Oh but do they field the interesting inquiries..

... down at the old liberry.

Damn. My money was on Buchanan

It seems we finally have a Deep Throat. Another missed opportunity for Punditbook, I'm afraid.

Cameron Diaz

Every time I start to wonder if Maddox is losing his edge he manages to allay my fears.

Red State Reading

Yo, kids. Although you likely have not noticed, this space has been a bit on the sleepy side recently. For the most part, this is due to the usual predictable factors. Work has been busier, certain social diversions have demanded to be sampled, and, of course, roommates have been slipping in and out of various states of employment such as 1) employed 2) unemployed and 3) recently employed until that one night when the boss decided to beat the crap out of you. With his fists.

All of this takes time away from playing on the internets. But the most significant leisure time sucker for me of late has been the fact that there has been an awful lot of good stuff to read laying around my apartment. I've fallen into a spot of luck lately with books that follow the loose, Boboian theme of Red State interest.

In earlier episodes you may recall that I highly recommended this year's One Book One New Orleans selection, Rising Tide The Great Mississippi Flood of 1927 and How it Changed America by John M Barry which contains a great deal of fascinating material on the Mississippi Delta region, the New Orleans Carnival aristocracy, Herbert Hoover, and the ill fated history of river control policy. When I finished it in late March, it was my favorite book read in 2005.

Shortly afterwards, I began my favorite book read in 2005. Most of the folks who occasionally glance at this site are likely to have read or at least are familiar with the content of What's the Matter With Kansas? Tom Frank is, for my money, perhaps the most clear eyed political observer and social critic going these days. The basic thesis of Kansas is pretty standard stuff. The current mode of populist politics often leads working class Americans to organize and vote for candidates who implement programs which are contrary to the economic interests of these voters. The most often quoted passage from Frank's book puts it up thusly

"Vote to stop abortion; receive a rollback in capital gains taxes. Vote to make our country strong again; receive deindustrialization. Vote to screw those politically correct college professors; receive electricity deregulation. Vote to get government off our backs; receive conglomeration and monopoly everywhere from media to meatpacking. Vote to stand tall against terrorists; receive Social Security privatization. Vote to strike a blow against elitism; receive a social order in which wealth is more concentrated than ever before in our lifetimes, in which workers have been stripped of power and CEOs are rewarded in a manner beyond imagining."

Frank, a native Kansan, takes great pains to trace the rich populist impulse in his home state back to the socially Christian, but economically progressive movements of the Abolitionists and Bryanists. Some of the more colorful characters he speaks with in the book include a female politician famous for lamenting the extension of the franchise to women and a schismatic Catholic who regards the post Vatican II Church as a heresy and has consequently declared himself the true Pope. While I am, of course, pleased to see this subject matter analyzed, what I really liked about this book was Frank's ability to treat his "red" and often nutty Kansans with an empathy and affection that contains not even the slightest hint of condescension. In other words, exactly the way I wouldn't have done it.

And then, of course, along came my favorite book read in 2005. In a lot of ways, Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer is a fitting companion piece to What's the Matter With Kansas? New York Times reporter, Alabama native, and devoted Crimson Tide fan Warren St. John spends an entire football season as a member of one of the infamous RV caravans that follow college football teams across the South. Along the way we encounter a man who is on the waiting list for a heart transplant but puts his life at risk each week by leaving the proscribed forty minute radius around the hospital just to attend football games, a couple who missed their daughter's wedding for a Bama game, as well as countless similarly obsessed football fans. The RVers themselves are, predictably, the nuttiest type of football nut available. The book is never short on the theater of the absurd. The social phenomenon St. John investigates, the irrational passion of certain stereotypical "red staters", is obviously parallel to Frank's book. St. John's success, like Frank's, derives, yes, partly from his ironic sense of humor aimed at absurd and easy targets, but is sold by his genuine affection and sense of camaraderie with his subjects. A fan himself, St. John shares the RVers' apprehensions, their superstitions, and their moments of agony and ecstasy as the Crimson Tide recover from a humiliating early season loss to LA Tech and go on to win the SEC championship. Throughout I was continually impressed with St. John as a talented descriptive writer. Sports fan or no, everyone should try this one out.

Next on the "red state" list:

The Great Southern Babylon: Sex, Race, And Respectability in New Orleans, 1865-1920 Looks interesting but dense. I may abandon it if something fun comes up.

The Pirates Lafitte: The Treacherous World of the Corsairs of the Gulf If it ever comes in. This one was reviewed in the T-P last Sunday and already the library's request list has grown rather long.

Publicity Department

The latest bullshit attempt by the Saints media machine to suggest that wildly inconsistent quarterback and sometime literacy advocate Aaron Brooks is due for a breakout season is available for your perusal here.

You can catch Mr. Brooks in person at NOPL's Summer Reading Club Kickoff Party tomorrow at the King branch in the Ninth Ward.

Tomorrow night you can catch Testaverde (the band not the QB) at Dixie Taverne.

St. Tammany Literary Society

State Rep. A. G. Crowe of Slidell has been putting in extra hours lately furiously scanning Amazon.com in an effort to act as part time reader's advisor to his St. Tammany Parish constituents. It was there that he must have noticed the School Library Journal review of King and King in which the children's book is knocked for its "thin characterization and ugly artwork." or the Publisher's Weekly review which suggests the similar Jack and Jim instead. It's nice to see legislators take time out of their busy schedules to help overworked librarians select quality materials for their collections... Oh wait, no he's just being an asshole.

BATON ROUGE -- Books "containing the theme of homosexuality" and other "age-inappropriate" topics should not be on public library shelves accessible to children, a St. Tammany Parish lawmaker said Thursday.

Rep. A.G. Crowe, R-Slidell, has filed House Concurrent Resolution 119, calling on all public libraries to remove such material from the children's book sections and confine it "exclusively for adult access and distribution."

Budget Problems Solved

Science may have found a way to help you become a cheaper drunk.

Those who took kudzu pills drank an average of 1.8 beers per session, compared with the 3.5 beers consumed by those who took a placebo.

Lukas was not certain why, but speculated that kudzu increases blood-alcohol levels and speeds up its effects. In other words, the drinkers needed fewer beers to feel drunk.

link

Bloggered

Just lost a huge post in which I once again ranted incessantly about the tourist industry. Consider yourselves lucky.

Guess What Happened Today

I gave Daisy first crack at this and she hasn't come close yet. First one to get it right wins "a candy".

Link link link

My whole sidebar is due for a serious spring cleaning. I'm hardly the type to apply myself to such a project, however. Instead I'll just keep adding more junk until eventually the sum of all human knowledge is linked to this site... but so haphazardly as to remain completely useless (and thank God for that too!) Just added today, these spiffy NO blogs:
Harmony St. Charles
Humid City
Yer Mom An' Dem

Also, Yat Pundit has created a site whose purpose appears to be to collect New Orleans links. Take a look, you'll feel like you're there.

We're all gonna die

I hope we're all celebrating National Hurricane Preparedness Week.

[Santorum] The evil federal government has taken the occasion to encroach upon the profit margins of private forecasters by warning the public of a potentially dangerous season. [/Santorum]

The donut file

Slate piece on Mitch Hedberg.

I have a bad feeling about this

Geeks everywhere are already piling on the praise for the dumbed down political allegory present in the concluding chapter of the worst movie series ever. Kill me now!

Disturbing trend

It seems that more and more of the sites I use are making more and more of their content subscription only. The worst offender on this front of late had been ESPN, but now today there's this.

SAN FRANCISCO (MarketWatch) -- The New York Times Co. (NYT) on Monday said that, starting in September, access to Op-Ed and certain of its top news columnists on the paper's NYTimes.com Web site will only be available through a fee of $49.95 a year. The service, known as TimesSelect, will also allow access to The Times's online archives, early access to select articles on the site, and other features. Home-delivery subscribers will automatically receive the service, the NYT said.

Bastards.

Oy

This is actually a thing.
Bushfish

Freaking MPAA

Newitz earns her merit badge.

Just remembered

In the post below, I link to Daisy's reportage of our visits to several area school libraries today. I do not envy the position most of these librarians are in. For the most part they are not only overworked and underfunded but they also seem to suffer from a lack of understanding on the part of their superiors as to the amount of work it takes to manage their libraries. Most of them have no support staff at all. And, as Daisy observed, they tend to get easily pulled into peripheral responsibilities. Some of the librarians we met today impressed us as energetic capable loners doomed to fight a losing battle. Others seemed to us blissfully apathetic semi-retired teachers just playing out the string. In any event, I do NOT want any of these people's jobs ever.
Some of them, it seems, wouldn't mind having mine. One lady we talked to, hinted vaguely that she needs to "get over by the public library more often." She seemed to mean this in the sense that she would like to visit.. but also talk about a job at some point. What was interesting, though, was the reason she gave for not dropping by as often as she would like.
"When I get done with work, my car just kind of goes home.. kinda like that mule."
She paused for a moment before remembering that Daisy and I weren't familiar with the mule and then explained, "My husband worked down in the French Quarter with the buggies. And one day, one of the drivers... Sometimes they kinda drink a little. Well one of 'em got so drunk and he fell off the buggy and that mule... that mule just went back to the stable. He knew the way and all."
On the way out of the building, Daisy told me she suspects this story is apocryphal. I disagreed on the grounds that, in New Orleans, we live in the land of the apocryphal. The more ridiculous the story sounds, the more likely it is to be true. But also I just want it to be true. God knows I feel for the poor mule who has spent day after hot tropical day dragging obnoxious tourists through the French Quarter so this drunk buggy driver can lie to them and tie up traffic. To think that this mule got his chance to say to the besotted bastard lying on the ground behind him, "Screw you guys I'm going home," this pleases me a great deal.

It sucks to be a school librarian

Also, NOPD goes from the penthouse right back to the shithouse. Go see Daisy for details here.

Um..

Jesus: "Let's see 'em paint over this!"

via

Next: Expectant witnesses gather around tortillas in Mexico.

It's over

They're leaving.

What is going on..

..at the Tulane Primate Center? The monkeys have escaped and it's not the first time.

Already it's comically stupid

The broken guy the Saints drafted is broken again.

NEW ORLEANS (AP) — Wide receiver Chase Lyman, the fourth-round draft pick of the New Orleans Saints, suffered a knee injury during his first workout as an NFL player.

He tore his ACL while running around in his shorts. Does not bode well.

Salut!

Oyster has made it through a whole year. Go give him a pat on the back.

Caption Contest Anyone?

Sorry, Ian OH and Happy Birthday

"So here's how I get better reception on my wireless internets."
"Still working on that missile defense shield."

Wardrobe Advice

Look, if you're going to ask the librarian to help you find information on tie-dye, wear something other than a tie-dye dress. It makes people think "Wow you really like tie-dye," and causes them to become embarrassed for you.

This is why it's time to go drinking now

Unusual day. It began innocently enough last night when Consuela and Captain Jack Sparrow decided to pick up a few pounds of crawfish. They seemed happy with their purchase so I left them to it and turned in early.

This morning, as I was walking out the door with a load of laundry, I was met there by the carcasses of four crawfish which Captain Jack had nailed to a telephone poll presumably as a warning to any passing crustaceans who may harbor thoughts of challenging his authority in the future. I reflected on this for a moment and went on with my day. Laundry, a quick jog and a shower…. Oh did I tell you about the shower? This week we lost the ability to shut the water off in the tub. Once you’re done in there the cold water just keeps running. I figured out that this can be temporarily overcome by applying direct pressure to the knob. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get Consuela and Captain Jack to agree to take on this task in shifts. We devised a temporary solution involving a plunger propped between the knob and the soap holder and held in place by a towel which works fine but is a bitch to replace every time someone takes a shower.

So there I was this afternoon. It’s my day off. All of my errands are run. I’ve got the heads of impaled crawfish staring at my front door and a shower that could explode at any second. It’s definitely time to get out on the bicycle for a while. Naturally the three hours I spent riding around, drinking coffee, doing the crossword puzzle in Consuela’s bar were the two hours the a/c guy showed up to fix this problem and the plumbers came by to fix the shower. The good news is Captain Jack was in the house. The bad news is he was sleeping. I returned to find a “sorry we missed you” notice on the door from the a/c guy and the plumbers hard at work…. on the KITCHEN SINK. They had done a beautiful job too. We now have a brand new kitchen faucet. Everything works great there.. pretty much like it did before.

The plumbers had a little trouble adjusting when I had to tell them why Slumlord had actually dispatched them to begin with. Both of them are wiry, leather skinned, raspy voiced yats who have clearly aged beyond their years…. kind of how you might picture the Shut Up, Little Man guys. In fact, they even seemed to channel those guys as they descended into a short spat over which one of them was to blame for the mix-up. I was afraid they might even come to blows for a minute there. They recovered their composure, such as it was, and went to work on the bathroom while I watched the Kentucky Derby.

While the work was proceeding, Captain Jack finally emerged from his coma and eagerly asked me if I had seen his crawfish. I told him that I had and offered him my Vlad the Impaler comparison. This pleased him so much that he immediately ran out to show off his handiwork to the plumbers. The conversation went like this.

Captain Jack: “You see Jeff says it’s kind of a warning to all the other crawfish who might come up out the neighborhood to fuck with us.”

Inbred Leather-Skinned Cigarette-Scented Plumber: “What do you mean? Is ‘crawfish’ like code for niggers or something?”
Also, they didn’t finish fixing the bathroom. We may or may not see them again on Monday.

Best Onion Feature

Ever

Nicknames of the Dead Vol. 2

From today's Times-Pic obits:

• "Buddy"
• "Nita"
• "Jody"
• "Benny"
• "Tutt"
• "Duck"
• "Yuk"
• "Tom"
• "Baudy Man"
• "Uncle Richard"
• "Rosa Ma Da Da"
• "O.D"
• "Leaky"

Nobody Owns the Sky?

This is just so obviously boneheaded.

Santorum, the No. 3 man in Senate leadership, recently filed legislation to clamp down on the Weather Service's output. The agency still could issue storm warnings, but free public access to forecasts would be restricted if a private company offered the same information.

Putting aside the argument that the government should be in the business of making basic health and safety information, such as the weather, more not less accessible to the public this bill is truly criminal in that it requires you to pay a profiteering intermediary a fee for the benefit of services already paid for by your taxes. This is especially egregious considering that these private forecasters rely largely on National Weather Service data in order to create their product. It's the same as if the city allowed me to collect tolls from everyone who uses St. Charles Avenue between Louisiana Avenue and Lee Circle provided that I sweep the caterpillars off of the sidewalks once a month.

Blogger Spellcheck Note: "Santorum" = "Sanitarium"

Things people say

Since Daisy has thrown down the gauntlet in pursuit of the elusive Quote of the Week, I am forced to reveal my trump card which comes from Consuela who says: "All my life I've always loved the smell of gasoline." I think that explains a lot. At the same time, I don't mean to be too hard on the girl. After all, today is her national holiday.

Score one for NOPD

Daisy has the feel good police story of the century here. I watch people cut this same line every day. Reading this caused me to float out of my chair with joy.

At exactly closing time

I get to sit a few extra moments in the tech lab while the crazy mumbling guy prints out his muscle-bikini-girl pictures. Ho hum.

The Dark Side

The three most recent covers of Time magazine. At least they're consistent.

Nice write up

This NYT piece on the soon to be shuttered Uglesich's is worth a look. Although it loses points for the completely unecessary use of the word insalubrious.

Here's a new one

Patron calls and asks for the phone number here, in case she needs to call back. I shit you not.

Awful Book of the Day

I don't have one at the ready so I'll defer to Matt Taibbi who was subjected to Tom Friedman's The World is Flat. An excerpt:

It's impossible to divorce The World Is Flat from its rhetorical approach. It's not for nothing that Thomas Friedman is called "the most important columnist in America today." That it's Friedman's own colleague at the New York Times (Walter Russell Mead) calling him this, on the back of Friedman's own book, is immaterial. Friedman is an important American. He is the perfect symbol of our culture of emboldened stupidity. Like George Bush, he's in the reality-making business. In the new flat world, argument is no longer a two-way street for people like the president and the country's most important columnist. You no longer have to worry about actually convincing anyone; the process ends when you make the case.

Review here

Just so you know

Right now I am wearing a rubber band and pretzel bracelet. You should all be so lucky.

Nothing to see here

US exonerates itself in the Sgrena case.

Potemkin Forces

NYT

The saga of Company E, part of a lionized battalion nicknamed the Magnificent Bastards, is also one of fortitude and ingenuity. The marines, based at Camp Pendleton in southern California, had been asked to rid the provincial capital of one of the most persistent insurgencies, and in enduring 26 firefights, 90 mortar attacks and more than 90 homemade bombs, they shipped their dead home and powered on. Their tour has become legendary among other Marine units now serving in Iraq and facing some of the same problems.

"As marines, we are always taught that we do more with less," said Sgt. James S. King, a platoon sergeant who lost his left leg when he was blown out of the Humvee that Saturday afternoon last May. "And get the job done no matter what it takes."

The experiences of Company E's marines, pieced together through interviews at Camp Pendleton and by phone, company records and dozens of photographs taken by the marines, show they often did just that. The unit had less than half the troops who are now doing its job in Ramadi, and resorted to making dummy marines from cardboard cutouts and camouflage shirts to place in observation posts on the highway when it ran out of men. During one of its deadliest firefights, it came up short on both vehicles and troops. Marines who were stranded at their camp tried in vain to hot-wire a dump truck to help rescue their falling brothers. That day, 10 men in the unit died.

Also: Retention Problems?

Making Football Players

Freaking NFL draft nearly ruined my Saturday. I didn't have to work. There were no time consuming errands to run. It was unbelievably gorgeous outside. We only get so many perfect days around here before the soul-sucking heat sets in. I really should have been out on the bicycle. But no, I spent most of the day sitting in front of the computer (I don't have cable) hitting the refresh button to see which fat fuck was the next to become a millionaire. It's a problem, I know. I'll work on it eventually. It's like eighth on my list.
I really don't have much to say about the Saints first three selections. They needed a tackle and a linebacker and one of the guys they drafted is named Bullocks which is kind of fun. But, in New Orleans, we only watch this stuff for the comedic value and for that the true payoff didn't come until Sunday. While I was busy shaking off a hangover and trying to keep Daisy from drowning her dog, the Saints were introducing us to the next name certain to adorn the Brad Muster-Cam Cleeland-Cie Grant memorial training room. That name is fourth round selection, Chase Lyman. You really ought to click on that link if only to get a look at the sad expression on the poor boy's face. It is well earned. This guy has been through an ordeal.

Note: Has had six surgical procedures since enrolling at California … Battled through a myriad of injuries (ankle, groin, hamstring, hip and appendicitis) during his career.

2000 -- Suffered a contusion on the back of his left knee during fall camp.

2001 -- Missed the season opener vs. Illinois after undergoing an appendectomy during August camp.

2002 -- Bothered by ankle and knee sprains during spring drills … Dislocated a finger and two days later, tore his hamstring away from the bone in fall camp … Underwent surgery and was granted a medical hardship.

2003 -- Held out of spring drills to continue recovering from hamstring surgery.

2004 -- Tore a ligament in his left knee vs. Southern California, undergoing surgery (10/12).

Suffice it to say Lyman was a rare sight on the football field during his time at Cal. What are the odds that he plays a complete season in New Orleans? Can we get some action on this? Who might help us answer that question? Oh I know who.
Meet fifth round pick, Adrian McPherson.

...McPherson was arrested on Nov. 27, 2002 on charges of stealing a blank check and receiving nearly $3,500 after it was cashed. He was kicked off the team, finishing his career with 98 of 192 passes for 1,215 yards (51.0 percent), 14 touchdowns and one interception. He also gained 196 yards on 71 rushing attempts (2.8 avg.).

Three months after being dismissed from Florida State, he was also charged with gambling on pro and college games (a second-degree misdemeanor). He attempted to enroll at another school, but with the legal issues, was forced to sit out the 2003 season.

Note below that this is exactly what we were hoping for going into the weekend. The guy is a can't miss proposition for Saints fans. The Saints are hoping that the admittedly talented McPherson can get his act together and compete with literacy advocate (and now, ugh, author) Aaron Brooks for his job. That could happen. Of course the other possibility is that McPherson gets together with Albert Connell and the two of them fly to Tahiti on Deuce McAllister's credit card. Either way, we are in for a show.


Doesn't exactly look like textbook form here. Is that his forgery arm he's using?

Please, God

Please let the Saints draft this guy.

The Saints have shown particular interest in McPherson, one of the most hotly debated prospects in the draft. He was dismissed from the Florida State team in November 2002 for allegedly stealing a blank check from an auto parts store and cashing it. He pleaded no contest to felony theft and received community service, 90 days of work detail and probation.

He also faced misdemeanor charges of gambling on college and professional games. A trial in summer 2003 on those charges ended in a hung jury. McPherson since has denied any involvement in gambling.

How fun!

New Pope not wasting time

Pope Benedict XVI has responded firmly to the first challenge of his papacy by condemning a Spanish government bill allowing marriage between homosexuals.

Also: A Pope is a Pope

Springtime in New Orleans

We are only now beginning to receive vague hints of the unimaginably torturous summer temperatures to come. Already Consuela is having fits of discomfort. What's worse is tonight I decided to open our underperforming A/C and discovered that this is happening. How bad is it? And more importantly, how likely is it that Slumlord will do anything about it?

In a related story,
The glaciers of the Antarctic Peninsula are in rapid retreat.

Wow

Nothing to say other than, what the fuck is wrong with Chicagoans?

Addendum: Forgot to add, "Now if you'll excuse me I have to appear in a Tortilla in Mexico." Won't happen again.

Ray Davies is dumb

Not only did he incur a bullet wound by chasing an armed robber, but now he lets the guy's accomplice go free because he's too busy to show up for a trial.

Awful patron requests of the morning

Prayer of Jabez
by Bruce Wilkinson

"Prosperity Theology" ugh

Night Ranger's Greatest Hits

Yes, we have it. Yes, they wanted it. You might even say they will be motorin' to pick it up.

Nicknames of the Dead

I don't know if this is common practice in the newspaper business, but the Times-Pic has the bizzare habbit of printing nicknames in its obituary list. Here is a collection of nicknames that have appeared in this week's obits.

• "Gus"
• "Seaweed-Tiggy"
• "Pat"
• "Bucky"
• "Weenie"
• "Poppee"
• "Sonny"
• "Pete"
• "Trudy"
• "Jr."
• "Hay"

Awful Book of the Morning

Kind of a weak crop today, even for this meme. I'll just leave it to you.

Past Lives, Future Healing
by Sylvia Browne


Six Steps to Spiritual Revival: God's Awesome Power in Your Life
by Pat Robertson (who else?)


Vote vote vote!

How could you not expect them to screw this up

While this reviewer doesn't seem to hate Hitchiker's Guide, he doesn't exactly leave you rushing out to see it either.

Cubs Win!

Cubs 7 Reds 1
Prior(2-0) 7 IP 4 Hits 1 Earned Run 6 Ks
Feeling slightly more optimistic.

Didn't know I had one... but yeah, sure

Your Inner European is Irish!

Sprited and boisterous! You drink everyone under the table.

Who's Your Inner European?

Teacher's Pet

Those are the first words that come to mind when someone mentions former Saints linebacker Sam Mills who sadly died of cancer this week. He was 45. Within that description, of course, are good and bad connotations. First, the good things. Everything that has been written about Mills today is true. He was the proverbial coach on the field of the great Saints defenses of the late 80s and early 90s. Those defenses are remembered for featuring four linebackers who played together as well as any group ever assembled. Pat Swilling was the flash, Vaughan Johnson the muscle, Mills the brains, and Rickey Jackson the heart. Mills's unassuming personality and his 5'9" stature made him a fan favorite. His intelligence and tendency not to complain made him a coach's favorite.
Unfortunately for Saints fans that coach happened to be Jim Mora. Because Mills was Mora's favorite player my memories of him will always be linked to closely to Mora and that is a shame. I had nothing against Sam Mills. He was a good guy and a good player. But as Mora's pet, he reminds me too much of Mora's sins which are legion. Jim Mora held back Saints teams capable of winning championships, practically ruined the careers of talented but less conformist players like Bobby Hebert and Craig "Ironhead" Heyward (aside: Heyward may be my all time favorite football player. Chunky, goofy, constantly beleaguered by those in authority; what's not to like?) and prevented the greatest Saint in history (Jackson) from getting the necessary attention to gain deserved entry to the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Worst of all, Mora was a dull witted temperamental intolerable pompous ass. Um, did I mention I don't care much for Jim Mora?
If I sound like I'm ranting, it's only because Mills and Mora were Saints during my early teen years when football was maybe a little more important than a silly diversion. It's sad when anyone dies so young. Sam Mills, in doing so, has taken another piece of my youth along with him.


The "Field Mouse" calling the signals.

I don't mean to pick but..

But am I the only one who reads a typical "blogger sucks" post and thinks, It's a free service, people. Shut the fuck up.

Quote of the day (with a side note regarding my wounds)

This morning the toilet in the staff restroom backed up. As a result I became embroiled in about an hour's worth of largely unsuccessful plumbing. I am now sporting a smart blister on my plunging hand. Incidentally, this evening I developed another blister on my right heel while jogging. I only bring this up to point out that on the same day a new pope was chosen, I developed a half-stigmata of sorts. Coincidence? Anyway, back to the plumbing issues. Once we determined that one toilet was stopped up, Daisy asked the staff to keep an eye on the public restrooms lest they begin to develop similar symptoms. This was promptly answered by Irene who reported that the toilet in the ladies' room was "flushing like an animal."

More Popery

In addition to taking a backwards step by naming a theological conservative to the papacy, the church also will have to answer questions regarding the newly infallible one's Nazi ties. It appears in the above linked article that Ratzinger was not an enthusiastic collaborator. His involvement in the Hitler Youth was compulsory. He was conscripted into the army and eventually deserted. On the other hand, there is nothing here that looks particularly inspiring.. at least not in the vein of what one would expect of a pope whose supposed strong suit is his moral certitude. This bit, in fact, seems almost Clintonian.

Two years later Ratzinger was enrolled in an anti-aircraft unit that protected a BMW factory making aircraft engines. The workforce included slaves from Dachau concentration camp.

Ratzinger has insisted he never took part in combat or fired a shot — adding that his gun was not even loaded — because of a badly infected finger. He was sent to Hungary, where he set up tank traps and saw Jews being herded to death camps. He deserted in April 1944 and spent a few weeks in a prisoner of war camp.

Look,if your nickname is "God's Rotweiller" you may not be the best available ambassador for Peace on Earth.

Note: Blogger spellcheck seems to agree with me as it suggests replacing "Ratzinger" with "reticence"

White Smoke

It would appear that the Vatican has decided that the reactionary times demand a reactionary pope.

As dean of the College of Cardinals, Ratzinger called the cardinals to Rome for the conclave that elected him the 265th pope. Ratzinger, who turned 78 on Saturday, he has been head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith since 1981. In that position, he maintained strict discipline on church doctrine, including disciplining church officials who differed on church policy.

He has been the driving force behind the Vatican's crackdowns on liberation theology, religious pluralism, challenges to traditional moral teachings on issues such as homosexuality, and dissent on such issues as women's ordination.

Welcome to the new Dark Age.

Ugh stat of the day

Extra base hits by Nomar so far this season: 1

Also Cubs win!

Um.. don't expect that to be a regular thing this year.

In lieu of an update, a reccomendation

Check out Matt Taibbi's review of his own book. Back soon.

Unreality of the times

Nothing sums it up better than this.

Poll Question

New feature:

Which is the official Awful Book of the Morning?

Today's contenders:

A Teen's Game Plan for Life
by Lou Holtz


The Prodigal Husband
by Jacquelin Thomas


Vote now!

People Daisy has told me I look like this month

1) Hugh Grant
2) Jon Bon Jovi

People Daisy's friends tell her I look like:
1) Rob Reiner
2) Kevin Smith

You figure it out.

Woke up one hungover morning

Consuela and I got all did up and went out intending to hit our first 80s night in ages last night and ended up just sitting in Johnny White's and singing along to the jukebox until 4AM like the losers we are. As a consequence, here is what happened to my big plans for my Friday off:

9:00 AM Laundry Sleep

10:00 AM Run four miles Sleep

11:00 AM Internets Sleep

12:00 PM Haircut Internets

1:00 PM Bank Shower

Rest of the day FQF Haircut, Bank, FQF.... ok maybe just FQF

Bonus: Why elaborate on FQF when I can just post a rerun? Perk of being a blog people from way back.

Open Letter to Kathleen Blanco

While there are strong arguments to be made for the State putting its resources behind efforts to save New Orleans’s atrocious public school system or relieve the increasing wanderlust of its professional football franchise, I feel I must beg you to intervene on behalf of yet another essential Louisiana institution which we may have already lost. I am speaking here, of course, of Timshel. For nearly two years, the steward of this site known to his readers as “Ricky Prado” has provided, for free, a daily comprehensive compilation of news and commentary on Louisiana politics of a quality as high or higher than what they receive from most of the state’s professional journalists. Today, Ricky has announced that he no longer possesses the necessary resources to continue providing us with this service. Governor Blanco, I believe the State can and must do something to save this gem of the Louisiana blogosphere. For only a fraction of the cost of a Superdome renovation or a school system takeover, the State could provide Timshel with a modest annual operating funds grant, and perhaps a new computer, which should be enough to keep it running long after the Los Angeles Saints have won their first Superbowl. In the midst of so much carping in the mainstream media about the unchecked irresponsibility of the “blog people” Timshel is a true example of the best of what blogging can do for public discourse. Louisiana is a poorer place without it. I implore you, once again, to take action.

And now for something completely tasteless

Ok I can't be the only one who has at least in part been secretly pining for this moment just for the opportunity to watch the whole conclave process. The answer to the obvious next question seems have been out there for some time now. It still may be a job for punditbook, however.
I also can't put the thought out of my mind that a leak from inside the College of Cardinals would be the story of the year. Not that it's too terribly likely that some septuagenarian cardinal will take it upon himself to live-blog the conclave but it is fun to think about. What conclavic moments might the world then be privy to.

9.30 am

You know you'd think the friggin Vatican could spring for some decent coffee at this thing. Cardinal Giovanni is sleeping at his desk again. No one says anything but I think they notice. This whole thing gets more embarrassing by the day. I don't know who this guy is talking right now but if I have to put up with one more of these fuckers droning on and on about The Da Vinci Code I'm going start seriously considering taking up snake handling. I'm seventy-eight years old for chrissake! I really ought to be home making the best of these precious final years. I certainly don't need to be flying halfway around the world to sit in a room full of pompous old farts trying to figure out who looks best in the big goofy hat. Personally, I could care less. I have enough trouble trying keep the altar boys from getting the wrong idea when I look directly at them. God I hate this. When is lunch?

Yeah, on second thought never mind.

Events Calendar

I can't tell you a whole lot about Spickle or Sam Sarah, but I can speak with some authority when I say that you will only bring shame upon yourself and your family if you miss Testaverde and The Vowden Key tomorrow night at Howlin' Wolf.

Local Price Index

1 gallon regular at Lee Circle Exxon: $2.09

1 pound of boiled crawfish at Big Fisherman Seafood on Magazine St: $1.99

Lib Chron Weekly

Now that the hectic month of March is finally lambing its way on out, I may find the time to begin updating more frequently. D and I turned in our grant proposal yesterday. Only four short months of stressing before we learn how spectacularly we failed. In the meantime, Consuela continues to absorb much of my computer time at home finishing up her term paper, which I think is due next week after which we can expect this site to resume annoying people at full capacity.
On a related note, is it too early to begin Prado Watch '05? Today is Day 7.

Obviously, I need a federal job

I just added up my ATM receipts for the month of March and got $939.20. This includes $240.00 since Monday. Where is this money going? I don't go out much. And when I do it is hardly what anyone would call a night on the town (more like three beers and a game or two of pool). I hardly buy groceries. I don't have any sort of drug habit. I am literally spending close to $1,000.00 per month on gasoline, iced coffee, and Doritos. How is this possible?

Linguistics Lesson for Daisy

..Since she's always asking me about this. Ok, so she's usually just asking me to say something in my lame-ass attempt at a cajun accent. Very doubtful that this will shut her up, but we may as well try.
link via NO Metblog

Unsettling fact of the day

It is late March and the Walgreens accross the street is still selling Pepsi Holiday Spice which has us thinking about this guy for the first time in a while.

Time for..

..yet another pointless quiz. Of course, the problem with these is always the spoilage that results from considering the possible implications of your answers. It's almost as futile as interviewing for a job. The new policy is to post only the eerily accurate ones.


You are 'French'. In the nineteenth century, it
was the international language of diplomacy.
It is a 'beautiful' language, meaning that it
is really just a low-fidelity copy of Latin.

You know the importance of communicating
'diplomatically', which for you means both
being polite and friendly when necessary and
using sophisticated, vicious sarcasm when
appropriate. Your life is guided by either
existentialism or nihilism, depending on the
weather. You have a certain appreciation for
the finer things in life, which is a diplomatic
way of saying that you are a disgusting
hedonist. Your problem is that French has been
obsolete for a long time.


What obsolete skill are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

via d

Hey, I'm still around

It has been a busy month for me and the blog has paid the price. I told you it was gonna be like this. Not that it matters, when you can just go and read Oyster as he reviews the book I'm reading. You guys are supposed to be reading Rising Tide as well, you know. It's this year's OBONO book. Your instinct may be to say that OBONO is a really gay idea and I'm not here to argue with you on that point. I'm not too keen on being told to read a book just because a bunch of other idiots are doing it at the same time. This may be why I dropped out of grad school. Or maybe it's just why I can't watch Oprah.
On the other hand, this is a book worth reading. Oyster points to the book's concluding point about how 20th centruy New Orleans's economic vitality was strangled by its ruling cabal of old money. Barry could not possibly be more spot on about the city's aristocracy. Here was a group of bankers and lawyers who more or less dictated public policy to the mayor, the city council, and the Governor, who exercised near absolute control over the city's major newspapers, who decided to cut the levee in St. Bernard Parish and flood out thousands of residents there, not to protect New Orleans from flood waters, but to protect investor confidence in their businesses. There is also a lot of great stuff in this book about the political fight over river control policy, about the development of and race relations in the Mississippi Delta Region, about how elite New Orleans society is controlled by the old line gentlemen's clubs and Carnival Krewes. It's the most fascinating thing I've read in the still young 2005 and I'm only three quarters of the way through. Thank you, OBONO. You wankers!

You Are My Sunshine

It isn’t online yet, but this week’s Gambit is ringing in Sunshine Week by detailing some of the difficulties its staff has had getting Orleans Parish Clerk of Court Kimberly Williamson Butler to comply with public records requests made by the paper during an investigation of operational irregularities associated with her office. Butler, prior to the last six months, was a noted up and comer politically and a leading candidate to oppose an arguably vulnerable Mayor Nagin in the upcoming election. Butler first made a name for herself as Nagin’s CAO but resigned amid an ugly affair in which she claimed to have been marginalized within the city administration due to her devout Christianity. Her subsequent election as Clerk of Court could be interpreted as a sign of the mayor’s political weakness. Since then her stock has declined somewhat due to the controversy involving the failure of her office, along with the Louisiana Secretary of State’s office to deliver voting machines to polling locations in time for the September 18 primary elections. Further problems for Butler are detailed in the Gambit piece. Among the allegations laid out by the article are that Butler

• Spent inappropriate sums of public money on furniture and drapes for her office.
• Intimidated office staff into working at political fundraising events and attending services at her church.
• Hired a contractor with personal connections to her husband to install internet service in her office at a price that ordinarily necessitates a public bidding process. The same contractor also installed security cameras about which office employees were not informed.

Beyond these allegations, the story highlights Butler’s cavalier approach to Gambit’s attempts to get at the facts of the case through public records requests. Her refusal to comply has prompted the paper to file suit. Amazingly, Gambit further reports that she has missed court dates and taken steps to avoid being served her subpoena. That’s right. According to Gambit, the Clerk of Criminal Court is actively avoiding a subpoena.

Throughout the story, Butler appears at times obstinate (her several unsatisfactory responses to questions regarding her office’s culpability in the voting machine fiasco include a bizarre Scott Norwood analogy) and at other times outright insane. For example, here is a slice from the story in which one of Butler's former employees describes Butler's laying out of her.. um.. ambitions.

But Chapman recalls one day in Butler’s office when Butler began reading to her and Battee the story of the seven seals from the Book of Revelation. As Chapman tells it, Butler said she had broken her first seal as Nagin’s CAO, when she’d uncovered malfeasance in the city’s taxicab bureau. She opened the second seal when investigators arrested brake-tag inspectors for bribes. The third came when she won the clerk’s race. Now she had four more to break, she told them. Then, Champan recalls, Butler told them that she planned next to be mayor for eight years, then open a worldwide ministry.

If Butler becomes a candidate for mayor, voters will have a great deal to think about. Regardless of your opinion of the performance of the current administration (and there may indeed be some problems there) you really do have to pause if you suspect that your vote may be helping to further advance some sort of dark eschatological scheme. But then perhaps Butler can assuage doubts by managing to break a few of the seals she has fastened to those public records. I don’t imagine we’ll have to wait until the second coming. Her next opportunity to appear in court is this Thursday. Stay tuned.

Update: Story is up now along with this short chronicle of Gambit's lawsuit against Butler.

Happy Birthday

Rudolph

Last Day of Freedom?

Shortly after we opened and just as I was settling in for my first hour on the circ desk, we were disturbed by the excited rumble of a patron tugging purposefully at the heavy locked portal on the parking lot side of the library which is clearly marked “Please Use Other Door.” This is not an uncommon occurrence. It is a double door and one side is always locked (hence the signage) although I did note the rather extended interval between the first thunderous vibration of the unmovable door and the eventual opening of the accessible one immediately to its left. Through the strenuously won breach shuffled a disoriented but obviously determined woman who mumbled a few lines to herself as she slid toward me. “I need to pay my bill,” she offered meaning, of course, that she had an outstanding library fine which she wanted to resolve. Our patrons are so often employing the language of commerce (and debt) to describe their use of the public library that I have ceased to note the strangeness of it. I presented her with the figure in question, which was $12.00, and she presented me with a $100.00 bill. My quiet and near apologetic explanation of our inability to wipe out our register set her on a second round of bizarre behavior. She began speaking, partially to me and partially to herself, on at least three subjects at once. The monologue went something like, “Is that a bank across the street? Is the bank open? I gotta get a job. All the jobs is on the internet. Is that door.. is the bank open? That door…” here she nodded toward the door on the street side of the building; another double door with a similar half-locked configuration to its sister opening on the parking lot side and which bears a similar sign which the woman stopped in mid-sentence to read aloud thusly, “… Please Use Other Door. Is that door open? I’m going to the bank.” With that, she shuffled to the door and pushed vigorously on the locked side a few times before successfully opening the other and making her exit.

When she was outside, I glanced over at MP and asked her, a bit surprised at my own exasperation, “Why does everybody have to be crazy?” I’ll spare you the details of the story this comment elicited from her except that it involved a man who once unloaded his bowels on her front lawn because he, “was feeling really sick.” Instead I’ll just point out that as she related this incident to me, I could watch, through the window behind her, the progress of a man in an electric wheelchair on his way up the middle of the busy six lane street which fronts our building. Yes, he was going against traffic. I kind of gave up on the day at that point.

Which was just as well since all I really had to look forward to after that was the arrival of our shipment of this year’s One Book One New Orleans selection, Rising Tide The Great Mississippi Flood of 1927 And How It Changed America by John M. Barry. OBONO, by the way, has its own discussion weblog this year. Also a guy in the tech lab today kept calling me “chief.” Oh and it turns out that I am a fugitive from justice. No, really. On my way home from work today I casually remembered that this was the day I was supposed to appear in traffic court to pay my fine for that goddamn stop sign that I didn’t run back in November. I guess tomorrow we’ll find out how seriously they take contempt of court in New Orleans. If you don’t hear from me for a while it’s because I’m in prison.

Barbarian Charity

You can either sift through the usual glut of YA book reviews as well as the unseemly canine anal leakage story or you can just scroll to the end of this post for the infuriating payoff.

Oh Please Don't Leave Me Out of this one

Gotta jump on the pointless name your favorite philosophers bandwagon. Gotta keep up with the cool kids.

Without further adoo:

1) All the ones who play soccer
2) Bruce McCulloch who once said, "Fuck the bank I work for! Fuck the B b b bank!"
3) Skooks

Also at no further charge, here are some foods I have been known to enjoy.

1) Corn
2) Potato Salad
3) American Cheese

Diplomatic Assistance

It helps to have someone with you who speaks the language. For example, first reference question this morning:

Gobbliny looking old dude: Where the books at ‘bout the law more Indians?

Me: I’m sorry?

GLOD: The law more Indians. How dey work.

Me: What kind of Indians?

Irene (interpreting): Lawn mower engines.

Your Assignment

Be sure to pick up a copy of the March Offbeat and Antigravity # 10. Each contains rather embarrassingly ebullient praise of local rock stars Testaverde. Neither piece is available online yet.

Terror Alert

A guy actually just called from the parking lot to let me know that a suspicious foriegn looking man in sandals had just entered the building. Unbelievable.

Why do Americans hate America?

And this is the guy who was just barely probably reelected.

Health and nutrition

A glaring omission in the newly released Dietary Guidelines for Americans 2005 leaves no mention of magic berry juice. What a pity.. I mean it's apparently "Gojilicious".
Also what the hell kind of a name is... oh never mind.

Skooks

Skooks! 

What me busy?

Man things go from nothing to hyper-busy real quick like around here. Black History Month may be technically over, but that just means it's time for the rush of panicked reference questions from the parents of the students who did not turn in their reports or projects on time. The questions come from the parents, of course, because they're always the ones who actually end up doing the research anyway. Strike that. It's the parents who expect us to do the research for them so they can do their children's late homework. Does that paint the picture for you?
Meanwhile our branch is hosting one of our most high profile events of the year. It's a six week family reading program funded by the Louisiana Endowment for the Humanities and which always generates a great deal of interest. Daisy and I are very much involved in the production of the program and it usually manages to hold most of our attention during its season.
Also we're getting ready for Summer Reading Club. Last week, we attended a predictably gay workshop in pursuit of this end. Details will be forthcoming.
Add to that, the fact that Daisy has us working on a grant proposal due at the end of the month and things almost seem like actual work @ your liberry.
It has gotten so bad that I'm actually starting to have work related dreams. The other day, I dreamt I had to design a survey to be handed out to children who participate in summer reading club this year. The residue of the imaginary assignment settled in my mind as I brushed my teeth and pulled my work clothes off the pile on the floor. I began to imagine what such a survey might look like. Here's what I've got so far.

1) While ostensibly about promoting reading during the non school months, most of the programs you will be attending this Summer exist solely to provide your parents with someplace to dump you while they work two jobs each just to earn enough money to feed your fat ass. List three other ways in which your selfishness hurts others. 2) Your burdensome existence has not only led directly to the ruination of your parents' marriage but has also scared away your mother's last four boyfriends. Write a short essay in which you describe five actions you can take to make yourself less visible while mom attempts to restore her shattered social life. 3) You find that you are starting to like girls. This fills you with shame because: a) It provides you with a new dimension by which you can measure your staggering failures. b) You are a girl. c) You have spent the first 10-12 years of your life declaiming the female gender as "gross" and "cootie-ridden". These new feelings of yours expose the first of your certain to be legion of hypocrisies. Welcome to adulthood.

Something else you don't see every day

Meant to post this yesterday; got caught up.

One of our less than pleasant regulars was just here. He's this retired guy who lives in the neighborhood and visits once or twice a week in order to glare crustily at us and to read the new Barron's. Other staff have reported incidents in which they have run afoul of this fellow. He tends to get a bit grumpy when his choice periodical is a day or so late in the delivery. Sometimes he complains about various minutae but, ordinarily, he isn't too difficult to sate. I always remain on my guard around him, though, as his vaguely threatening demeanor suggests unhappy consequences should the encounter not go as smoothly as expected. In short, I barely tolerate the guy as long as he behaves.
Today, at the conclusion of his mid-morning session in the reading room, he walked over to me and handed me two magazines bundled together and fastened with a rubber band. Before I could acknowledge him with more than a nod, he was quickly out the door without a word. He had handed me two Playboys.
Needless to say, I'm a bit confused. I don't imagine he intended to donate them. Either he found them laying around the library or maybe he thinks I'm a little lonely these days.

Something you don't see every day

Right now there is a transient (non parish resident) patron in the tech lab happily typing away on his blogger account. Most of our patrons have a hard enough time figuring out which mouse button to click. I'm not trying to imply that the simple act of blogging reveals one as being posessed of some heightened state of technological savy. (I mean hello there) It's just a bit of a departure to see the public computers in here used for something other than "online shopping sprees" or hunt and peck resume typing.

Maddox Sells Out

Well no not really. But he is writing a book. Perhaps the working title is Best Book in the Universe? Our muscles are spazzed with anticipation.

So it turns out

That this page looks a little funny in Firefox. I'm going to have to fix that. Any ideas, coding geeks?

More Larium

I think we've covered this ground before but Jesus Christ!

Well this ought to settle it

After a few rounds of ugly innuendo, former president Jimmy Carter has received this unequivocal statement of approval from a Republican with a high degree of interest in national security.

"There are limits to what I can say on the sub's capabilities, but let's just say the Jimmy Carter is uniquely capable to perform missions vitally important to the war on terror," said Rep. Rob Simmons, a Republican and former CIA officer whose district includes Groton, Connecticut, where the sub was built.

link

Retardedly late publicity dept

Go see Testaverde at the Circle Bar tonight at 10.
You have been officially notified.

Update: Actually, Y'all could have made it. The T-Verde set didn't even start till around midnight. Daisy couldn't even last that long. Tentative rumor of next appearance: April 2 Howling Wolf. More as more is known.

Sell the kids for food

A mother-to-be from New Zealand has run an online auction selling advertising space on her pregnant tummy.

BBC

The Doctor is in

It's not exactly the dawn of a new progressive era, but it's a start. Dean will immediately help the Democrats begin to do two things they should have done during (and especially after) the 2000 campaign. 1) Become less beholden to corporate donors. Which leads to 2) becoming less afraid to speak unabashedly about issues that matter to the poor and working classes such as protecting social security, reducing health care costs, strengthening organized labor, and ending the needless slaughter American soldiers in the cause of fruitless imperial misadventures.
Critics of Dean's "abrasive" personality misapprehend his role as party chair. Dean is a fundraiser, not a candidate. As the candidate in 2004 who proved that a campaign can raise money effectively through small "grassroots" donations, Dean is the obvious choice for this job. At least let's hope I'm right about that.... for once.

Mardi Gras Finale

I must say that I have impeccable timing. I managed to put off succumbing to the bug that’s been going around until after Mardi Gras was over. Once the thing did get a hold of me, it certainly didn’t waste any time knocking me on my ass. I haven’t been able to breathe easily, walk straight, or think clearly in two days. Ok so the only thing unusual is the breathing but stay with me here. Clearly, after taking five days off for Carnival, I very well couldn’t call in sick to work. So I managed to tough it out for two of the crazy busiest days of the 2005 liberry calendar thus far. It seems the kids are all trying to get their assignments done at the last minute before the Mardi Gras holidays are over; nothing new. Add to that, about a thousand projects that I’m too dizzy to think about now and you’ve got a couple of miserable post Mardi Gras days for Jeffrey there.
But as a wise man once said, fuck a buncha work. The Fat Tuesday photos you’ve been waiting for are finally here.


Look! Pirates!


Hail Rex. King of Carnival


Hail Jeffrey. King of the Drunks


Jeffrey: Look it's Bo Dollis
Daisy: Who's Bo Dollars?

I didn't feel like "Helloing" these myself so I stole them from Daisy's site where there are more.

To complete a Carnival season in which I hardly missed a single event, I managed to see as much of Tuesday as I possibly could. When the silver sequins on the Zulu King’s headdress reflected the first sunshine of the day on Jackson Avenue, I stopped worrying about the weather. After all the fretting about rain, we ended up with a near perfect, if a little muggy, day.

One of my favorite parts of every Mardi Gras morning happens when all the folks who have camped out and erected ladders facing the right side of St. Charles, suddenly realize that Rex is coming up the wrong side of the street. They cross the over during the Garden District portion of their route so that the King of Carnival can stop and toast in front of the Downman House at the corner of Third Street. The crowd displacement usually makes for a lot of elbow room on my side of St. Charles. It’s a great spot to see Rex. Don’t tell too many people I told you that.

Much of the rest of the morning was spent waiting for the red beans to cook while marching around the Uptown/Central City area looking for Indians. We saw a few but they weren’t ready to start moving yet. Once the truck parades started coming by, Daisy took a nap and I managed to out on the bicycle for a while. In addition to finally catching a few Indians, I also made it up to the Claiborne Avenue overpass where r’s people were all camped out.

We finished up downtown at the Alibi, some of us barely able to stand, eating chicken fingers and nachos waiting for the grand midnight clearing of the streets to wash over before heading home. Having partied to the point of exhaustion, we didn’t see the point in sticking around for the “after party.”

Jeffrey’s Great Big Pot of Carnival Red Beans
Soak overnight 2 pounds of Camelia brand red beans in a big pot
Remove beans from pot and drain
In that same pot, brown 1 pound of sliced smoked sausage in about ¼ stick of butter.

Quick aside re. butter: If your mamma had taught you anything about cooking, it would have been the importance of working a stick of butter into every recipe. This applies to just about anything from a pot of red beans to a bowl of cornflakes to a glass of ice water. Stick of butter makes it better.

Remove sausage from pot. Add a little more butter and sauté chopped onion, celery, bell pepper, and garlic.

Theological aside: New Orleanians will recognize the those first three vegetables as the “holy trinity” of creole cooking. I have long held that had St. Patrick gotten a hold of a four leaf clover, we’d be obliged to throw a little garlic in there too. As it is, I always do it anyway.

When the vegetables are ready, return the beans to the pot and cover with water.
Add the smoked sausage and about a pound of chopped pickled pork.
Season with salt, pepper, red pepper, bay leaf, and with a liberal sprinkling of thyme.

More food theology: Notice that this dish is almost as much about the pork as it is about the beans. It so happens that on the day that God made the pig, He immediately recognized that He needed something to put on it. Hence, thyme.

Simmer on low heat (drop a little butter in there while you’re at it) for hours and hours until creamy.

If you start these around 7:30 am, they should be ready to eat around 1 pm.

Late Lundi Gras Drunken Ramble (all apologies, folks.. really)

I did it. I wasn’t too enthusiastic about the whole endeavor, but I managed to get dragged into it anyway. I actually stood outside all night and drank more beer than I wanted to while watching the Krewe of Orpheus wend its sloppy disorganized way down the streets this Lundi Gras evening. Granted the hardship involved here was somewhat limited given that the parade route is a one block walk from the house but I’m working on a busy schedule here and the night before Fat Tuesday is no time to get too caught up in the drunken revelry. There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow. I usually spend my Monday evening chopping vegetables in preparation for the creation of Jeffrey’s renowned giant pot of Mardi Gras red beans. I like to have everything cut up and ready to throw in the pot on Fat Tuesday morning so I can get outside as quickly as possible and begin scouring the neighborhood for Indians before Zulu shows up. Last year, the threat of rain caused Zulu to uncharacteristically roll at its official 8:30 am start time which severely stressed my schedule. Hopefully the weather will be less intimidating tomorrow. The threat of rain has been with us through much of the parade season this year. Luckily, only the Krewe of Ancient Druids parade was seriously affected by the weather.
In one sense, I am grateful to Dad and to Daisy for pulling me from my onion celery and bell pepper and dragging me out to see Proteus and Orpheus this evening because it puts me in position to complete a rare Mardi Gras sweep tomorrow. Ordinarily, even the most stalwart Carnival geek will skip at least one parade in a season. So far, however, if it rolled in Orleans Parish this year, I saw at least part of it.

A few quick comments about the hazy weekend:

Saturday: Iris and Tucks rolled Uptown in the morning. This was the most beautiful day of the season weather wise; lots of sun not too cool or warm. Daisy got to wear her pirate dress and big purple wig. Some guy in the crowd brought a megaphone which he used to provide some extemporaneous pro bono parade commentary as well as beg each marching band to play that Usher/Ludacris song.. you know the one. He was unsuccessful in his solicitation. I finally got to try the crawfish bread at Fortissimo. Definitely worth the five bucks. That evening, while Daisy napped, I hopped on the bicycle and checked out as much as I could stand of Endymion.. which is to say not much. The crowd is too big. There are too many territorial, ladder mounted white people. And, for the most part, you can’t see the freaking parade. My bike ride took me from uptown to Canal street and then up the entire length of Endymion’s route to Orleans Ave and City Park. Unable to find a decent place to just chill and enjoy the parade, I went back home.
Also worth noting: Later this evening, Daisy, who is not known for such exploits, managed to drink Consuela under the table in what has to be the greatest upset in the history of sport.

Sunday: Very much like Saturday only with less sun. Okeanos doesn’t throw much. Thoth is often overlooked due to its Sunday morning time slot but it is one of my favorites. The Krewe of Mid City paraded Uptown again. Someone should do something about that. Much was made of the Superbowl vs Bacchus dilemma but this was no contest for us. I caught some football shaped beads. Big Fun.

Visual evidence: Is available here from Daisy who is finally back to blogging more than just book reviews. Daisy’s blog is a good read for all of you who come to this site for amusing tales of library related hi-jinks and instead find yourselves sifting through my bullshit Superbowl predictions and political rants and various other manifestations of lameitude. As a bonus feature, Daisy’s crappy camera actually managed to photographically represent our drunken haze.. even if it did make me look a little chunky.

And so now it’s all over but the shouting.. which will start promptly at 7 am or so tomorrow when I crawl my sorry ass out of bed. Happy Mardi Gras!!

Oh yeah, there's like a super bowl or something tomorrow

Well, we're real busy and stuff in New Orleans this weekend. I don't know how much of the game I'll even see since it goes right up against the can't-miss Krewe of Bacchus parade tomorrow night. I do live one block off of the parade route so I may drop in to check the score during pee breaks.

Over the life of this website (which has been up for more than a year now) I have made numerous predictions about various sporting and electoral events. None, and I mean NONE, of the these predictions has been accurate save one. This one success was New England over Pittsburgh in this year's AFC championship game. Why get off the horse now that I'm on a roll?
This year's superbowl champion:

PATRIOTS
May not even be very close.

Quick Friday Parade Recap

Always excited to see Hermes. The God of Commerce's Friday night march rings in the big Carnival weekend. Strange how there's a god of commerce who dates back to antiquity and yet there wasn't a Secretary of Commerce until 1913. Makes you wonder how Hermes got all that damn paperwork done for so long.
The Krewe of Hermes puts on a first class parade with some of the most elaborately decorated floats in Carnival. This year's theme was "The Passions of Zeus." Hermes, like many of the old line krewes, always takes its theme from mythology. The floats depicted various Greek dieties. The title of each float related its subject to Zeus in some way (i.e. "Posiedon: Ally of Zeus") or some such bullshit. I kept waiting for the Pop Zeus float but, alas, no dice.

Le Krewe D'Etat's idea this year was to satirize prominent local and national politics through the use of Tarot card themed floats. Mixed results. The Ted Kennedy Chappaquiddick thing is a little worn. One float featured a giant bust of dubya which some parade goers took the opportunity to hum beads at. My favorite float represented the Death card and was adorned with the names of every ill fated candidate Mayor Nagin has endorsed in every election since he has been in office.

Not much time to chat now. Iris and Tucks are comming.. like right now.

It's the greatest Mardi Gras Ever!

Because there aren't so many tourists in town singing karaoke with their frat buddies and peeing on people's houses and stuff. Now if only we could get the freaking weather to cooperate.
Also in today's Times-Pic, it seems that even Rex has forsaken those classic cheap little plastic strands of beads that remind me of the Carnival of my childhood. Parade goers are so spoiled nowadays. No one has time to fiddle with snap on beads anymore.

Another year, another lost memory I guess.

Last night was exhausting. The police are suddenly enforcing a previously unbeknownst to me ordinance which prohibits canine attendance at parades. Our rather late discovery of this rule via rude shouting cops who you'd think would have something better to do, necessitated a long walk to bring Susie, who didn't really want to be there anyway, home to Daisy's place.

So we saw most of Babylon and Chaos while on the long walk back. Chaos, it seems, is more or less a front organization by which the no longer parading Momus can skirt the city's anti-discrimination ordinance. Chaos uses the old Momus floats and follows the Momus tradition of staging a satirical parade. Last night's theme was "Chaos Spins the Beatles." The parade made fun of local news and politics while tying them to puns on Beatles songs. One float, for example was titled "Don't Let Me Drown" and was decorated with reminders of this past year's ridiculous Hurricane Ivan evacuation.

Tonight: Hermes opens the big weekend with one of the bigger parades of the season. It will be followed by Le Krewe d'Etat which promises more satire.

Why my night was better than yours

1) You had to put up with this condescending disingenuous lying speech.

2) I was at Carnival.

Quick parade roundup: Saturn's theme was "See you in the funny papers." The parade cast various local and national politicians as comic strip characters in a weak attempt at satire. Maybe I was missing the joke all night but I couldn't figure out why any of this was particularly funny.

• Eddie Jordan as Chilly Willy Umm.. Oookaay
• Ray Nagin as Charlie Brown I guess because he's bald?
• Kathleen Blanco as Stripperella Well, she is a girl I guess so that's certainly something.
• George W Bush as Superman Do I really need to go into the sinister implications of this?

On the other hand, I did get a couple pairs of "fat lady" beads from them so, you know, they've got that going for them.

Muses is the best weekday parade hands down. I am actually beginning to prefer it to Saturday's bloated and always obscenely crowded Endymion. Muses is a first class event with numerous marching bands, unusual walking clubs, stilt walkers, flambeaux, brass bands, really cool floats with fiber optic lighting and, of course, some of the most unique signature throws like shoe beads and teddy bears. Also there was an appearance by the Go-Gos who I think are playing in town this week. Did I mention that I like Muses? Go see them next year.

After that, what Morpheus? I know I watched this parade but man were we ever drunk by then. I did get some beads with the little moon medallion so at least I know I was there.

Parade food notes: I recommend the Jambalaya at Fortissimo on the corner of Louisiana and St Charles Avenues. It comes in larger portions this year. They claim to have crawfish bread which I am dying to try but they ran out before I could get to them last night. Also, this morning, on the way to work, I noticed that the funnel cake truck is finally up and running. It has moved from Jackson Avenue to St. Charles around Felicity street just across the street from Walgreens. I think we can make that walk tonight.

Why your morning was better than mine: I had to read this condescending disingenuous lying speech. Plus I'm a wee bit sleepy and hung over.

Tonight: Babylon followed by Chaos. This begins a long weekend of partying and carrying on in the streets. I don't have to liberry again until Ash Wednesday. Posting between now and then is almost certain to occur somewhat drunkenly.

Blogger Spellcheck Note: Spellcheck likes "crayfish" but not "crawfish". Damn yankee bastards!

Obligatory SOTU drinking game

Click here (via Bob Harris)
You know, cute but a bit tired. A better idea would be to ignore the speech altogether and drink while watching tonight's three Carnival parades in Orleans Parish like some people I know.