reconstruction August 31, 2006
Shannon didn’t make it to Book Club tonight because her father is in the hospital across the lake. We had bad phone reception, so I don’t know what is wrong, but I sure hope he is OK. Claud is one of those people whom you don’t realize are getting old. He is still going around doing his thing, like always. He is getting up into his eighties. Shannon’s mother died in 1985, and it was terrible. They are all very close to their father.
I went to the grocery store that has replaced Whole Foods on Esplanade. I can’t remember the name, but, you know, where Whole Foods used to be. It’s the people who had Lakeview Fine Foods. It’s like a smaller version of Langenstein’s. It reminded me of how Matassa’s used to be for a short time back in the late 1980s. It is nice to have that in the neighborhood over there.
Janet lives in a great part of Mid-City, near Dibert School. There were lights on in Dibert School, so that’s something, huh? Her house is actually done, they have moved downstairs. She cooked a wonderful meal with gumbo, fish and salad. I brought wine and everyone else brought dessert. Janet’s cute son came downstairs while we were all on the patio and totally busted her for smoking. These damned kids. Her daughter is a beautiful little angel. They have the sweetest dog from the LASPCA. Her house looks great and we all lolled around on the new couch.
Heather is back from Australia and since we last saw her when we read Madame Bovary she has gotten hugely pregnant, married her boyfriend in Australia and quit her job. She is 42 and has three children. She seems slightly blown away by it all, but happy and glowing with that fabulous new husband, pregnant woman thing going on.
Heather’s recent life makes the rest of us seem a little boring in contrast, but not really. Life in this city is never dull. Janet was acosted by four guys on Camp Street not far from the federal court at 4:00 in the afternoon. They started loudly hooting at her and pointing out the finer points of her striking physique. Not cool. New Orleans has turned into a bit of a cow town with all these come-heres suddenly on the scene. You never know when you will blunder into a group of men who have strange accents and act like sex-starved sailors on shore leave. Not that Dangerblond doesn’t like it, but some of my friends are ladies. Fellas, here is a tip for getting along in New Orleans: don’t go downtown and verbally assault the womenfolk in the thoroughfare. Perhaps we should start dumping our chamber pots on their heads.
Susan was hilarous telling us how frightened she got while reading The Turn of the Screw. It really is pretty chilling in some parts. She rented the movie and made her children watch it with her because she was too scared. We all laughed at that weird thing that makes us all feel terrified to watch a scary movie alone, but just having one other person in the room, whether a child, a person who is sleeping, blind, paralyzed, or whatever, makes it OK. Why do we feel less frightened when someone else is there, even if it’s someone who would be totally useless in an actual frightening situation?
Heather told an amazing story of a weird thing that happened to her at Lloyd Hall Plantation in Alexandria. She kept smelling an overpowering aroma of body odor, and then when she turned off the light, her bed started violently shaking. She actually stayed the whole night and investigated it. I would have got my ass to the Holiday Inn. Apparently, there are a lot of ghost stories associated with that place.
Meredith gave me the bad news that a woman was shot in the face not far from here on Metairie Road today. That is just awful. The parking lot where she was shot is right across the street from St. Francis Xavier School. The Jefferson Parish Police are saying it was an attempted robbery, but I can’t see how they know that. The guy got away, as far as I can tell. Even though it is in Jefferson Parish, that area is basically my neighborhood. It’s Old Metairie, which is not accustomed to violent crime. This doesn’t appear to be a lady who was involved in a drug deal gone wrong. It’s kind of hard to blame the victim in this case, so it could be that we’ve got trouble right here in River City.
Driving through Mid-City this evening, I saw so many places that have been cleaned up and re-opened for business. The houses look great. The gardens are blooming. The traffic is getting annoying. The part of Mid-City near City Park is fully back to life. It’s possible to drive for blocks and blocks and not see any reminders of the flood except for the occasional rescue mark spray painted on someone’s door. Those voodoo crosses are still everywhere. I think those things will be here forever. Permanently, like a tattoo.
great food, if you can find it
I had heard that Dunbar’s restaurant was opening in Cabra Hall on the Broadway campus of Loyola. I went over there and learned that it is in the Broadway Activities Center. You would think a place called the Broadway Activities Center would be located on Broadway, but you would be wrong. It’s on the corner of Pine and Dominican, one block off Broadway and one block off St. Charles. It’s across Pine Street from the Law School. They used to have some kind of “food” service there, so it’s a great improvement.
It’s traditional for me to vent at the beginning of every semester about the clocks at Loyola Law School. Each classroom has a clock on the wall, and each clock has a different, incorrect time on it. This is the beginning of my third year. They are constructing a huge addition to the present law school building that will increase the size of the building by half it’s present size, but they can’t set the time on all these clocks. And they can’t take the crazy clocks off the walls. So people are constantly looking at them and subtracting nine minutes from the time on the clock-face. I’ve been doing it for two years now. Nine minutes fast is about the average wrong time on all the clocks. The week before the hurricane, I had a teacher who announced that she was starting and ending class at the time shown on the clock. Even though it was nine minutes fast. I wonder if this is some sort of psychological experiment being conducted by the Thomas Hobbesian wing of the ABA.
But enough about that, back to Dunbar’s. You can get a plate lunch there for $6.99. The best thing is red beans and rice with chicken and cornbread. This morning I stopped by there and got some coffee. I met Celestine Dunbar and told her that I am a friend of Ashley Morris and how much we enjoyed the food last weekend at the Rising Tide Conference. She went in the back and returned with the guy who tried to drive our lunches to the Yat Club and got stopped by the water. I told him how much we appreciated it and that everyone loved the food. Celestine apologized for the chicken wings being small. I told her on behalf of all of us that it ain’t no thang but a chicken wang.
I read my last blog entry to David and he said, “now, see, that’s way to personal. And, besides, you got the facts all wrong.” He forbade me to correct the facts, but I can’t let the facts go uncorrected. Herewith are the new facts: David graduated from Parsons, not Pratt. He was a stylist for Richard Avedon and helped him compose layouts for Vogue. He only worked for Irving Penn once, but he worked for Bert Stern many times. So there. Here’s another tidbit, though - he worked on the set of Antonioni’s Blow-Up in Italy and during the filming he went to Morocco with Veruschka. Heh Heh. He told me her feet are bigger than mine. You go, girl. They bigger they are, the harder it is to make us fall.
Tonight is Book Club at Janet’s house in Mid-City. I think they are still living on the second floor, but work is progressing. Janet picked The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. I had never read it, but I have seen the various movies, as well as the numerous rip-offs. I love Henry James’ oblique descriptions of the subtle gradations of social class. I enjoy Dickens, Jane Austen and Edith Wharton for the same reason, although they are not so oblique as James. The Turn of the Screw is atypical, though, because it’s basically a rollicking good ghost story.
It was another short book (thank you Janet), so I also had time to finish The Poisonwood Bible. That was a fantastic book. If you haven’t read it, you must. I am passing this copy along to Meredith, I know she will love it. It’s the story of a family of missionaries from Georgia who move to the Belgian Congo in 1960. The father is very self-righteous and he thinks he is going to change the religion and folkways of the Congolese, but the Congo ends up changing him and his family forever. It’s a wonderful allegory about haughty Imperialism and the folly of religious and cultural superiority. Hey, I wonder if President Bush is looking for something to read now that he has finished The Stranger?
After reading The Poisonwood Bible, I want to see the movie Lumumba that came out a few years ago. Patrice Lumumba was the first democratically elected Prime Minister of the Congo. He was a little too friendly with the Soviets, so the Belgians, with approval from the U.S., had him killed and installed Joseph Mobutu. Mobutu became one of the most brutal and corrupt leaders in history, and another in the long line of right-wing dictators bought and paid for with American tax dollars. Just one more reason why they hate us for our freedom.
¿algo o nada? August 30, 2006
This morning on my way to class, I saw a yellow Orleans Parish school bus, about half-filled with children, going down Carrollton Avenue. I thought, “yay! Kids on a school bus!” That’s a very normal sight, the kind of thing I’m seeing more and more of these days. I also noticed that there are more city buses around since school started.
Stuart Hall School on Carrollton looks to be back in business, with the principal out front on the sidewalk greeting the children as their parents dropped them off. As I was trying to scoot past the school, a lady in a large SUV suddenly pulled out of the drop-off line and into my lane. I speeded up to avoid her car and as I looked at her I could see she was looking down into her passenger seat rather than into the traffic she was entering. Way to go, lady. Stuart Hall parents, you’re on notice. Dangerblond will not honk the horn to get your attention if you cut her off without looking. Most likely, you will end up face to face with the Exploder. So, do us all a favor and increase your liability coverage and don’t fall behind on your premiums.
After the termites were discovered in the back room, Don came over and I told him that I am back in school now and I don’t feel like I can supervise the renovation back there. He met with David while I wasn’t here and for some reason he told David that he would take the remaining stuff out of the room by Sept. 5, which, if you know Don, means on Sept. 5 if not later. I wanted David to get cracking back there, and he has the time, so he and Michael and I began to take the stuff out ourselves. They have been dismantling the room and will soon have to take the roof off.
Yesterday, as I was trying to get out the door for class, David said, “Kim, we have to make some decisions about this room.”
I said, “I have to go to class, I can’t talk right now.”
I got annoyed on the way to Loyola because it looks like I am supervising this part of the renovation, whether I want to or not. Don also called me a few days ago and asked for David’s number. He didn’t want to call him about the house, he wanted to get him to take a look at some renovating that needs to be done at the Jazz Fest offices on N. Rampart. I said, “you can’t take David away from me!” He apparently didn’t call him, but it’s an old and unresolved problem between Don and me that he has always been more enthusiastic and involved with the physical improvements at his workplace than he is with work being done on his own property.
I’ve always felt frustrated when dealing with contractors we have hired in the past because I wasn’t knowledgeable enough to talk to them, and they didn’t mind letting me know it. I thought about it last night and I realized that I am not like that any more. I know what I am doing now, and David talks to me in language I can understand and doesn’t play games with me. I decided that I am just going to do this and I’m going to enjoy it. I’m very lucky to be working with someone like David. He has very good design sense. He graduated from Pratt design school and was a fashion photographer for many years in New York. (He also worked as a photographer’s assistant to Richard Avedon and Irving Penn, but those stories are enough for a couple of posts, and I’m already forbidden to write about him on the blog. Heh Heh.) I completely trust him to make it look good and he won’t settle for anything less than perfect construction standards. However, someone has to come up with a concept and give him a place to start from.
When I talked to Don, he had just returned from Mexico and he said he wanted to make a concrete and tile Mexican guest room. He told David that he wanted to make a separate entrance from the carport. I’m not really down with the concrete, but we have a lot of Mexican art around here and I love Mexican tile with a woven rug on it. I like the idea of a separate entrance, too. I could make that work and still have some storage space back there. I’m going to change all the doors and windows. I couldn’t talk David into making an adobe fireplace in the corner, but I am still working on him. So, the newest project at Villa d’Dangerblond is going to be a nearly self-contained Mexican-Spanish-Moroccan guest suite with a private entrance and independent climate control. This should be enough to make Miss Katherine’s head explode.
My well-laid plan to spend the anniversary studying was Robert Burns’d by Meredith. She had just finished a solid month of filing law suits and so declared mandatory cocktail hour. Well, how could I say no to a friend in that condition? We met at Delachaise with Kevin and Rebecca. It actually did fit my plan to do things I wanted to be doing on that day last year. David and I tried to watch a little of Anderson Cooper on Monday night, but I had to turn it off after a half-hour of the John-Benet Ramsey story. I came home early last night, but I didn’t turn on the television because I didn’t want to hear yet again about a little dead girl’s underwear. What is it that makes people want to obsess on things like that? Saying it once would have been enough. Repeating it numerous times seems like pandering to the worst in people. David told me they did the same thing again last night, so I’m glad I didn’t watch it.
I also didn’t see Bush’s speech. I don’t listen to him any more. It just upsets me. As my grandmother once said about someone else, “he just talks and talks and talks and don’t say nothing.” I saw on a couple of my favorite political blogs this morning that CNN left a microphone open while the woman went to the restroom. She loudly babbled on about men and trashed her sister-in-law on live television in the middle of the president’s speech. Now, THAT was something.
i’m good. but i’m not that good. August 28, 2006
I think I’ll spend the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and the disaster caused by the failure of the federally-built levees doing all the things I wanted to be doing a year ago on August 29 - going to classes and then coming home and snuggling down with my law books and the Louisiana Civil Code.
This semester I am trying again to take Louisiana law of persons, like I was last August, with Prof. Monica Wallace. We had one week of classes last year and then we scattered. As of today, we made it past the one-week mark. From my son’s house in Lafayette last year, I was able to find a blog that was set up by someone in North Carolina for Loyola Law School faculty and students to contact each other. I saw that Professor Wallace had checked in and I e-mailed her. I knew that she had very small children, and when she answered my e-mail I found out she lived in Lakeview. They had evacuated, but their house was destroyed. Prof. Wallace understandably didn’t come to Houston, I didn’t take Persons there and barely remember what I did take.
I can’t tell you how much better it makes me feel to be back in her class. It’s as though something has picked up where it left off to make up for all of the chopped-off blunt ends that we experienced last August. There were things we were all doing that have either never been taken up again or have taken forms we hadn’t planned. A guy next to me in class today was all dressed up in a tie to be sworn in for the law clinic. He said he was so relieved that we were not spending this day preparing to run from Ernesto.
Helping to put on the Rising Tide Conference was my way of acknowledging that a year has passed and trying to draw attention to what is going on here. I knew there would be inaccurate or incomplete reporting all over the place and I agree with Oyster that there will be few mentions of the levees. Mark Folse is setting the record straight on media misperceptions such as calling the evacuation of New Orleans a failure when over 430,000 people were well out of harms way when the storm came.
The Rising Tide Conference was a wonderful success and all of us who worked on it are very proud to have brought all these bloggers, writers and others together to tell the ground truth about where we are, how we’re doing and what we think is going to happen next. Oyster and Scout Prime had the initial idea and Ashley Morris, Adrastos, Maitri, Lisa, Mark Folse, Alan Gutierrez, Mominem and I made it happen. Blake Haney’s studio produced our outstanding logo which gave us a very professional image that was also a nice piece of art in itself.
There seems to be an impression among some people that I played a larger role in the conference than I actually did. I kept up communications with people by e-mailing and leaving comments on blogs to let them know what we were doing. Alan and Maitri set up the Rising Tide Wiki, which made all that easier. I played no role at all in the programming, except for moderators occasionally asking me what I thought about a speaker. Oyster got Chris Cooper and Robert Block and Adrastos set up and moderated two excellent panels, while Maitri and Morwen each set up panels. Alan Gutierriez gave an hour-long presentation. Ray Shea worked with Arabi Wrecking Crew to set up a work day to clean out a woman’s house.
Ashley brought in the sound system and made it work, and now I find out he has made podcasts of some of the day’s events. I will post the link when I get it. Ashley was also the person responsible for arranging those delicious lunches from Dunbar’s. His alter ego, Dr. Morris, set up our first website. Lisa is the money cruncher, Mominem is a work horse and he came up with those gigantic posters.
I e-mailed people and greeted them at the door and gave a party Saturday night, but those are the kinds of social things I like to do to ensure that we get a decent crowd and they feel welcome. I had nothing to do with the programming and I am very happy with the work of those who did. At the conference, I was more of a learner than anything else. I really don’t hate Peggy Wilson, either, I am tired of just standing there while lies are told and not at least saying something. My confronting Peggy drew attention to myself, but let me just say that I don’t have to bitch-slap Peggy Wilson to get attention.
I played a small part in this project, which was mostly executed by Oyster, Ashley, Maitri and Adrastos. I’m very proud of all of them and the work we did together. I will work with these folks again on anything
dangerblond: representin’ in San Antonio August 27, 2006
The article that I was interviewed for appeared in the San Antonio Express News today. The author is Roy Bragg. He sent an e-mail to me and the other NOLA bloggers that he interviewed telling us that our quotes would be cut short in this article, but that he was inspired to do another article later on the community of New Orleans bloggers. Michael Homan is quoted, too but we are not identified as bloggers.
Out of the long interview with me, this was included in the article:
“There’s more respect for tradition here than any place else,” said Kim Marshall, a Tulane University law student. “Even though we have a history of poverty and brutality here, people still have a respect for history.”
Of course, I am a law student at Loyola, not Tulane, but it’s right across the street. The important thing is that they did not use any pictures of me. I hope he is serious about doing a story on the NOLA bloggers. If people in San Antonio start reading our blogs, they will be way ahead of other cities on the learning curve to understanding what has happened in New Orleans.
peggy wilson: bottle blond
Sophmom and I get along like peas and carrots. We have the same habits, including not eating breakfast. I gave a party last night for the Rising Tide participants and and she did all the grocery shopping for me. Shannon delivered the wine and she and Katherine were gobsmacked at how Chateau le Maison Dangerblond has come together. Katherine said it reminds her of our house on Marengo Street, which always looked great. Except for the Termite Suite, every part of the house is now cleared of boxes and stacks of junk. David and Michael crammed so much into my attic that I am expecting the ceiling to collapse at any minute.
The Rising Tide Conference went off better that any of us expected. We had about 70 pre-registered and about 20 paid at the door. We put it together in less than six weeks as a result of a conversation between Scout Prime and Oyster. The idea was to gather bloggers and other interested people together in New Orleans on this anniversary weekend for some real talk about what is happening and not happening here. Ernie the Attorney appropriately wore a t-shirt that read “Get Real.”
Maitri and Scout were blogging live, as were others that I will be catching up with. Christopher Cooper and Robert Block were the keynote speakers and they were the best we could have gotten. They are reporters for the Wall Street Journal and they have tracked down the real story of the cluster of screw-ups that led to our beautiful city being flooded and left for dead. Robert Block is blunt, funny and straight-talking, causing the more judicious Cooper to say things like, “now, Bobby.” They agreed that for future stories reported from New Orleans, big-time media writers need to hire translators and “fixers” like they do when reporting from foreign countries. It was clear from their comments that they both read my blog, so it was difficult for me to get my big head through the door when I stomped out on Peggy Wilson.
So, let’s talk about Peggy Wilson. The short version is that she has long been part of the problem in New Orleans and she has no intention of becoming part of the solution. She became one of our panelists after she e-mailed me expressing interest. Adrastos was putting together a panel on local politics and he didn’t want to included anyone presently in office because no one wants to hear any more self-admiring crap from the in-crowd. That’s what the mainstream media is for. Anyway, he wanted Michael Duplantier, an erudite, level-headed lawyer who ran for city council, and Shane Landry, another council candidate who is of cajun heritage and an expert on Louisiana history. He also wanted David Jaynes, Moldy City blogger, who is an encyclopedia of the convoluted, mis-managed and intentionally murky New Orleans city budget. Adrastos and these three are all left-leaning, so when Wilson expressed interest he figured he would include her for ideological balance.
I have always thought Peggy Wilson was nothing but a nasty-nice Uptown bigot, and I didn’t particularly want her on our dias using her racist code words like “pimps” and “welfare queens,” and insulting our rainbow coalition of an audience. I am one of the people pushing for ideological and other types of inclusion, however, so I was OK with it. Not that Adrastos cares what I think, anyway.
Wilson arrived early and seemed interested in the other people, so good for her. The political panel got underway and I was sitting up front with Maitri, who was blogging away and making a record of everything. I found out later that Scout was videotaping the whole thing. Duplantier was very informed and serious, worried about the perception our idiotic kleptocracy is creating, and hopeful that we have hit bottom and will try to wean ourselves from these “colorful characters” in public office. I couldn’t agree more. I don’t really know who these people are who think everything is so goddamned funny that goes on in Baton Rouge. I have never met anyone who is laughing about it, either before or after last hurricane season. David Duke’s getting 600,000 votes when he ran for U.S. senate from this state wiped any trace of a smile from my face about Louisiana politicians.
Shane Landry made an out-of-left-field argument for Louisiana’s secession from the United States. He was so articulate and knowledgeable that I was convinced. He talked about the history of the off-shore oil royalties, and I don’t really see any reason why we shouldn’t just take 100% of our money and hire some French people to redesign our education system and some Dutch to build our levees. Dangerblond is now a card-carrying (when we actually get cards) Louisiana Secessionist, and I will not hear a word against Shane Landry.
David Jaynes was pretty quiet, once again proving that the smartest people are sometimes the ones who keep their mouths shut. I know what you are thinking, Adrastos, and stop it. David pointed out that the city layed off all but two electrical inspectors in “the world’s largest construction site,” in Sugar Ray’s words, but retained 66 out of the over 100 members of the Mayor’s staff. Makes you wonder how many of those people are working on the planning and logistics of Sugar Ray Superstar’s national celebrity tour.
Then there was that embarassment to all blonds, Peggy Wilson. At first, she sounded OK. I was in a good mood because the conference was going great with the only problem having been that the delicious Dunbar’s lunch was a little late. There was a torrential, flooding rain storm, but the power stayed on. I have a huge writer-crush on Cooper and Block, and there they were stuck in the same room with me.
So, I gave Peg the benefit of the doubt. I have to agree with her on school vouchers for New Orleanians, because the argument that it will destroy the public school system is irrelevant in a town where the public school system has been destroyed for years. Her statement that we have to rely on ourselves and stop waiting for government handouts may be politically incorrect, but the reality on the ground in New Orleans is that you are going to find life very difficult here if you’re not self-sufficient.
Then Mark Folse asked a question about the Oyster-Adrastos Theory. This theory is like the theory of evolution. It’s called a “theory,” but no evidence has ever been discovered that it’s not a cold, hard, iconoclastic fact. In brief, many who watched the mayoral election closely were intrigued by the large role played by prominent Republicans, like Rob Couhig, in Nagin’s victory. The Republicans were supporting Nagin not because they think it’s a good idea to have this clown as our mayor, but because they don’t want to deal with the threat of a powerful Mitch Landrieu in the future. So, it was all about them.
Part of the dirty work done by this group was to maintain a whispering campaign about the Landrieus. I offered $50 cash on my blog to anyone who could give me one shred of a credible story about nefarious dealings by Mitch Landrieu or his relatives or associates, in-laws or cousins. With eight children, I figured the Landrieus had to at least have a brother-in-law under indictment. I got no takers, because none of these stories hold up when subjected to five minutes of thought followed by one minute of research.
When asked about the role played by white Republicans in Mitch Landrieu’s defeat, Peggy Wilson went straight to right-wing mad-dog mode and launched into a rabid attack on the Landrieus. She expounded on the Broadmoor-raised Landrieu family’s sense of entitlement, as if Uptown half-wits like herself are free from that affliction. She accused the Landrieu family of destroying the levee board and the aviation board, by which she presumably means that Moon Landrieu’s 1970’s-era appointments to those boards are responsible for black people running the airport and $500 levee inspection luncheons. Peg, you were on the levee board. What kind of back-room deal put you there?
Then she made an allegation that was a completely new one on me, even after all the absurd tales of the incredibly powerful Landrieu family that I have heard. Scout Prime has it on tape, crystal clear. Wilson stated that Mitch Landrieu has a business and that judges force attorneys to use Mitch Landrieu’s business. Let me state right here that if you are an attorney who has been forced by a judge to hire a business owned by the Landrieu family, it is high time you step forward and help blow the lid off this motherfucker. Lawsuits and criminal cases involve a lot of records, and it should be easy enough to find proof of this and sue the Landrieus for every penny of their ill-gotten fortune.
Here’s what I know: There is a business that is co-owned by I-don’t-know-which member of the Landrieu family called Curran and Landrieu Court Reporting. Before the flood, they were one of the many, over 100, court reporting firms in Louisiana. My dealings with them involved setting up depositions to which they would send a stenographer to make an audio recording and transcript, and occasionally a videographer. A deposition is testimony taken under oath and the transcripts can be used as evidence in court. I used different court reporters for different cases all the time. I was never told I had to use Curran and Landrieu except for one case in federal court where there were numerous depositions and the attorney I worked for made a deal with Tim Curran for a discount based on the volume.
The paralegal who taught me everything I knew before law school was a huge Republican and had been working in law offices all over New Orleans for 25 years. Between her and the gossip that is epidemic among law office staffs, I simply can’t believe I have not heard about the Landrieus somehow getting judges to force lawyers to use their court reporting services. How would the judges do that, anyway? By awarding verdicts to lawyers who use Curran and Landrieu, in spite of how the jury votes? By the way, all court reporters charge about the same thing and if an attorney gets a bad transcript full of errors, they won’t use that reporter again, I don’t care if it’s Jenna and Barbara Bush.
Well, hearing her, I suddenly got this feeling like this was MY conference and I was not going to let this fucking bitch spout bald-faced lies without being challenged. I stood up in the middle of her bullshit, raised my hand and called out, “Are you talking about the court reporting business?” She said, “no.” I said, “Then what ARE you talking about?” She said, “It’s something I have personal knowledge of.” Oh, OK, Peg. As long as you have personal knowledge of it. I guess we will all just have to trust you. I wanted to scream out, “Fuck you, you lying fucking whore! I hate you! I hope you die! I hope you spend your miserable eternity cooking breakfasts and making beds for the black people who annually attend the Bayou Classic and the Essence Fest, and I hope they don’t even say ‘thank you!’”
But, it didn’t seem like something Dangerblond would say. I needed to leave so I could get ready for the party here later, so I decided to make a big show of turning my back on Wilson and huffing out. I think I muttered, “this is bullshit.” The ironic thing about it, though, was that Wilson was asked about the Oyster-Adrastos Theory and she responded by giving a live demonstration of it. No one else on our panels answered questions with craven lies. One could just imagine Wilson at Uptown dinner parties filling other Republicans in on how the Landrieus are controlling the state court system through a court reporting service, and her gullible listeners swallowing the story whole and repeating it to everyone they know. Or perhaps Uptown dinner party gossip is how Wilson got her “personal” knowledge.
This reminded me of the late 90s, when “everyone” smugly knew about Bill Clinton’s love child with a black woman. I’ll bet Republican tool Peggy Wilson had personal knowledge of that one, too, and repeated it often. Unlike a lot of these lies, that one was proven false with DNA evidence. White Republicans like Peggy Wilson defeated Mitch Landrieu with lies, and then they have the nerve to say that New Orleans voters need to quit electing bad leaders. We invited Peggy Wilson to our conference, which was gathered for the purpose of telling the truth. By coming into this group of truthful people and spouting hateful political lies, Peggy Wilson stood out like a gutter punk at an Uptown garden party. Don’t tell me she doesn’t represent real Republicans, because she was a most useful tool in their latest victory over the people of New Orleans. We need Peggy Wilson like we need another hole in the levee, and she is almost as destructive.
the yat club August 26, 2006
I spent the day making some very fawncy name badges for the Rising Tide Conference and cleaning up the joint in advance of Sophmom’s arrival. I could not have completed all my tasks if not for Alan Gutierrez’s help. It really was not very nice of me to make him ride to the Yacht Club in the back of the Exploder with an 8-foot folding table on top of him. Alan, I hope your arm is OK. Sophmom either loves the Yellow Caution Suite, or she is a damned good liar.
At the Yat Club, I womaned the registration and hospitality table along with Dr. A. We had about half our registered crowd show up and I met my idol, Greg Peters. The guys from the Arabi Wrecking Krewe were there, led by a guy called, and you knew this was coming, Shiek. Michael Mizell-Nelson who is creating a Katrina data bank was there. Scout Prime, who is one of our most consistent supporters from the Great Out There was there. Bill Michalski came in from San Francisco and Latin Teacher came in from Pennsylvania. I met Dale from Flood and Loathing and Boyd Blundell from After the Levees. June Butler came in from Thibodaux.
Ashley Morris was deeply involved in the inevitable sound-system drama and Lisa and boyfriend (who reminds me of Lenny Kravitz) helped him make it happen, along with Dudley and the gang from Loki’s new company. Can’t remember their name.
As I drove over there, poor Alan pale and hugging his knees in the back, I had one thought in my mind: did they get the air conditioning on? Mominem and Oyster were looking up at the ceiling as I entered. The air conditioning guys were all over it. Fifteen minutes before our event was to begin, the cold air blasted out.
The people who hadn’t seen the Yacht Club before, like Maitri and Adrastos, were struck as I thought they would be by the destruction that is still evident outside the windows and the way they have pulled it together inside. Troy Gilbert is the blogger who suggested having the conference at the Yacht Club, and it was a really great idea. Troy also had the idea of initiating us into the venerable Yacht Club bar tradition of five people drinking shots simultaneously from shot glasses inserted into five holes in a water ski. Don’t ask me, it’s a Yat Club thing. Naturally, when they were putting together a drinking team, my name came up. Oyster, Adrastos, me, Maitri and Lisa drank our shots without spilling or dumping the glass on someone’s face. We showed those Sunday sailors. And where were you, G-Bitch?
The Yacht Club is having their annual regatta tomorrow in memory of Pam Sintes, a woman who was murdered years ago by her boyfriend. Last year, this race was held the day before Katrina. It’s a race with all women skippers. The regatta people had a reception at the same time as ours and we met some of the members. They were very nice to us and interested in what we were doing, although they didn’t seem to know about bloggers.
I met a Yacht Club member with the wonderful, only-in-New-Orleans name of Neville D’Hautrive. In one of those conversational contortions that only seem to happen when alcohol is involved, the subject turned to the catastrophic meltdown of nuclear power plants. Neville is quite well read-up on the subject and has a degree in physics. He said that Chernobyl was “no big deal.” He is rebuilding, working at his job, living his life as it was before. When you have got people who think nuclear meltdown is no big deal, how are you going to scare them out of town with a little water?
[Edited: I put the wrong name for Pam Sintes.]
look what the tide’s bringing in August 25, 2006
So I decided to get Katherine’s old room painted and the next day I find out Sophmom is coming to town for the Rising Tide Conference and she’s staying with me. This should be fun. (David: Do you even KNOW this person? Me: Yes, I met her at the Geek Dinner and she’s shorter than me and I could take her. David: Well, OK.)
I had to pick out the paint in a hurry, so I picked what I thought would be kind of a sand color. When David opened it he gave me the eyeball. “It’s orange.” “No, yellow, huh?” “No, caution yellow - but that’s OK because you’re Danguhblond.” It’s a strong color, but it covered the dark green that was on there before. With my grandfather’s fabulous fifties furniture, it looks kind of cool. We’ll just have to wait and see what Sophmom says about the experience. David delivered what I think is the new euphemism for “you screwed up, but it’s too late to do aything about it now,” “Well, it is what it is.”
I sarted classes this week and I wish they could have waited one more. The front part of my house was finished today and they will start on the termite room on Monday. I got them to move their operation to the very back so it looks likea normal house now.
I’ve changed into school mode on David and Michael. I had them hustling around here putting stuff in the attic, cleaning the patio, mopping floors, hanging artworks. It is really nice to have a couple of men around the house. Naomi, my mother-in-law, had a guy named Henry Mansion who worked at Dixie Art. He would come over here and fix things for her and pick things up that she needed. I have started back to school, which makes my tiime very tight, so I have had to be much more abrupt in my communications with them than I want to be. I loved our easy summertime way of working together. I was never in a hurry and I didn’t want to hurry David because he was doing such a great job. Today and yesterday, I hurried them to the point that Michael called me “Master.”
I’ve decided to have a party this Saturday night at my house for the Rising Tide participants and panelists. I want to help foster the sense of community that has been so apparent through this . . . oh, bullshit, I want to show off my new kitchen. I’m sure discussions will be started that people will want to follow up on, so we’ll have some wine and something substantial to nibble on. I have WiFi if anyone wants to blog from high atop beautiful Metairie Ridge, overlooking the scenic 17th Street Canal. I sent out a bunch of e-mails, but if I missed anyone let me know. I don’t think Timothy Ruppert is getting my e-mails.
We have a sizable number of people who have registered and we are expecting more at the door. I am expecting to hear some lively discussions, meet people and make some new connections. While getting the conference organized, I have read dozens of blogs I hadn’t seen before and I am very curious to meet the authors.
I think it’s going to be a giggle to have Sophmom staying here in the Yellow Caution Suite. It’s a good thing we are having the party here, it will keep the two of us off the streets.
the hidden cost of hidden treasure August 23, 2006
One of the fun things about law school is that it answers some of the burning questions that have been on my mind for some time. Like this one: when I find a hidden treasure, is that considered income for purposes of the IRS and, therefore, taxable? If you’re like me, you have probably spent a lot of time wondering what to do if you find Jean Lafitte’s sunken pirate chest full of jewels and gold pieces to the tune of $10 million. Unfortunately, the law treats you as if you had gone out and earned $10 million, and then spent it on a pirate chest full of jewels and gold. Taxable income. It doesn’t seem fair. It’s not like you ASKED to be swimming around in Lake Ponchartrain, bumped your leg on something hard, dove down through the murky water and found Jean Lafitte’s pirate chest.
It’s the “finding” of the treasure that is the problem. If you move into an old house and find $50,000 in cash under the floorboards or a diamond ring in the attic, same thing. Taxable income. On the other hand, if I go to Goodwill and pay $5 each for several large garbage bags of Mardi Gras beads (This is something that I have actually done numerous times. All you Yankee smart-As tell me what other city I can live in where I can go to Goodwill and buy not one but several large garbage bags full of Mardi Gras beads.) Anyway, so I take my bags of beads home and begin sorting them into colors to use on costumes and artwork.
As I’m sorting through them, I realize that one of the necklaces is made from large, heavy, black pearls. I take it to a jewelry appraiser and find out it’s worth $1 million. Is it taxable income? No. I didn’t FIND it, I BOUGHT it for $5 along with some other stuff. It’s not income until I sell it and get the cash or something else of value. So that’s more fair.
This reminds me of the guy a few years ago who bought a John McCready painting at a garage sale for some ridiculous amount. McCready paintings have been valued at over $100,000. I wonder if he kept it, sold it or lost it in the flood. It’s possible that in the years to come people will be digging in their gardens in New Orleans and come up with treasure. I’m sure there were many diamond rings, gold bracelets, sterling silver goblets and numerous artworks that were made out of durable material buried in that mud. Not to mention a gazillion plastic Mardi Gras necklaces.
For something that is so rare in real life, finding hidden treasure comes up a lot in law school. My first thought was, well, geez, don’t tell anyone you found it. “Hey, everyone look what I bought at a yard sale for $5 - a pirate chest full of jewels and gold coins!” Unfortunately, there is something else that came up in law school. Lying to the IRS about where you got those pieces of eight is called fraud.
Thanks to Prof. Lepow for the inspiration.
have a rotten birthday
A year ago today, Hurricane Katrina formed over the Bahamas as Tropical Depression 12. Her lifespan was only seven days, she died on August 30. In that short period of time, she brought enough destruction to the Gulf coast that it caused our lives to be changed forever.
I watched the second part of When the Levees Broke last night. I think this film was very well-done and should be seen by everyone. At the same time that Spike Lee shows how utterly screwed over we were, he also presents the New Orleans that we all know and love. It lives in the people. They’ll be back. Maybe that’s what our politicians are thinking - that they’ll come back no matter what because in other cities we’re are nobody. I’m sure that people of the diaspora who watched this were feeling pangs of homesickness. Some impressions:
Terence Blanchard’s very diginified mother breaking down at the sight of her ruined home. The bars on the windows and doors of that home.
How much do you love Garland Robinette? Angela, you were a fool to let that man go.
I was very impressed by Karen Carter. Is she as much of a real person as she appears? If so, I would much rather have her representing us in Washington than William Jefferson. Is she involved with his machine?
Why is it that I am horrified by images of dead humans, but I am horrified and reduced to tears by the image of the decayed body of a dog hanging from the bars on a window where it could not escape? Is it because a dog is helpless and innocent, while humans have free will?
Spike made it very easy for people to understand that it was the levees, not the hurricane, that did this to New Orleans. For that alone, we should all be very grateful.
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