garbage roulette March 14, 2006
Judging from the publicity, one would think the most important thing that happened in New Orleans this weekend was the visit by Billy Graham. The elder Graham looks about as wiped out as New Orleans, but his son, Franklin, is taking over. Graham and his son are no fools. I’m sure their business raked in a bundle by using New Orleans as the backdrop for their latest evangelism pitch. The Grahams didn’t get where they are by giving it away, though I suppose some food was given out and maybe some cash. I’m certain the Grahams have prayed for New Orleans, but in theory Franklin or Billy Graham’s prayers for you or your city hold no more water with the Almighty than my Aunt Selma’s prayers. And she will do it without passing the collection plate. Their revival meeting was surely a fairly low-budget affair since all they are selling is good feelings, so it’s a cinch that (tax-exempt) revenues exceeded expenses. The Grahams came, they saw, they prayed. They mounted a very smooth and slick publicity campaign which reached everywhere in town to advertise their appearance. I was fully informed about it, and I hardly ever watch television and spend my Sunday mornings reading the New Yorker.
It’s been a few days now, and nothing has changed, except Billy Graham’s resurrection combined with the star power of New Orleans has raised his son’s profile and lent stability to the Graham brand. It’s too bad religious empires can’t be publicly traded companies. The Graham’s organization would be blue-chip. In fact, it’s too bad it can’t be taxed - it’s probably enough to pay for the rebuilding of Arabi.
I don’t mean to sound bitter. I feel like that time when I told my mother that Sally Struthers wasn’t earnestly appealing for money for all those poor children out of the goodness of her heart.
“Mom, she’s acting.”
“Kim!”
“Mom, has she been on TV lately, other than this? What movies has she been in? She’s taking any gig she can get.”
“I thought she was off helping poor children.”
“I’m sure she does care about poor children, but this is her business now and she is probably getting as much, if not more, money out of this than the poor children are.”
“You mean she’s just like Ed McMahon with those sweepstakes?”
“Yes, just like Ed McMahon. And Cindy Crawford does not dye her hair at home or use cosmetics from a grocery store.”
“Well, I knew THAT.”
“And the Marlboro man is an actor, not a cowboy.”
“Shut up.”
I guess I’m upset that even Billy Graham, on a direct line to God, couldn’t get something done about the garbage. My neighborhood looks almost normal. My street looks totally normal. Except that we’ve all got garbage piled up out front and we have no idea when it will be picked up. I’m talking about normal household garbage, the house-gutting ended in this neighborhood a long time ago.
I can’t even consider supporting Sugar Ray Nagin’s re-election when, at this remove from the flood and with people trying to return home, he can’t make sure the garbage is picked up. I know it’s tough. I know it’s a hell of a thing, man. But if you can’t get the garbage picked up then people can’t live here, and it’s as simple as that.
We have to come to think of “quality of life” as some kind of great set of amenities that you get when you move into a subdivision in Mandeville. That’s not so. Quality of life is not having to drive your own garbage to the dump.
In order for people to enjoy a life of any quality in a city, a few things are requisite. Garbage collection is right up there with keeping the lights on and the thoroughfares passable. The fact that there are fewer people here should make the garbage thing easier. Garbage day should not be a mystery to me and my neighbors. It’s not like we’re asking for the recycling program to be brought back. We don’t even care what time of day you get here. Just pick a day.
I’ve noticed garbage piling up in the Uptown neighborhood around the law school, too. Of all places, garbage around the universities needs to be picked up. A thought: if you pick it up early in the morning, students won’t be parked in front of it.
Those who know her well say that dangerblond is a woman of simple needs. It’s true. I need me a mayor who can get the garbage picked up. If I can’t have that, I need to know where to drop it off.
