The bloggers’ union threatened to revoke my card if I didn’t write about the Hurricane which is currently baptizing New Orleans. I can’t think of a city more overdue for a cleansing. Sometimes, if you refuse to go to the river, the river comes to you.
It’s a shame really. Few places evoke the spirit of the BRC like New Orleans. Fried merliton, steaming plates of etouffee over rice, more than a few dangerous connivers, and a ragtime trumpet wafting somewhere over the pee-drenched streets in a hot pre-dawn Sunday morning along the Mississippi river.
The crawdads belong in the pot, and instead they are now swimming leisurely through the kitchens, exploring Bourbon street from the other side of the table.
I am truly surprised that I have not heard any Sodom and Gomorrah type damnations. New Orleans, city of sin and vice. Gambling, prostitutes, hard drink, gluttony, lasciviousness of every kind, and not a single Christian Conservative willing to stand up and declare it to be God’s will? Cowards. They finally get served the lob of the century and they are afraid to swing the bat.
Meanwhile, we get more hot, muggy weather. Tallahassee is the eternal hurricane bridesmaid.
Summer is over, a canceled check. Students are back. The pace of life in Tallahassee has assumed the busy, everyone needs to be everywhere flow, and all that remains of the summer of ’05 is the heat. Powder is still at large in the Rockies, so for him at least, the idyll continues.
I’m ready for a cool dry wind, carrying the hoarse cries of 80,000 football fans, as I roll out of the house for an all day ride.