A Trump Veepstakes Suggestion
Trump-Jindal: Schlonging America In 2016. Continue reading A Trump Veepstakes Suggestion
Category: Krewe du Vieux
Oy, Just Oy
Brian Williams puts the oy in goy. Continue reading Oy, Just Oy
Saturday Odds & Sods: Splendid Isolation
It’s been a relatively quiet week in New Orleans. There’s a new gentrification controversy involving changes to an Uptown green space known as the Fly. I’m for the status quo but I’ve decided to keep my fly zipped on this issue. I hereby apologize to everyone for that joke.
Meanwhile in Baton Rouge, the budgetary sky is falling. 8 years of Jindalnomics have left the state in such dire straits that not even Mark Knopfler could fix things. Once again, I need to apologize for that joke, which means I have to take the walk of life in atonement:
The new Governor gave a sort of chicken little speech about the state’s financial woes, which doesn’t seem to have moved many votes in the lege thus far. John Bel Edwards did, however, imply that if there were more budget cuts to higher education, the LSU Tigers might not play football next fall. Now that’s a serious threat here in the Gret Stet of Louisiana: No Leonard Fucking Fournette? Only time will tell if that helps, but the lege is loath to raise taxes on our 1%, which consists mostly of oil tycoons and people named Benson who own sports franchises. I have no idea what’s going to happen but it won’t be pretty. Neither was PBJ now that I think of it…
This week’s theme song was, in part, inspired by the artist who painted the featured image. Walter Inglis Anderson was born in New Orleans but did much of his painting in nearby Ocean Springs, MS. Anderson was plagued with mental health issues and in 1965 rode out a hurricane with his own form of Splendid Isolation:
In 1965, months before his death, he rode through Hurricane Betsy on his beloved Horn Island, tethering his little skiff to his waist, climbing at night to the highest dune, wanting to feel the storm first hand. The water rose to his chest.
“Never has there been a more respectable hurricane,” he wrote, “provided with all the portents, predictions, omens, etc. The awful sunrise — no one could fail to take a warning from it — the hovering black spirit bird, the man of war, just one, comme il faut.”
Warren Zevon also lived life on the edge, but even the most extreme story told about him isn’t as wild as the tale of Walter Anderson and Hurricane Betsy. We grow our eccentrics larger than life here in New Orleans, y’all.
Splendid Isolation is one of my favorite WZ tunes; so much so that I’m posting three radically different versions. We begin with the piano driven studio version from the Tranverse City album:
Next up is a version with David Sanborn and the house band from the, uh, splendid but short-lived teevee show Night Music:
Finally, a live acoustic romp featuring Zevon’s fellow rock eccentric Neil Young:
Instead of putting tin foil on the windows like the character in the song, we’ll pull up our socks and muddle through after the break.
Friday Guest Catblogging: Day After Dennie
All Hail. Dennie. Continue reading Friday Guest Catblogging: Day After Dennie
Tweets Of The Week: Mopping Up Edition
Chris Christie meets Krewe du Vieux. Continue reading Tweets Of The Week: Mopping Up Edition
Clash Of The Entitled
The Krewe of Chad is coming to get you. Continue reading Clash Of The Entitled
Saturday Odds & Sods: Life Is A Carnival
I naively thought I could write a full-blown Saturday post this week. I was wrong. I’m marching in Krewe Vieux this evening and parade prep ate my week alive. I do have a short feature and a couple of jokes but this … Continue reading Saturday Odds & Sods: Life Is A Carnival
Image Of The Day: Signage Edition
I was looking at my old Krewe du Vieux pictures and this image from the 2008 parade caught my eye. It’s still true today, y’all. Continue reading Image Of The Day: Signage Edition
Saturday Odds & Sods: Black Tie White Noise
It’s been a busy week in New Orleans. I’ve been hard at work helping with the Krewe of Spank’s theme, float, and throws. This year we’re having fake royals on our float and I’ve been the royalty wrangler. Krewe du Vieux floats are small so they’re customarily riderless. We had to get approval from the Mother Krewe to have riders. It should be fun. Here’s hoping they don’t fall off the float. All hail King Pratfall.
In other Gret Stet news, Governor John Bel Edwards kept his most important campaign promise and brought medicaid expansion to Louisiana on his second day in office. The Feds gave us the same terms they gave states who entered the system when it first came down the pipeline. Let’s call it the Jindal mulligan.
David Bowie tribute week continues here at First Draft with the theme song. It’s the second Bowie tune to make the grade/cut or whatever the hell it is. My only complaint about all the Bowie tributes is that they tend to recycle all the biggies so I have gone in the opposite direction. It’s what I do. Black Tie White Noise is the title track of a 1993 album. It features the vocal stylings of Al B. Sure. We’ll kick things off with the promo video, followed by a live appearance on The Tonight Show, which means we have to see Jay Leno-jaw but you have to take the bitter with the sweet.
This week’s edition will be mercifully brief because I’ve got a lot of shit to do. I do, however, have time to post a White Tie tune in rebuttal to Bowie’s cravat noir:
I posted that clip because I think of Bowie as the Astaire of rock: long, lean, elegant, and a snappy dresser. More oddball comparisons and strange analogies after the break.
Continue reading “Saturday Odds & Sods: Black Tie White Noise”
Saturday Odds & Sods: From The Cradle To The Grave
I had an epiphany on Wednesday and realized that it was Twelfth Night. Mardi Gras day comes ridiculously early this year, which means that Krewe du Vieux rolls on January 23rd. We’re shitting bricks trying to get ready for that early parade date. I’ve spent a lot of time inhaling paint fumes, swallowing sawdust, and, most importantly, drinking beer in anticipation of the big day. The Krewe of Spank specializes in hyper-local satire and this year’s theme is sufficiently obscure. Only New Orleanians will get this one. I don’t mind: I’ve got a forum for national satire right here.
We just put 2015 in the grave and now it’s time to slap the 2016 baby and see if it’s alive. Metaphorically, not literally as the Veep would surely say. Speaking of babies, we’re knee-deep in King Cake season and whoever gets the little plastic baby Jesus has to buy the next King Cake. Fuck that shit. I am a seasoned King Cake baby liar. I blame my disorder on this creepy mascot our NBA team unleashes on its unsuspecting fans every Carnival season:
Have I ever mentioned how much I loathe and despise mascots? I hate them almost as much as I hate Vodka, which is only suitable for drunken Mensheviks. No wonder Lenin had them all liquidated. Speaking of horrendous, there’s actually a vile-tasting King Cake Vodka on the market:
I *almost* wrote about this week’s theme song earlier but wound up riffing on King Cake babies and Vodka instead. From The Cradle To The Grave is the title track of the brand spanking new Squeeze album. The video below features age-morphing, which is much better than the lame and insipid Krewe of Morpheus, which is best known for its EMPTY FLOAT.
Now that I’ve thoroughly confused you with that hyper-local Carnival joke, let’s play another Squeeze song before the break:
A totally ridiculous video for a great song. More ridiculous nonsense after the break.
Continue reading “Saturday Odds & Sods: From The Cradle To The Grave”
Friday Guest Catblogging: Dennie & The Big Man
The return of Dennie, the Den of Muses cat. Continue reading Friday Guest Catblogging: Dennie & The Big Man
Tweet Of The Day: Schlonged Edition
Dicking around with the Insult Comedian. Continue reading Tweet Of The Day: Schlonged Edition
Quote Of The Week: Drew Magary Edition
What? No thousand dollar chicken coops? Continue reading Quote Of The Week: Drew Magary Edition
Diaper Dave’s Last Hurrah
Arrivederci, Diaper Dave, Continue reading Diaper Dave’s Last Hurrah
Saturday Odds & Sods: Daddy Was A Preacher But Mama Was A Go-Go Girl
We begin with the solution to the mystery of the Huey Long poster above. I found it while doing some research on the Kingfish for this post. Initially, I thought it might be a movie poster but it turned out to have something to do with a circa 2002 game. Huey P. Long as action hero? Why the hell not. It’s certainly a more heroic name than Nigel Pennybone. Thanks to Glenn Louis Devillier and James Wm Ball III for their help with this Huey quest.
We had our annual September cool weather tease last weekend in New Orleans. Summer’s cauldron receded for a few days but the heat is back. Summer heat is a relentless motherfucker in these parts. The tease is a sign, however, that the worst of summer is over and we can start planning for next year’s stupidly early Mardi Gras. Krewe du Vieux rolls on January 23rd. After several temperate years, we may have to layer up like we did from 2006-2010. I’m already sitting shiver contemplating it…
I wrote about the big local news on Thursday, the latest bloodletting by the Newhousian malakas at the Sometimes-Picayune. There is no good way to fire people but mass firings are the worst way imaginable. The purge of 2012 was a PR disaster from which the TP has never recovered and they’re doing it again. Their arrogance and stupidity is staggering. There is, however, enough stupidity to go around; some of the social media chatter involves locals speculating that the Newhouse chain bought the Picayune to destroy it. Wrong. They bought it way back in 1962. Holy slow motion suicide, Batman.
I’m taking this personally. There are human beings involved and I know quite a few of them. Their lives have been turned upside down and the survivors know that their employers don’t give a shit about any of them. That may be the way of corporate America but that doesn’t make it right or even effective. The next time I see Advance Media honcho Ricky Mathews cry copious crocodile tears, I’m going to sic Della and her death ray stare on him:
Saturday Odds & Sods is my version of a comedic variety show, but I’m not feeling as funny ha ha as usual right now. I’m going to muddle through but the post will have fewer entries than usual and may be a bit disjointed since I wrote bits of it before the abattoir on Canal Street was open for business. I guess you’re used to disjointedness at dis joint…
Onward to this week’s theme song. I’ve been listening to a lot of Southern Culture On The Skids (SCOTS to the kids) as an antidote to the bullshit of the week and life in general. If you’re unfamiliar with their music, they’re a punkabilly, alt-country outfit out of North Carolina. Band leader Rick Miller writes some of the wittiest lyrics in rock and roll but he’s NOT the same Rick Miller who played for the Bosox and Angels in the 1970’s and ’80’s.
It’s theme song time:
I may sprinkle a few more SCOTS tunes throughout the post like demented redneck pixie dust. No, make that glitter. You cannot get rid of glitter. More preaching and go-go dancing after the break
Continue reading “Saturday Odds & Sods: Daddy Was A Preacher But Mama Was A Go-Go Girl”
Saturday Odds & Sods: When The Spell Is Broken
This is the second Richard Thompson song I’ve used as the Saturday post’s theme song. RT’s gloomy elegance fits my cranky, irascible mood at this moment in time. There are many spells that need breaking here in New Orleans. One that has been broken is our string of consecutive days of over 90 degrees. It ended last weekend at 48, which is the third most in recorded history. I’m contemplating taking credit for it since I mentioned it in this space last Saturday.
The other spell that needs breaking is the hold that the events of 2005-2010 have on my community, but I’ll go into that in more detail on Monday. I feel like Michael Corleone in Godfather 3 much of the time and I don’t even have to deal with the director’s miscast daughter. That’s right, I keep getting dragged back into the Katrinaversary. Trust me, I wish it didn’t happen since I’ve lived it every day since 2005 but it does. Fuck a duck. Enough crankiness.
On with the theme song. When The Spell Is Broken first appeared on the 1985 album, Across A Crowded Room. It’s a song best heard live, so I’m posting a 1999 version with the RT Band as well as a 2011 solo acoustic rendition by the man himself. Finally, Bonnie Raitt’s cover from the 1994 RT tribute album Beat The Retreat.
More spellbinding breakage after the break.
Continue reading “Saturday Odds & Sods: When The Spell Is Broken”
Friday Guest Catblogging: The Lost Dennie Pictures
All Hail. Dennie. Continue reading Friday Guest Catblogging: The Lost Dennie Pictures
Yawn: The Jindal Announcement
PBJ’s campaign launch was as dull as the candidate himself. He gave a boilerplate right wing speech and his attempts at humor were typically cringeworthy: “I’m tanned, rested, and ready to go.” Yes, he said that. I had to explain to the young ‘uns on Twitter than PBJ stole that from Tricky Dick. That kept me briefly awake during Jindal’s sopoforic speech. One would think that word salad would have a crunchy sound but it doesn’t. In fact, PBJ’s speech was word salad without any dressing. Yawn. Here’s how I described the crowd reaction on the Tweeter Tube: The much … Continue reading Yawn: The Jindal Announcement
Saturday Odds & Sods: Everbody’s Been Burned
The spirit of Dizneylandrieu is still alive and well here in New Orleans as you’ll learn from one of the entries below. Not only that but summer has arrived with a vengeance. I don’t believe in sky gods or celestial overlords, but I am convinced that someone flicks a switch and it becomes summer in my city. This year the switch was flipped on Wednesday June 4, which is somewhat later than usual. I guess that whole non-existent climate change thing has its upside. El Nino is a popular dude in these parts, less so on the West Coast but it could end the drought so…
This week’s theme song implanted itself in my head by way of the new NBC drama Aquarius. It’s more like a gritty FX or HBO show than network fare. Plus, it’s being rolled out in its entirety On Demand as well as on broadcast, which shows the impact Netflix is having on the teevee universe. I’m convinced that Aquarius was pitched as follows: Philip Marlowe meets Charlie Manson. It’s particularly fun to watch David Duchovny cast against type as a hardass and hawkish LAPD detective.
Back to Everybody’s Been Burned. It was written by David Crosby and originally recorded when he was a member of one of my all-time favorite bands, the Byrds:
FWIW, I have an old friend who’s a dead ringer for Crosby who, in turn, is a dead ringer for Bert Lahr as the Cowardly Lion.
More obscure references after the break.
Continue reading “Saturday Odds & Sods: Everbody’s Been Burned”
Friday Guest Catblogging: Capture The Flag
All Hail. Dennie. Continue reading Friday Guest Catblogging: Capture The Flag
Spank Squad
I’m still wiped out from the 45 city block long Krewe du Vieux parade last Saturday. The inevitable soreness has been exacerbated by a pratfall I took at the Friday preview party, which left me bruised pre-parade. The good news is that I was in an altered state so I was limber when I tripped and fell on the concrete floor. It could have been much worse. It’s true what they say about booze, y’all. If you don’t know, I’m not talking. I may be a spiller, but I’m not spilling this. We have a confidentiality agreement. Why? I’ll never know. … Continue reading Spank Squad
PBJ Unbuckles The Bible Belt
Bobby Jindal’s deeply silly attempt to transform his image from dorky butt ugly technocrat to manly butt ugly culture warrior continues. He tried out a new-ish look at last weekend’s Hate Group Prayerpalooza in Red Stick. Note the cowboy boots, tight jeans and Garth Brooks type headset. The only thing missing is a ten gallon hat to complete his transformation into a Bollywood shitkicker. But don’t call him that because he’s ashamed of his Indian heritage and/or doesn’t want to be a so-called “hyphenated American.” I don’t get it. There’s *nothing* wrong with being proud of your ethnic heritage. It’s the … Continue reading PBJ Unbuckles The Bible Belt
Odds & Sods: Catching Up Edition
I’m way behind, so I’m going to offer some scattershot snark about stuff that happened last week. Scattershot snark is what I do best, after all.
PBJ’s Excellent Adventure: The pinhead who sporadically governs my state was in the news last week. PBJ has gotten to the point where he craves any publicity including bad publicity. It’s a good thing, that’s all he got.
First, he went to Europe, which is something Oval One wannabes do. It’s supposed to make them look statesmanlike but PBJ chose to follow in the path of Willard Mittbot Romney and make a total ass of himself. He peddled the discredited, even at Fox News, line about Muslim no go zones in the UK and EU. PBJ went to woody old London hoping to meet with some senior Tory pols but they all hid in tube tunnels after he insisted on being the kookiest kook in cloud cuckoo land. That in a wingnut shell is his campaign strategy. I remember when he ran as a technocrat. Those days are long gone.
Second, he held what I call alternately PBJ’s Folly or Prayerpalooza at the Pete Maravich Assembly Center (PMAC) on the LSU campus in Red Stick. The characters invited to this zany event included a preacher who claims the ability to raise the dead. That’s an alarming thought, given overpopulation and all the damn fool wingers already running around the planet. Do we really want to resurrect Ronnie and Maggie?
You know a putative campaign is in deep shit and sinking fast when it has an event modeled after one thrown in 2011 by Former Texas Governor Oops. They also scheduled on the same day as Steve King’s Iowa clown show and the Koch Brothers public ass kissing event. PBJ’s people are both delusional and not ready for prime time, speaking of which:
There They Go Again: Why does the GOP keep trotting out its “rising stars” to answer the SOTU. I recall when they’d have their Congressional leaders or folks like Ronald Reagan do so. The list of embarrassments stretches back to Bobby Jindal being compared to Kenneth the Page on 30 Rock and included Marco Rubio’s infamous water bottle reach to cure his bad case of dry mouth. I think the hog castrating chick, Joni Ernst, topped them all. Bread bags on your feet? Really, Senator? I wonder bread if they carried it to extremes in even poorer areas: “We were so poor that we used hot dog bun bags as condoms.” It’s just as, uh, plausible and even sillier.
More catching up after the break.
Back By Popular Demand
Probably not, but a few people asked why I wasn’t blogging this week when so much funny shit was happening. It’s not down to Krewe Du Vieux even though that’s eaten my month. According to my ISP “another entity” cut the cable serving my house and other users. My money is on the New Orleans Sewerage and Water Board. There was a crew working way after dark Tuesday and they’re not known for their competence. I’ll be playing catch-up for a few days and then return to the Krewe Du Vieux bubble at the end of the week. I should post … Continue reading Back By Popular Demand
In The Bubble
I haven’t been writing as much of late because I have been immersed in preparing for the upcoming Krewe du Vieux parade, which occurs in a mere 12 days. I’ve been more involved in Spank business this year; doing what I do best: pulling strings, trading favors, and generally operating behind the scenes. I am glad, however, that the smoke filled room is a thing of the past. I don’t know about you but smoke gets in my eyes. Dr. A and I escaped the bubble to suburbia to have lunch, do some big box shopping and to finally see Unbroken. … Continue reading In The Bubble
Friday Catblogging: The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
All Hail. Dennie. Continue reading Friday Catblogging: The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year
Odd & Sods: Joe Friday Edition
Twas the Friday before Christmas and there was a wee brawl between Oscar and Della Street that woke me up way too early. I think he dissed Perry Mason or something. No spiked eggnog for them. I may make them eat fruitcake. That was an idle threat because we don’t have one, and I would never purchase one except to use as a doorstop or paper weight. Okay, on with the post where, unlike Joe Friday, I offer opinions, m’am, just opinions. If there *are* any facts, they can be found after the break.
Tweet Of The Day: Gun Totin’ PBJ Edition
Bobby Jindal may be one of the most unpopular Governors in the country but he knows how to pander to the gun nutterazi: https://twitter.com/Gun_Shots/status/525159387078602752 Little “Bobby” looks ridiculous in that picture but not as ridiculous as the caption. And that monogrammed windbreaker is from hunger. In the end, his campaign will only amount to a Magical Misery Tour: Since the Krewe of Spank met last night, I could not resist the Krewe du Vieux reference. It was the mother krewe’s theme in 2008. I suggested Spank do a political freak show theme this year with PBJ and Bitter Vitter as conjoined twins but the group … Continue reading Tweet Of The Day: Gun Totin’ PBJ Edition
Malaka Of The Week: Bob McDonnell
One of my favorite things about being a blogger is skewering hypocrites. That’s the essence of this feature: taking down the pious phonies who populate our national life. There is no bigger hypocrite than former Virginia Governor and future convict, Bob McDonnell, and that is why he’s malaka of the week. Everybody knows that McDonnell rolled the dice in his corruption trial and rolled snake eyes. That’s not even the worst, or stupidest, part, he took his wife Maureen down with him. That’s particularly rich in his case, as he ran as a “family values” candidate who trotted out his attractive … Continue reading Malaka Of The Week: Bob McDonnell
Slap Ya Commish
The No Fun League is at it again. They have a habit of making Saints fans feel downright paranoid and this time they’re doing so by messing with our love of seasonings and hot sauce: Slap Ya Mama, a Louisiana-based brand of hot sauce and Cajun seasonings, will no longer get to splash its logo on television during preseason games when the New Orleans Saints reach the red zone. Walker & Sons, Inc., the parent company of Slap Ya Mama products, said Cox Sports Television had been instructed by the NFL to pull the advertisement “in light of domestic violence issues” facing the league. CST, based … Continue reading Slap Ya Commish