May 03 2008
This is the latest carpetbagger insult to our people here in New Orleans. Mass Culture seeks to have it’s way with us and turn our cultures and our city into another version of Disneyland.
Like I’ve stated before, I don’t perform for tourists… I just live my life.
Here is the reference article: http://www.nola.com/news/t-p/f…
Cross-posted from GentillyGirl. http://gentillygirl.com
Feb 28 2008
Okay, Our Bushite-wanna-be Mayor is trying to push another agenda on the folks who are trying to pull their lives together after the Federal Flood of New Orleans and the callous disregard given by all levels of Gov’mit when it comes to real people.
This is the latest insult/threat:
Crossposted from GentillyGirl
Feb 22 2008
Crossposted from GentillyGirl
“No-See-Um” Nagin, our transparent, or is that the invisible, Mayor took umbrage over the flap concerning his little play-time fun with “Do Nothing” Riley, our Chief of Police. He’s also bitchin’ because the media is against him and his sparkling record here in NOLA, causing Racists to come out of the woodwork and make him live in fear for himself and his family. He also talks about the “evil” Blogs, and how if he is approached wrongly he will cold cock the person(s) responsible.
Try to cold cock me you worthless piece of political trash, and I’ll sink my knee so deep in your genitals that you will sound like Minny Mouse for the rest of your life. That or I’ll stick a 7 inch pump somewhere (but you might like that, Bitch.). You always find a way to make yourself look so freakin’ silly, and by extension you soil the images of the folks here who are ACTUALLY doing the rebuilding. You are NOT an asset to New Orleans.
I was going to take this rant farther, but there are too many good NOLA Bloggers who have already weighed in on this poop:
I wonder if we Bloggers can get Restraining Orders against this congenital Repug lunatic?
Update: I missed these few comments from Nagin’s interview this morning:
“Nagin: I don’t know. I’ll probably settle down and get to the business of the recovery. I’ll probably go talk to an attorney and the FBI about hate crimes and all that good stuff, but I’ll be back to business.
Roberts: Have you received any direct threats?
Nagin: I’m not going to get into that. I’m a fairly high profile person and I’ve made some pretty hard decisions and it’s made some people angry. So it is what it is.”
So I guess that “No-See-Um” Ray doesn’t believe in Free Speech, the telling of the Truth or Civil Disobedience. It’s just sad… he should return to the world of cable TV and spare the rest of us anymore of his insanity.
Curtsey to the Swampwoman for filling me in.
OMG! Colbert has us on his On Notice board. Thanks Leigh! (I think…. Need to get the Rad Faeries to protect me.)
Feb 21 2008
Alright, Betts and I are racing to get our Federally Flooded house ready for us to return to. (Try paying a mortgage, and rent on what is basically a home that passes as a dumpster AND paying for contractors and the materials.) Material costs have gone up over 30% because the home building industry is going down the tubes due to the junk mortgage B/S. The Gulf Coast is the only place left for the home building industry, and they are fucking us royally.
Since we have to buy four bathrooms and three kitchens for the Trans Compound, we needed to get some lavatory faucets for our baths in the main house. It came in around $200 for the lavs. (I don’t buy junk.) What shocked me was that our kitchen sink stuff is running at $270. Sweet Zombie Jesus, they are just chunks of metal.
Our carpet company really helped us out for the two carpeted rooms in the house: Lowe’s wanted almost 250% more and we got better products. We also caught a sale on some area rugs that we need since the bulk of the house is done in Terrazo tile. (Wake up in the middle of the night needing to potty? Running across tile is torture. I want our tootsies to be warm.)
So I now present an essay/diatribe from last August concerning the insanity of our our consumer society that I witnessed after joining a buying club when it comes to potties:
(Crossposted from GentillyGirl
Feb 19 2008
Crossposted from GentillyGirl
Last week a 15-year old was murdered by a 14-year old in Oxnard, CA.. All of this was because the kid sometimes wore make-up, high heels and nail polish to school. The murderer is described as having a slight build and looking effeminate.
I wanted to write about this last week, but the tale brought up many issues from my Past… my teen years. Last night Betts and I talked for hours about that era in our lives, and finally I can start on this topic.
My teen years were a living Hell in SW Alabama. It didn’t help that my father was a Labor leader or that I had been raised to have my own viewpoint by my parents. Mom had just died, and my sibs and I had just spent the Summer in Houston with the aunts, uncles and our cousins being part of the South’s “Summer of Love”.
My hair was growing to my waist, puberty was hitting… I was one confused kid, ovaries and testicles operating, and my body looked femme (no boobs though). I was into music, literature, math, physics and history. I was a Gentle Freak who tutored kids, helped them along and worked full time as a fast-food manager. I bought my own car, paid room and board and lived an individual life. I was also scared shitless over anyone finding out about my other life.
I had been a school Quarterback: third string brought in for the first game of the season because the starter and the back-up were wiped out. I won the first three games of the season, and then quit because my body wasn’t large enough to face the defensive lines. (Dad insisted that I play sports, but he was the one that signed the paperwork to assign me as “male”.) That was never forgotten by the rednecks. I was also the Class Valedictorian.
Every month, I would carve out 3 or 4 days in which I didn’t have to show for work and no performances for our jazz-rock band. I’d pack and head to Panama City for a “Chelsea” weekend (my nom de plume back then). I’d book a hotel and just spend those days wandering around the place and just being myself. (Same as the Navy years later, but the location was Monterey)
The girl lived at least for a time every month.
Each and every day I had to live with oppression: it wasn’t about being “Gay”, but about being “Different”. The only reason I didn’t get bashed is because my mind and mouth were faster then that of the ogres that wanted to beat me to a pulp. I counted on others to speak out in support of me as friends.
And being beaten is a Hell-of-a-lot better than being executed, but it still wasn’t high on my list for life experiences.
Though my soul screams in pain for the slain 15 year old, my heart also aches for the effeminate boy who pulled the trigger. It’s obvious that Societal pressures created this action. Maybe he couldn’t deal with what is going on inside his psyche. Maybe he is Straight, but his appearance opened him up to all kinds of hassles over mis-identification. I don’t know.
Our Culture MUST GET OVER THIS CRAP! There are Gay boys, Lesbians, Trans folk and Queers. There are also Christians, Jews, Muslims, Pagans and atheists. There are men and women. Folks come in every shape, form and fashions. Same goes for skin color. We are all Human, and that’s the way it freakin’ is.
A young boy is facing many years in prison for a murder that came out of his conflicted sense of self (my interpretation), and another kid is dead. What a fucking damned waste.
When will we learn, and then just live?
What does it take to achieve a Human Culture?
My answer is to live and let live.
Feb 18 2008
Crossposted from GentillyGirl
So according to Dr. Morris, the networks in their crazed basketball frenzy keep referring to New Orleans as the “Soul of America”. Interesting considering how we have been treated post-Katrina/Rita/Federal Flood. Hell, I thought we weren’t worth the thought about the Future. (Thanks Bush Administration.)
We here in New Orleans are the Soul of America. It’s not about the French Quarter or the drinks on the streets, it’s about our belief in our Culture, our History and our Future. To live here, I mean truly LIVE here takes one to a place of acceptance and worship. What we have here cannot be imagined in most of the localities of America. We are our own.
I live this Reality day by day, and I thank the Goddess that She sent me home years ago. I had to be a part of this scenario… have to be a witness. Seattle: fucking Californication, Portland: being carved up as I type, San Francisco: god damned dot-com yuppies forced us out. I know… I was there for most of this shit.
All I have left is my hometown, and I’m not willing to let the bastards win, period. I’m like a creature backed into a corner, and it’s my turn to strike back. This is my home and my folks… I can’t back down.
For years I’ve fought for others, but this is what She wanted me to do: Fight for Her city. I see her statue on Decatur, and She tells me to fight. Therefore I fight.
New Orleans is a place that inspires. It also is a haven for those of us who no longer wish to face assimulation. We are ourselves, and what can be more realistic than that. We live… and love, and welcome those who are searching for a safe-place.
Our world here is something that cannot be sacrificed to corporate desires or the entertainment crowd. We live as we always have. Our world is an anachronism, and yet, we are America’s hope. This is the last place to be assimulated to the corporate vision of the Borg. We are ourselves: Sinn Fein.
Betty and I are sworn to return, and soon it shall be so, but we did so because we believe in the culture here. We could have gone anywhere after the Flood, but we both agreed that we must stand for this wonderful place. Where else can a real Human Being live in our dessicated land? (Not any city I know of.) How could we look in a mirror if we just walked away?
Everything, every one here… my soul screams for. This city has been home for my folks for almost three hundred years. Far be it from me to abandon familial ties. I must stand for New Orleans and the Coast. This is a labor of Love, not only for the Isle d’ Orleans, but for the country I gave some of my life for.
Wake up and understand: we are under attack from the elite 3%. Speak your voice and we can screw these fuckers to wall. Ya’s just gotta believe.
Feb 17 2008
This past Mardi Gras season found us with some city mooks that were actually trying to get sponsors to pony-up monies in order to hold the parades of Carnival. Here is my answer to these poops, my diatribe, my damned rant.
Crossposted from GentillyGirl.com
It seems that our “wonderful” invisible Mayor was trying to sell out OUR traditions to the Corporate Pigs.
Mr. Nagin, OUR city’s gov’ment ain’t no freakin’ company: it belongs to the citizens. You are not a fucking CEO, you are OUR servant. Same holds true for anyone who works for OUR city gov’ment. You work for US.
The Social Contract states that we help each other, that we care for each other, and that we arrive at a common scheme of governance. Those who are part of that governance structure obey US. Get that one you jerks?
Not one of you fuckers have the right to sell our culture, our souls, our lives to the highest bidder. We will not allow any company’s “Brand” on us. We are not serfs. And you and those misfits you have placed in City Hall are not overlords. (Remember the term “Civil Servants”?)
There will be no “Muses, sponsored by Monsanto” or “Proteus by Phillips”. Or “Comus provided by Chevrolet”.
Feb 17 2008
WHOO HOO! does cartwheels
We are moving back into our home at the end of this month. It will have been 30 months since Betts and I slept in our house. Things won’t be finished there when this happens, but we’ll have enough ready for us to be able to use the place. One bathroom will be finished, same goes for the kitchen, our offices and the bedroom.
I can’t wait to see how our construction crew deals with us being around 24/7, much less having to deal with the katz bouncing off the walls. (Thank goodness that they are painting this week: I don’t want the walls “textured” with cat fur.) And we also have to remember not to walk around in bras and panties. giggles Hell, we need curtains! I don’t wish to be seen in the office windows as a Hollywood Hustler second story display ad.
The first thing I’m cooking in the new kitchen will be two huge vats of seafood gumbo, followed by a vat of clam chowder. Betts will want some escargot, I just know it. Being back in that kitchen will be a salve to the last 30 months of Hell.
When the gameroom is finally finished I order the billiards table. This is becoming so much fun: getting to decorate the house our way, not the way the boys did before we bought the place. It’s a bright and airy space. And this time, it is all us and no one else’s. We get to make the changes that we wanted to do in the 8 short months we owned the place before the Flood hit. (Sadly, the yards are going to take a long time to fix up… they look like Godzilla and King Kong held a wrestling match there.)
Finally, we are going home.
Feb 16 2008
Alright, now for something completely different: I want to talk about sex toys.
Yes, sex toys, you know: dildos, cock rings, cuffs, etc.
My Gentle Readers know what was done to me many years ago. (I can’t “feel” because of those surgeries.) I can’t do plain Jane vanilla sex. For me, it has to be a mind game before I can feel anything. No “Wham, bam, thank you Ma’am” for this girl… I need a scenario, and that involves toys. And I like toy shops, just like any kid does.
So I was very happy to see that the 5th Circuit Court of Appeals struck down the State of Texas’ obscenity laws as pertains to toys. Here’s a snippet from the decision:
In its decision Tuesday, the appeals court cited Lawrence and Garner v. Texas, the U.S. Supreme Court’s 2003 opinion that struck down bans on consensual sex between gay couples.
“Just as in Lawrence, the state here wants to use its laws to enforce a public moral code by restricting private intimate conduct,” the appeals judges wrote. “The case is not about public sex. It is not about controlling commerce in sex. It is about controlling what people do in the privacy of their own homes because the state is morally opposed to a certain type of consensual private intimate conduct. This is an insufficient justification after Lawrence.”
Take that one you tight-assed moralistic fuckmooks. What you do or don’t do in your bedroom is your business… and there’s no fucking way in Hell that I will have my fantasies and pleasures regulated by your thoughts via a gov’mit machine. And by the way, this is not about morals, but mores (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mores), and I don’t have to abide by what others think on the subject of sex. I’m already a victim of those kinds of thought patterns as to what I am genetically and genitally. I can’t procreate due to the edicts of Societal norms, but I should be able to have a little fun in my freakin’ life. (These mooks have already ended my genetic line.)
I’m not a cross-wearer, and I do not wear sackcloth and ashes (so damn out of style). I don’t adhere to the Judeo-Christian-Islamic B/S, especially when it comes to the personal. I don’t have to because I’m a citizen of the United States, a country whose founding documents promises “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness”. My life is MINE, not the property of some deranged, wanna-be Middle Eastern fuck from the Third Millenium B.C.. (The Goddess is a different story: “All acts of Love are Holy in My eyes”.)
Pursuit of Happiness? Chase me around the house, “capture” me and take me to the bedroom. (No, I’m not going to let you in on the details of my fantasies.) Let’s play with each others’ bodies. Let’s be Human.
What is it with this poop about sex toys? I mean, don’t you want your partner to feel something? To engage in a loving fashion that brings good feelings and some thrills? To be Human? To make them “feel the Earth move…”?
Intimacy is everything, and skin-on-skin is important. We are social creatures and this is part of that. Without these kinds of activities, all we become are walking ‘puters with no feelings. And if that happens, we are no longer Human. And we become dangerous to each other.
So go down to your local sex toy merchant and make some purchases. Show the world that you have individual tastes and needs. Tell the religionistic nuts that they aren’t in control of OUR lives. Let ’em know that they can just fuck off and die. “Orgasms for Peace”.
And now I must go to the shop and pick up a few things. I have a “burning desire”.