Thursday, September 25, 2008

Sunday Wit da Family & Dem

It’s a New Orleans tradition. It used to happen a lot more around America, in general, but here, it’s still on the books. Sunday evening, dinner or hanging out, or drinks or something. Getting together with one’s ‘peeps’ and catching up, reminding ourselves of who we are, and why. Like many residents in this rectangle of old houses, train tracks, shops & bars, galleries and graffitti on canvas, commonly known as TheMarignyBywater, I have no blood family living here. My family is larger and looser, roaming the streets, on foot and bicycle, filling up bar stools, washing dishes and preparing that next masterpeice. Working, playing, eating, drinking. Living. It consists mostly of people I know because I see them when they see me. Daily or close enough. We hang paintings in the same venues, drink in the same half dozen watering holes, stand in line at the local markets, ride down the same streets on similar bicycles (1 story & 2). This is my family. So I want to invite you to a Sunday get together. Not a pot of beans on somebody’s stove, but a real gathering, a quintesential New Orleans moment, something to make you look around and say, “This is it. This is why I live here and not someplace else. This is why I sit out hurricanes and crazy ass Mayors and bad plumbing and high crime areas.” Sunday Nights, for the next four weeks anyway, Doc Otis and the Junker Jazz Allstars will be playing at Sugar Park Tavern, in the Bywater, corner of Dauphine & France Streets, half a block from Kermit Ruffins’ usual Thursday shows at Vaughn’s. The All Stars feature Doc Otis on Piano & Voice, Kathleen Kraus on upright bass, Sean Dawson on trumpet and Sugar Park Pizza maker, Steve Pollier on saxophone. But it doesn’t end there… The room lends itself to the old days of barrel house music; a bar, some long tables & short tables, chairs & benches, all arranged to keep you close to the cold beer & cocktails, as well as the music. Drinks and food flow brilliantly with this wonderful throwback jazz and blues. Award winning pizza (A Maxim Magazine top pick), fish & chips, nachos, and an array of crowd pleasing sandwiches & appetisers to feed every appetite. Cocktails made to order and ice cold PBR, along with most things in between. If they don’t have what you want, try wanting what they have. It’s the perfect set of choices for this time out of time experience. Most wonderful of all is the local family. All the best friends and whacky relatives you ain’t met yet. Set to music by Doc & Kathleen & Sean & Steve. So come see the band. Eat ’til you’re full. And drink some more. You’re invited. Welcome home, New Orleans. It’s like no other place on earth. Lord David Pirate & Artist Skull Club New Orleans

Sunday, September 21, 2008

The Teacher of Wisdom, by Osacr Wilde

THE TEACHER OF WISDOM From his childhood he had been as one filled with the perfect knowledge of God, and even while he was yet but a lad many of the saints, as well as certain holy women who dwelt in the free city of his birth, had been stirred to much wonder by the grave wisdom of his answers. And when his parents had given him the robe and the ring of manhood he kissed them, and left them and went out into the world, that he might speak to the world about God. For there were at that time many in the world who either knew not God at all, or had but an incomplete knowledge of Him, or worshipped the false gods who dwell in groves and have no care of their worshippers. And he set his face to the sun and journeyed, walking without sandals, as he had seen the saints walk, and carrying at his girdle a leathern wallet and a little water-bottle of burnt clay. And as he walked along the highway he was full of the joy that comes from the perfect knowledge of God, and he sang praises unto God without ceasing; and after a time he reached a strange land in which there were many cities. And he passed through eleven cities. And some of these cities were in valleys, and others were by the banks of great rivers, and others were set on hills. And in each city he found a disciple who loved him and followed him, and a great multitude also of people followed him from each city, and the knowledge of God spread in the whole land, and many of the rulers were converted, and the priests of the temples in which there were idols found that half of their gain was gone, and when they beat upon their drums at noon none, or but a few, came with peacocks and with offerings of flesh as had been the custom of the land before his coming. Yet the more the people followed him, and the greater the number of his disciples, the greater became his sorrow. And he knew not why his sorrow was so great. For he spake ever about God, and out of the fulness of that perfect knowledge of God which God had Himself given to him. And one evening he passed out of the eleventh city, which was a city of Armenia, and his disciples and a great crowd of people followed after him; and he went up on to a mountain and sat down on a rock that was on the mountain, and his disciples stood round him, and the multitude knelt in the valley. And he bowed his head on his hands and wept, and said to his Soul, 'Why is it that I am full of sorrow and fear, and that each of my disciples is as an enemy that walks in the noonday?' And his Soul answered him and said, 'God filled thee with the perfect knowledge of Himself, and thou hast given this knowledge away to others. The pearl of great price thou hast divided, and the vesture without seam thou hast parted asunder. He who giveth away wisdom robbeth himself. He is as one who giveth his treasure to a robber. Is not God wiser than thou art? Who art thou to give away the secret that God hath told thee? I was rich once, and thou hast made me poor. Once I saw God, and now thou hast hidden Him from me.' And he wept again, for he knew that his Soul spake truth to him, and that he had given to others the perfect knowledge of God, and that he was as one clinging to the skirts of God, and that his faith was leaving him by reason of the number of those who believed in him. And he said to himself, 'I will talk no more about God. He who giveth away wisdom robbeth himself' And after the space of some hours his disciples came near him and bowed themselves to the ground and said, 'Master, talk to us about God, for thou hast the perfect knowledge of God, and no man save thee hath this knowledge.' And he answered them and said, 'I will talk to you about all other things that are in heaven and on earth, but about God I will not talk to you. Neither now, nor at any time, will I talk to you about God.' And they were wroth with him and said to him, 'Thou hast led us into the desert that we might hearken to thee. Wilt thou send us away hungry, and the great multitude that thou hast made to follow thee?' And he answered them and said, 'I will not talk to you about God.' And the multitude murmured against him and said to him 'Thou hast led us into the desert, and hast given us no food to eat. Talk to us about God and it will suffice us.' But he answered them not a word. For he knew that if he spake to them about God he would give away his treasure. And his disciples went away sadly, and the multitude of people returned to their own homes. And many died on the way. And when he was alone he rose up and set his face to the moon, and journeyed for seven moons, speaking to no man nor making any answer. And when the seventh moon had waned he reached that desert which is the desert of the Great River. And having found a cavern in which a Centaur had once dwelt, he took it for his place of dwelling, and made himself a mat of reeds on which to lie, and became a hermit. And every hour the Hermit praised God that He had suffered him to keep some knowledge of Him and of His wonderful greatness. Now, one evening, as the Hermit was seated before the cavern in which he had made his place of dwelling, he beheld a young man of evil and beautiful face who passed by in mean apparel and with empty hands. Every evening with empty hands the young man passed by, and every morning he returned with his hands full of purple and pearls. For he was a Robber and robbed the caravans of the merchants. And the Hermit looked at him and pitied him. But he spake not a word. For he knew that he who speaks a word loses his faith. And one morning, as the young man returned with his hands full of purple and pearls, he stopped and frowned and stamped his foot upon the sand, and said to the Hermit: 'Why do you look at me ever in this manner as I pass by? What is it that I see in your eyes? For no man has looked at me before in this manner. And the thing is a thorn and a trouble to me.' And the Hermit answered him and said, 'What you see in my eyes is pity. Pity is what looks out at you from my eyes.' And the young man laughed with scorn, and cried to the Hermit in a bitter voice, and said to him, 'I have purple and pearls in my hands, and you have but a mat of reeds on which to lie. What pity should you have for me? And for what reason have you this pity?' 'I have pity for you,' said the Hermit, 'because you have no knowledge of God.' 'Is this knowledge of God a precious thing?' asked the young man, and he came close to the mouth of the cavern. 'It is more precious than all the purple and the pearls of the world,' answered the Hermit. 'And have you got it?' said the young Robber, and he came closer still. 'Once, indeed,' answered the Hermit, 'I possessed the perfect knowledge of God. But in my foolishness I parted with it, and divided it amongst others. Yet even now is such knowledge as remains to me more precious than purple or pearls.' And when the young Robber heard this he threw away the purple and the pearls that he was bearing in his hands, and drawing a sharp sword of curved steel he said to the Hermit, 'Give me, forthwith, this knowledge of God that you possess, or I will surely slay you. Wherefore should I not slay him who has a treasure greater than my treasure?' And the Hermit spread out his arms and said, 'Were it not better for me to go unto the uttermost courts of God and praise Him, than to live in the world and have no knowledge of Him? Slay me if that be your desire. But I will not give away my knowledge of God.' And the young Robber knelt down and besought him, but the Hermit would not talk to him about God, nor give him his Treasure, and the young Robber rose up and said to the Hermit, 'Be it as you will. As for myself, I will go to the City of the Seven Sins, that is but three days' journey from this place, and for my purple they will give me pleasure, and for my pearls they will sell me joy.' And he took up the purple and the pearls and went swiftly away. And the Hermit cried out and followed him and besought him. For the space of three days he followed the young Robber on the road and entreated him to return, nor to enter into the City of the Seven Sins. And ever and anon the young Robber looked back at the Hermit and called to him, and said, 'Will you give me this knowledge of God which is more precious than purple and pearls? If you will give me that, I will not enter the city.' And ever did the Hermit answer, 'All things that I have I will give thee, save that one thing only. For that thing it is not lawful for me to give away. And in the twilight of the third day they came nigh to the great scarlet gates of the City of the Seven Sins. And from the city there came the sound of much laughter. And the young Robber laughed in answer, and sought to knock at the gate. And as he did so the Hermit ran forward and caught him by the skirts of his raiment, and said to him: 'Stretch forth your hands, and set your arms around my neck, and put your ear close to my lips, and I will give you what remains to me of the knowledge of God.' And the young Robber stopped. And when the Hermit had given away his knowledge of God, he fell upon the ground and wept, and a great darkness hid him from the city and the young Robber, so that he saw them no more. And as he lay there weeping he was ware of One who was standing beside him; and He who was standing beside him had feet of brass and hair like fine wool. And He raised the Hermit up, and said to him: 'Before this time thou hadst the perfect knowledge of God. Now thou shalt have the perfect love of God. Wherefore art thou weeping?' And He kissed him. - Oscar Wilde

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

I Done Told It To The Monkey...

Watching this election, albeit historic, unfold, is driving me nuts. It's like a crooked horse race between two crippled horses, all in slow motion and in a room of nail biters and bickering clowns. On acid.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

A Local Legend Passes On...

Ruthie the Duck Girl dies of cancer at 74 by John Pope, The Times-Picayune Friday September 12, 2008, 10:36 PM Ruthie the Duck Girl, a French Quarter eccentric who zoomed from bar to bar on roller skates, often wearing a ratty fur coat and long skirt and trailed by a duck or two, died Sept. 6 at Our Lady of the Lake Hospital in Baton Rouge. She was 74. Ruthie, whose real name was Ruth Grace Moulon, had been suffering from cancer of the mouth and lungs when the residents of her Uptown New Orleans nursing home were evacuated to Baton Rouge as Hurricane Gustav approached, said Carol Cunningham, a close friend who watched over her for nearly 40 years. “I’ve always looked at Ruthie like a little bird with a broken wing, ” Cunningham said. “She was always so dear to me.” Miss Moulon, a lifelong New Orleanian, became a French Quarter fixture, achieving legendary status in a city that treasures people who live outside the mainstream. Along the way, she acquired a coterie of people like Cunningham who found places for her to live, paid her bills and made sure she got home at night. A tiny woman with a constant grin, she frequently sported a bridal gown and veil on her forays because, people said, she considered herself engaged to Gary Moody, whom she met in New Orleans in 1963 when he was a sailor. Moody showed up at a 2001 birthday party for Miss Moulon at Mid-City Lanes Rock ‘N Bowl, but the two never got to the altar. According to a Times-Picayune interview that year, Miss Moulon had a stock reply whenever anyone asked if there might be a wedding in her future: “I got engaged; that’s enough!” In 1999, Rick Delaup made her the subject of a documentary, “Ruthie the Duck Girl.” Miss Moulon’s daily routine consisted of roaming from one watering hole to another, mooching drinks and cigarettes. She could be sweet one minute and unleash a torrent of profanity the next. Although people deemed Miss Moulon’s behavior unconventional even by French Quarter standards, no one ever diagnosed her mental condition because she refused to see a doctor, David Cuthbert wrote in The Times-Picayune in 2001. “She’s not out of touch with reality; she’s just not interested, ” photographer David Richmond told The Times-Picayune. Miss Moulon’s mother, who put her daughter’s hair in sausage curls to make her look like Shirley Temple, came up with the idea that little Ruthie should be a duck girl, Cunningham said. “She dressed her in evening dresses and bought her skates, and she skated through the Quarter with these little ducks following, ” Cunningham said. Miss Moulon’s mother, who grew up in rural Louisiana, initially let the ducks live in the house, although the two women sometimes fought over them, according to On that Web site, Myrl D’Arcy, an artist, described a visit to the house: “The duck’s living in the bathtub, and the mother wanted to take a bath. Ruthie didn’t want the mother to take the duck out of the bathtub because it would upset the duck.” In the documentary, artist George Dureau recalled a conversation with Miss Moulon after the death of another French Quarter character, Eloise Lopez Arollo Samakintos, who always carried a cross through the Vieux Carre. “There ain’t a whole lot of us left, George, ” she said. A Mass will be said Monday at noon at Jacob Schoen & Son Funeral Home, 3827 Canal St. Visitation will start at 10 a.m. Burial will be in Greenwood Cemetery. reposted from the Times-picayune. Original post and comment thread here. On a personal note: I only encountered Miss Ruthie twice. The first time, I entered Lucille’s Golden Lantern to meet my girl friend of the time, whose roomate worked there. As I walked in, they were all sitting at one side of the horse shoe bar, facing a small woman in desheveled clothing. The room was silent. As my eyes were adjusting to the dark, I sat down on the empty side of the bar, not far from the woman in question. The others all went wide eyed, and Ruthie launched into a diatribe, at the top of voice, beginning with, “you're ALL FUCKING WHORES…” I fled. Years later, I cut to the front of the line at the Dungeon, to see what the hold up was, and to see if my friend was working the door. As I entered that little alcove in the front, the hulking doorman held a finger to his lips and went “shhhh!”. Behind him, Ruthie stood on the little bridge, letting her duck swim in the tiny flow of water below. We waited patiently, and after a while, she left, whispering a quiet, “Thank you” to the doorman on her way out. You are now and forever a Legend of the French Quarter, Miss Ruthie. Knock ‘em back in line, wherever you are.

Friday, September 12, 2008


Because we're ready for America 2.0

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Nanny Nanny Boo Boo

In the news today, the McCain camp accuses Barack Obama of name calling. Read this blurb: NORFOLK, Va. (Associated Press) -- Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama on Wednesday accused Republican John McCain's campaign of using "lies and phony outrage and Swift-boat politics" in claiming he used a sexist comment against vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin. Calling it "the latest made-up controversy by the John McCain campaign," Obama responded to the Republicans' charge that he was referring to Palin when he used the phrase "lipstick on a pig" at a campaign stop Tuesday. "I don't care what they say about me. But I love this country too much to let them take over another election with lies and phony outrage and Swift-boat politics. Enough is enough," he said. Obama's reference was to the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth, an outside group that in 2004 made unsubstantiated allegations about Democratic nominee John Kerry's decorated military record in Vietnam. On Tuesday, Obama criticized McCain's economic policies as similar to those of President Bush, saying: "You can put lipstick on a pig ... it's still a pig. You can wrap an old fish in a piece of paper called change. It's still going to stink after eight years." The McCain campaign contended that the comments were directed at Palin, the GOP's first woman on a presidential ticket. In her acceptance speech last week, she had referred to herself in a joke about lipstick being the only difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull. Accusing Obama of "smearing" Palin in "offensive and disgraceful" comments, the McCain campaign demanded an apology _ though McCain himself used the folksy metaphor a few times last year, including once to describe Democratic Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton's health care plan. There is no mention here, however, of a report by service industry workers at an Alaskan restaurant, that upon hearing Obama had won the Democratic Candidacy, Palin loudly & publicly remarked,"So Sambo beat the bitch..." The Big Name Press (Fox News & CNN) can fuck straight off. These are the same people who refused to televise Ron Paul in any of the debates he joined. The first step towards building a Facist State is to control the media. Let's lose these bastards, ya heard? Lord David Pirate & Artist Skull Club New Orleans

Sunday, September 7, 2008

For My Favorite Libertine

May the light that falls on you be as great as the one that shines from within. LD

The Big Picture

There are times when the latest news of Jihad, police corruption, gang violence, general hate and selfishness, begin to overwhelm even one so hardened as myself. At these times, I often stand in the center of my room, awash in music, arms spread out to the heavens, head back, deeply breathing in the cosmic marrow of life. I begin to see myself, as if from above, standing there, filling my lungs, and push all other thoughts and mental pictures away. Still your mind and the Truth will come… Soon the image I hold draws further back to see my building, my block, the city, continent & planet. I see the Earth, a blue ball, spinning the through the cosmos, with billions of specks, much like myself, standing on the surface like mad surfing insects, riding their host as it hurtles through space. The Earth itself then becomes a mere pinprick next to the gargantuan size of Jupiter, which is then dwarfed by our Sun. The sun we know becomes a pinprick against immense planets that spin around stars so big they would swallow our entire solar system. These formations spread for hundreds of billions of light years in every direction, beyond the concept we call infinity. Now seriously, folks, in the midst of all that, is it really possible that there is a Supreme Being who chooses to speak only through one human being, the Official Prophet, for all eternity? That one person’s life and ego are more important than another’s? That this tiniest of blips in the history of our planet alone, the history of human kind, is so important that we would decimate our world, and each other? I think not. I think that it’s high time (bad choice of words perhaps) we took it upon ourselves to make this work, this humanity experiment, by standing together in the face of religious fanaticism, racial division, violence and class driven greed. It’s time to awaken. Perhaps there is a Supreme Being, and if so, perhaps for a tiny sliver of a moment, we might cross their inbox. The rest is up to us. To act in a manner befitting our self image as the Prime Life Form in the Universe. As things stand right now, when I wonder if there is intelligent life in the Universe, the only thing I know for sure is this: It certainly isn’t us. Root for the Home Team, kids. That’s Humans, to anyone out there listening. We’re all in this together. All of us, each & every one. Lord David Tripped Out Artist Skull Club New Orleans

I Broke New Olreans

I’m one of those bastards who snuck back into New Orleans early, because I can, it’s my home, and fuck all those assholes, anyway. I’ve done more to rebuild this town (with my own hands and tools) then any of those bureaucratic flap jaws, so…. …I pulled up in front of my door and darted inside with my bags of crap, as the police and guardsmen began to peer around the corner at me from the 5th district headquarters, next door. As I got to the top of the stairs I became aware that: I really had to pee, because there was no place to stop since Hammond. All the power was on and my loft was completely unchanged. I could see all four blocks of my corner from the front window and lights were on everywhere. So… I stuck my hand into the bathroom to turn on a light, and as I flipped the switch, all the lights in the enitre neighborhood went out. So if anybody asks, it was me who broke New Orleans. I used the very last watt and burned the system. This is obviously why none of us should be allowed to come home without proper instruction, preferably by Ray Nagin AND Warren Riley, on How To Take A Piss In The Dark. After all, they’ve been doing it for years now.Has anybody seen the Pinesol? The power came back on within hours, after all, and the world hasn't ended, so I’ll be here, taking on water & my favorite revolutionairies, for Ike and whoever else comes down the line. Lord David Pirate & Artist Skull Club New Orleans

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Bigger Bullshit From Bigger Government - The Ladies Room Has New Rules

Now, I'm sometimes noticed in public being drunk & unruly and I admit that. God bless my friends who don't make fun of me for this, at least while I'm listening. I appreciate it. During any & all of my 'episodes' I try to maintain a certain level of integrity, at least until I lose a shoe and become convinced that aliens are dressed as government agents and are here to take me to the brig on the Mother-ship. Hey, it could happen... Anyway, it has come to my attention that Another Great Lie is being thrust upon us, largely because the memo that we're all stupid childlike fucks has gone round again. This time it's circulating at the Republican National Convention. No big surprise there, I know. Home of the Haves and the Have Mores. Both John McCain & Sarah Palin are loudly voicing a desire to reverse Roe vs. Wade. At the same time, Governor Palin's underage daughter is pregnant out of wedlock and they want us to ignore that because...wait for it, this is's a private matter and an individual choice. Let them eat cake for baby laws. The Ruling Class gets it's shot at keeping the baby bulge on the quiet, and deciding as individuals what their coarse of action will be, all while denying any & all of us the same privilege. Choice will be reserved for those who are in power, and agree with the choices that our leaders make. This same political party pushed for legislation that would make a 16 year old boy who had sex with his 15 year old girl friend register as a pedophile and sex criminal FOR LIFE. At the same time, I don't see any Alaskan cops kicking down the door of Bristol Palin's gum chewing snowboarding boyfriend, who is legally guilty of statuatory rape. Must be nice to be plugging the Royal Family, if the perks include being above the law. The Republican Party, with George W. at the wheel, also tried to shove a Constitutional Amendment down our throats making it illegal for gays & lesbians to marry. My opinion is that this issue has nothing to do with Constitutional Law, and why aren't we enforcing the existing laws like having underage sex with the Governor of Alaska's daughter? Why is it that some bozo who got caught smoking a joint outside a Motley Crue concert is likely to do a year in jail, in fact, Tommy Chong, who was entrapped into selling an unused bong to federal agents, from a legal website, did a year in jail, but fucking an underage girl and knocking her up only gets Snow Boy his 15 minutes of fame? I'll tell you why. Beacuase they think they are better than us. They believe that we are cattle to be sent off to war to improve their oil profits. They believe that we should cut funding to the department of education and be dumb muscle for their service needs, as they send decent jobs to other countries, tax us in to poverty, build giant global corporations with giant global tax shelters, make trillions of dollars from the War Machine, and sit happily by as our Great Nation is disolved into bankruptcy, because they already have a Global Corporate Golden Parachute. We will become their machine, their fodder to run the gas stations, fast food restaurants, cleaning companies, data input services, etc. as they give themselves more & more privelege, and all of us, less & less freedom. We've seen students tazered for speaking out, middle aged women detained by police for wearing anti-bush slogans at rallies, BLACKWATER USA thugs shooting unarmed civilians in Irag and extorting millions in revenue from the City of New Orleans, our very White House lie bold faced about WMDs in the middle east and expose a CIA agent to possible death because her husband spoke out about it. Now your body is not to be your property anymore, ladies. It's not as sacred as Bristol Palin's. Your choices are to be made by a woman moose skinner who was put there soley to cash in on the frustration of fence sitting democrats who wanted to vote for Hilary Clinton. This is a last minute impulse purchase to prove your own stupidity and prove how low your opinion of your own self worth has fallen. If you want to be degraded as a woman, call Larry Flynt. He won't lie about it and I hear he pays well. If you want to degrade your own daughters and granddaughters by selling their freedoms down the path of Old White Boy Government, where money rules and the priveleged call your dance tune, then you probably aren't reading this anyway. You're probably too busy throwing your designer dress over your head and letting the good old boys bend you over the constitution.

More Stupid Shit From City Hall

I just got a message from my dear friend, Rhonda. We had drinks thursday night, to celebrate being home, albeit illgegally, and were joined by many dozens of other fun people who crowded the Marigny bars called Mimi's, and the Nighthawk. According to Fox News (at 9:20pm Friday night) there is a curfew in Orleans Parish? 10PM - 6AM. There are 4 zips where the curfew is 2AM - 6AM. 70116 (The French Quarter) is one of those. Once again, the Infinite Wisdom of City Hall Prevails. Imagine all those bar backs, bartneders, waiters cooks and servers, nevermind managers, dishwashers, DJs, etc. who get off work in the French Quarter at 2am and have to get off the streets coming home to a neighborhood that has a 10pm curfew. Of course, this follows the rabid order Warren Riley spewed across the air waves last week insisting that anyone poking their head out of the corner during evacuation "will be arrested." A Free Trip To Angola was included in this travel package. For going outside. Way to attract tourism, guys. I remember having to deal with this for months after Katrina. It made sense at first, as many neighborhoods were empty and blacked out, but ended with French Quarter bar owners making a stand against City Hall, who finally backed down. This time, many neighborhoods are untouched, and the Marigny, where I live, is As If It Never Happened. Why on earth everybody has to be home and locked down by 10 pm is beyond all reason. The freakin storm was a week ago, and never really hit this neighborhood. It would seem to me that City Hall is simply trying to enact control over us by extending their marshall law curfew as long as possible, not to protect anyone, to but to Show The World their great and powerful dedication to Saving Mankind. NEWS FLASH: You're all fucking idiots. You, Mayor Nagin, with your 900 mile storm. You, Chief Riley, with your bully cops and curfew, and all of the City Council who stand by watching like dorks on a playground as the bullies beat the shit out of the younger kids. Again. Perhaps there is another award in the making, and Hizzonner wants to earn some extra credit by saving us when there's nothing to really be saved from. We can store it in the freezer for later, or maybe make jambalaya out of it when the family comes on Sunday. I actually tasted Save Me From Myself a couple of times, usually as a multiple year sentence for a joint, or someone trying to reverse Roe vs Wade, but it always had that after taste of FUCKING FASICISM. Maybe Police Chief and Wooden Indian, Warren Riley, is going to fight the out-of-control crime in my neighborhood by locking us all in our rooms. Except it didn't work last time, Warren. Did it....? I seem to remember having to lay my then crippled ass on the ground at gun point, with three State cops from some god fearing dry parish screaming at me and waving pistols around. Crime in the neighborhood skyrocketed, however, as it was much easier to pick on tired dishwashers and broken down writers than it was to say, arrest the bastard who ran over Dave Gordon, even though you know who he is and where he lives. Or maybe they just wanted my parking space. In any case, there's a curfew in effect. And I think I saw a hurricane hanging out by the tracks, looking shifty and hiding behind a retaining wall. It may have only been a cloudy day, for that matter, but it was whistling a rather annoying tune, and I didn't like it's haircut, so we'd better all stay inside until, once again, crime is prevented by locking all the citizens in their homes. Maybe there will be a meeting soon, and they'll realize the best way to fight crime is to simply make us all leave the city or go directly to jail. They'll be no coming back, either. No trailers allowed. Just sit in your tent and wait for that absentee ballot with Nagin's name on it to arrive. I wouldn't hold your breath for an ivitation to the next Award Ceremony, however. Unless you're a wealthy property owner. But then, you'd be running a New Orleans Ethics Commision, right? Lord David Who will never fucking evacuate again Skull Club New Orleans