Archive for January, 2011


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Update: More from Candice here.

I just bought a ’90s era truck and it needs a few things so I ventured out to “Pull-a-Part” out by Boomtown Casino and the Harvey Canal a little while back to get a tailgate assembly, a door cable and whatever else I could find on the trucks out there that I didn’t have on mine.

Expecting to have a frustrating day (because even though my dad is an amazing mechanic and restorer of cars, the traits he tried to instill never cured in my constitution), I found myself strangely calmed by the place, I think perhaps by the ordered chaos. The cars, in various states of decrepitude, were also very neatly arranged in rows and as much as possible were grouped by makes and models. This is a large expanse. It’s also very quiet. Space, order, repetition – very meditative.

Within the cars and trucks, there were two cultures present. The first was of visitors to the yard and the results of what they scavenged off of the vehicles since some wreck or costly repair had rendered it useless. Many of them all had the same part missing. A knob or a panel that had some genetic defect and often needed to be replaced. My tailgate mechanism was one of these, most of the truck there didn’t have them or had ones with the same failures as mine. Many people would stack parts removed from the motor or transmission inside the car so if someone came looking for a part they removed to get to another part, the work would already be done for them. Some pieces of the interior or dashboard items were simply ripped off by a fella who didn’t bring the right tool. Disemboweled dashboards showed hanging wires and connectors. Split and torn upholstery gathered mold. This was all post-mortum.

Deeper into the wrecks there were relics of the last owner. Matchbooks from Marrero nightclubs, crayons, Mardi Gras beads. Bumper stickers (perhaps the most pure and succinct indicators of who we are in this modern world) still adorned the rear windows of many. There were also signs of how well the cars were maintained in their “life.” Some were still cluttered with debris in the crevices of their interiors while others were still showing signs of detailing in spite of having missing doors or no windshield.

I actually didn’t have the tool I needed that day. To get the door cable off, I needed a Phillips screwdriver that was just slightly larger than the one I had. I tried to get the screws loose on one truck and I managed to get the forst two loose but the last one wouldn’t budge. So I moved on to the next one. Same thing. Same two loose in the same spot. Same one wouldn’t budge. Ditto for the next truck. I finally cracked the code by finding a truck that had for some reason already had the screws missing.

Next to one truck I was working on was a Mustang (they had all the Fords in one corner). During the time I was there, three different people came and pried a part off it. The last guy told me it was the only junked one of that make and model in the area. He also lamented that, “They no leave me nothing!”

As I left, I thought this tranquility was absurd. People most likely died in some of these cars and trucks. But then, a lot of things probably happened in these rides. People were conceived in them. But regardless of what used to happen in them, now it’s all gone. I felt like I was in the past peering into the future but I was actually in the future looking back into the past. I can say with certainty that most of these remains at some point in the last generation, brought someone a great sense of exuberance and accomplishment. Perhaps a few times. Then a natural decay began to form or a terrible accident and the car lies out here like a carcass.

I called my dad to tell him about how the truck was going and mentioned the trip to the junkyard and he said, “neat out there isn’t it?” He said one time he was at one and a storm came up on him so he got inside a truck and just sat there smoking cigarettes until it passed.

Jindal bans ingredients in fake bath salts
Sold openly, snorted or injected, they often send users to ERs

Whoa. Okay that’s a difficult metaphor but let me explain. Jello Biafra wrote, “For every prohibition you create you also create an underground.” And the bloody coat hangers are what the more ardent Pro-Choice activists use as a counter measure to the pro-lifers gory half-aborted fetuses. The point being, folks are going to do what they are going to do.

But in this case, it’s sort of like an overground. Friedman’s free market has demanded legal drugs. But wait, drugs aren’t legal. So the legal drug underground has risen.

Now in addition to the vast global underground created by the real drugs, we have fly-by-night chemists and companies coming up with snortable bath salts and smokable potpourri. If there was anything that symbolized the failure of the War on Drugs more, it’s the phrase “snorting bath salts and smoking potpourri.” There is just something fucked up about a government banning something that grows wild by the grace of God / natural law thgus driving people to snorting bath salts.

So then the loopholes in the law are pushing people into buying products not explicitly intended for human consumption. HArdly anyone knows whats in them, kids are killing themselves, the companies are all like, “Hey now we’re selling BATH SALTS man!” so civil law is out the window. Friedman’s free market is left with smokable potpourri like desperate girls were left with coat hangers.

I wonder why Reagan didn’t see all this coming? seriously, with his worship of Friedman, that whole “war on Drugs” thing he kicked off just seems goofy.

Why not just legalize and regulate the real stuff for fuck’s sake?

Everyone I know who smokes pot does it in spite of the law. Everyone I know who doesn’t, does so because they don’t like it and not because it is illegal.

Full disclosure: My vices are alcohol, coffee and maybe once or twice a year, a few dollars in the g-string of an exotic dancer.

New Orleans Jazz Fest 2011 to feature Arcade Fire, Bon Jovi, Kid Rock, Wilco and many more

Smooth jazz saxophonist Kenny G will likely appear on Jazz Fest’s Congo Square stage. He is extremely popular with African-American audiences, as evidenced by his headlining set at an early Essence Music Festival in the Superdome.

According to their tweets…

Shockey is pimping an energy drink …

Just wanted to let yall know that I have teamed up with Cult All Natural Energy Activator and we are having a…

Tracy Porter (Doubles Deuces) is still taking shit about that stiffarm…

RT @S_dot_baby42 tha year of marshawn lynch stiff arm<---and the year he went home yet again w/out a sb ring..(U too) lol #pow

Usama Young is rating films on a zero to four fleur de lis system…

Good action, story was weak. And too many ‘foooo!’s. I give it 2 1/2 fleur de lis RT @dr_sojo: @usama_young28 The A-Team?

Darren Sharper is looking for a condo in New Orleans…

Well today was productive, went condo shopping in nola. So many decisions

Lance Moore is visiting Tampa and mocking Lebron…

@NickMoore_1 and I have decided to take our talents to tampa for the wknd lol

Drew Brees couldn’t believe the season was over and hasn’t been heard from since Jan. 11…

Well Who Dat Nation, just like you I can’t believe that football season is over for us. I am confident that there will be better times ahead
11 Jan

I was looking through the Treme Wikipedia page and saw they had one up for Ashley…

Ashley Morris

But wait, whaaaat? They said he died in Chicago? Have to fix that.

I have to think of a way to put in there he showed up at Rising Tide 2 in spite of the pain from his previous day’s vasectomy. That will always be my favorite Ashmo moment.

Varg: How you doing?
Ashmo: I’m in pain.
Varg: I know, I’m pretty hungover myself.
Ashmo: No, VASECTOMY!

About four years ago, a man who I took at the time to be off his rocker encountered me on the street in front of my house…

A Man on the Morning Street

I just stepped out onto my porch in a bathrobe and said hi to a man walking down the street. He asked me how I was doing and I asked him how he was doing and we got to talking.

He said he was an electrical engineer and he left New Orleans in 1980 and came back recently to see that the city was caught in a time warp.

He then asked me if I knew any geologists because he wanted to talk to them. He said he had an idea for submersible habitats, each the size of the Superdome to be placed in different areas around the region. I am assuming they would be mixed-use most of the time and shelters during storms. He said he wanted to call them “Noah’s Arks.”

My dog Doris was freaking out on him a little bit so we parted ways.

I have a lot of questions about the plausibility of his vision. It sounds far fetched. Then again, the Panama Canal is far fetched. I don’t really want to think about its plausibility really. But the point is this: Why does a man on the morning street have a plan when so many others don’t?

Then I open up my browser today and see this…

Green ‘Ark’ could house 10,000

Hmmmmmmm.

I didn’t blog about it but a few days later my neighbor caught that electrical engineer trying to steal his Times-Picayune.