On a recent trip, I found the rivalry between California and Texas to be overstated | Opinion

As an adopted Californian, I am proud of our state but the ongoing war with Texas is one of the weirder aspects of living here.

Minnesota doesn’t currently appear to be at war with Iowa, for example.

This battle has been blazing away the entire time I’ve lived here. Former Gov. Jerry Brown reacted to a visit by former Texas Gov. Rick Perry as “a burp. Barely a fart.”

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Of course, lots of politicians like Placer County Rep. Kevin Kiley, R-Harvard/Yale, have continuously fanned the flames of this uncivil war, calling the California’s extremely small exodus to Texas as a clarion call to arms against…who? Sensible people who live in California, I suppose.

Anyway, I decided to go to Texas myself last week to see what the state of the war was, exactly. The real reason was to go visit the Lyndon Johnson Library and Museum, the LBJ Ranch, and then to Dallas to see Dealey Plaza, where President John F. Kennedy was assassinated almost 60 years ago.

Of course, I had heard Austin was a fun town, with great restaurants and music. What I discovered was that Austin is the 11th largest city in the United States, and I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t know that. I knew Dallas and Houston were huge, but not Austin.

The airport is astronomically larger than Sacramento’s, and it is state-of-the-art. Simply walking to the car rental area was enough to say you got in 20 minutes of aerobics.

Once in Austin, I found a delightful major university, a state capitol building full of mostly complete lunatics who make Donald Trump look like George Soros, and a diverse and friendly population that didn’t seem to care I was from California.

In fact, I would jokingly mention about every six minutes that I was from California and that I brought greetings from my planet.

Planet Texas seemed to enjoy the California/Texas Schism Joke, and were, as we say in Planet California, super chill about it.

In Austin, I discovered that few people walk around in Texas cowpoke gear, but we did mosey into a Western attire store. My son tried on Lucchese boots ($2400) and bought a bolo tie.

Incredibly, I seriously considered buying a small Stetson hat exactly like the one Lyndon Johnson wore. That was $250, so I stuck with my California old dude ponytail look.

We had lunch at an authentic Texas barbecue joint with outdoor seating. The host wasn’t remotely Texan in attitude; my buddy noted that he looked like a sailor from the 1850s, sporting a no-mustache beard.

I then launched into my I’m-From-California-Please-Don’t-Hurt-Me-Bit, again, and the 1850s sailor host yelled over to a young couple sitting behind us.

“Hey! He’s from California!” pointing at me, which I thought might be a call for an angry mob to act.

They couple said: “Oh! We’re from Stockton and Elk Grove! Hi!!!”

“Oh! I’m from South Land Park,” I replied

No mob. Just pork ribs, coleslaw, and beans.

At the LBJ Ranch, I didn’t feel inconspicuous or out-of-place. I looked like a lot of other people there who were just communing with LBJ and enjoying the stunning oak-studded property on the Pedernales River.

As the (minuscule) drain toward Texas from California continues, I would say to potential California immigrants, you’ll mostly be OK save for the draconian, medieval Texas legislature.

Personally, I’ll take our political culture over their political culture. And California is indeed shockingly picturesque and is full of sometimes bizarre fun. That’s why people came to our planet in the 1930s en masse, a lot of them from Texas and the Dust Bowl.

As I tried to establish diplomatic relations between our rival nation-states, I say we should first start with a state barbecue exchange program. That’s a Texas import upon which all decent Californians can agree.