A Huey Long List of Hueyisms

Posted on June 16, 2007 by Varg

I stumbled across this quote in the Novemeber issue of RollingStone yesterday:

“In Louisiana, they have a long tradition of corruption — a Huey Long tradition,” says Melanie Sloan, executive director of Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington.

The 10 Worst Congressmen: #4. THE BRIBE TAKER

That got me to thinking how many other quips could be concocted out of Huey’s name…

– There’s a long road ahead of us, a Huey Long road.
– It’ll be a long time before corruption is banished in politics, a Huey Long time.
– A long time ago, a Huey Long time ago…
– It’ll be the longest bridge in the world, the Huey longest bridge.

I promise I’ll think of more…

10 thoughts on “A Huey Long List of Hueyisms”

dangerblond says:

June 16, 2007 at 12:19 pm

It’s a long and winding road that leads to your heart. A Huey Long and winding road.
dangerblond says:

June 16, 2007 at 12:21 pm

She was a long, cool woman in a black dress. A Huey Long, cool woman.
dangerblond says:

June 16, 2007 at 12:30 pm

The Long, Hot Summer. The Huey Long Hot Summer.
dangerblond says:

June 16, 2007 at 12:39 pm

I saw Uncle John with long, tall Sally. Huey Long, tall Sally.
dangerblond says:

June 16, 2007 at 1:42 pm

Lucinda Williams: “Still, I long for your kiss. I Huey Long for your kiss.”
dangerblond says:

June 16, 2007 at 2:13 pm

It’s a long way to Tipperary. A Huey Long way.
liprap says:

June 16, 2007 at 8:33 pm

“Oooh, that guy’s unit is Huey Looooong…”

Sorry, that was truly tasteless, but it just had to come out… 😉
Varg says:

June 16, 2007 at 9:22 pm

Yea, gret name for a porn star. Somebody should grab it.
Varg says:

June 17, 2007 at 9:17 am

So you think youre a romeo
Playing a part in a picture-show
Take the long way home
The Huey Long way home

(Best if sung to Supertramp)
liprap says:

June 17, 2007 at 5:45 pm

Now she’s gone…she’s long long Huey Long gone.

– Bryan Adams, by way of Huey P.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Rejoice!

I say that a lot. I sign many pieces with it. I do this because I believe our lives are a true happenstance. A brilliant occurence from nothingness. We are so rare. We are so unlikely. And simply being born isn’t enough. From there we must survive, endure. So each morning, after our Sun departs and is reborn again. Please, for the sake of your ancestors and the Universe in general, hoist that cup of joe up and say, “Rejoice.”

Ours is a soulful existence. No matter how many McMansions, polyester fabrics, auto-tunes, modified foods and social networks we surround ourselves with, we are all still native, passionate beings made of ancient matter. We are organic and we have soul.

Wood also has a warm, soulful quality. Wood has a memory. It retains smells, traumas, events. It even has a calendar. This is why I have chosen it as my medium, for its old soul. I like to think the wood in my work is in its third incarnation. First a tree, then a home and now art. If you have a room that needs a little soul, get a piece. A room can never have enough soul.

My inspiration and subject matter comes from many sources, among them: Humanism, old ballads, trickster tales, flora and fauna, science, myths and folklore, stringed instruments, brass bands, amber spirits, lady vocalists, general relativity and quantum mechanics. Some of my pieces are there just to make a short, simple statement about what’s important in life. Some are more diffuse and abstract in meaning. A personal drama, an enduring line from a poem or novel, a poignant song lyric, the legacy of an important person, a fleeting thought … these are the subjects of my art.

I use hearts often because they are a very abstract way of depicting the human soul without also employing the very subjective human form. The symbolic heart is an apt representation for a person’s experience and essence. A body can immediatly conjure happiness, sorrow, youth, age, anger, bliss. These emotions can get in the way. Sometimes it’s simply about the experience.

I am the son of a sailor and a social worker, the grandson of a gypsy, a dancer and a nurse. I spent my youth moving from port city to port city, watching a lot of road go by and reading World Book Encyclopedia. After my parents settled down on the Gulf Coast, I was a miscreant youth, destroying cars and taking the wrongs things too seriously and the right things not serious enough. Eventually I began replacing my imagination with experience.

I will use any salvaged wood but prefer swamp cypress and longleaf heartwood pine.

I despise waste. Particularly the waste of organic matter. Trees are magnificent. They were here before we arrived and they’ll be around after we are gone. I’m making an effort to save as much wood as possible. Creating art is fun too. But beyond communicating with folks, but beyond making money ad providing for myself, beyond rescuing flooded parts, beyond reveling in the ethereal aroma of heartpine that hasn’t seen the light of day in 400 years, beyond all that, I am trying to make a simple comment on waste.