…so now comes Men’s Health magazine with its listing of the 101 best places for a woman over 35 to find a man.

This is, actually, the most encouraging article about New Orleans we’ve seen in quite some time. True, we rank only 88 out of the 101 listed. But we made the list and, surprisingly, the city’s men get their highest marks (35) for education. That’s right — Edumacation. Book learnin’. Smarts. Using the absolute most important sex organ there is — the brain. Why, you can just drive around town and nearly see the gray matter virtually oozing out of us. Regular Einstein Bienvilles, all of us. Well, a lot of us anyway.

Disclosure — no, I am not available (I don’t hear a collective “awwwwww.”). However, TBK just told me she is encouraged by this article and if something ever happens to me, well — she’s staying put. Or she might move back to Southern California (her hometown of San Diego –10th on the list). Anyway, now I’ve got my hands full keeping her from checking out this list and imagining the possibilities.

Many thanks to Chicago’s Fuzzy Gerdes and San Francisco’s Violet Blue for pointing out this particular article, since Men’s Health isn’t on my list of regular reading.

Obviously.

I was grabbing some lunch from one of the many Mexican food joints to pop up around the city in the last two years. There seems to be a supporting crew of small, mobile business owners that follow devastation. Just weeks behind the morbid gypsy workers that watch th news for death and destruction in order to figure out where they’re going to live for the next few years. I’m not being judgmental about it, I just think its interesting.
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Not that any of this comes as a shock, given the unprecedented confusion, shock and utter incompetence in the wake of The Late Unpleasantness — but dang. We missed out of getting some real, honest-to-God furriners in here to help us out. It was great enough to see the National Guard folks from Oregon, but to have real Estonians and Greeks in here after the storm? Highly cool. Imagine all the impromptu parties that would have taken place post-K. We missed out — big-time.

I am always very, very skeptical of reports coming from groups that pretty much have a pre-set agenda. Not that I have anything against CREW, nor do I doubt their sincerity. But, like the Heritage Foundation, you kinda know where they’re coming from as soon as you see the name attached. Any group that combines the words “ethics” and “Washington” in its name (like the words “bayou” and “bagel”) appears to me to be a group that is trying to build a bicycle out of cement — maybe they have a good idea, but the application is out of place. I dunno. I feel the same way about groups that try to use patriotic-sounding names or words (”heritage”, f’rinstance) to lend credence to what they do.
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What I should have known:

It’s wise to carry around a small wad of one’s own toilet paper. This becomes evident towards, say, 4:30 PM. Also, some of that no-rinse hand sanitizer stuff is useful any time of day, since the facilities are not designed with your using those same hands to eat a Creole’s Original Stuffed Bread in mind.

What I already knew:

Catching at least one show on the Lagniappe Stage is mandatory for survival. An hour spent sitting down in the shade of horse box 2B is good for you.

What I’m delighted to come to know:

There is a found poem waiting to be assembled from all the identity declaration T-shirts running around.

I’m a Sure Thing
i am new orleans
I ROCK

One day I had a fairly lengthy discussion with the person who I thought was George Williams regarding Eddie Jordan’s performance at the Criminal Justice hearing in which he seemed to be under the influence of a pallet of valium. Humid City (Real Loki) is a well-known New Orleans blogger, I was talking about how great it was that he was there and what a fiasco Jordan is as D.A.

I was telling Karen how I ran into him and she told me I wasn’t talking to Loki, I was talking to ‘Fake Loki’. WTF? Fake Loki? Funny thing was, Fake Loki did not correct me that he wasn’t the one at the hearing. Maybe this happens fairly often and they have worked out a deal including a certain interchangeability. Now that I have seen them more, I don’t confuse them. However, we can’t stop calling them Real Loki and Fake Loki.

‘Fake Loki’ is really Jeff Holmes. Here is a photo of him and his wife (right), Andrea Garland. I successfully recognized Jeff at the HDLC hearing last week. He was there with his neighbors to make public comments at the podium regarding the problems some residents have with the ICI NOLA project in the Bywater.
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La, la, la…. I love riding my bike through the Marigny on days like this…. La, la, la…. Hey, Mrs. Leblanc…. Yes, bitch, I’m waving at you–even though you cussed me out last week at Big Daddy’s in front of half a dozen drag queens because you said I was ruining your video poker mojo…. La, la, la…. Yes, gutterpunks, I’m smiling at you–even though you ruined Flora’s years ago. Seriously, people: bathing is not a crime, but I’m moving patchouli to the Controlled Substance list…. La, la, la…. Aw, lookit that poor stray dog–is he wearing a collar? Maybe I should call the SPCA–but not the one in Jefferson Parish…. Hey, wait a minute! What the #$%@? What’s that thing up there, mounted on the telephone pole? Kit, enable macrozoom…. Now, go in closer…closer…. Well, I’ll be damned.

A surveillance camera. In my neighborhood. I’m not quite sure how to feel about that.

Frightened? Not exactly. As a predominantly residential neighborhood on the edge of a commercial district, the Marigny has always been a little dicey. I got used to that decades ago.

Violated? If it were mounted outside my bedroom window, and if New Orleans had the police force to monitor it, maybe. As it is, not so much.

Safer? As if. Having a camera in the neighborhood and having a working camera in the neighborhood are two completely different things.

My friends will tell you that my heart can bleed with the best of them. I mean, I’m all for programs to help the displaced, the needy and whomever — even if it’s their own damn fault they’re struggling. But I don’t think I’m being overly harsh when I say it’s time to start winding down this program instead of extending it.

We’re sorry you can’t come back home just yet. We know you’re displaced, in a strange town (though, after nearly two years, it shouldn’t be so strange anymore) and just trying to make it the best you can. I’m not saying you need to “just get over it,” since we’re all way past tired of hearing that whenever we leave Louisiana. And I’m not directing this at those of you still in FEMA trailers — you’ve got a tough rebuilding battle still going on.

But damn — you gotta work with what you got, y’know? Too many of us who came back had to find a new place to live or work (or both), struggle with finances, bankruptcy and a host of other difficulties. We’ve either managed to make it work or we’ve had to simply get the hell out and start over someplace else. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Sheesh.

rack·et
-noun
a dishonest scheme, trick, business, activity, etc.

Allstate Insurance is dropping a 30+ year customer from wind coverage because of a loophole. I am trying to think of an insurance company that hasn’t treated customers like shit in the past 2 years. Hmm. Can’t seem to think of one. http://blog.nola.com/times-picayune/2007/04/all.html

I am staring out of my office window at yellow-tinted smoke that is pouring out of a brink building off of canal by Claiborne. Shit, I can see flames leaping out of the roof. I am on the phone with 911 now. Will update with how long a response time takes.

http://neworleans.craigslist.org/bar/304428182.html