon it. 

  

And to think that this is just a small proportion of the gifts. Small wonder that recent Presidents felt the need to create these Presidential Libraries - there is no way you would want all that lot cluttering up your mantelpiece.

And then, just as I thought I couldn't take any more kitsch, we stumbled across a section entitled 'The Humour of LBJ' - which features an animatronic LBJ as a raconteur in his retirement years on his ranch. The waxwork figure, which had Alex transfixed, tells a sampling of LBJ's favourite stories, showcasing the 'homespun wit' that featured in his speeches. The tales sounded quite amusing but unfortunately I was unable to hear the punchlines to any of the jokes as whenever the strange talking man moved its head poor Alex got freaked out and started screaming.

     

There's so much more to tell - I haven't even mentioned the replica Oval office yet - but I must stop writing and get to bed.

So, one Presidential Library down, 12 to go. And we have six months left in the US. I'd better get a move on - I have an estimated 400 million pages of textual materials, 10 million photographs, 100,000 hours of audio and video recording and 500,000 museum objects to admire. It might be tight.

F*** the Bats

 

" Austin might not have any theme parks or large zoos, but America's largest urban bat colony has become the city's best known (and ecologically correct) tourist attraction. It all started in 1980, when the team of engineers designing the Congress Avenue bridge unknowingly created the crevices that would soon become the home to the largest urban bat colony in North America. More than 1.5 million bats emerge each night at dusk, as they have for more than two decades, from the bridge's underbelly on food runs that blacken the otherwise red sky.... "                                                                                              

So reads the Austin360 website. We had been told by various friends that this was the must-see spectacle in town and the prospect of a spot of bat-watching sounded quite fun. After all, what better to do in the Live Music Capital of The World than stand under a bridge in the dark? So, having gorged ourselves on German sausage at Scholz Garten, we dutifully took our place in the little park under the Congress Avenue bridge. We arrived shortly before 9pm and waited for the winged wonders to appear. 30 minutes passed. We checked our 'Batmap' and were reassured that we were in the best possible viewing spot (we had an inkling we were on the right track as there were several thousand other bat spotters in the same area).

We called the 'Bat Hotline', which was very little help, assuring us that the bats appeared every evening at sunset from 'March thru' October', and that the ideal time to see them was between 9pm and 9.30pm. (We were also informed that if we wished to board the Bat Boat we should contact Lone Star Riverboat on 327 1388. I'm pretty sure they weren't talking about the personal watercraft belonging to the comic book character or else I'd have signed up for it like a shot). After well over an hour of waiting, the bat magic was broken by a rather large lady who voiced her intention to 'F*** the Bats', gathered up her various children, and stormed off. Presumably to load up on some more carbs. Over the next 30 minutes, the rest of the crowd gradually followed suit until we were left alone in the park, staring wistfully at the bridge, at 10.30pm. The most frustrating thing was that we could hear the bats under the bridge, squeaking away in their annoying little taunting voices, but they just refused to fly. Some of the would-be spectators speculated that the bats knew a storm was coming which is why they stayed put. Gutless furry-winged vermin. And to make things worse, apparently this colossal colony consumes between 10,000 to 30,000 pounds of insects on their nightly flights, so I guess Austin's going to feel just a little more bug-ridden tomorrow. 

Update: I just googled 'Austin bat no-show' and it appears that we are clearly not the first out-of-town suckers to have been had by the bats. I particularly liked the review on Trip Advisor entitled 'Bats Suck', partly because the poor guy that wrote it wasted two successive evenings waiting for the pointy-eared little pests, which made me feel a bit better about our own bad luck. We'll have no opportunity to see the Austin bats tomorrow as we're headed to Houston in the afternoon. But apparently 300,000 bats are camped out under the Waugh Street Bridge in Houston, so if we feel like wasting another evening standing in the dark, we'll know where to go.

     

Dallas Cowboys

And so to Texas, home of the Stetson, the oil tycoon and Miss Ellie. We were accompanied on this little jaunt by two friends from D.C., Robert & Alexis, who had bravely volunteered to guide Alex through his first foray into cowboy country. After a 3+ hour flight, during which Alex achieved official Angel Baby status (as we left the plane, a lady actually whispered to us that 'yours was the best-behaved baby on the plane', which is pretty much our proudest moment as parents thus far), we arrived at Dallas-Fort Worth airport just as the heavens opened. A torrential downpour prevented us from leaving the plane for several minutes and our baggage arrived somewhat soggier than it had been at check-in, but fortunately this was all we saw of Hurricane (now Tropical Storm) Alex for the duration of the trip. After a small mishap in the restroom when young Alex ended up with purple nail varnish on his bottom (I have since identified the colour as 'Cowgirl Up China Glaze Nail Polish', part of the 'Rodeo Diva' Collection) and a rather humid fifteen minute bus journey to the car rental office, we boarded the small tank we had hired for our mini road trip. Upon loading the bags into the back of the SUV, we couldn't help but notice that there was a slight contrast in the quantity of luggage. The Shercliffs had brought a large suitcase, a big holdall, a travel cot, a stroller, two rucksacks, a diaper bag, a car seat and a baby. Robert and Alexis each had one small carry-on suitcase.

After checking in at our hotel, we hit the streets in search of large platters of meat and some local entertainment. This was the first time that Alex had ever been permitted to have a night out on the town, and what a night it was. We took the young man out for beers and a BBQ meal at Sonny Bryan's Steakhouse, a Dallas institution. Alex opted for a liquid supper, whilst the rest of us managed to consume incredible amounts of pulled pork, sliced brisket, chicken wings, tasty ribs and gigantesque onion rings. Sadly, I must admit that we gave the Frito pie a miss (a 'crisp casserole' sounded as inedible as the poutine we tasted in Vancouver). Robert foolishly attempted to order a glass of vino rather than a local beer; the Texan waiter told him that the wine list consisted of 'red, white and chardonnay'.

        

Stomachs bulging, we headed off to the Mesquite Championship Rodeo, a 25 minute drive from downtown Dallas. We were rather unsure what to expect, but the rodeo was, without doubt, the best night out I have ever had in America. The whole spectacle was phenomenally entertaining. There are six or seven standard events: saddle bronc riding and bareback bronc riding (cowboys on wild buckaroo-style horses); tie-down roping (cowboy on horse attempting to lasso a calf by its head and then tie three of its legs together); team roping (ditto but with two cowboys on horses chasing one calf); steer wrestling (slightly bonkers event where the cowboy on horse races after a steer, then jumps from horse onto steer and wrestles it to the ground by its horns); barrel racing (cowgirls on horses racing around three barrels) and bull riding (you can guess this one). My favourite event was the tie-down roping, which is really impressive when done properly. Like this:

 

(I just looked up Clint Cooper on Google. I'm assuming that the Clint Cooper on Wikipedia who is 'an actor in gay pornography' is not the same Clint Cooper who came seventh in the National Finals Rodeo in the tie-down roping competition. Although I guess rodeo is a seasonal job and I'm not sure that the $32,000 that he won in Las Vegas would be enough to support him for too long. And it does appear that Clint hasn't featured on the rodeo circuit for some time...).

Anyway, the whole premise of the rodeo competition is that the participants have to complete each discipline as quickly as possible or, if they happen to be astride something with four legs, to stay mounted for more than 8 seconds. Coincidentally, 8 seconds is the average attention span of your average US citizen (this is true). Consequently rodeo is the perfect spectator sport. It is the sporting equivalent of flicking through the TV channels with the remote. Another factor that makes the rodeo so engagingly watchable is the amateur competitions between the professional events, which seem to involve humiliating young children for the benefit of the watching adults. And great fun it was too. The mutton bustin' exceeded even my highest expectations - most of the children didn't manage to hang on for more than a second, and some poor kids fell off before the sheep even passed through the gate into the arena. As the announcer pointed out, Texan parents can get themselves arrested for slapping their child in Wal-Mart, but no-one turns a hair if they strap them to a 200lb sheep and send them out in front of 5,000 spectators. Equally amusing was the 'calf scramble' (a 'dash for cash' where hundreds of children pile into the arena and go chasing after a couple of calves in an attempt to be the first to snatch the ribbons on their tails and win some loot). 

       
 
However, the award for strangest entertainment of the night went to Team Ghost Riders, truly one of the freakiest things I have ever seen. Three monkeys riding collie dogs herd three goats into a pen. Very odd but completely compelling. You have to watch this to see what I mean:

It occurred to me that if Alex lost a bit of weight we could probably enter him into Team Ghost Rider as an additional attraction. He's got the outfit already, so with a bit of training he could be ready to go for next season. And it probably pays better than mutton bustin'.

     

We had such a sensational time at the rodeo that there was only one possible destination, one place in the entire state, that could top our night out with the cowboys. And so the following day we headed to Southfork Ranch, in Parker, a small town 20 miles north of Dallas. And, yet again, Texas came up trumps. We spent a fantastically funny morning traipsing around the ranch, admiring Miss Ellie's bedroom, JR's bathroom and the horrendous family portraits (the one of Sue Ellen was spectacularly gruesome). It was magical stuff and we felt right at home. 

       
 
The ranch itself was used for all the exterior filming between 1978 and 1989 - yep, all those pool parties took place right here. A couple of special episodes were shot inside, but the vast majority of the interior filming was done in studios in California. The original owners of the ranch continued to live in the mansion until the gawping tourists became too unbearable and in 1985 Southfork became an official tourist attraction. Today it is used as a conference and event center - there were two weddings being held later on the day we visited. Amusingly kitsch indeed, although given the marital history of the Ewing family, I don't imagine a Southfork wedding would be the most auspicious start to wedded bliss.

    
 
We finally managed to drag ourselves away from the ranch (although not before visiting the Ewing museum and gift shop and purchasing some very tasteful mementoes) and headed back into Dallas. We visited the JFK Memorial Plaza and The Sixth Floor Museum, which was very interesting if (unsurprisingly) somewhat heavy on the conspiracy theories. We sought relief in the newly opened Museum Cafe, where one can watch video images of JFK and Jackie on the day of the assassination whilst tucking into a goat cheese salad and cupcakes.

And then, after driving rather somberly down Dealey Plaza and over the white 'X' marked on the road, we hit the highway en route to Austin, in search of some alternative culture and 1.5 million Mexican freetail bats.

Texas on alert

With impeccable timing, we are heading to Texas for the 4th July weekend just as a state of emergency has been declared. The first hurricane of the season, the aptly named Alex, is en route to the Lone Star State and looks set to arrive there just as we do. We are taking a mini road trip from Dallas to Houston in search of over-size steaks and a cowboy hat for Alex (he already has the rest of his outfit). First on the hitlist is the Southfork Ranch in Dallas - the description of which makes Graceland sound like the British Museum:

'"The former TV home of the Ewing family...has been kitted out as a convention center-cum-Western mini-theme park, with a museum in which you can see the gun that shot JR...plenty of Stetson-dominated gift shops and Miss Ellie's Deli...Most recommended for those very serious about their kitsch."

That's me! So rest assured, there is no way that a palty little hurricane is going to get between me and the Southfork Ranch. I've got my reading public to think of. And there's NO way I'm missing out on the gun that shot JR.

The other thing on our must-see list is a rodeo, something I have been moderately obsessed with since visiting the Rodeo Hall of Fame in Colorado Springs. I've just checked out this one in Dallas which looks phenomenal - and best of all there is a MUTTON BUSTIN' competition for the kids. I'm pretty confident that Alex could pass for a four year old although at the rate he's growing I am a little concerned that he will have exceeded the 'strictly enforced' 55 pound weight limit by the time we get there.

And if you've never seen Mutton Bustin' in action, then have a look at this, which still ranks as my all-time favourite YouTube video.  

Designer Diapers

This is honestly not a spoof:

Yes, you did hear that correctly:

'My diaper is full, full of chic'. 'When it's a number two, I look like number one'. 'I poo in blue'. 

Oh how I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at the marketing meeting that produced what is perhaps the creepiest advert of all time. (Although it did get me thinking that Alex could probably triple the household income if I farmed him for this sort of thing). And as if we needed more proof that Americans don't do subtle, please notice that the tag-line for this product is 'The coolest you'll look pooping your pants'. Nice one. Just one question: Are these people TOTALLY crazy?

The story so far: Huggies launched a brand of denim diapers earlier this year, which have apparently already sold out at Target and Wal-Mart. So the Pampers pros are retaliating with a series of 11 diapers 'in plaid, stripes and ruffles' commissioned exclusively for Target from Cynthia Rowley, a leading American fashion designer. It's nappy war.

According to the radio report I heard this afternoon, 'it's no coincidence they're out in time for hot weather, making it fashionable for babies to run around with their pants off'.

Well I guess at least if the babies are 'running around with their pants off' (and that's US pants, not British pants) then there will be no need to buy them clothes. Although disturbingly I can already foresee a new niche for low-slung baby jeans...