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It hardly rains in Eureka, California February 25, 2013

Posted by The Typist in Bayou St. John, Crow, cryptical envelopment, Fortin Street, Louisiana, New Orleans, The Narrative, The Typist, Toulouse Street.
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Certainly it’s rainy west of the Cascades: Oregon, Washington, Northern California; all those dreary grey days, redwoods and ferns, heroin and grunge. Portland and Seattle are the sentimental favorites. Along the Hurricane Coast it rains buckets, pissing pythons my girlfriend’s text message said the other night. It’s February 24th and we have had twenty cloudy days and thirteen of rain, including Mardi Gras Day. January we had twenty-six cloudy days, thirteen of rain. December: twenty cloudy days and eleven of rain. You get the idea. A rain of frogs would be an interesting relief.

Winter here makes you long for summer when the unrelenting heat and humidity are relieved by the afternoon monsoons, the fairly regular afternoon thunderstorms, watching the inbound cumulonimbus crowning over the coastal wetlands and the lake, the dense tropical splendor of the cooling downdrafts and downpours. One night not long after the flood I was stopped on a dark Marconi Avenue (the lights not yet restored) by a parade of ducks crossing the road to see what the raucous chorus of frogs were singing about in the small wetland that lies between the road and the levee. I rolled down the window and stopped the engine in the middle of the then-deserted road and simply listened in the cool aftermath, watched the egrets high-stepping through this cypress-studded niche eco-system.

The black sky is just turning gray as I write this but I can already hear the crows calling the laggards over the breakfast at the racetrack stables. When it’s this wet the seagulls will be with them, and I can stand just inside my door with a cigarette and watch their chessboard battle over the soggy infield and the best bits left by the horses. If I were a true naturalist masochist I could grab my hurricane slicker and an umbrella and walk the blocks to the park and watch the pelicans over the bayou but I have an inexplicable love of crows, love to watch the stark battle of black versus white against the gray sky. I don’t understand the attraction for the seagulls with the bayou a half-dozen blocks over. I understand the attraction to me, to stand with the heat of the house pouring out behind me just under shelter from the next downpour watching the crows loud party. We are rather fond of large and animated dinners down here.

Voodoo, cannibalism, witchcraft in NOLA December 23, 2007

Posted by The Typist in cryptical envelopment, Dancing Bear, New Orelans, New Orleans, NOLA, Odds&Sods, Toulouse Street.
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“New Orleans is also very ingrained in voodoo, cannibalism and witchcraft”
–Unidentified Army chaplain on a TV news report out of San Francisco

What precisely is the point of this video? Does the military actually employ exorcists? Did people in California really believe that people in New Orleans are cannibals?. Do I have to pay for this crap with my taxes?

Having lived away for almost 20 years and found myself taking my family through the entire tourism trip on visits to New Orleans, I missed out on the cannibalism tours.

As for the tax-payer financed exorcism by this frightening example of government-sponsored and -financed superstitious ignorance: In the name of every spirit in and of New Orleans, I command that the spirit this asshole chaplain, all like him and the god they worship–Begone. Jump up a pig’s ass and go drown yourself.

Big hat tip to American Zombie.

Fire on the Bayou October 26, 2007

Posted by The Typist in cryptical envelopment, Dancing Bear, Hurricane Katrina, New Orelans, New Orleans, NOLA, Toulouse Street.
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I feel for California, but . . .

What is the percentage of New Orleanians for whom relocation to the Qualcomm evacuation center would STILL represent an increase in quality of life?