Nice Job, Mods

Posted on March 29, 2008 by Varg

Here is the article that mostly details a woman’s grief over the death of her niece who was found strangled in East New Orleans…

Sojourn in city ends in tragedy

Article was posted at Friday at 10:53 p.m.

And here is the message in the comments that followed…

I imagine she was tricking, smoking, begging, s**king, whatever it took to get a sandwich, a rock and an ice cold 16 oz.

Posted at 1:30 a.m.

It’s now 8:35 a.m. on Saturday. I wonder if Mary Cruel of Panama City has had a chance to read this commenter’s kind words about her murdered family member? I wonder what she thinks of New Orleans?

I wonder if either, the comment moderators are asleep at their desks or if they read the comment and let it stay as some sort of device.

Edit: As of 9:19 a.m., the comment had been removed. Which means for roughly 8 hours this dead murder victim was disparaged courtesy of an anonymous Internet poster and the venue that brought him or her to us.

4 thoughts on “Nice Job, Mods”

Loki says:

March 29, 2008 at 10:58 pm

They have comment moderators? I’ve never noticed the work of any.
YatPundit says:

March 30, 2008 at 5:17 am

This is precisely why I’m working to implement a community site that has a comment rating system. On a site like MyDD or DailyKos, such a comment would have been troll-rated off the face of the earth.
mominem says:

March 30, 2008 at 7:33 am

I appreciate your outrage. I wonder what good it does to reproduce the offense here.
Varg says:

March 30, 2008 at 9:44 am

Accountability perhaps?

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Algiers (16)
Art (16)
AV (51)
Beta (3)
Blogspotting (44)
Carnival (21)
Commentary (22)
Diatribe (2)
Enemies (5)
Ent (17)
Fest (5)
Food (2)
Free (5)
Haps (202)
Humanism (2)
Jax2 (19)
Journal (1)
Langniappe (23)
Leak (17)
Letters (19)
Liens (41)
Lit (6)
Madness (46)
Meanderings (78)
Memo (6)
NOMOs (4)
Plug (14)
Q&A (1)
Saints (70)
Self Important (4)
Sermons (11)
Storms (23)
Tide (16)
Treme (2)
Uncategorized (2)
USA (27)
V.V.F.C. (1)
Witness (1)
WTF (14)

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.