Fall has finally fallen in New Orleans. The fallen leads to pollen, which makes me cranky. I texted a friend that I’d had a six-sneeze sneezing jag, which is nothing to sneeze at. Achoo.
Outdoor activities are more problematic in the COVID endemic era. If you sneeze, people think you must be COVIDY. I’m not I just have this age-old malady:
Does anyone else still call it hay fever? It sounds better than scratchy eye syndrome or such some shit.
Enough with the preliminary vexatious venting, let’s get irked.
I’m irked by how the local media cover crime. I’m familiar with the “if it bleeds, it leads” concept but they’re taking it too far. Whipping up hysteria never helped anything whereas urging caution on people is helpful.
I’m never afraid in New Orleans but I’m always cautious when out and about. I see too many folks walking around with their eyes glued to the smart phone screen. They might as well have a “rob me” sign on their back.
In case you’re wondering, I have been a crime victim. Not long after returning from Katrina exile:
I’m irked by how the media covers the economy. Inflation is on the high side but is nowhere near any records. I’ve even seen the word hyperinflation thrown about. That’s the wrong H word, hyperbole is the one that comes to mind. Next thing you know they’ll be making Weimar Republic references and we’ll be singing Brecht-Weill songs while searching for the next whiskey bar:
I’m irked that I used The Doors above instead of Richard Thompson. That’s what I get for making a Weimar Republic reference.
I’m irked that overt racism has seeped back into our politics. The sewers have overflowed and led to “jokes” like this by Mississippi Governor Tater Tot:
Mississippi Gov. Tate Reeves says it's 'a great day to not be in Jackson,' where residents went without clean running water for weeks https://t.co/58DDZzQK7N
— Business Insider (@BusinessInsider) September 17, 2022
Jackson is, of course, a majority Black city. It’s the state capital as well as the subject of this mournful Lucinda Williams song:
I’m irked that I missed a parallel between the teevee comedies MASH and Derry Girls until recently. Both involve zany antics in response to insane situations.
Since it was John Lennon’s birthday yesterday, here’s his mournful tune about The Troubles followed by Macca’s chirpy tune:
I’m irked that I didn’t write this couplet about British politics: “Johnson was slow-poisoning arsenic for the Conservatives. Liz Truss is instant cyanide.”
I have a bad case of Rawnsley envy.
I’m irked that I’m not getting mail today because of the Columbus myth. I’m calling it Indigenous Peoples Day from now on. It’s bound to piss off former President* Pennywise, which is as good a reason as any. But I’m not trying this Woody Guthrie stunt, I’ll leave that to Brady Rymer:
I couldn’t find a version by the songwriter. I guess it got lost in the mail.
Finally, I’m NOT irked by OTT Halloween decorations. That house is a few blocks from Adrastos World HQ. There’s an annual competition of sorts between the neighbors at the corner of Constance and Napoleon. Look closer and you’ll see the pollen now that fall has fallen. Achoo.
The last word goes to The Trash Can Sinatras: