festivus April 29, 2006
I sat absent-mindedly through my two classes yesterday morning, then met with the professor who is advising my on my writing project. It looks like the most relevant topic that intersects with the universe of things that I am presently interested in is abandoned and blighted property in New Orleans. The statutes, cases, agencies and rigmarole involved in the this area are so complex that basically no one wants to acquire property that way because they would rather have a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. I certainly have the right level of interest in the subject matter because the amount of blighted property in New Orleans was a crying shame before Katrina and it ain’t getting any better. It hurts my heart when I see buildings and houses sitting empty and crumbling on the good, dry, high ground, when there are so many people who have no place to live. Apparently, there is an impenetrable maze of various different processes to get these buildings back into commerce. If it is so convoluted that it defeats me, well, then I am defeated. It will be very interesting right up until I realize I am beat. Professor Lovett has done a lot of writing and research on property law and he is a wealth of tips, so he gave me a stack of current stuff to read. Call me a geek, call me a nerd, but I can’t wait until exams are over so I can dive in. Since I am the Jazz Fest ticket fairy at the moment, I gave him a ticket, which he loved. I appreciate all the advice he is giving me and I thought he was a real trouper to have schlepped to Houston with us last fall. Look for a lot of dangerblond-type ranting and raving about blighted property until the project is finished.
After the meeting I blasted off to Jazz Fest. You would have thought nothing had ever happened. If you want to feel like New Orleans is back to normal, go to Jazz Fest. Everybody’s there. Jane and Robert set up base camp at the Acura stage early this morning with Katherine helping them. We had our tarps, blankets, chairs, ice chests and Ricardo Gutierrez to give us all foot massages. By the time I got there, I just had to get my crawfish strudel and a beer and I was all set. I listened to Keb Mo for a little while and then I went to the craft tents. The Congo Square craft area was pretty generic. Lots of tie-dyed clothes and imported goods, nothing very original except for some flood paintings by a young artist and McCormick and Calhoun’s photography booth. They were doing brisk business with hat sales because it was a lovely sunny day.
The crowd was substantial but not so thick that it was a pain. I am not one for crowds at all, but I thought it was very comfortable. The people-watching at Jazz Fest is unparalleled. Almost everyone is making some kind of statement with their t-shirt or their “look,” and this year it’s better than ever because there is so much shit going on to make statements about. Lots of people were wearing pearl-buttoned shirts, a la Brokeback Mountain, and the pre-distressed, smashed-up cowboy hat is in vogue.
I always do my shopping at the contemporary craft booths on Fridays. The items are so original that the best pieces are often gone by Saturday. I bought a dress, a scarf and a shirt from Kate Beck, a couple of handbags from the block-print poster people and a few other little gifts. I saw some great ceramics, but I can’t possibly bring another breakeable item into this house. There is not enough bubble-wrap for all the stuff I have now.
After I got my bag of loot, I went back to the Acura stage and Jane and Robert’s compound. I was just in time for Bob Dylan. I have seen him twice, and both times he did kind of a weird show. He plays some of his old favorites, but the arrangements are so different that they are totally unrecognizeable. I guess he gets bored after 40 years of singing these songs, but the new arrangements are not neccesarily better. His singing is much lower and growlier, like Tom Waits meets Clarence “Frogman” Henry. Meanwhile, he is wearing a shiny white cowboy outfit. And his band has on matching grey suits with black shirts. I think some of the old-time Dylan fans were probably disappointed because it was rather Vegasy. I loved it, though, because I liked seeing this legendary rock and roller at the fairgrounds, at this time and place, and I didn’t really care what he played. Some of the arrangements were actually danceable, so we were twisting and jitterbugging to songs like “Maggie’s Farm.”
After Dylan, the crowd thinned out considerably for Dr. John. He had the same hot band from last year and he put on a really good, really tight show. I was so happy to be there that I could not stop dancing. Michelle Fristoe was afflicted with the same bug, and the two of us danced all the way through the set. It was a really fun, really nice day, with the sun shining and a breeze blowing through.
In that way that we all do at Jazz Fest, we introduced ourselves to the people around us and became friends for the day. Most of the people around us were from out of town and Californians predominated. There was a man from Alabama who looked a little like the actor Gerald McRaney and sounded like him when he spoke. He was in town on business for the day and decided to check out Bob Dylan. We struck up a conversation and he told me he was going to leave before Dr. John. I said, “oh, you shouldn’t do that.” So, he stayed and thoroughly enjoyed the show. He thanked me for telling him to stay. Then he asked me if I was seeing anyone. I said, “no, I’m not.” He said, “it’s been delightful meeting you, and I would like to take you out to dinner sometime.” Dangerblond gave up the digits, so let’s see if she actually has a date with a southern gentleman.
After helping Robert and Jane pack up the compound, Katherine and I ran home to change and primp. About a dozen of us met at Bayona for dinner. They seated us on the patio, which was nice because of the weather and because we could be as loud and raucous as we wanted. I was seated next to Adrienne with my back to the brick wall and the fountain. Suddenly, Adrienne looked behind us and then at me with a horrified expression on her face. I was afraid to turn and see what the HELL she was looking at. When I did, I could see that the back wall around the patio had about ten huge flying roaches crawling around on it. We moved away from the patio and the roaches disappeared, but for the rest of the evening I had that creepy feeling that I needed to check my hair for bugs. There was a very large man with dark hair sitting at another table. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He stopped me and asked me what I thought about the future of New Orleans. I was chattering about it and his dinner arrived. He pushed the plate away and kept asking me questions. I felt awkward talking to him while his date was eating and his dinner was getting cold. He was so intense that I later thought he might be a journalist. I hope my drunken ramblings don’t get into some article. I really have no idea what the future of New Orleans is going to be, I just know it won’t be boring.
I got home at about 1:30 and collapsed. This morning I have a hangover and a sunburn, but I am going to suck it up, drink some water, get back out the fairgrounds and represent.
rant ‘o mime April 28, 2006
Excellent rant by Ashley Morris, a.k.a. the mime in the glass box on Krewe du Vieux’s “Buy Us Back, Chirac” float.
totallyharmlessblond.org April 27, 2006
Jazz Fest time is here, the general attitude is lightening up and the girls are breaking out the short skirts and sandals. Steve, Adrienne and Eleven arrived yesterday as Jazz Fest visitors instead of their usual role of hosts. They forgot to bring Eleven’s car seat, so Shannon took them straight from the airport to WalMart to get that essential item. I’ve had Jackson’s old car seat here for a year, but, naturally, I gave it to Bridge House two weeks ago. Last night we all converged on Steve and Adrienne’s house, where Shannon and Ginger cooked up a down-home feast.
Shannon cooked what she called her mother’s dinner: pork chops smothered in gravy, rice, broccoli and delicious salad with butter lettuce. It tasted like dinner at my grandmother’s in Greenville, Mississippi, except that my grandmother would have served it with iced tea instead of Portuguese red wine. Ginger is now living in Adrienne’s studio, having switched places with Gina. She used to work with Susan Spicer in the kitchen at Bayona and her contributions to the meal were delicious. Ginger is one of those people who can peel and chop up a kitchen full of vegetables in ten minutes with one hand tied behind her back.
Through no fault of Steve and Adrienne, Eleven has become a miniature Katherine. They share a birthday, and it’s a little uncanny. She is girly, girly, girly. She loves ruffles, baby dolls and the color pink. She likes to put on wigs and jewelry and play dress-up. She found a stuffed animal that she used to play with, got a spoon and started “feeding” it. She has to have a purse to carry and a hat to wear. Of course, this is all completely opposite from Jackson, who likes to bang on things, throw things, climb on things and play with anything other than toys. He prefers certain textures, but has not shown a preference for any color, that I know of. Perhaps he will be like grandma, I have never had a favorite color and I like them all.
Eleven seemed to be quite at home in their house. She explored all around and was very independent of her mother. I’ve had trouble understanding how Steve and Adrienne could just stay in Colorado and never come back, but after seeing them I can see now that it’s all about their daughter. Although I’ve always loved New Orleans, I lived across the lake when my children were small and it made a lot of sense. They are living in a much smaller house, but Adrienne has a great studio. I don’t know exactly how they wound up in Telluride, but the town opened its arms to them. They were given a rent-free house for six months and it was completely stocked with everything they needed, from furniture to food. It’s a small town and everyone knows everyone, so everyone knows them now. Telluride is one of those places where they are always having municipal referenda that everyone has to vote on, so they have already switched their voter registration. I had been planning to get them to vote while they are here, but no such luck, they are Coloradans now.
I could tell there was a little wistfulness, though, at least from Adrienne. She extolled the virtues of their new home and how happy they are there, but she misses our craziness. At one point, Shannon said that my haircut looked like the Beatles. I burst into a head-shaking rendition of “She Loves You, Yeah Yeah Yeah,” and Adrienne laughed and said, “stuff like that never happens in Telluride.” That made me want to go up there for a visit and shake the place up a little. I wouldn’t mind going in the off-season, since I’m not much into snow or skiing.
The only thing New Orleans and Telluride have in common is that they are both small patches of blue in totally red states. Adrienne brought the Telluride Daily Planet to show us the police reports. Everyone howled as Katherine and I read them aloud. Here are some excerpts:
March 23
BIKES SLIDE DOWNHILL, TOWARD AFFORDABLE HOUSING: Missing bike found near the Shandoka Apartments.
April 1
NO APRIL FOOL’S JOKE: A bike was stolen from in front of a bar while its owner was inside.
April 10
UNSAVORY CHARACTERS SOMEHOW VERY CLEAN: The front door was open when it shouldn’t have been. But the unit was remarkably clean. The owner requested extra patrol to keep away what she called “unsavory characters.â€
April 13
WINDOW ON THE WORLD OF CRIME: Window in the warming hut in Town Park broken.
April 16
WOMAN WITH A VERY IMPORTANT FATHER IS VERY CONFUSED: A female was lying in the alley, looking like she had just fallen off her bike. An officer asked if she needed help, and she replied, “Yes I need help, what [in tarnation] do you think!†She said “Help me, help me now!†But she was already standing up at that point, so the officer asked what she needed help with. “I want to go home now,†she said. She didn’t go home, she went to detox, though she didn’t want to. She said her father was an ambassador somewhere in Europe, and the officer was in big trouble. Then she said her father was an ambassador to Thailand. In jail, she said her father worked for the FBI, and the officer would lose his job. As of this writing, the officer is still employed.
April 17
GRABBY AND CRABBY: A woman locked herself in the back room of a house after an argument. She had been grabbed by another woman. The locked-up woman claimed that it was abuse; the other said she was trying to calm the woman down by hugging her. The grabby woman was arrested for harassment.
San Miguel Sheriff’s Office
March 31
BORN UNDER A STOP SIGN: Sheriff’s Officers on a call in Lawson Hill noticed that the eastbound stop sign at the intersection of Society Drive and Alexander Overlook was missing. In speaking with the manager for the property owners, deputies learned the sign had been apparently stolen on or about March 31. The sign is valued at $75. Stealing a stop sign is a very dangerous act, and could result in the loss of life or limb. Anyone with information regarding the current location of that stolen sign is urged to call the Sheriff’s Office at 728-1911, ext. 23. You may remain anonymous.
April 13
ANOTHER VICTIM OF THE HIGH PRICE OF GASOLINE: A sheriff’s deputy gave a ride to a motorist who ran out of gasoline.
A LITTLE ROADSIDE YOGA: Deputy checked on a vehicle with its hazards on. The passenger just needed to stretch her legs.
April 13
LAW ABIDERS: 58 vehicles were monitored for speed. Nearly everyone obeyed the law.
BLOCKHEAD: A motorist complained about a trailer blocking the street.
COLLISION COURSE: A backhoe and a pickup truck were involved in an accident. There was $1,800 worth of damage to the pickup truck. The backhoe was undamaged.
BOOTED: A person refused to pay parking tickets. He was booted.
April 14
HOUSESITTER, DOGSITTER: A dog on the loose was released to a housesitter.
April 15
REALTORS ARE NOT THIEVES: A realtor showing a house accidentally set off the alarm.
I’m very happy for Steve and Adrienne and I can’t wait to visit them, but I have to say I’m not tempted so far to move to Telluride. I’m at a place in my life where I want things speeded up rather than slowed down. Interestingness is more important to me than safety. For one thing, if I moved to Telluride, I would have to change the name of my blog to totallyharmlessblond.org. Having had children when I was so young, I played it very safe when I was in my twenties and early thirties. There were things I wanted to do and couldn’t, or wouldn’t, because I had little kids. I never thought of it as giving up, though, just postponing. I’ve also lived a good part of my life in small towns where everyone knows you, so I’ve kind of been there and done that. That’s a choice that will always be available to me, so I think I’ll save it for another time when I want things to slow down.
nyt - dangerblond coincidenza April 26, 2006
Here are the last few graphs of the New York Times’ review of “Lestat,” which officially opened last night. You will remember that I already warned you that Lestat Lesucks. So, looka:
At least the leading female vampires are livelier than their male counterparts. The closest “Lestat” comes to so-bad-it’s-good camp is in a subplot that might be called “Claudia Has Two Daddies.” Claudia is the little orphan girl brought home as a peace offering to the sulking Louis by Lestat, who turns her into a vampire after finding her destitute on the streets of New Orleans.
As portrayed by Allison Fischer, Claudia is a high-decibel version of Patty McCormack in “The Bad Seed,” all sweetness, light and lethal bite. She provides the show’s high-low point when she throws a musical temper tantrum after being reprimanded for killing her tutor. In a voice to bring down the walls of Jericho, she sings:
Look at you, you disapprove
Like two fussy mothers.
Who are you to criticize
The habits of another?
The song’s title, repeated imperiously throughout the lyrics, is “I Want More.” So do we, little Claudia. But this show isn’t the place to find it.
In my review on April 16, I mentioned “Claudia Has Two Daddies” and “The Bad Seed.” So, yeah, I like totally called that!
NYT reviewer Ben Brantley also calls the show a musical sleeping pill. Reading the reviews will be more fun that seeing the show, it bites.
tools for fools April 25, 2006
Remember that big-ass flood we had last summer? Remember how it seemed like the end of the world, and hundreds of thousands of people lost everything they ever had and over 1,000 folks actually died? I guess people remember different things and some things were certainly more memorable than others. The thing state representative Steve Scalise, Republican of Jefferson, Louisiana, remembers most is that some people were disarmed by the police during that disaster. He is really upset about that, too. Cops taking guns away from people during an emergency is a violation of the Second Amendment right to bear arms, for god’s sake.
Scalise is a complete TOOL of the right wing and the National Rifle Association. Since he is such an idiot, he has managed to get a bill through the legislature, a temple of idiocy, which prohibits the police from confiscating weapons during an emergency. Not one of the idiots voted against it. Who wants to be known as being in favor of gun-confiscation in Louisiana? Scalise’s bill ties the hands of cops by making it impossible to confiscate a gun being brandished during an emergency unless the person is arrested. It appears the cops removed some guns from the wrong white, Uptown and probably half-drunk hands during the late unpleasantness. Never mind that any lawfully-owned gun was returned when things calmed down. Do you think the cops went into people’s houses and confiscated their guns? Don’t you think it more likely that the cops saw some crazy-looking people with guns and took the guns in the interests of the safety of themselves and others?
Dangerblond fully believes in the right to own guns. Not only do I believe in it, I’ve seen it done. I would like to see the government stay out of that issue as well as a few others that we may go into in later posts. But all rights come with responsibilities. Some things are too dangerous for everyone else to have to depend on your good judgment, hoss. A declared emergency is one of them. I realize that some of our police did not act professionally during this disaster, but on the whole I would rather see guns in the hands of trained professionals rather than people who stayed behind to have a hurricane party. If your home is an armed camp, then stay in it and don’t go deputizing yourself to bring justice to the streets. The Second Amendment does not allow you to take the law into your own hands any more than it allows you to drive down Canal Street in an armored tank. On a normal day it would be a bad idea to go down the street carrying a loaded rifle. Only a fucking fool (or a tool) would think it a good idea to do that in the middle of a general panic. Lucky for fools, they have lots of company in the Louisiana legislature.
rolling stone article
Loki at Humid City posted a link to this very interesting article in Rolling Stone about the Gulf coast. Worth a read. Loki slogs through all this stuff, thereby keeping dangerblond from having to read everything in the universe. His website is a great place to find info that you might not normally come across. Thank you, Loki.
the unbearable lightness of being here April 24, 2006
The mystery of my health has at last been solved, I think. My doctor called today to tell me that the results of all my tests and biopsy came back and I do not have cancer or fibroids or anything that needs to be removed or radiated or bombarded with chemicals. I have too much of a hormone called “progesterone” which the body normally produces and it plays a role in pregnancy. I have to take some medicine to regulate it and that will make the symptoms go away. This is great news because I have basically been feeling like I am in the early stages of pregnancy for about three or four months. I have have been having morning sickness, upset stomach and sleeping all the time, and my sense of smell has gone crazy. The smell of meat cooking or deli meats has sent me retching. I’ve been living in fear of being surprised by an unwelcome odor. I was beginning to think I had a brain tumor.
Feeling pregnant and knowing I’m not has been very surreal. There are some things that just don’t happen, at least to me, except during pregnancy. Morning sickness feels very different from a hangover or nausea from eating rich food, or any of the other things that normally make us sick. It took me back 22 years instantly, to the last time I had such an experience. But I’m not 23 any more, so I had a terrible anxiety attack at the thought of being pregnant. When the unlikelihood of that penetrated my scrambled brain, I thought, “that’s it. Violent indigestion. I’ve got ovarian cancer.” Go straight to Drama, do not pass “go.” I have no idea why I have an overabundance of this hormone, and I’m not going to think about it. The good thing is that I’ve been thoroughly checked and I have no little ticking time-bombs in my ovaries. Way to go, girls. Let’s keep up the good work!
While I was at Rite-Aid waiting for my prescription, John Goodman came in. I saw him come into the pharmacy area, but I continued looking at vitamins, trying to be cool and not get all star-struck at the drug store. The pharmacists and the other two customers didn’t notice him at first, but when they saw him they got all flustery and giggly. He was very gracious and personable while he picked up his prescription. He looked good, too. He has definitely lost some weight. It’s good to know that the hurricane hasn’t run off all the celebrity neighbors.
Today is Don’s birthday. When I called him, I expected him to be at the office, but William is in town and they spent the whole day together. Everyone is starting to converge for Jazz Fest. This is another one of the creative events that I tend to measure out the year by. The people who are usually involved are back or coming back, so, like Mardi Gras, it will be an interlude with the regular insanity instead of this new kind that is wearing me down. I look forward to seeing Steve and Adrienne, but, sadly, they have put their house on the market. They are planning to stay in Telluride. It’s so strange to think that the last time I saw them, I was at their house and we were eating, drinking, laughing and living our normal lives. There was no thought of anyone moving anywhere. I guess things could have changed this much in the normal course of events, but the abruptness of it and all the losses at once can sometimes make me feel very much adrift.
Or, perhaps it’s really that I feel very much tied-down. Other people are free to leave, and I’m not. I think of it as a temporary condition, rightly or wrongly. With Leicester moving to New York and Laurence living in Lafayette, New Orleans doesn’t exert its hold on me because of family. I like living here because I’ve always felt inspiration here. I’ve been happy here and unhappy here, but I have never been bored. I’ve always thought of it as a two-way street, where the city gives me as much as or more than I give to it. Being in New York reminded me that I like the big-city aspect of New Orleans, and I want that back. If we start turning into Key West on the Bayou, I’m not interested. I have never thought I would persist in staying here if it becomes difficult to work here. I have no intention of abandoning New Orleans, but she better not let me down either.
panic in the streets April 23, 2006
My neighborhood had a very active ‘hood association before Katrina and since the flood it has been in overdrive. We have a mixture of homes that were flooded and homes that were untouched. Some people have returned, but they have no immediate neighbors. Some can’t return and have had to leave their homes unoccupied until they can get back. We have construction workers and trucks coming in and out and tools and equipment laying around. It sounds like a great opportunity for folks who like to take other people’s stuff, but I pity the fool who tries it.
There is a listserve for the neighborhood that was indescribably helpful while we were unable to come home. Neighbors who managed to get in e-mailed the rest of us and told us exactly where the water got to, that there was no looting, and the National Guard was patrolling. Later, people were able to exchange insurance information so they could see if they were being ripped off. When the semester started I had to stop reading all the e-mails, but Don has been keeping up with them. Sometimes he sends me one or two. One thing that is clear from the e-mail stream is that if you are in this neighborhood, someone is watching you. Anyone who drives a hoopdy real slow down our street gets their license plate number on that listserve within minutes. God help you if you back a truck up to the wrong house, you might not live to tell about it.
So, this morning I was surprised to receive a very early call from Don. He sounded like he couldn’t breathe.
“Kim. Where. Is. Jackie?” Heavy breathing, like he couldn’t talk.
“She’s here. What’s wrong?”
“E-mail. Neighborhood Assoshun. Small black poodle. Close-clipped. Seen walking near Metairie Road. Ugh. Ah. Ugh.”
“Don. Don. She’s in my bed.”
“Oh, my God.”
“She’s sleeping late. She did get out last night, but she went to Jay Batt’s victory party.”
“What for? To take a bomb?”
Katherine and I had gotten all fidgity while watching the election returns and we started doing home improvement projects. Pretty soon I had filled the house with the smell of paint, so I opened the door to let some air in. Jackie and Daisy both got out and it took me a while to find them. This was after 11:00 p.m. Luckily, everyone is OK (except for Don, who is probably still laying down), and it shows what a cracker-jack Neighborhood Association we have.
Katherine also got a look at our neighborhood solidarity yesterday. She voted for the first time at my precinct. When she presented herself at the check-in table, the neighborhood ladies who man the polls gave her a polite third degree, then they asked her about William. Later, when Don and I got there, they said, “a VERY attractive young lady was here and she said she lives at your house.” I said “Yes, that’s my roommate. She grew up with my children.” Quizzical eyes looked from me to Don and back again. I offered no more explanation. They’ll have to read the blog.
When I got home, Katherine tortured me by pretending she voted for Ron Forman. “Katie, he’s a Republican!” I couldn’t believe she had been so misinformed. “Well, the Times-Picayune endorsed him, so he must be the best person for the job.” “Oh, my God.” Finally, after about an hour she told me she voted for Virginia Boulet. I was surprised that Boulet didn’t get more votes, but I guess most people figured, like me, that Mitch Landrieu is the only one who has a chance of beating Nagin.
After the results were in, Katherine again played devil’s advocate and said she was going to vote for Sugar Ray in the run-off. I believed her because she and Shannon both have soft spots for fuck-ups.
“Katie, when things go off the rails this bad, it’s time to change leadership.”
“Kim, name me one thing that Nagin could have done differently.”
Exasperated, I started my list: Planning at the beginning of hurricane season rather than waiting for the big one, closing these railroad underpasses that allowed so many more neighborhoods to be flooded, identify the high ground and take the buses and streetcars to it, plan for communications in the event of a power failure (duh!), hire a police chief that is not a drama queen, hire a drama queen that is not Kimberly Williamson Butthead, the list goes on. Finally, I saw that she was laughing at me. Most of my friends want to cut Sugar Ray some slack, and I do, too. I feel bad for what he went through and I’m glad I am not him. I don’t want to see him defeated. I’d like to see him as a roving tourism and good-will ambassador for New Orleans. Maybe he should switch jobs with Mitch and become Lt. Gov., because he has enough good-will to go around.
The bottom line for me is that there were many things that could have been different and must be different starting ASAP. The interval between the flood and now is proof enough that Nagin can’t get this heap of a city moving. We stupidly put so many incumbents back into office yesterday that, if we have Nagin back as Mayor, we have four more years of guaranteed gridlock. The city government can’t work together, the state legislature is corrupt, and the Republican-controlled federal government is using those two things to screw us. This is the first time I’ve ever wanted to say, “hello? Louisiana is a RED STATE, remember, Karl?” But I don’t think red is the color that matters here.
This morning also brought good news that two more IQ tax assessor candidates made it into run-offs. One of them, Chase Jones, is going up against Betty Jefferson in the run-off. There must be revolt in the air in that part of town, because both Jefferson and Renee Gill Pratt, the councilwoman, are in run-offs and they are both close allies of congressman William Jefferson. Betty Jefferson is his sister. The T-P and others keep pointing out that re-elected assessors Heaton and Arnold have close relatives in the legislature, but they haven’t mentioned that Betty Jefferson’s niece, Jalila Jefferson-Bullock, is also in the legislature and consistently votes against any kind of reform. This is a political klepto-dynasty that makes the Landrieus look like philosopher kings. I hate to harp on the Jeffersons, but I just think it’s important to keep them moving on up the the private sector.
sufferage April 22, 2006
The most surprising thing about the election results is the fact that so many incumbents survived the primary. Some won outright. What’s up with that? What does it take to make people realize that when there is a major cluster-debacle like what happened here, it means the people in charge did a really terrible job. I’m very happy that Mitch Landrieu is in the run-off against Nagin, but Sugar Ray got a lot of votes. Incumbent Oliver “Who Shot the Lala?” Thomas won big in the council at large race, and he gets to sit out the run-off. Jackie Clarkson and Arnie Fielkow will now fight it out for the other seat. It’s now a city-wide race between those two. The undeserved groundwell of support for incumbents might put Clarkson back on the council, but I believe we will miss a great chance if we take a pass on Fielkow.
In addition to Oliver, the Cynthias are back on the council without a run-off. Hedge-Morrell is the normal one and Williard-Lewis is the wacky one who has the TV show. This was our one chance to get rid of that TV show, and we blew it. This was also our one chance to get rid of these lame incumbents, and it looks like we blew it. Renee Gill-Pratt is going to face Stacy Head in a run off for the District B council seat and Jay Batt will face Shelley Stephenson Midura in the run-off for District A. Midura will get at least one more vote, from me, in the run-off. I don’t live in District B, but I urge you to vote for Stacy Head unless she is a two-headed space alien. No one could be worse than Gill-Pratt and Jay Batt. In the open seat, District C, it’s not yet clear who will face James Carter in the run-off, but it will be either Jane Ettinger Booth or Karen Giselson Palmer.
The biggest disappointment is the tax assessor’s races. The incumbents must have convinced enough people that their taxes would go up if the system is run by professionals. Only Nancy Marshall managed to beat an incumbent, Albert Coman. The rest of those reaces were handily won by the family dynasties who have controlled them for years. There is another bill in the legislature now to consolidate these offices and we will have to see what they decide to do in Baton Rouge. The state legislature should be the next target for a clean-up campaign. Just watch who votes against reform - many of New Orleans’ delegation are on the gravy train and they have no intention of getting off.
The clerk of criminal court will be a run-off between Arthur Morrell, who I think is married to one of the Cynthias, and Nick Varecchio. Varecchio seems like a legitimate guy, but I think this office shoud be merged with the clerk of civil court and its responsibilities for elections should be turned over to the secretary of state. The only good thing Kimberly Williamson Butler did for this city is to show, in the most graphic way possible, that an incompetent lunatic can occupy this office and it won’t matter, because the job is irrelevant and a waste of money.
photo | a cool car
NYCar
Originally uploaded by dangerblond.
We saw this car in NY. I think it was a BMW.
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