Tag: New Orleans

“We Don’t Need No Stinking Corporate Sponsors”

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”.

I’m Getting A B’Day Present

Crossposted from GentillyGirl

 and the Wild, Wild Left.

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.  

Looking Back…

Here is another look back at the first few months post-Federal Flood here in New Orleans. At the time Betts and I were in SoCal, and the only way for me to “be with” Gentilly was to use an e-list.

This letter started a movement to build a community association, and ultimately it did. (Just not exactly my version of the dream.)

The Summer of Our Discontent

I’m going back and looking at the last few years, and like many others here, I’m bringing back past posts because they are still relevant.

This is from July of ’06:

This song has been driving me crazy all night… won’t go away:

GentillyGirl

LAND OF CONFUSION- Genesis 1977

“I must’ve dreamed a thousand dreams

Been haunted by a million screams

But I can hear the marching feet

They’re moving into the street.

Now did you read the news today

They say the danger’s gone away

But I can see the fire’s still alight

There burning into the night.

There’s too many men

Too many people

Making too many problems

And not much love to go round

Can’t you see

This is a land of confusion.

This is the world we live in

And these are the hands we’re given

Use them and let’s start trying

To make it a place worth living in.

Ooh Superman where are you now

When everything’s gone wrong somehow

The men of steel, the men of power

Are losing control by the hour.

This is the time

This is the place

When we look for the future

But there’s not much love to go round

Tell me why, this is a land of confusion.

This is the world we live in

And these are the hands we’re given

Use them and let’s start trying

To make it a place worth living in.

I remember long ago –

Ooh when the sun was shining

Yes and the stars were bright

We walked through the night

And the sound of your laughter

As I held you tight

So long ago –

I won’t be coming home tonight

My generation will put it right

We’re not just making promises

That we know, we’ll never keep.

Too many men

There’s too many people

Making too many problems

And not much love to go round

Just tell my why

This is a land of confusion.

Now this is the world we live in

And these are the hands we’re given

Use them and let’s start trying

To make it a place worth living in.

This is the world we live in

And these are the names we’re given

Stand up and let’s start showing

Just where our lives are going to.”

Don’t Give To The Red Cross

If you want to donate to the tornado survivors in Tennessee, Kentucky, Mississippi, Alabama and Arkansas, a better bet would be to make your donation to any charity other than the Red Cross. Other info can be found in this diary.

Because the Red Cross is actually an organization which, per a commenter under the above-mentioned diary,

is thoroughly politicized, the Bush hacks who aren’t competent enough for government work are corralled there.

There are too many worthy charities to waste money on that quasi-governmental mess.

by lgcap

 

Early Mardi Gras Super Tuesday Morning

I’m putting the creole and the red beans on to heat,

I’m diggin out my beads

I’m heading to the polls

and then I’m going to the Mardi Gras!

Laissez les bons temps rouler!

The Glitter! The Gold! The Glitz!

Photobucket

warning: high graphic content

Photobucket         Photobucket

Blue     Photobucket

Oooooh….shiny!

Politico Stole Two Elections

Note: Originally I’d planned on posting this Friday, but the library was closed due to bad weather. But it’s still current…

Below the fold is how Politico screwed Katrina/Rita/flood survivors in Louisiana and Mississippi, and their supporters, out of having a question relevant to their plight asked during last Wednesday’s and Thursday’s debates.

On Saturday, Jan. 26, on Daily Kos, I diaried a way, per colorofchange.org, to vote on Politico for the following debate question:

Two years after Katrina and Rita and Gulf Coast schools, hospitals, police stations, roads and flood protection still lie in ruins, keeping displaced residents from returning and communities from recovering. Will you support H.R. 4048, the Gulf Coast Civic Works Act, as President to rebuild community infrastructure and create job and training opportunities for residents?

 

“5, 10, 15, 20…”

“25, 30, 35, 40, 45, 50…

Ready or not, here I come!”

Remember the game?  Hide ‘n Seek?  Well, that’s how we began the game in “the Circle,” the name for our neighborhood.  We ended the game with the chant, “Ally ally outs in free.”

There have been, and will continue to be, essays written here and elsewhere about the devastation on America’s Gulf Coast. Eloquent, heart-felt songs and words written by and about American people whose lives will never been the same after Katrina hit and the levees failed.  Lives marked today by neglect; plain and simple neglect. Some say this neglect isn’t benign- but designed.  I’m not going to delve into that subject today; I just see what I see and it isn’t good.

What I see on the Gulf Coast is just one example of the neglect that so many Americans experience here in “the land of the free and the home of the brave.” Our veterans, our homeless, our children– far too many Americans suffer from neglect. Sadly, there are far too few of us with the time, energy, money and inclination to put them back together.  I’m one of those strapped Americans.

But, I’ve got an extra $5. In fact, I’ve got extra $10.  And today, I know where to send it.  NENA (The Lower Ninth Ward Neighborhood Empowerment Network Association). If you have an extra $5, $10, $15, $20… maybe you could send it on as well.  It might buy someone a meal.  It might buy them nails to repair what’s left of their home.  It might send them hope.

And then maybe we can whisper, “Ally ally outs in free.”

And imagine the day we can yell it as loud as we did when we were kids.

Thanks.

NENA’s priority needs are:

1.) Building Materials: nails to studs to wire.

2.) Money

3.) Gift Cards: Walmart, Lowes, Home Depot, Win Dixie Food Stores, Dollar General, Family Dollar  

Send to:

NENA

PO Box 3920

New Orleans, Louisiana 70177

504-373-6483
 

Weekend Marathon! “Among The Best Neighborhoods in the US”

In Can You Help? NOLA’s 9th Ward Needs Us! the excellent ikrisarus starts the big challenge:

A group of bloggers over at Docudharma have been actively writing about NOLA after Hurricane Katrina and we have decided to do a week-end marathon fund-raiser for the 9th Wards’ NENA (Neighborhood Empowerment Network Association)

The Lower Ninth Ward Neighborhood Empowerment Network Association (NENA) was established in the aftermath of Katrina to play a lead role in rebuilding New Orleans’ Lower 9th Ward.

Organized and controlled by residents of the Lower Ninth Ward, NENA addresses not only the immediate recovery needs created by the storm’s destruction, but also the institutional neglect and disinvestment that plagued the neighborhood long before Katrina. NENA works with current Lower Ninth Ward residents, displaced residents living in other parts of New Orleans, and the broader diaspora who want to return to the neighborhood.

Rise, America

Well, fuck, I guess he got bored dancing exclusively on the graves of New Yorkers.  Time to deface New Orleans once more before he goes!

          –Yours truly, reacting to Bush’s SOTU announcement to hold this year’s North American Summit in New Orleans

Normally, I’m not the kind to start a diary of any sort out this way, especially with an lead quote from myself.  But when Meteor Blades tells you to start a diary with it you don’t ask questions.  You just do it.  So I did.

This State of the Union is perhaps the most valuable of Bush’s reign.  Why?  Well, they’ve all been so entirely worthless, that the fact that this one has had a single lone happy side effect makes it by default the best.

It got people talking about what I thought they’d forgotten: the crime against humanity committed in New Orleans in the last days of August and first days of September 2005.

I’m not claiming any moral superiority.  I had moved on in my own thoughts as well.  Sure, when it would come up, I would feel disgust and outrage.  But between the business of living and the neverending tidal wave of horrors that have come since, it hasn’t been in the forefront of my thoughts.

I was, perhaps, just ahead of the curve.  I had what happened to New Orleans brought home to me not long ago.  And I wanted to share the experience with all of you.

Bush’s NOLA Surprise

In last year’s State of the Union address (which I’d taken to calling his State of Denial address for this very reason) Bush had never said a word about New Orleans, the Gulf Coast, or Katrina–as if he’d written off an entire area of the country. So I didn’t expect them to be mentioned Monday night.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when Bush first mentioned “armies of compassion” on the Gulf Coast, then announced that NOLA will be the venue of the next North American Summit with Canada and Mexico.

What is this–NOLA’s “not ready” to host a fall presidential debate, per the site selection commission–yet she can, per Bush, host a summit of three world leaders in April?  

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