For the last four months I’ve harbored oddly suspicious feelings towards “The Domain.” According to Austinites it’s a self contained city in the unfashionable north end of town where brainwashed denizens peel the skin off panhandlers to make buttery soft leather coats. That seemed a little extreme to me. Baking in the Austin sun, your average panhandler here has the coarsely wrinkled texture of a slice of beef jerky snatched off a barbershop floor. Today I bravely ventured into this frightening land in the name of networking. What I found would frighten…intimidate…moderately annoy… er, okay, let’s be honest here. It’s…
