HumidCity

Louis Armstsrong believed he was born on the 4th of July, 1900.

Turns out he was wrong. He was born on August 4th, 1901. But he lived his whole life - and even died - believing that he was born on July 4th. So out of respect for Mr. Armstrong’s memory, I’ll believe this, too, even though I know it isn’t factual. I think they call that faith. And as long as no one gets hurt, why not?

Facts can be botehrsome at times. Sometimes not. Here’s a little known fact from the annals (almost-pun not intended) of New Orleans jazz history that is actually fun to acknowledge as true.

Yes, there he is, the man himself, Louis Armstrong, butt naked on the crapper, shilling an herbal laxative. Now, mind you, Mr. Armstrong did not need the money. He was not desperate in that way. This endorsement was done out of love and genuine conviction for a product that he held near and dear (to say the least).

I am not making this up. It is a well-documented fact. It’s also an endearing fact. And I can prove it (sort of).

In the great jazz biography, “The Louis Armstrong Story,” by Max Jones and John Chilton, Mr. Armstrong is quoted on page 220 thus:

“I take my Swiss Kriss, man, they keep you rollin’. Old Methuselah, he’d have been here with us if he had know about them!”

It’s even mentioned in Satchmo’s Wikipedia entry, like so:

“Armstrong was also greatly concerned with his health and bodily functions. He made frequent use of laxatives as a means of controlling his weight, a practice he advocated both to personal acquaintances and in the diet plans he published under the title Lose Weight the Satchmo Way. Armstrong’s laxative of preference in his younger days was Pluto Water, but he then became an enthusiastic convert when he discovered the herbal remedy Swiss Kriss. He would extol its virtues to anyone who would listen and pass out packets to everyone he encountered, including members of the British Royal Family. (Armstrong also appeared in humorous, albeit risqué, advertisements for Swiss Kriss; the ads bore a picture of him sitting on a toilet — as viewed through a keyhole — with the slogan “Satch says, ‘Leave it all behind ya!’”)”

Part of what I do for a living is the buying and selling of old jazz memorabilia. I’m not much of a collector myself (it’s how I stay in business) but every now and then I come across an oddity that I can’t bear to part with. This is one.

Now, on the back of the above photo is this:

The handwriting is definitely Satch’s. I’ve been dealing in jazz autographs for a long time now and I like to think I can spot a fake Armstrong signature from thirty paces in misty moonlight. This isn’t even signed, but you can bet that’s his hand. Who would want to fake something like this, anyway?

Why am I telling you this? Because you need to know. History means nothing without the little details. At the end of the day we’re all human, just flesh and blood – even those of us who wind up flailing about from the grave all dressed up in our mythological proportions.

Yet another reason to love New Orleans. They keep piling up.

Again; pun unintentional.

Have a great 4th of July weekend, everyone. And, if you would, please say a little happy birthday prayer for Mr. Armstrong.

Louis Maistros

http://louismaistros.com

These things may not be right, but they are true.

The Sound of Building Coffins by Louis Maistros is due for publication from The Toby Press in Spring 2009.

It’s the 4th of July Weekend.
There’s a lot of serious issues in our lives, it’s true, and very different opinions floating around.
All the same, take some time with your families and friends and in my case, bartenders.
Be an American by celebrating your freedom and priviledge to have some damn fun, willya?
And remember, Lord David loves and respects you. Seriously. Oh, who are we kidding, buy a round, willya?

�

First, Joey Chestnut repeats as the Nathan’s Famous Hot-Dog Eating Champion, retaining the Mustard Belt for America and now I hear that longtime senator and hate-monger Jesse Helms has finally died. Good riddance to bad rubbish. I don’t know the details, nor do I care, it’s just reassuring to know that evil people eventually die too.

The city recently hosted a gathering of columnists. You can find out what they encountered and what they had to say here.

A “pyrate” faux pas escalates into a very interesting exchange between people who go “Aaaaarr!” HumidCity’s own Lord David leads the boarding party. (You’ve got to read the comments!)

Here is an open letter a friend of mine just shot off to River Parish Disposal. I thought it could use a larger audience. -Loki, HumidCity Founder.

Dear River Parish Disposal,

Though I love your witty tv ads, I must complain. One of your front-load container system dumpsters is in the middle of the road in the 1000 block of Independence Street. It is parked on the street, blocking the road, next to a vacant lot and has been there for about 2 months now. I live across the street at [REMOVED] and have observed people using the dumpster to dispose of garbage. It has a lock on it so only authorized people can use it, however it is not associated with any house on our block. The dumpster is starting to stink. It smells like someone dumped a gallon of aftershave on top of a bunch of rotting vegetables. This is not good for the quality of life in my neighborhood, which is doing its best to rebuild.

According to Sec. 10-136 of the CODE OF ORDINANCES City of NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA (Neighborhood compatibility requirements) “No dumpster is permitted to be placed within the public right-of-way.”
This dumpster is DEFINITELY in the right of way. It’s in the middle of the street!

According to Sec. 146-584 of the CODE OF ORDINANCES City of NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA (Permit required for placement of trash containers, dumpsters, etc., in the public right-of-way.):
“The placement of trash containers, receptacles, and dumpsters, … in the public right-of-way by contractors, builders, or others requiring the temporary use of curb space to facilitate work conducted by them in the immediate vicinity shall be allowed only after the issuance of a permit by the director of the department of public works.” There is no permit displayed on or near this dumpster, nor is there any work going in the immediate vicinity. It’s parked in front of a vacant lot.

To reiterate, this dumpster:
• Has no visible owner.
• Is sitting in the middle of a public thoroughfare
• Stinks.
• Is a health hazard.
• Violates several sections of the municipal code

The only recourse I have is to ask you, River Parish Disposal, to remove this dumpster from our street. Perhaps you can move it to wherever the people who rented it are actually doing work. Attempts to communicate with the people dumping garbage in the dumpster have failed.

I called your offices earlier about this problem but was disconnected. Please, can you resolve this problem before a car smashes into your dumpster, creating more destruction in an area that has already had it share?

I have copied my Councilman, James Carter, in the hopes that perhaps he can assist my neighborhood in alleviating this problem. A copy of the municipal code, which can also be found here: http://www.municode.com/resources/gateway.asp?pid=10040&sid=18 is available at the end of this message.

I look forward to your reply.

Sincerely,
dial_m

Sec. 10-136. Neighborhood compatibility requirements.
Under the provisions of this chapter, no permit shall be issued or renewed for any applicant who has not submitted evidence of complying with the following requirements:
(1) All alcoholic beverage outlets shall establish a litter abatement program, certified by the department of finance. Such program shall include the following items:
a. All trash receptacles, excluding dumpsters, shall be located inside of a structure and shall be placed in the public right-of-way on pick-up days only;
b. All litter shall be cleared from the site of the ABO, the adjacent public right-of-way and any accessory parking lot on a daily basis;
c. The applicant shall sweep the public right-of-way adjacent to the petitioned site and any accessory parking lot daily and shall periodically clear it with a watering hose as needed;
d. Assignment must be made of a particular individual, be it the manager, owner, etc., as the contact person to notify should a violation of the litter abatement program occur;
(2) The applicant shall screen any dumpster used in conjunction with the petitioned site which is visible from the public right-of-way or parking area with a six-foot opaque fence with gates. No dumpster is permitted to be placed within the public right-of-way.
(M.C.S., Ord. No. 19,389, § 1, 9-16-99)

Sec. 146-584. Permit required for placement of trash containers, dumpsters, etc., in the public right-of-way.
The placement of trash containers, receptacles, and dumpsters, hereafter referred to as dumpsters for purposes of this section, in the public right-of-way by contractors, builders, or others requiring the temporary use of curb space to facilitate work conducted by them in the immediate vicinity shall be allowed only after the issuance of a permit by the director of the department of public works, who is authorized to impose conditions on the issuance thereof. If the curb space to be utilized, or any portion thereof, is regulated by parking meters, then the space designated for dumpster placement shall be in coincidence with the confines of the metered space for such placement. The director of the department of public works shall collect from the applicant for such permit a fee in the amount of $700.00, in addition to a fixed application of $35.00. The permit issued by the department of public works shall be valid for a period not to exceed 45 days, and may be renewed for additional 45-day periods provided that the contractor, builder, or other applicant makes a request for renewal at least five working days prior to the expiration of the effective permit.
(Code 1956, § 61-131.1; Ord. No. 20,001, § 1, 1-18-01)

If anybody out there has missed my vitriolic ranting I have come to apologize. I have been absolutely buried over the past two weeks or so and have contributed but little here on the HC. One reason is that I have been getting things off the ground over on Katrina An UnNatural Disaster where I have just done some posting, including a piece I just put up today about local bloggers here in New Orleans.

Anyway, there are a few posts coming in the near future. In the meantime it seems that you are all in capable hands with the rest of the team. Kami just got back to town so we should be hearing from her soon. (hint)

While I need to keep it brief I would like you all to think for a moment. Think about what the flood victims North of us are going through. Think of what they are about to go through. Just because a few dipshits got on the Internet or in front of a camera and ranted about how we deserved it when the waters hit us does not mean that everyone up there shares that perspective. We have skills unique to the situation, we know what the long haul looks like. We can help.

I don’t care who you are, almost three years ago someone helped you. There was someone out there that helped each and every one of us. Remember that.

-Loki, HumidCity Founder (Like The Governator, “I’ll be back!”)

I’ve written a couple of posts recently, angry posts, about New Orleans Nay sayers. I’ve been reading a lot of angry posts about Fred Radtke (although he’s becoming more of a joke, somehow) and a LOT of mean spirited political crap (it is, after all, an election year).

I read Louis Maistros post this morning, about seeing the Hot 8 Brass band at Sound Cafe, down the street. Then tonight, I tuned in to Nelson Mandela’s birthday concert on TV and sat back to absorb the music. The performers are heroes of rock, soul, r&b and more. The real hero being Nelson Mandela, himself, for the obvious reasons. I began to think, then, of the other heroes we have known, from Gandhi & Martin Luther King, Jr. to John Lennon and JFK.
It occured to me that, considering what they’ve gone through, the cats from Hot 8 are pretty fucking heroic, as well. Then there’s guys like Rex Dingler, giving away his art for free, and Loki, who sponsors this very site, allowing a voice and place to respond for all of New Orleans.

 I realized who the real heroes are then. The real heroes are the little people, as all the previously mentioned, great & small were, or are. The people who just did what they thought was right, or what they could, or gave as much as possible or were just too tired or fed up to get pushed around or watch somebody else get pushed around anymore.

 The heroes, my friends and neighbors, are in the mirror. You, the driver in a hurry that waits for the lady with the stroller to cross the street. The older woman who gives a quarter to the younger woman in the check out line who is just a little short. The person that smiles when you’re having a really bad day. An internet friend who answers a relative stranger with the blues. An entire city, far from recovered, who sends money, food and volunteers to the corn belt, because they know how bad it can be. Sometimes it’s in what we don’t say. Sometimes in letting someone talk too long, because you know how bad it hurts to be ignored. Each of us, on any given day, is given the chance to be quietly heroic. Without accolades. Without rewards. Without any recognition, whatsoever.

So for you, and you may not know it, but I mean you, & you and all of you, I salute your quiet heroism in these long days of trial we face as a city, a nation, as human beings trying to get through another day on Planet Earth. It’s not easy, not giving up these days. So for each and every one that hangs in there to do the right thing, to make it better in any way, to be part of a solution, I salute you, heart & soul.

It makes it a little easier for all of us every day.
I just thought you might wanna know, it matters.
It matters to me.
Every single day.
So thanks.
All of you.
You fucking rock.

Lord David
Pirate & Artist
Skull Club
New Orleans 

 ?

(Originally posted someplace else on May 1st, 2008)

This is the kind of scene you occasionally find yourself stumbling into when you live in the greatest beat-up beat-down city on earth:

(photos on this page copyright 2008 Louis Maistros)

Me and the wife are minding our own business, performing our evening ritual of snagging some joe and peace along with Chalmette the misfit pooch down at the Sound Café a few blocks down, and what do we happen upon through pure serendipitous dumb luck? Maybe the best brass band on earth slamming down right there on the coffee shop floor. As if this weren’t heaven enough, jazz legend Dr. Michael White is there, too, sitting in on clarinet. Moments like this cannot be bought with mere cash-money – and that’s alright, because in New Orleans the best moments always come free of charge.

The Hot 8 Brass Band matters. Everything that is good about New Orleans is embodied in this little band of regular neighborhood guys. They’ve been to hell and back, have even lived through the senseless murder of their friend, teacher, leader and drummer Dick Shavers, and yet they keep on with this music, this amazing, uplifting, truth-giving music. This is cool jazz, funked to the core and set ablaze, but it’s something much more than that. It’s the rawness of the street shot out through the business end of a tuba. It’s Tabasco spiked with tears and gasoline. It’s love. It’s war. It’s life and God and the devil and everything else in the world that matters and some things that don’t and a few that fall in between and ask me if I give a damn about whatever it is because the reasons, the causes, the rationales, if there are any, can’t possibly matter in this singular moment that puts this whole fucking mess in one simple context, on one single page, down and clear and all right there. These guys are not always in tune. They’re not always sober. They’re not always tight. But they are always, always just right. In the moment. In the pocket. In the heart. My heart. Yours if you’re lucky.

So the night is cool and rare, the sun’s creeping down the sky, and it’s one of those gray, gray pissy southern skies with a dirty tint of orange twilight like a slow-rotting peach that I’ve only ever seen in New Orleans, and I’m having an epiphany moment.

I’ve had days where I’ve pondered the wisdom of staying here, days where it seems best to pack up the kids and take them somewhere/anywhere up north and just be done with it already. I’ve had days like that, and I guess I’ll have a few more.

But today is not one of those days.

Thinking about leaving is something I sometimes do. Staying is what I do every day without thinking.

Today my heart is clamped to my sleeve and bulletproof. I’m seeing and hearing this neighborhood band, these normal guys, blowing out through those horns, wailing away, kicking through songs of the 1920s like “Girl of My Dreams,” ripping them to pieces for this modern-fucked-sideways world, I’m hearing the hopped-up rage of their own songs, like “Ray Nagin,” a song that can make you cry and scream and dance all at the same time, and I’m hearing the pure funky hotgoddamn of “Let Me Do My Thing.” I’m going all the way back then fast-forward to here, ten minutes past now, with outrageous brassed-out covers of everything from “High Healed Sneakers” to Marvin Gaye’s disco sin, “Sexual Healing,” and I’m hearing my wife say over and over, “I never liked this song before, but I love it now.” I’m knowing that they’ve been through so damn much, these guys, these normal fucking guys, much worse than the troubles suffered by me and mine, but they just won’t stop, they can’t or won’t, they just keep going, taking all those hits – from behind and above and below – and they still come back up again, over and over, these guys, these normal everyday fucking guys, still raging, still preaching, still high, still defiant, still towering in spirit like it’s just another day on the job. And now I’m thinking: How dare I bitch about a single bad day? My problems are reduced to shadow tonight and these guys have lighted the way. I’ve done nothing for them, but they give me this. They give me this without even knowing who the fuck I am or that they are giving anything to anyone at all. They’re just playing. They’re just doing what they do.

And that’s New Orleans tonight.

Go visit the Hot 8 at their MySpace page where you can listen for free in streaming audio. If you get what I’m talking about, buy their CD or download a few tracks off iTunes.

Here’s the thing:

Some types of truth cannot be told in the usual way.

Louis Maistros

http://louismaistros.com

These things may not be right, but they are true.

The Sound of Building Coffins by Louis Maistros is due for publication from The Toby Press in Spring 2009.

Syndicated from the mass email by Loki, HumidCity Founder

A collaboration has been formed between Beacon, LCIA and Episcopal Diocese. We have started a fundraising campaign for the flood victims of Iowa. We will buy gift cards to give to displaced residents that can be used for clothing, food, water or building materials. On-line donations can be made through our website: www.lakewoodbeacon.org using PayPal or Just Give. Please make checks payable to Beacon of Hope and write Iowa in the memo. Checks can be dropped off or mailed to: 6268 Vicksburg Street, NOLA 70124 or 145 Robert E. Lee Blvd., Ste. 210, NOLA 70124. All donations are tax deductible as we are a qualified 501(c)3. Donations received will not be spent on our travel expenses.

Connie Uddo, Al Petrie and me, Denise Thornton, are going to Cedar Rapids, Iowa on July 13 through 17^th. The Episcopal Diocese and Vineyard Church have already set up a distribution centers and camps in Quincy and Cedar Rapids. There are approximately 5,000 displaced residents in Cedar Rapids. We’re taking Chef Mark Uddo to do a community dinner, New Orleans style. The distribution center will get flyers out in advance of our arrival. We will hold workshops like contractor fraud & mold remediation. We will hand out the gift cards at the dinner in exchange for their contact information and we’ll start a database and try to identify a Beacon Administrator and a Volunteer Coordinator. We’re taking the Beacon Procedure Manual. We will make contact with government leaders. I have obtained letters of support from our city council and police department which will give us instant creditability in that arena. Connie’s 18 year old daughter is going with us and she’ll try to start a Youth Recovery Program which will involve the high school(s). We have learned so much about our own recovery that will be helpful to them long after we’re gone. If any of you have any thoughts or ideas on how we can make this trip more productive, please let me know.

Here we go again. The same hateful ignorant crap about how we’re all bottom feeding looters, waiting on the government dime. I would ignore it, except this time it comes from a Magazine, called Pyrate’s Way, which feeds off of New Orleans and gets most of it’s circulation during the PyrateCon conventions here in town. [Editor's Note: The text of the original MySpace bulletin that Lord David is speaking of has now been pasted into the coments section of this post, as has a response from Mad Eye Mitch who, according to his comment, runs Pyrate Con - Loki]

I personally wrote to it’s publisher, Steve, and pointed this out, citing many of the facts you readers posted here. His response? “Any publicity is good publicity.” Exact quote. Seriously.

This one not only calls himself a Pirate, but spells it funny, with a ‘Y’, to prove he’s ‘Old Worldie’. His name is Steve Kimball, and he publishes Pyrates Way Magazine. There he is, being an Authentic Pyrate, at the Funky Pirate in the French Quarter.

Steve says were are not True Americans. What a stupid redneck.

Let’s all write to Steve. Demand an apology, for what it’s worth. Here (myspace.com/pyratesway) or here (myspace.com/blackfoxofde)

Apparently, when Steve isn’t being ‘Old Worldie’ or ‘Pyrating’ at tourist bars on Bourbon Street, he’s using his home based magazine to diss New Orleans.

Although he does have a photobucket account where he shows off the pictures of hot teenage girls he photographs while they’re not looking, from his ‘Pyrate Lair’ of a sales booth at conventions. One can hardly imagine what goes on at his Home Office (read: Man Cave).

Anyway, as an Independent Magazine Guy (had lunch with Hef recently, dude?) he has taken his writing skills to the edge to repost the same stupidly ignorant rant about New Orleans being the home of cry baby assholes because Iowa got flooded and we’re not True Americans down here. If you haven’t read it, it’s posted, along with my initial response, right here on Humid City, in the post, The Woman Who Hates New Orleans. The main difference being, this asshole is using a magazine, based on us, to tear us down in public.

This guy especially pissed me off, because he comes here every year for PyrateCon, probably acts like he owns the place, takes home shitty souveniers and acts like an authority on Our Fair City, then regurgitates this moronic filth. Maybe we should throw Stevie the Peeper a little party.

Or out a window.

Hell, Steve-O, maybe you’ll land in the flood waters. As dirty as those can get, they can’t stink as bad as your pathetic Magazine you use as an excuse to photograph underage girls. Piss off. And try to do something original for once.

You’ll be back to work in your mom’s basement before you know it.
I’m sure she’ll have your peanut butter and white bread sandwiches ready if you’d just wash those stinky socks. Please.

Lord David
Pirate & Artist
Skull Club
New Orleans

The ever vigilant Oyster, who used to blog with us before the Levee Failure, brings us the Republican comedy show one of its most amusing moments. It seems that “Diaper” David Vitter, connoisseur of purchased poontang, and Larry “The Foot Tapper” Craig are now co-sponsors of S.J. Res. 23, The Marriage Amendment.

Now Democrats get up their own sexual antics, but they do not strain so hard to shove their morality down our throats before being exposed as the current crop of Republicans do.

The only appropriate response to this is a salute to family values in the stye of the Grand Old Party. Enjoy the Videos! First a lovely piece by Keith Olberman in which he sets a reading of the police report about Senator Craig’s bathroom indiscretions to a Dragnet style video.

Then a few words from Wendy, thats Wendy the prostitute not Wendy the wife, as she talks about David Vitter in this video provided by Larry Flint.

-Loki HumidCity Founder

well i’m almost completely home… no working bathroom doors… still a padlock as a lock to my home… BTW the doors don’t fit…

welcome to the REconstruction…. or should i say CARPET BAG? lack of construction? deconstruction.

my so-called contractor spent six months building a porch while i rotted in the formaldahyde laden fema trailer… three weeks spent on a door, a single f$#@~n’ door…. another several weeks on a loft (which six months later is the wrong size for a mattress and lacks his custom or should i say costume built ladder)

when it came to door hanging none, i point out that none of the door openings 

a) fit the surviving cypress doors that were salvaged (originally from our friendly neighborhood project demolition pre-k 1999)

b) fit standard doors

IN FACT a two door closet has two different sized openings

WTF?

today… as a blessing or a curse he quit as my first post-katrina guest arrives… no working bathroom doors… a padlock on my front door and a tripod for a tub…i think i might let her stay in the fema trailer instead

who the f@#* builds the porch first? well, it is a damn good porch! maybe i should just buy a hammock!

BLOG THIS!

phfred@mcnawlins.com

Just a quick note to say I’ll be doing a very informal “gig” at the Sound Café (2700 Chartres St in the Marigny) on Sunday evening, June 29, at 7PM. No cover charge.

This will also be a fare-thee-well for Jesse “Bazillionaire” Studenberg, The Amazing Singing Barista of the Sound Café. Jesse’s heading back to Portland soon, so if you’ve enjoyed his caffeinated artistry you should stop by and say hello and goodbye. Jesse will also be singing and playing some of his own tunes, and he is quite talented. I’m not lying.

There will be no amplification, just acoustic guitar and voice. Like I said, informal as hell. No tip jar either – not for me, at least.

I’ll be doing songs like this one, and this one too, among others, that reflect on life in post-storm New Orleans.

You will not recognize me by this old band photo:

… because it was taken 25 (ouch! yes, 25) years ago. Trust me: I was a punk before you were a punk.

Music starts 7PM sharpish. I hope to meet a few of you fine folks there, readers & bloggers both.

Louis Maistros

http://louismaistros.com

These things may not be right, but they are true.

The Sound of Building Coffins by Louis Maistros is due for publication from The Toby Press in Spring 2009.

[Editors Update 07-02-08: This post and the comments attached are a beautiful example of someone stepping up, admitting they were wrong and making good.  Please read all the way to the end of the comments before rendering final judgement or shooting off an email. -Loki]

This is THE GOLDEN GODDESS as she calls herself. She also claims to be a ‘RESIDENT GODDESS PIRATE.’” Let’s have a look, shall we?

Hmmm. I’m not convinced, and, having lived by Piracy much of my life, I think not.

Anyway, she has posted the following blog, which basically says that New Olreanians are not true Americans, that we suck because of how we suffered through Katrina. She calls what’s happening in Iowa reverse racism, because they’re white, and haven’t made ‘a big deal’.

Or something like that.

NEWS FLASH!

I live in New Orleans and I’m just one of about a hundred thousand white people here. That’s not the point anyway, but let’s watch her find it on a map. She lives, or ‘Goddesses’, in Tampa, so I’m sure she’s an expert on New Orleans & Iowa.

Anyway, she doesn’t seem to take into account that our situation here was decidedly different than A Flood. Leevees built by the US Government failed, they knew they would fail and did nothing. Nobody showed up for a week while over 1300 people died in the streets, attics and by drowning. Read the rest of this entry »

Longtime HumidCity friend Lipwrap got chosen to be in a town hall with David Vitter over the phone yesterday. She reported the whole thing, 140 characters at a time, over Twitter. For those of you who would like to see what went on she posted the log from, it here.

If you’re not familiar with Lipwrap’s Lament- The Line, you should be. The NOLABlogosphere’s favorite jewish mother has a dose of perspective you should appreciate. Lipwrap, thanks for posting this, its a mitzva!

Loki, HumidCity Founder

My friend Gordon posted a comment this morning in response to a post I made awhile back. As I’m not sure how many folks are getting track back on comments, I’m reposting his comment on the front page in case anyone has any suggestions for him and his very worthy endeavor!

- NOGoddess

From Gordon:

Well, here is the latest on Bio Liberty, LLC. We have been given a notice by the St Tammany parish code enforcement officer that states we are operating a commercial business on property zoned residential. After contacting the officials we have learned that although there are no State laws that prohibit making bio diesel they feel we are operating outside the law. We do not sell bio diesel. We use it to operate a lot clearing service for Lower Ninth Ward home owners. While we do make the fuel on the property in Slidell, LA. we do not conduct business there. Since my partner and owner of the property in subdividing the land and does not want to have our bio diesel operation prevent the green construction projects we have planed for. We have decided to move our bio diesel plant to another location.

So, we are looking for a place in New Orleans to make fuel for Bio Liberty, LLC. and to continue to clear lots for Lower Ninth Ward residents. If anyone has ideas about where we could relocate please let me know ASAP!

One possible solution is to create and bio diesel coop where members can make their own fuel and at the same time help the lot clearing efforts Bio Liberty has been doing for over a year now.

I don’t look at this as a set back rather, as a opportunity to expand our services and reduce our costs of gathering used cooking oil from New Orleans restaurants and recycling it into green fuel for the rebuilding efforts.

Peace, Out!

Gordon

On Edit: I just remembered this article from NOLA.com, published on the 19th and have to wonder if it is in any way connected to St. Tammany Parish’s objections to BioLiberty’s biodiesel operations. Given the way things too often work in the good old US of A - and, even more so, in good old LA, it wouldn’t surprise me if BioLiberty is getting the shaft because the big companies have been given a bond issue to develop a large biodiesel processing plant.

Developers of a proposed plant near Baton Rouge to convert animal fats, grease and corn oil into diesel fuel won final approval Thursday of a $100 million bond issue to get the project under way.

Without objection, the State Bond Commission gave final authorization to a project known as Dynamic Fuels LLC, a partnership between Tyson Foods, which produces chicken and meat products, and Syntroleum Corp. of Tulsa, Okla.

On one hand, it’s good to see the state trying something progressive, but on the other hand, should it be at the expense of good folks who have already been on the “progressive bus” for awhile (if this is indeed any part of what is happening). In any case, folks, it would be fantastic to have a biodiesel cooperative here in NOLA, so start wracking your brains and let’s help these guys find a place!

I got an email today from my friend, The Mermaid. And yes, she is.
She has a friend who is moving to town, and wants to write a nonfiction book about New Orleans and the events here, Post-K, of special interest to many considering the flooding of the Upper Mississippi.
She (the friend) was nice enough to include a questionaire. I couldn’t manage to answer a single question. They just didn’t seem to make sense to me for some reason. Not wanting to be ill mannered or let anybody down (Y’all know I NEVER do those things…) I responded as best I could, finding somehow, elusive truths I didn’t know I knew. Or something. Anyway, here is my response. Or whatever the hell it is.

Your comments, as always, are appreciated.

_______________________________________________________

 Hello and thanks for showing enough interest to write about New Orleans, never mind moving here. It’s a decision you will rethink many times, as the future unfolds, and ultimately see as the Beginning of Your New Orleans Life. This is an event relatively few people experience, and one inexplicably profound.

  I would love to discuss, in writing or otherwise, the things you ask about in your email, which The Mermaid forwarded to me. In typical N.O. style, I cannot tell you anything of merit by answering prefab questions. The answers would be as card board cut out as the questions (How does America see New Orleans? How the hell should I know? They’re out there and I’m down here…you buying the next round?)

  Please feel free to carry on as much discussion as possible. I’ll certainly give it my best shot. In fact, I’ll try to address your questionnaire, but in my own way, as that’s all I have.

  I will say that people here are sicker of hearing about ‘what happened during Katrina’ then anybody else in the country. We’ve largely rebuilt our neighborhoods ourselves, little by little. Non-profits have done a lot of good work in the lower nine, while too many of those Non-Profiteers lunch daily at Commanders Palace on the donation dime.
  State and federal monies are still trickling in, although ex-Gov. Blanco funded bull frog festivals and home comings while families lived in formaldehyde trailers, local governments planted much needed palm trees (?) through the center of town while St Bernard Parish still lacks water in some areas, and we seriously lack mental health facilities while Mayor ray Nagin spent $7000 of tax payer money on personal dinner excursions and is presently in South Africa during Vacation Season, with six (yes 6) assistants, doing god knows what as we sweat out hurricane season.?

  I frequently share the news that we are the northern most city of the Caribbean and a third world country all our own. How else could the Feds ‘rethink’ wetland development and reclaiming, putting off funding for another five or six years, or until Louisiana can cough up a billion dollars in cash.?

  But I ramble. I have trouble answering the questions inside those neat little lines, as there are too many stories interconnected behind the scenes. As for Iowa having ‘their Katrina’, I’m sorry. They had a flood. Katrina was an event where the government of the USA and the State of Louisiana played Look Away for almost a week while people died in the streets. The bar has been reset, and their relief and especially media coverage was stellar. While surviving a flood and it’s aftermath are horrible experiences, the world is watching now. They do so because of the hundreds who died UNNECESSARILY, only to have our President stand in Jackson square and lie through his fucking teeth, making promises he has yet to keep. He won’t do that again. Even George W. knows he wouldn’t get away with it. This time he even flew home from Paris. During Katrina, he couldn’t tear himself away from eating birthday cake with John McCain as an old woman sat dying in her wheelchair outside the sweltering horror of the Superdome.

  Yeah, maybe I’m a little pissed off. Or maybe I’ve simply opened my eyes. Maybe I’ve seen behind the curtain, where the little man tells lies and blows smoke and tends them all with his message of fear. I’ve certainly seen a city full of The Lost & Forgotten rise up, get to work, cross party, racial and economic lines to rebuild The City That Changed My Life.

So how do I feel about New Orleans post-K?
It was a gift from heaven.
A gift of truth.
A vision of community so vested in each other that material things mattered noticeably less, & there was that glint in the eyes of complete strangers that told you they were strangers no more.

Life goes on.
New Orleans goes on.
It lives and breathes like a leviathan in the swamp.
Old worldly, decidedly unsober, mannered in it’s own lingo, beautiful, decrepit and wildly free.
I strongly suggest a visit after you get settled in. Let’s meet for coffee, an afternoon snack, an evening cocktail and some late night drinking.
All in a row.
Bring back up, a bible, an airplane bag or whatever puts you at ease.
Let me be one of the many who will graciously introduce you to the most Beautiful Drunken Whore of a City that ever Saved Your Soul.

Just be prepared.
To fall in love with her, that is.
Your gonna be one of us now.
Welcome home, darlin.
We been waiting…
?
Lord David
Pirate & Artist
Skull Club
New Orleans

?

HumidCity is once more proud to bring you Missives From Matt McBride. This episode is in response to a rather obnoxious column that includes a revelation concerning what a certain former Mayoral candidate (and then Nagin supporter) truly thinks of our efforts to bring our city back. -Loki

Source Article Here

“Will America’s breadbasket be fixed faster than America’s party town, brought to its knees by water-overwhelmed levees in August 2005?

Rob Couhig, 59, thinks it will, partly because of Midwestern self-reliance. He thinks they’re not about to sit around, wringing their hands, waiting for the government to bail them out, which, he says, sadly, was what his beloved home town did - and still does.

A no-nonsense corporate lawyer in an open-collar white shirt, Couhig is a commissioner on the New Orleans Redevelopment Authority, and is thought by some to be one of the smartest men in town.”

“Talk-show host Robinette, a Cajun who devoted countless on-air hours to the danger of flooding before and after it happened, says that the city’s high ground, which was spared the flooding, exactly matched the boundaries of the original city. “If the engineers of 200 years ago knew those areas, you shouldn’t build there.”

This came in response to me asking if it is wise to rebuild the entire city.

To the same question, lawyer Couhig gave me an answer as long as a Ryan Howard home run, but didn’t directly answer.

“You’re saying ‘no,’ aren’t you?” I asked.

Couhig didn’t reply, but he smiled. I guess there are some things that you don’t want to be quoted as passing through your lips.”

The columnist gets things wrong too, assumedly from his chat with Garland Robinette:

“One who believes this to be true is 65-year-old Garland Robinette, a former TV anchor and now popular talk-show host on WWL-AM, which earned its bones by remaining on the air with emergency information after the TV stations drowned and the local paper couldn’t get delivered.”

In fact, the T-P stayed on line the whole time and was publishing within a couple of days. WWL-TV stayed on air continuously. Both won the most prestigious prizes in their respective fields for those feats; the T-P got a Pulitzer in 2006 and WWL-TV got a Columbia-DuPont prize in 2007.

Rob Couhig can be emailed at: couhigre@couhigpartners.com

Garland Robinette can be emailed at: grobinette@entercom.com

You can email the column’s author, Stu Bykofsky at stubyko@phillynews.com or call 215-854-5977, which is his direct line.

This column came out of a columnists conference held last week in New Orleans. Lt. Gov. Landrieu and Mayor Nagin spoke to the assembled ink-stained wretches. The organization that put it on, the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, has high hopes for lots of columns to come out of the conference:

http://www.columnists.com/index.php?ID=2

“Since New Orleans’ attempt to recover from being virtually destroyed by Hurricane Katrina is one of the most dramatic stories of our generation, we’re expecting some great columns to come out of the conference.

“We plan on collecting these columns (with permission, of course) and assembling them in an attractive book. Current plans call for proceeds from the sale of the book to go to help the recovery effort, which still needs help almost three years after the storm and flood.“

If the rest of the columns are like this one, it’ll be a pretty thin book.

Matt McBride

George Carlin was an inspiration in many ways for me. His black humor will be missed.

Story on Bloomberg here.

-Loki, HumidCity Founder

(Originally posted someplace else on June 1, 2008)

I’m trying to keep things up-tempo here at Casa de Maistros, but this time of year, my God it is tough. I confess that summers in New Orleans are not my favorite thing.

Here’s the deal. Today is the first day of hurricane season and it’s like some invisible demon has shot a starter pistol off into dogbreath blue sky signaling the Olympic Games of Organized Neurosis to hereby officially begin. It’s a stressful time of year, for sure.

Back before the big storm, hurricane season could be nerve-racking at times – but there was a kind of camaraderie about it, an almost jovial good sportsmanship associated with that universal fear of the so-called big one, a certain comfort in the comfortable uncertainty of how it might play out. We were only guessing then, and the guessing felt like a game.

Now it’s different. We’ve all seen how this shit plays out for ourselves, up close and personal. Now we know how very fucked up things can get around here. There’s not a whole lot left to guess about.

I’ve noticed that the biggest difference between now and then is not the weather, but our collective state of mind. Remember back in the day, when Ivan or Georges or Isabelle or whatever one-eyed shitfuck had to crawl so far up the radar that it was breathing down our necks before we even got the tiniest bit antsy about it? That was really not a bad way to go. Nowadays, everyone shifts way down low into mental meltdown mode as soon as the tiniest swirling bit of goo forms off the coast of Africa. It’s really ridiculous, but we all watch this shit like hawks now, as if such obsession can possibly do anyone any good at all.

The truth is simple enough. All we really need to do is decide whether we’ll be staying or going if the unthinkable happens again, and how we’ll act out that decision if and when it’s go-time. I know it’s very difficult to be methodical and rational about these things considering all that’s happened. But if we’re going to keep living here, we’ve got to start integrating these possibilities into our psyche in smoother fashion and stop taking out our frustrations on each other. And we have to do this even when we’re feeling the heat and the fear and the anger of bad memories far too recent to dismiss gracefully or easily or, really, at all.

I’m not preaching here, I’m pleading. Try. Just try. Let’s reject the temptation of the group nervous breakdown. We can’t go on acting as if we’re all just back from Vietnam, expecting Charlie might jump out of the bushes at any point between June and November 1^st. We New Orleanians are world renowned for our nutty behavior, and it’s an endearing quality on most days, but when the collective dementia translates into 7 parts crime wave and 3 parts general heartlessness towards one another, the nutty factor loses its classic charm.

And, I know; the mosquitoes, the termite swarms and this devilfucked black gnat epidemic are not helping morale much. I know. I’ve gotten to the point where the bugs have me so twisted that I’m collecting the little fuckers like trophies on tape strips and trap jars. It’s just how I deal. Makes me feel like I’m making a dent. A dent on what, I’m not exactly sure.

Let’s make a summertime resolution to get a grip. Really, we all have to learn to just kick it like we used to.

Do like this: Put together your little riding-it-out-like-a-crazed-motherfucker survival kit, or your getting-the-hell-out-of-dodge-like-a-sane-motherfucker escape kit, then tuck it away for that rainiest of days and forget about it till you need it. Fire up the barbecue or berl up the crawfish, reacquaint yourself with your fellow humans in a good way and try to remember that we’re all in the same leaky boat – and also remember that the day may come when that cranky-ass neighbor who’s name you can’t quite recall might turn out to be your best friend on this earth. Brush up on your hurricane humor. Remember how we used to crack each other up before a big storm, making light of a bad situation? That was healthy. As long as we’re prepared to deal with it realistically, it is very healthy to laugh. So yuck it up, bond with your fellow inmates, and strike up the motherfucking band. This is New Orleans, goddamnit, and we all have a lot to be proud of here. We’ve come a long way down this rough road of making things right again, and the government promise-breakers – be they city, state or federal – have had very little to do with that. This city has been regenerated one roof at a time. It’s you who have accomplished this. And your neighbor. So treat each other right. Every one of us who came back and swung a hammer in trembling fists is a fucking national hero. Know that. And don’t forget it. We might have been forgotten by most of America, but we absolutely embody the American can-do spirit. So be proud – because you’re a fool if you aren’t.

You know, if we’ve learned anything from the past it’s that, at the end of the day, we can only truly depend on each other. And that’s just fine because it’s enough, and it works. So let’s all take a deep breath of something good, wash it down with a stiff drink of something better, put on our goofy-ass devil-may-care Southern grins, and love thy neighbor like it’s an idea that really means something. Because goddamn if it doesn’t.

Experience is a tricky thing. I once knew a guy who had played guitar for twenty years but just never got any good at it. I asked a friend, “Has this guy really been playing twenty years?” And the answer was, “Well, it’s more like he’s been playing for one year, but twenty times.”

Let’s not let the benefit of our experience be erased every year, only to start from scratch with tempers flaring and guns blazing in a blind war against whoever or whatever is handy. Let’s build on what we’ve learned, every year and every day, let’s toughen our skins and sharpen our wits – but also let’s soften our hearts towards each other. Because if we don’t reach out to our neighbors, if we don’t prepare to help and be helped by each other, then we’ll just wind up in that damn Superdome again, waiting for another Godot who will not fucking come till it’s all too late, another demoralizing spectacle of pity and ridicule for the world to gawk at – and that, my friends, is not us. And it never has been.

So here we are again, about to run through one of those mind numbing psychological gauntlets, another Orleans Parish pressure cooker, and make no mistake; stand or fall, it’s all on us, baby. And just like always, we’ll either rise to the challenge or be diminished with the tide. We really can’t do both.

This weekend, beginning June 27th, To Do Productions opens its current presentation of Gertrude Stein and a Companion at the Marigny Theatre, 1030 Marigny Street.

The play begins shortly after the death of the formidable Gertrude Stein. As Alice B. Toklas returns alone to their home at 27 Rue de Fleurus, she finds the spirit of her partner still inhabiting her space. Soon the living and the dead are interacting and traversing through time and space, reliving the birth and early growth of twentieth century art and literature.

The playwright, Win Wells, has captured the pulse of the Paris of those years when Picasso, Hemingway, Matisse, Fitzgerald, and all the hodgepodge of Gertrude’s friends spent time together in the great writer’s salon.

A special benefit preview performance for the Breast Cancer Foundation will be held on Thursday, June 26th, sponsored by the Crescent City Outlaws.

Preview tickets are $25 and may be purchased from any member of the Crescent City Outlaws or by calling 504-813-7271 or 501-218-8559.

Performances continue on weekends through July 13th.

Label this under shameless self-promotion.

- Bigezbear