Another developer for Tempest in Crescent City has written me. He did so in confidence, so I don’t feel comfortable posting his email, but here’s my response–slightly redacted–which pretty well sums up my feelings at this point:

Thanks for the note. I’m happy to hear that you spoke to a New Orleanian about the project…. And rest assured, I didn’t dismiss your project simply because it’s a game. Obviously, I’m a pretty avid gamer myself–otherwise, I never would’ve stumbled across the link at PlayThisThing.com.

Here’s my problem: I don’t believe you’ve fully and honestly addressed the “shock” factor of Tempest. You could’ve focused the plot on any number of disaster scenarios, real or imagined: fires in the Southwest, tornadoes in the Midwest, an earthquake in San Francisco, etc. I’m guessing you chose Hurricane Katrina because it’s known to students and because it’s emotionally and politically charged.

Which is fine, but many New Orleanians–myself included–are tired of Katrina being used to foment race/class conflict and for other political ends. We just want our city, homes, lives back. You’ve appropriated the disaster for your own purposes, with little obvious benefit to the people who’ve actually suffered from the disaster. (FYI, if you were intending to use it to ease the stress of school children in New Orleans, you’re probably a couple of years too late.)

I hate to sound essentialist or parochial, but here’s the fact of the matter: for the past three years or so, we’ve had non-locals giving us advice–mostly unsolicited. What we’re doing wrong. What we ought to be doing. How we ought to feel. They don’t speak with us so much as at us. Their hearts may be in the right place, but their words are often patronizing and very, very offensive. Whether you like it or not, your team and this game have fallen into exactly the same trap.

So my suggestion to you–and can take it for what it’s worth, but bear in mind, I have the pleasure of negotiating these issues every day–is don’t worry about the New Orleans market, because you’re probably pretty doomed on that front. If nothing else, your identity as a non-New Orleanian–to say nothing of your race/class identity, about which I know nothing (beyond a pretty accurate Google Image search)–will prevent you from being taken seriously by many here. Although a lot of people have moved on from the disaster, Katrina is still a HIGHLY volatile issue, and the mere fact that you’ve made it a game will render it offensive to most. Add to that the fact that you’ve done little on-the-ground outreach here in New Orleans, and you sink another few inches.

I don’t speak for all New Orleanians. I can only guess at what they’d say. But based on my experience of the city and its communities and outreach efforts and everything else, I can pretty much guarantee that the cards are stacked against you.

Your target demo, as I’ve said, may be more comfortable with the game, but if I were you, I’d use this for the kids in your own neighborhood who aren’t weighed down by the baggage of homes, lives, and family members lost to a sudden, violent, unstoppable meteorological event–one that, given climate trends, is likely to re-occur any summer now.

Am I way off base?

2337-39 Piety St. Property on the Oct. 20th NCDC agenda.

As many of you know, I serve as the Dist. B representative for the Neighborhood Conservation District Review Committee. I hestitate to write about it here because it always seems like a long story. Since the last time I wrote, we adopted our new rules and have elected a new Chair and Co-Chair. Ed Horan doesn’t really like being Chair because he is so busy but he does a bang-up job and we really like him a whole lot in the role. He can pronounce the street names and does a very good job of following protocols. He’s always sure to ask, “What is the pleasure of the committee?” so that we stay on track and get down to voting rather than getting sucked up in too much discussion. We really appreciate his work as Chair.

Last Monday, we covered 122 properties in three hours. We were totally exhausted and had to leave some properties from next time. Members Marty Rowland and Roz Peychaud suggested that we do a global motion for demolition for the remaining properties on our agenda before adjourning, but this makes no sense since the properties are listed alphabetically and completely unrelated, it was a sign of fatigue. So Helen and I motioned to stop the meeting and defer the rest of the properties until next time. There is hardly ever a reason to do a global vote on properties. Global motions to demolish are merely a sign of us having had enough for one day.

Preparing for the NCDC meetings takes a lot of time because our agendas are very large. Most of the properties are clearly damaged but we have been running into about 30% of them which are marginal and require a site visit to be sure of the damage and to see the effect that their demolition will have on the surrounding properties. It’s actually very enlightening to go out and see them in person.

I took time out from studying Sunday to do some site visits with a fellow committee member. We visited a handful of properties some of which were not already documented by Karen Gadbois at Squandered Heritage nor the Preservation Resource Center.

We found only a couple properties which were in great shape and not worthy of the Imminent Health Threat reasons for demolition. By talking to neighbors, we located one owner who did not know her property was on the City’s list. Her husband recently passed and she was glad to know about the meeting on October 20th. If we can save one or two people a whole lot of money who can renovate instead of start from scratch, it’s worth sacrificing our Sunday morning sleep-in.

I find that we always learn something new too. We stumbled upon this strange construction method at the property at 1632-34 N. Claiborne Ave. It was used at the base for plaster work done in the interior walls of the home, we could see it because the weatherboards were gone in some areas.

I had never seen it before. The overpass area across from this area is rich with midden in the immediate area but these shells are not broken like midden, suggesting a deliberate and earlier use of the material. We tried to pull a chunk out but it’s about 2 ft. deep and unforgiving. I asked Willie White about it and he said this;

” It dates from the 1880’s when the building code specified this procedure to keep rats out of houses. Not very common to find this any more and kind of unusual that it contained so many reef shells, as I have seen it many times to include just plaster or plaster and gravel aggregate. ”

Between this little learning discovery about early building codes/materials which I might never have seen, and being able to notify an elderly widow about the City’s plan to start demolishing her well-kept property, it was a very good day to be out in the field which is why I love serving on the committee, it’s very rewarding and meaningful work.

Sometimes we lose some valuable structures, even when we follow the process of historical review. This one is really neat, historically significant. It was voted down by a margin last Monday.

It’s structurally sound, the awning looks bad as well as the weeds but it could be refurbished. It’s a very cool piece of architecture and it’s on a corner lot, which would make for a nasty overgrown lot which no one will maintain if it is demolished. Surely, nothing will be gained by that. It may have been a NORA property, if so, it should have been taken back by NORA and put back on the ‘market’. Back in the day, they overbuilt properties, they didn’t cut corners to save money like they do in new construction. Thus, due to it’s architectural significance, as an increasingly diminishing number of New Orleans’ corner stores, every effort should be taken to place it in the hands of someone who can possibly save it. If it were to continue to lag and become a threat to neighbors, I could see demolishing it then, but right now, it’s solid.

I believe in giving some of these unique buildings more time. There are plenty of stuctures in worse shape which need to be demolished right now, this is not one of them. Especially since it is a city initiated demo with no plans for redevelopment. Fellow writer, Daneeta Loretta, pointed out some great old landmarks in her post of lost structures, we should learn from our past mistakes.

It’s a part-time job to be sure the proper procedures are followed from the City to the NCDC so that we don’t make any errors by accidentally demolishing homes which are in great shape or in which the proper notification wasn’t done by the city or its contractors and that homes in the process of renovation aren’t accidentally demolished. I try to remain clear headed about all this but at times, it really is madness.

Gnarled Tree at Palmer Park from Alex Castro's Flickr Photostream

Yeah! We found another bus that goes from near ma maama’s* on the West Bank, over the Crescent City Connection and to Canal Street in just 22 minutes. I love the Algiers Ferry, but it takes too damn long to get to it. 

The Gen. Meyer bus (102) lets off just one block away from the downtown branch of the New Orleans Public Library. I love this branch of the library. There is a great little patio on the third floor (smoke ‘em if you have ‘em) where you can take books and mags to read when the weather is good. Next to the patio entrance is a fascinating display of turn-of-the-century mug shots. I stared into the eyes of these people and tried to imagine what they were thinking. Some were scared shitless. But a few looked satisfied, contented. I made up the stories in my head. 

The magazine section at the NOPL sports anything from “The Atlantic Monthly” to “Vogue.” This is a really good way to spend my tax dollars, thank you very much. We spent two hours in there before meeting Melissa in Palmer Park for the free outdoor concert by the Louisiana Philharmonic.

We waited by the side of the stage for all of our party to show up. I saw a shiny bald head and said to Melissa: “I know that guy.” “He’s hot,” she said. “But he lives in Dallas.” I didn’t realize it was Nagin until his minders were ushering him away. I wonder if they were going to take public transportation.

Palmer Park is a weird one. A few weeks ago, my maama was chaffeuring us around, and we passed by Palmer Park. She crossed herself and told us to never go there. It was dangerous, she said. Gangs. Well, I did find an article about how the gangs were ruling the park, but the park also hosts a monthly Artist Market sponsored by the Arts Council, so you be the judge.

I have become fascinated by the names of things here. Where does Palmer Park get its name from? I googled and googled and could only come up with Reverend Benjamin Morgan Palmer. Now this guy was a pretty nasty piece of work and used his pulpit to proclaim that slavery was the will of God, so I can’t really figure out why there is a park named after him in this city of all places. The park had originally been called Hamilton Park, but the name was changed in 1902. Sometimes google does not give the full story, so I am going to ask at the library the next time I am there.

After the concert, Melissa dropped us off for the bus on Elk and Canal. We had an hour wait, and I was a little nervous. I kept hearing a cacophony of voices in my head saying that this was not a great place for a couple of alabaster people to be hanging around after dark. But it was fine.

And, here’s the rub: I want to be careful. I don’t want to be arrogant or brazen or disrespectful to anyone. But I feel that I should be able to go anywhere I want to in this city at any time of the day or night. Isn’t that freedom? People in this city are more afraid of what other Americans might do to them than they are by what any terrorist might do. So, why exactly are we spending 341 million dollars a day** on making people in Iraq free? I want to be free too. 

*We are gonna have to leave ma maama’s soon as we are starting to bother her landlord. Who wants to put us up next? Email me.

**This, by the way, is a very bad way to spend my tax dollars…bad, capitalism, bad.

photo: Patrick Jackson

We have two meetings today, and I am skeptical. One is in da Parish and the other is up at UNO. We board the Algiers Local at 8:30 a.m. Twenty minutes to the Ferry and across to downtown. Then it’s a short walk to Rampart St. to catch the St. Claude bus. On the way, we pass by Canal Place. Shitty music (not even good music, ya’ll, this is the birthplace of Jazz) is blasting from the outdoor speakers. Brands like Chanel and Saks have window displays that show me exactly what I can’t afford to buy. I have to remind myself that I have opted out of consumerism else I might give up my Quest and start selling crack on the street so that I can buy me a Hummer.

The bus is coming, so we sprint to the stop in the heat and humidity. I stink already, and my dress is sticking to my butt crack. What bus is it? Nobody knows because there is a political ad on the display that normally tells you which bus it is. Information is passed down the line that it’s the Jackson bus. We wait around the corner in the shade.

A fluffy girl in pink crocs is relaying a story into her cell. She was waiting for the Street Car when a group of white boys approached her and asked if she had change for a twenty. They were participating in some kind of race that involved them taking public transport. They had T-Shirts and all. She didn’t have change for a twenty. Who does? The boys asked her how much she had. Eight singles. They took the eight singles and gave her the $20 bill. Now I’m glad that the fluffy girl in the pink crocs made $12, but I’m kinda indignant that public transportation is a game for these people.

Finally, the St. Claude bus comes and we ride all the way up to the Auto Zone on St. Claude and Aycock where my sister’s man picks us up to take us to our appointment. It’s 11:05. We left ma maaama’s on the West Bank 2.5 hours ago.

After our appointment, my sister’s man drops us off: “Stand by these two benches. That’s where the bus stops.” I guess the budget for signposting went to pay for those crime cameras. Don’t bother going onto the RTA Website for the maps. They are abysmal and do not indicate where the buses actually stop. Don’t bother running around with your baby on your hip and carrying your shopping trying to find a pay phone to call the RTA to find out where the stops are. Their “ride line” is an answering machine promising to call you back, but they never do.

Our next meeting is at UNO. We get the St. Claude bus and have a chat with the bus driver while she’s waiting to take off. She tells us that there is a free white bus that goes further into Chalmette. I chuckle at the irony of her description. Finding out about this bus will be another project.

At Elysian Fields we transfer to the bus going to UNO, and the bus driver tells us that the stop is in front of the beauty parlor. We look around for it, but it’s not sign posted. I ask a neighborhood lady where the bus goes from. “Right there in front of the beauty parlor. Stand right there, baby.” So we wait there in front of the beauty parlor while she calls her friend on the cell and tells her the story about the two alabaster people in funny shoes trying to get the bus from her block.

We have already spent 3.5 hours on public transport, and we have only done one of our meetings. I think every politician and RTA employee (and their families) should have to take public transportation for a month. Just to see what it’s like. I know that New Orleans is no London, but this city does aspire to be a world class city. In London, all classes of people rely on public transport: students, working class, unemployed, professionals. But, unless you live and work on a street car line, it’s just a grind here.

To wit: a few weeks ago, we waited 30 minutes for the Carrollton bus with a lovely lady who explained to us how she had a four hour a day commute on public transport from Metarie to her job at Walgreens uptown. Now I ask you: is that freedom? PJ says he can sum up American Freedom in one word: CAR.

I overheard another lady talking about how her boss got pissed off at her because she had to leave work ON TIME so that she could catch the bus to pick up her baby. “If I miss the bus,” she said “I won’t get home ’til after eight, and I don’t want to be out after dark with my baby.” I bet her boss had a car.

People should be rewarded for taking public transportation with great public transportation facilities. They are doing their bit for the environment and traffic and society. Like a lot of other things in New Orleans, public transport seems like it is DESIGNED to keep the poor in their place. How can you possibly have any job choice (read FREEDOM) if you have to spend four hours on the bus? How can you have good quality of life if you have to spend four hours on the bus. Wake up America: all this freedom that Bush and McCain and Palin are talking about you losing if you don’t elect them back into office? Ain’t dere no more. You are not free.

P.S. If you are tempted to sing that old chestnut “because of Katrina,” don’t. It’s just an excuse. Public transportation sucked before Katrina. At least now there are some new buses in the system thanks to donations from other cities that felt sorry for our asses.

Our friends at the Ministry of Homeland “Security” have been missing it all along. While FEMA tries to “help” our latest hurricane victims on our own coast and in Teck-siss (it’s pronounced that way. I grew up there. I know), the umbrella agency has been missing the sleeper cells in our own midst.

They are in the restaurants on Magazine St. It is the staff. They are asleep. Zzzzzzzzzz. Right there in front of you. The ones trying to hold their heads up while dozing in front of TVs showing Divorce Court and other video pablum until there is an Actual Customer.

This isn’t to criticize my own staff, which is excellent and professional, or anyone else’s. But the retail activity on Magazine St. over the past week has been, um — what’s the word? Lethargic? Glacial? I think it’s a case of Hurricane Hangover — where most folks blew their financial wads in evacuation and won’t get back in balance until the first of the month or so. Wall Street’s problems don’t help this week either. At any rate, most places (including the Saints yesterday, apparently) are watching their employees nod off left and right. I think the cooler weather will help everything.

I’m getting those political phone calls these days — the ones where you either get a pre-recorded message from some politico or (on a more personal note) a real, live person wanting to outline their candidate’s total supremacy. I used to have a two-word response to these kinds of calls, but now I just hang up. I used to say, “well, if they call me, they’re guaranteed not to get my vote.” But pretty much everyone seems to be doing it these days.

Has anyone noticed how the “Jefferson For Congress” signs seem to be hanging in the same place(s) as the “Cannizzaro (sp) For DA” signs? It’s happening too often around my Irish Channel neighborhood to be mere coincidence. If I was running for DA, I’m not sure I’d want my name next to that of a federally indicted public official.

I’m just sayin’

Hi, Houston:

I’m sure you’re aware of Hurricane Ike by now. I know it took the news outlets a while pick it up, what with that fascinating story about lipstick and a goat or something taking up front-page real estate, but now that journalists have heard the words “certain death”, it’s pretty much all Ike, all the time.

Over the past two days, I’ve spoken to a few of you who aren’t especially worried–and to be fair, you’re probably way better prepared for Ike than New Orleans was for Katrina. For one, you’re on higher ground, and for two, your mayor isn’t retarded. As far as I can tell, anyway.

That said, I also understand that you guys haven’t been through anything this severe in, like, 20 years, so I’d just like to point something out:

Do you see where New Orleans is on that image? Right below Lake Pontchartrain, next to the Louisiana/Mississippi border? Where that pretty blue radar imagery is hovering? Well, that’s the light stuff, and lemme tell you: IT IS NO PICNIC. In all seriousness: IT IS MAJORLY FUCKED UP OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW. And y’all are going to get more than the pretty blue stuff.

I’m not trying to be alarmist, I’m not trying to amp up the fear factor, but I’m concerned–especially because you all were so considerate and generous and giving when we found ourselves in need just three years ago. I know I speak for all New Orleanians when I say that we would love the chance to return the favor (despite the dumbass, glib comments from our dumbass, glib mayor), but please don’t head our way now. Think San Antonio, Austin, El Paso–anyplace west. Or stock up on non-perishable items, bring the pets and potted plants inside, and hunker down at your place. Either way, please take it seriously, and be prepared for a nasty 24 hours.

When all this is over, it’s our turn to take you guys out for drinks. We at least owe you that.

Good luck, and we’ll see you soon!

xoxo/Richard

I am tired. That’s all I have to say. I pre-packed on Friday, packed up the last of my stuff before leaving town very early Saturday and got my niece (who attends school at Tulane) and the cats and we all headed out for our evacuation destination. A couple people I know stayed behind waiting for the mandatory call to leave.

On Sunday my neighbor called, he was on the road and needed a room and he had his two labs in tow, which I was happy to hear. He had to move his fleet of limos to safety before he could get out since he is a chauffeur for the rich and glamourous in New Orleans. Luckily, we had rooms at the pet-friendly Drury Lodge. So I saved him one and we got them unloaded.

We met a lot of nice people in our hotel and I must thank Mike Zickmund from WWLtv and his charming wife, Lisa. Their son drove by our properties while we were stuck far away. Their son works for Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s Office so we were so happy to hear that things were fine and we knew in advance that we were one of the first people with power.

Cassie and I got back Thursday afternoon and worked on cleaning up a whole lot of tree branches and raking our yard and in front of Nick and Josh’s house too. At first they were like, “let the landlord do it.” But I put my foot down because their landlord is in his 60’s and I made them get on the job of cleaning up their yard.

It’s been a lot of work with a whole lot of lethargy in between. Just like Richard said, it’s a roller coaster and the sitting around waiting to come back and eating and watching television is a part of it I did my best to avoid. I found a park and ran most days did some schoolwork but was still deadly bored by 5pm everyday.

I am not in the mood to do this all over again next week but Cassie and I laughed when I dropped her off at Tulane today . . . see you Thursday. I know we’d both just rather stay if Ike makes a visit near here but I mostly worry about not having A/C for my little cat Ted, he’s kinda fragile. However, if we have to do it, I can say, we have the drill down. We didn’t get stuck in traffic and we had a nice place to stay and no real damage. It was nice to have our neighbor with us too.

Whew. Today I am enjoying a day to myself and anxious to get back in the groove. I can’t believe that small event sucked a whole week of productivity out of us! I have been wanting to post but I have had kinda slow internet and loading photos just didn’t sound like any fun. Nick and Josh went to Atlanta for their evacucation. They spent the first days of Katrina in the Superdome but now they have a car but I know money is an issue for them but I was just happy they were able to leave and we were all really happy to see each other again once we got back! They were a big help in cleaning up.

The last couple of days have been busy, to say the least, and I’ve left the laptop at the shop. The one we’ve had there has crapped out and we haven’t had any Internet service at the house until today. It’s useless for me to try to post from the shop, since I get all diverted and can’t focus. It’s much easier at home. Forgive me if the post is a bit all over the road, but a lot has happened in the wake of the storm.

We took Alex home to Mid-City this evening. This was an area that was heavily flooded by Katrina (and where we used to live), but this evening all (or most) of the lights appear on and things are getting back to normal. That’s great, since the area has come such a long way since Katrina and was one of the big question marks for Gustav. We truly do love Mid-City.

I cried briefly this morning. I’m not usually prone to that but….
Those of you who know the restaurant know that our biggest seller is our redfish sammich. One of the reasons for this is that it’s made with ciabatta bread we get from La Boulangerie up Magazine St. This bakery is owned by a Frenchman named Dominique (we met his parents during a catering gig a few months back) and we’ve been consistent customers nearly since we opened. Dominique closed his shop before the storm, posting a sign in the window, and I just assumed he wouldn’t be back until this weekend or so. We had plenty of fish in-house and we’ve just been serving it on regular hamburger buns or on whatever cheapass French bread we could find. I called La Boulangerie Tuesday and left a message for Dominique to call whenever they got up and running again. This morning, Dominique appears about 9:30ish at the restaurant with 15 loaves of this wonderful ciabatta. Needless to say, I was beyond touched and, I guess, I could have kissed him (him being all Gallic and all). But suffice to say I ordered MORE for pickup tomorrow. Sweet.

This is why I do as much business locally as I can. Dominique goes out of his way to help us without being asked. Our crawfish guy (David from Lafitte) shows up religiously — no matter how little I happen to buy from him. The wonderful folks at Rouses have pushed to re-open and are pretty well stocked. Our main supplier (F. Christiana) has come back on line and already made a major delivery. The BreauxMart on Magazine is blowing and going. Where is Wal-Mart? Where is Sam’s? They’re still closed — as are most of the big national chain joints. Bite me.

Speaking of bite me — it’s been pretty easy to tell who stayed during the storm and who evacuated. Those who stayed have been patient and shown a good sense of humor as we’ve come back up to speed this week. They’re just glad to have someplace to go that has power and a/c and is serving a semblance of a normal menu. A lot of them don’t have power at home yet, so they’re pretty much just happy to show up. But a lot of those who bugged out are just coming back — and they expect (they sometimes DEMAND) that things be just like they were a week ago, before the storm kinda threw everything out of whack for awhile.

I threw one of them out of the restaurant yesterday. We were crazy busy for breakfast and, for the most part, folks were understanding that we were short of employees and inventory. We were the first place on Magazine to re-open after Gustav passed and we remain one of the very few with any breakfast at all. It indeed took a long time to fill this woman’s (to-go) order. The to-go folks are automatically bumped to the back when we have a house full of sit-down customers. But this woman pissed and moaned and bitched and griped and got on everyone’s nerves until she finally got her order and TBK comped it for taking so long. She continued to bitch about the service and I went out and apoligized and she kept griping so I finally told her that if she wasn’t happy she could go to the freaking McDonald’s on St. Charles (which hasn’t reopened yet). She continued bitching and I told her just get out. Get out of my place and go tell her friends who are just like her that I don’t want them in my restaurant and I don’t want her in my place again. Kristen also yelled something as she was slinking away. It was great. The customer is always right until they’re an asshole. Then they’re just an asshole.

I think we’re each put on earth to do one of three things: 1) to make someone smile, 2) to make someone think or 3) to help someone who needs help. If we’re lucky, we can accomplish all three. I’ve been extremely fortunate in the past week to see all those traits in a lot of wonderful people. It’s just a shame some folks don’t get it — and, frankly, I don’t want them in my place of business no matter how green their money is.

I’m going to the Saints game Sunday! Rae was nice enough to invite me and we should be staffed up enough for me to take a few hours off.

I can’t say enough about TBK and Stu and Kristen and all their work this week. We’re truly a family operation. Milo and Alex and Melanie and Matt are right in there with us and Jessica’s early return was a tremendous boost. We should be about back to full staff by Sunday.

Sleep now. There’s a lot to wake up for tomorrow.

Things are slowly returning to normal. A few more places are open today, but the lack of electric power and support services is keeping a lid on complete return to the day-to-day. We were able to stay open until about 2:30 this afternoon until we ran short of some basics, but we’re slowly bringing to larder back up to semi-normal. Tomorrow should be more or less a normal day, including the anticipated BEER DELIVERY.

All of us at the shop kinda reached critical mass today. The shortage of manpower and inventory had us all seriously on edge. But after we closed and cleaned up, I was able to go home and get a nap for an hour or so and it was a big help. We’ve all gotten about a half-day off to recharge.

I was able to go over to the Westbank today and get some meat and other stuff from out main supplier (F. Christiana) in Marrero. But they’re a generator-powered island in an ocean of No Electricity. I drove from the CCC to Marrero, from the river to Lapalco and down Manhattan and up de Gaulle and I tell ya — there was NO power. That’s a big area, and no one can say when they’ll get the juice back. The poor bastids are being told they can’t even take a shower or a dump in their own dark house because of massive sewage problems linked to the lack of power.

On the other hand, there are those of us in New Orleans. While power remains a problem in many areas, we still have water. And more places are opening up, so literally each hour brings another place to go, another hangout recovered and, for far too many, another place to see and be seen. We’ve got this set of hipster types who talk about their tough 12 or 24 hours without electricity. Or those who don’t have power at their house but are still able to go to a lighted place to drink heavy and complain about the limited menus or bitch that their cable service isn’t operating. I mean, they say it could be DAYS before Whole Foods opens! I couldn’t get ANYONE to answer at Cox Cable!

Bullshit. Don’t tell me your times are tough when you’re standing in line to buy a fifth of Jim Beam and a 12-pack of Bud and a giant bag of Cheetos to take home to your house that’s gonna be in the dark for another day or so. I’m not listening to your sob story while you sit at an outside table at Byblos or ogle sorority chicks at The Bulldog.

Lemme tell ya — we got off nice and freaking easy here in New Orleans. I don’t want to hear some whelp griping when there are entire families stuck out on the road and not knowing when they can return. We have friends who are back in their house in Ascension Parish but are being told it will be weeks before they get electricity. Down in Terrebonne, there is no power, water or sewage as far as the eye can see from a tall cypress tree — and won’t be in the forseeable future.

That’s tough times –and this time there’s no media circus following you and no Al Sharpton or some other self-appointed Messiah banging a drum to bring help. You just gotta rely on yourself, your family and friends, suck it up and push ahead when and how you can.

Things get better — they really do.

Sitting in the truck last night and listening to WWL radio, they were finally able to get a live interview with the sheriff of Terrebonne Parish (Houma). This is a lovely little city that straddles a bayou about 50 miles southwest of New Orleans. It’s home to bluesman Tab Benoit and a host of other tremendously nice people who are former customers and remain good friends.

Terrebonne Parish was devastated by Hurricane Gustav. The sheriff says there is no power, no sewage, no water supply, no gasoline, no nothing — much like or in many ways worse than New Orleans afte Katrina. Houma is not a spot in the road — it’s home to thousands who are either stuck there or who are on the road and being told they won’t be allowed back in for at least another ten days or so. Anyone attempting to return will be stopped and turned around. The place simply cannot support what few have remained, much less anyone who tries to come back.

Pray for these wonderful people and their parish. More than that, do what you can to help them. Please.