There may come a time, hopefully many, many years from now when Romy and I, if we save up enough dough, will inherit this lovely piece of property that has already been hundred-year stormed this century. That means no more for another hundred years right?
This is if we are willing to leave the delicate pleasures of living on Algiers Point, the toots of the ferry, the bending notes of the calliope as they soar across the river, the midnight freight trains, the “Coming Around the Mountain” MIDI of the ice cream / weed man or the school bands marching down Pacific. If we are willing to trade those for calm still days where one can hear the surf from the Gulf, intercoastal barge traffic and choruses of frogs. Doris would love it but she’ll be long gone if this ever comes to pass.
I’ve only entertained this foray into one possible future because I envision by this time I will be so schooled in every manner of political corruption here in New Orleans and Louisiana and the manner in which to detect it, that as I sit down at my computing device (whatever it may be) an old man blogger, I will have before me the ripe, mostly untouched fields of political corruption in the city of Pensacola, the county of Escambia and the glorious state of Florida before me. This is a place where the citizens view their seemingly functional governments as the good guys and the endless corrupt administrations in Louisiana and Illinois as the bad guys like what Scarface said. Many of these people need to be shown the ugly underbelly of their own glad-handing elected officials. Perhaps they have touched on it a time or two but they looked away in horror.
Yes sir, the corruption is less sophisticated there. Schooled in the basics by local bloggers and activists here in New Orleans, even a lucky-ass folk artist like myself will be able to “follow the money” to quote Sandy Hester or Detective Freamon (not sure who to credit with that one). I may be able to be a big fish in a small pond. Hammering away at my futuristic version of a keyboard and keeping up with the young ones using my New Orleans-earned education in thieving crook politicians.
Anyway, visions of the future aside the only reason I got all into the fourth dimension was because my friends back home were getting all uppity when poor folks complained about this…
New Florida Law Requires Drug Testing for Welfare Recipients
But kind of turned the other cheek about this…
Rick Scott’s new gift to Solantic: drug testing state employees
These are middle class people too. The middle-class American pays for everybody. They pay for the rich mansions and the public housing. We are the pipeline for the entire country. I don’t grasp why people would rather funnel their working class tax money up into the hands of crooked politicians and other corporations that have them by the balls in lieu of down into their own neighborhoods. Do they not understand that they are much more closer financially to the person that makes $12,000 a year than they are the one that makes $250,000 and up? Ego doesn’t allow that. Must be racism I guess. Maybe classism.