h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

And since Jay didn't get hit on by any eunuchs,

YOU JUST CALLED JAY BEAUTIFUL!!!!

OOOooo



Jay and Godben, sittin' in a tree,
K-I-S-S-I-N-G...

We don't know that any eunuchs didn't hit on her for sure. There probably isn't any in the area in which she lives.

All the more reason! You think she's so beautiful, they've all given up hope and left town!

Go, Godben!

Sure, that must be it.

Best of luck, you two!

*ahem*

...and why would GodBen NOT call me beautiful?!?

And good job GB. I most certainly did not get hit (on) by any doors ducks or eunuchs...not that I know of anyway...

Well, to me j, you're small, bald, and yellow.

Yes, lovely ain't I?

By small bald and yellow standards, you're about average.

You're such a smooth talker.

Two stories:

Last night I went out to dinner with two friends, one of which is a native of New Orleans (and still very much a YAT...I'll explain later). The restaurant had a TV on in the corner, and as we were waiting for our food, the New Orleanean, Joel, was commenting on the areas of town the news was showing. His mother still lives in New Orleans, so he was concerned about her home and the surrounding area.

The people at the next table overheard Joel, and immediately entered into conversation with us. Just then a group of people walked in and sat at another table adjacent to ours. They overheard us and the minute one of them heard Joel talk, said he was an evacuee from Chalmette near New Orleans. We all drew our tables together (perfect strangers, now) and continued on with our conversations until the place closed at 10:00.

~~

This afternoon, I was in a restaurant picking up lunch to-go. As I waited for my sandwich, there were several others waiting, and one man, a black guy, just out of the blue said he was worried about his sister who lived on the Northshore of New Orleans, and he hadn't heard from her yet. We all turned and smiled and wished him well, and before you know it, we all were talking about the situation there, and the people we knew caught in the storm, and even after our numbers were called for our sandwiches, we all sort of stuck around for a few minutes, continuing on with our conversations. My sandwich was cold and soggy by the time I got home with it, but I think it was worth it.

I think the people in my whole area are shell shocked. I can't do much for them as far as helping with their situations.

But I can listen when they want to talk about it. This was two examples of people, total strangers, who just needed to talk. I'm glad I was there.




*Definition of a YAT*
New Orleaneans have a unique speech pattern. They do NOT have your typical southern drawl. In fact, it sounds more like the Bronx or Queens than Mississippi or Alabama. The term YAT comes from the slang phrase "Where yat?, or "where are you at" or in proper english "Where are you?"

Anyway, a Louisianian can identify a New Orleanean anywhere by their speech pattern. Here in Baton Rouge, we have a mixture of YAT in our dialects with a lot of "Coon A$$" from our neighbors to our west in Cajun Country. Their speech patterns are laced heavily with a bastardized French. North Louisiana, or Yankee Country, is pure southern drawl...they are too close to Arkansas or Mississipi to get any YAT or Coon A$$ in their speech.

Anyway...

That's the best news I've heard since this whole disaster started.

I just heard that FEMA has 25,000 body bags ready.

Think of that number again.


Twenty Five Thousand.

*sigh*


~~~~


On the lighter side, this appeared in the New Orleans Times Picayune to introduce Louisianians to the rest of the world:

Chris Rose: Louisiana ambassadors say hello

Dear America,

I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana.

We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much on formalities like that.

And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're just going to have to make the best of it.

First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue.

We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it.

Just don't get carried away. For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters.

We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way.

You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard.

We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of others who don't.

But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town.

Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.

Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots?

We can't really explain that. It is what it is.

You've probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.

The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us.

We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time.

When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces.

But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all, we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's got to count for something.

OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times.

But what the hell.

And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life.

So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair.

That is our promise. That is our faith.

New Orleaneans have not lost their sense of humor.

In today's newspaper there is a picture of a boarded up window on a business on St. Charles Ave. Hand painted on the board was:

Looters will be shot.
Don't try.
I am sleeping inside with a big dog,
an ugly woman,
two shotguns,
and a claw hammer.

Ah, well, it's been almost a year.

A few weeks ago, I heard that the director, Spike Lee, made a documentary for HBO on Hurricane Katrina. Not being a fan of Mr. Lee, I didn't expect it to be an absolute...shall we say...unbiased...appraisal of events.

The first of the two part series aired on HBO last night. I grudgingly decided maybe I'd watch the first few minutes of it.

I fully expected to hate it. In fact, I wanted to have a regular I-hate-Spike-Lee fest, right there on my livingroom couch.

But...damn it all, I didn't hate it.

In fact I thought it was very good. Very balanced, and very emotional. Huh.

I did have a bit of a problem with the inclusion of interviews with Sean Penn (don't MAKE me go in to that story!) and Harry Belefonte (cuddling up to Hugo Chavez...yes, THAT Hugo Chavez), but other than that, (oh and big local fat-cat Junior Rodrigeuz, that snake), yeah other than that, it was very well put together.

So if you have a curiousity about the events before, during and after Katrina, this is a very good study.

Or if you just like well made documentaries, this is your ticket.

...Hmm. Part 2 is on later tonight.

Don't let me down, Spike.

Wow.

I mean really...wow.




Thank you, Spike Lee. Job well done.





I never told you the name! 'When The Levees Broke: A Requiem in IV Acts'. Check it out.

Just marking time.

I remember.

Wow. Three years now.

Re-reading this thead I realized there were a few of you who did a wonderful thing in distracting me from those pretty horrible events of three years ago. Thank you especially to GodBen, EvilClaw, SuperMoo, Haik, and Nuke. Three of you I have lost contact with, much to my regret.

Now...

...Katrina, meet Gustav...

well...we'll be here again for more distractions...