Prosthetically Hip

you guys with the illegal fireworks… who dat!

February 9, 2010 9:14am

M: ya, after the game we all poured into our cars and drove home to shoot off some fire works
we didn’t want to walk the extra half-block to go into the big open field, so we decided that it would be fine to shoot them off in the neutral ground right under the power lines
P is lighting the fuse for one of the shells and I run into the street to stop the approaching car
D: oh lord
M: right as he lights it, I realize that this car I’m stopping is a cop
the cop gets on his bull horn and says “hey. hey you. you guys with the illegal fireworks… who dat!”
and drove off
I *love* this city

I got oranges and bananas…

January 29, 2010 1:14pm

My old landlord Louis Maistros directed me to this video on Mr. Okra – a man I dare say is a New Orleans institution.

Well, maybe not New Orleans, but definitely a Quarter / Marigny / Bywater / 9th Ward institution. He’s like the ice cream man, but nowhere near as annoying or tooth-rotting. I love hearing him drive around the area, selling fresh foods with his unmistakable and unique cadence.

And an extra little touch on the video – the closing song is the title track from New Orleans Jazz Vipers’ album “Hope You’re Comin’ Back“. The oldest daughter of the guitarist will “sing” along with Mr. Okra if she hears him driving down the street, or will sing with you if you start mimicking him.

It’s insanely cute.

Now, repeat after me: I got oranges and bananas …

An Open Letter to Roger Goodell

January 28, 2010 2:16pm

The following email was forwarded to me by my father. It was written by a good friend of his and attorney (we won’t hold that against him) Chip Saunders:

——– Original Message ——–
Subject: Who Dat
Date: Thu, 28 Jan 2010 12:21:42 -0600
From: John Saunders <audubon253 @cox.net>
To: <roger.Goodell2@nfl.net>

Commissioner Goodell, I hear the NFL thinks it owns the rights to the phrase Who Dat, as well as any use of the ubiquitous Fleur-de-lis:

Let’s begin with the fleur-de-lis, sir. It is, quite literally, an iconic representation of the Lily flower, and it has been in existence in French monarchy since at least the 12th century. At that time it became the heraldic emblem of the Capetian Kings of France, who claimed it was initially adopted at the time of the Frankish King Clovis 1 in 493. Since then the fleur-de-lis has been incorporated into the coat of arms or the flags of many European countries, including Spain, Luxembourg and the House of Bourbon. It has ALSO been used worldwide, appeared on postage stamps and, in North America, it has long been associated with areas settled by the French, such as Quebec, Louisville, St. Louis, Louisville and – yes sir – Louisiana, of which I presume you are aware New Orleans is a part.

When the Saints came into existence in 1967, it was normal and natural that the creators would want to adopt a symbol representative of that heritage. What could be more natural than the fleur-de-lis? It’s was and still is virtually everywhere throughout the region (hence my use of the word ubiquitous). But I said adopt, not co-opt. No one has a right to or ownership of the fleur-de-lis and I dare say anyone foolish enough to attempt to register it as a trademark, trade name, service mark or any other “protected” icon would be summarily laughed back into the bayou. And if, for argument’s sake anyone could own the word or the icon, what next? Will the NFL also claim, by virtue of the awarding of the franchise in 1967, that the name New Orleans is also the property of the NFL, issuing cease and desist orders to anyone marketing anything with those words in the colors old gold and black?

No, Mr. Commissioner, it’s time for you to have a come-to-Jesus-talk with your legal counsel and impress upon them the folly of claiming any rights of any kind in our beloved and historic symbol, the fleur-de-lis. Should the NFL try to pursue this course, I dare say you will find that there’s as much fight in Louisianans in general as there is in our wonderful Saints. You will think you’re in a real dogfight, sir.

Then let’s look at Who Dat. I could as easily ask you “Who Dat say dey gonna take our phrase? Who Dat? Who Dat?” Do you also claim ownership to the word Crunk, merely because it is now directly and principally associated with that fervor that breaks out in the Dome at every NFL game? Will all the fans have to remain in their seats and resist boogieing to the sounds, lest they infringe on some right the NFL thinks it has acquired? Tell that to the Ying Yang Twins and see how far you get.

Who Dat has been used in this region, in various settings and for various reasons, as far back as the 19th century. Though many claim something to do with its creation, it was being used by a regional high school in the 1970’s, repeated in college football settings thereafter, and was ultimately linked to the Saints in the early 80’s. If the NFL could establish any right in the phrase – which I suggest it cannot do – the NFL has nevertheless been silent for over 25 years while the phrase has been repeatedly used by any and all, in relation to the Saints as well as in relation to things that have absolutely nothing to do with the Saints. Again, Mr. Commissioner, to claim any proprietary right in the term is foolhardy. Next thing, you’ll be wanting everyone to pay a license fee to ask “Where Y’at?” or “How’s ya mama ‘n ‘em?”

Commissioner Goodell, many flags have flown over our city, and many nationalities have flourished here. But all who would assume management of our town have realized that while there may be cross-town rivalries, ethnic differences, economic jealousies and partisan bickering, when anything – ANYTHING – held sacred is challenged, the people of New Orleans become as one. The British learned it in 1815, and Rite Aid learned it when it assumed our beloved K & B drugstores and ceased offering Coke products for sale. Rite Aid may still be “Pepsi-exclusive” in other parts of the country, but we, the people of New Orleans, let Rite Aid know in no uncertain terms that if Coke was not available at Rite Aid, it most certainly was at Walgreen’s. In less than a year, Rite Aid reversed itself. Never underestimate the power of New Orleanians to wreak havoc on a corporate interloper telling us what we may or may not use.

This effort to claim any right in either the phrase or the icon is really a very wrong step. You’re tilting at a very large windmill and you will become an irritant to a populous you really don’t want to irritate. Perhaps, in that sense, you should consider the lyrics from the song: “Don’t you know little fool, you’ll never win; Why not use your mentality, come on step up to reality…”

Reality is, you have no right in either, and it’s time to drop the claim.

John C. Saunders, Jr.
253 Audubon Boulevard
New Orleans, LA 70125
(504) 866-3756

L4D2: New Orleans

October 29, 2009 2:59pm

Possible alternate titles: ZOMGBIES! or Zombies? In my New Orleans? It’s more likely than you think.

So, the demo for Left 4 Dead 2 became available today for those who pre-ordered it.
HOLY KATRINA FLASHBACKS, BATMAN!
The short of L4D: it’s a first-person shooter set in a zombie apocalypse, and 4 people have survived – you have to work together to survive. It’s pretty awesome.

That said, I took a few screenshots, and it seems they really nailed the feel of New Orleans.

That last one is clearly that amphitheater-style area on Decatur St. across from the St. Louis Cathedral / Jackson Square.

I can’t wait to play all the way through.

1,460 Days and Counting

August 29, 2009 11:41am

Well, the web (or at least my little corner of it) is all a-flutter with Katrina posts, as it made landfall 4 years ago.

It’s an important event in our lives – not just as New Orleanians or Louisianians specifically, but for Americans and people as a whole.

I’m not going to get into a re-cap of my experience. I’m not going to rant about various levels of government, or about our citizens that behaved badly both here and wherever it was they ended up. I also won’t talk about the people who acted in the exact opposite of that.

I will just say this: I’ll spend today and the next few days or so as I did last night and as I did four years ago: with people I care about.

And as a bonus, there’s a Saints game today. It’s not a home game, but I’ll take it nonetheless.

Who Dat.

Slurvivor Week

August 10, 2009 3:33pm

*phew* Red Dress week is over! It’s been a long week, and as much fun as it’s been, I’m glad it’s over.

For me, it started on Thursday. The VooDoo hosted a Red Dress Run, hared/led by myself and Fill Me Up (fellow VooDooer) through the Marigny. It was really more of a crawl, but still fun – about 50 people showed up – much more than our usual of high 20′s / low 30′s.

From the start at Royal and Frenchmen, we led them on a less-than-straight-line to the Friendly Bar on Chartres and Marigny, then to Markey’s in the Bywater, Marie’s on St. Roch and Burgundy, and finally back to the beer coolers in the Elysian Fields neutral ground by Royal St.

Friday was the official Red Dress Pre-Lube run, an event for hashers only. We started at Lucy’s, made our way over to the ferry (that was surreal) to the Crown and Anchor, had a food stop on Decatur, and made our way back. Despite the full belly, yours truly even managed to claim the title of “FRB” – also known as Front Running Bastard.

There are a bunch of pics on hashspace, which is unfortunately a private community so I’m unable to upload any pics. But, like most people, I downloaded my favorites (of me, duh), and put them up on flickr:

My best man ( Pistolette’s hubby, “Q”) and myself:

Q, my co-hare from the previous day, me, Bea:

Synchronized Jello shots w/ Neil at the ferry landing:

Neil and I, leaving the ferry, back on the Eastbank:

Needless to say, it was fun. And sweaty, which is a perfect prep for the mania that is the Red Dress Run.

This was my 4th RDR. Over these short years, I have almost seen it double. Each year. This year the estimate was that there were over 5,500 attendees. I’m guess that 1/11th of the participants were actually hashers.

While walking there (I had a huge-ass VooDoo banner, couldn’t ride), we passed a Mom and her presumable ‘tween daughter and likely friend, who asked for a picture. We obliged. We should have gotten a copy for ourselves – alas, no such luck.

When Bea and I had finally arrived, we were soaked – the skies opened up and rained in a way that can only really happen here. I wasn’t too concerned though – I knew we’d dry, it would help cool off the area, and my dress had been washed enough that I knew it wouldn’t run.

Words cannot describe the crowd that had amassed – the only thing I could compare it to are those photos of blood-red waters when whales/sharks are being slaughtered. I was so glad to be a hasher – we got balcony access – no lines for bathrooms or beer.

The crowds from there spread in all directions, a solid mass of red. The day progressed as one might expect – a huge, roaming mass of confusion. People assumed that I knew where to go – I did not, and eventually stopped trying to explain that finding the trail is all part of the game.

I carried that monstrous banner all day, and was glad to do it; everywhere I went I not only had shade, but also served as a beacon to other friends who knew what to look for.

The day proceeded as one might expect, as we consumed copious amounts of beer and liquor-infused watermelon-flavored jello. The later it got, the thinner the crowd became – we lost people all along the way – many stayed put on various bars on Bourbon St., I reckon.

I do remember that on the “final stretch”, a number of us decided to run. This is supposed to be a hash, right? Someone on South Peters yelled to us as we passed “Hey! This isn’t a race!”, to which I could only reply “And you’re not a hasher!” The sonner you get there, the more beer there is – it’s as simple as that.

After inhaling food on the balcony of the Ernst Cafe (and carrying Neil 1/2 a block and up a flight of stairs over my shoulders), 8 of us split for greener pastures. And by greener pastures, I mean bluer pools.

Bea and I picked up an extra 12 pack of Abita Amber, and in the pool, the imbibing may have even accelerated. The beer evaporated and was replaced by tequila, vodka, wine, and chartreuse. Q and I even managed to play a game of shot-glass chess (red vs. white wine) before the night was called.

After dropping off some others, I ‘d say we got home at about 1am. And believe it or not, I was in good shape the next day – a mere hint of a headache.

For more photos and further reading, I’ll point you to Pistolette’s blog post and flickr photos.

Man, I almost can’t wait till next year. Wait, no. Yes, I indeed can wait – I need a break.

On The Road, Again

July 10, 2009 8:38am

After my previous post about Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, my friend Matt directed me to the trailer for the upcoming film adaptation:

Holy Simultaneously Grim and Necro, Batman.

That aside, a certain shot caught my eye:

 
That’s actual Katrina footage, dirtied up a bit to fit the über-post-apocalyptic setting of The Road. You can see the New Orleans skyline in the background, and that clump of boats behind the two larger ones are boats my company insures. I’m not exactly sure just where in Plaquemines Parish that picture was taken, but it’s definitely here. I’m inclined to think it’s the south side of the Gen DeGaulle bridge, but I’m not sure.

These boats, the Sea Wolf and the Sea Falcon, are part of the Menhaden fleet and I found a number of pictures of them on the NOAA’s National Weather Service (NWS) Collection Catalog of Images. Here’s a shot of them, from a slightly different angle:

 
Small world.