Barbarians at the Gate

I just finished a search for any plans that may be underway for coastal restoration in Louisiana. I’ve heard talk but wanted something visual. Like a pretty drawing or something magical and innovative that would inspire me.

I didn’t find anything. Perhaps more time.

The sad thing is that, from what I have gathered speaking to people and reading on the Internet, many think it’s not a matter of IF we could protect South Louisiana from future storm surges, but SHOULD we. And the “should” addresses the simple matter of cost.

Cost.

So it comes down to capitalism. Good to know that prudent spending trumps ego in the minds of constricted thinkers. We could have the greatest flood protection system in the world but [whiney voice] It’s too expensive! [whiney voice].

I’ve heard everything from “let it sink,” to “is it worth saving?” to “leave.” Nobody questions IF our home can be saved, it always comes down to a question of worth. And it’s these motherfuckers that really infuriate me. They are the barbarians at the gate. The way I see it, these opinions are a direct threat to me and my loved ones. My neighborhood and my home. As much as a terrorist or a mugger or a crooked politician. Some dumbass in another part of the country who couldn’t give two shits about New Orleans is fine. But if said dumbass wants to write a letter to a newspaper or tell some reporter or post on a message board that he doesn’t think New Orleans should be saved and he doesn’t want his tax money spent on our safety, then I consider him to be a threat to myself and my loved ones. They can choose to put themself out there or they can STFU.

And in the end, I hate to say it. It may come down to simple racism. Or at the very least classism. I don’t believe in playing the “ism” very often because I think it’s way overused and often is just a tool implemented to get somebody something they want. But it seems to me, in this case, it’s appropriate. People only see South Louisiana as crazy Cajuns living in swamp shacks or black folks on welfare living in projects or spaced out artist types riding vintage bikes around the French Quarter. These are false impressions that are perpetuated over and over again because once people see something that they accept as the truth, they never want to see anything that questions that truth. Multitudes are too much for their minds to bear. Tiny devices inside their heads become trained to see things in only one way. So when New Orleans is brought to mind, instantly pictures of boobs, beads and beer flash inside their heads. Toothless Cajun men in straw hats who can’t speak and gutter punks collecting dogs and spare change follow. Like all generalizations, these are inaccurate. The homeowners and renovators and mid-level managers and professionals and salesmen, hospitality workers and medical students and shipping executives and honest contractors and all the other good people in the area are left out of the equation altogether, even though they make up the vast majority of the populace.

Hey, everyone’s entitled to their opinion right? Yea, they are entitled to it. But when they go around posting it on the Internet or writing about it in newspapers then it becomes more than just an opinion. Then it becomes a notion they are trying to spread. And then they become a threat. I’m not losing my mind here. I’m not going to go on a rampage. I’m just stating that, when faced with people who aim to destroy my home through inaction, I will engage them as I would any other threat. I’m sorry if this sounds like I am acting in some macho aggressive shithead manner but the emotions that boil up inside of me when people talk shit about New Orleans are akin to the same thoughts that effect those Toby Keith-types when people run down America. I never thought I would have anything in common with those folks. And to be honest it may very well be those folks who are the ones who I’m talking about. They want to defend America but not New Orleans. They want to spend money in the Middle East but not South Louisiana. It fucking sucks.

My, my. What a potty mouth. On a Sunday no less.