holaolah

Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans?

I was thinking today about how I'm glad I was able to catch a glimpse of the glory of New Orleans before it went down in the flood and the potency of her people was scattered and diluted. The song with the same name as the title of this post is very fitting at this time for those, like myself, who are prone to nostalgia and apt to ponder loss. Before the flood, New Orleans was on our short list of places to one day live. That most minor loss of a little dream went with the flood as well.

My friend Kyle sure knows what it means to miss New Orleans. His passion for, and knowledge of, the city is immeasurable. He sure knows a hell of lot more about it than I do. I thought that since he is the expert, I'd call upon him to help me with today's news. He graciously accepted despite his studies. He's a good man. Here's his guest post...

There are two things I want to avoid here:

1)sounding like a Public Service Announcement and 2)sounding like a Hallmark card.

So I'll just get right to it: New Orleans has better music, better food, better bars, better architecture, better whatever is you happen to be into.  They even have better street-names.  I could go on for hours, but you get the idea.

I shot a movie there a few years back and had the opportunity to get to know an incredible group of people, all of whom came together to help me, a total stranger.  That right there best sums up New Orleans.

So what now?

The most important thing anyone can do now is anything.  Literally anything, as long as it's something.  There's nothing wrong with being obvious: send a donation to the charity of your choice.

You can be gung-ho and chip in with Habitat.

There's also nothing wrong with just going down there and hanging out.  Enjoy the music.  Enjoy the food. Enjoy the bars and the architecture and the people and the whatever it is you're into.  It's all there.  They want you to visit, so go.  It's a two hour flight from Philly.  It's not nearly as expensive as you're thinking.

If you can't do that, no problem.  Go online and find out when a New Orleans musician is touring in your area.  Go see them.

If you can't do that, go online and find a New Orleans musician and buy a few of their CDs.

If you can't do that, buy one of their CDs.

I realize that this message has quickly spiraled into a Public Service Announcement, but that's okay.  I'm willing to be THAT GUY as long as you're all willing to do something in return.

If you don't, my next posting will sound like a Hallmark card.

Literary Fun With Fred and His Hateful Hicks

The other day while researching Fred Phelps and his Westbrook Baptist Church, I came across some  strikingly fresh writing. They have these reports called epics that detail their hate missions. It's informed stuff. Influenced by the great traditions and quite imaginative in its delivery. I'd like to share a few examples with you today.

Our first example is totally death metal. It would work perfectly as an incantation for that scene in Spinal Tap, you know, right before the little Stonehenge descends to the stage:

The Saints Shower the Necromancers with Bible Truths That Will Condemn Them When They Stand Before the White Throne

Wow, right?

This one channels the spirit of the great Gonzo in the sky, the good doctor Hunter S. Thompson.  It almost makes me believe he came back from his death trip and now he's haunting the kind writers at Westbrook:

Epic of the Querulous Whore and the Dakota Taliban

Ummm, this one is just wild. I can't set it up with anything besides "get ready for the crazy..."

WBC’s early rising trip to picket the ABOMINABLE necromancy of dung hill gods of Brokeback Mountain in the form of Barnum & Bailey’s Circus Show in Hutchinson, KS. They were not satisfied with raising Peter Wagler for the devil, sending him off to be blown to bits by a raging God, and sending his soul to hell forever, thereby condemning themselves, but would rather incur God’s wrath against themselves seven times seven times seven times seven ad infinitum! (See Lev. 26)

Totally awesome and compelling headline on this epic. How could you not read something with such a creative hook? As an earth-dweller of today, I know that whenever someone says here's a powerful learning moment for you, I pay attention:

The Epic Adventure of Westboro Baptist Church while she was preparing to deliver the Word of God to West Virginia from January 2 to January 15, 2006. This Epic writing was required because of the unique nature of the situation and the facts as they unfolded and it is a powerful learning moment for the earth dwellers of today.

While poking around the site this evening I found an informative game. The  person who said that homophobia, hate and child molestation couldn't be educational and fun was a liar. They've obviously never played this game.

Here's my final observation on the whole Westbrook klan... for anti gay fake church, they sure have a hell of a lot of links to gay media and organizations. Kinda makes you scratch your head and say hmmmm....

I'll Only Turn 30 Once Pt. 9

  Trump Marina from Borgata 
  Originally uploaded by holaolah.

"So where exactly am I supposed to go?"
"Dude, you're going to the Borgata. Get on the Atlantic City Expressway and it will take you right up to it. Call her from the lobby when you get there."

I'll Only Turn 30 Once Pt. 8

He didn't let me pay on the count of me being born and all on this day. I wasn't up for arguing or wrestling or any of that. I know that my brother can easily best me when it comes to that kinda stuff. Growing up, we had one bathroom. Often when I'd have to go an use it, my brother would be in there, doing whatever it is that teenagers do in the bathrooom for extended periods of time. Combing his permed mullet, I think. I would bang on the door, hard, trying to get him to let me in because I had to go so bad and it was about to come out in my pants. He'd say something like, "Oh yeah, how bad do you have to go?" I'd tell him soooooo bad. He'd then open the door, sweep my legs out from under me so I was on my back and seeing stars from hitting my head on the floor and then he proceed to either step on my stomach or tickle me until he made the pee pee dribble out of me. If he could divine that I had to go number two he would grab my legs and kick me in the butt, thus giving me a reason to wait until later to use the facilities. All this to say, I thought it wise to allow him to pay for the meal.

I thanked him for the grub and gave him a hug. As I turned to get in my car he handed me an envelope with my name on it. He said it was my instructions for where I was going next and that I should call Janell when I get there.

Interesting

You know... my previous two posts are kinda funny when viewed side by side.

So what's the damage?

It's worse than it looks. My estimate from the body shop came back for $3,427.96. We won't have to end up paying as much as we feared due to Progressive's/Delaware's requirement that I carry uninsured motorists coverage. So we'll have to shell out $250 instead of $500. Still a chunk of change, but not as extreme. Oh, and this nifty coverage also provides a rental car at no expense to holaolah so I'm stoked to be cruising the tri-state area in a black Nissan Sentra. The only exciting thing about this is that I noticed a line-in jack for the stereo so I can't wait to plug the ipod in and hear it in the car via something clearer than an itrip transmitter.

I'll Only Turn 30 Once Pt. 6

"What are we doing here?" I asked.
"Eating dinner, just like I told you."
"Just us?"
"Yep, I'm taking you out to dinner."
"Wow, that's really cool."
And with that I shrugged off my paranoia and we entered Famous Dave's.
I'd end up keeping my confusion until about the middle of the next day.

I'll Only Turn 30 Once Pt. 4

The figure exhaled and spoke with my brother's voice, "You're an hour late, let's go."

I gave him a quick hug and greeting him as my brother and said, "Oh, OK. We're not staying here?"

"Nope, we're going to dinner" he said as he was walking toward his truck.

"Well what about Lauren and Susan, are they coming?" I asked, trying to figure out what was afoot.

"Dude," he said, "they're asleep in bed. It's late."

"Sorry" I said, feeling like I should be more aware of my family's sleep patterns. I then asked him if he'd like to ride along with me and he said that we just have to go and that it would be best to drive separately and that I should do my best to keep up.

We got into our vehicles and I allowed him to pull out of his driveway. He pulled up beside me and told me that we needed to make a stop so he could get some gas.

Brent tore off like we really had somewhere to be a long time ago. I got the feeling that we were well past late. I felt a deep regret when I imagined all of my fiends hanging out somewhere in NJ, on a weeknight, and the guest of honor was nowhere in sight.

I'll Only Turn 30 Once Pt. 2

I got home to find a handful of cash for tolls/coffee, a set of mapquest directions and a note, indicating that I had about 10 minutes to get anything I might want that wasn't already packed and get the show the road to birthday paradise (wherever that might be). Upon further inspection I learned that New Jersey, the state of my birth as well as denial (that's an inside joke for you ma), was to be my final destination. My brother's house to be exact, or at least that's where I thought I was going. I was told to do what I was told, so I did what I was told because that's what I was told.

I looked around the place. She packed everything I could possibly want for the weekend (except a face shaving razor, which I went without for the weekend and eventually converted into a beard. That's the origin of my 30th commemorative beard. Interestingly, I couldn't grow one up until a few years ago. Puberty came late to this youngin. Well, face puberty, that's how I should put it.) I threw a few magazines in my weekend sack, decided it would not be wise to fire up the mac and blog, and took a potty break. Noticeably missing from our coffee table when I went to get the magazines was our copy of the Philly NFT Guide. Could this be a clue? Our NYC Guide was still in its place so I knew something was askew.  I also noticed that the cats were well apportioned for the days ahead and that a note for Sherry, their nanny, was on the table. She still has the key because she warmed the place up for us. We still get her Smithsonian magazine and swing by her place when she's away to feed her cat named Penny. I also grabbed my sneakers when I noticed they were still here. I don't know why I thought I'd need them. I didn't . They stayed in my car until I came home from work last night. The directions on the printout said that it would take about and hour and a half to get to my brother's house. I thought about going the way I'd normally go--through the town of my birth--but alas, I decided that the directions would be better because I could bypass some town type traffic and all the windy backroads. I just wanted to get to the good stuff... wherever that might be. I left the house knowing that I wouldn't be back for a few days and that all I had to do was make it to Brent's asap.

I'll Only Turn 30 Once Pt. 1

(How I spent my 30th birthday in serialized form. Just like "Trapped In the Closet" but less compelling... and w/o weakbladdered wee people.)

And with that in mind Janell set out to plan the best birthday celebration of my life to date. She hit a home run. Here's how it all went down...

I knew she was planning something, but I deliberately resisted the urge to play detective. It was tough but I played ignorant instead and felt surprised for once. Glad I did it too.

Wednesday, Feb. 1. I started the day by visiting Dundy Flo Go's for a box of holes and a sausage sandwich. I had coupons. It was like grade--school bringing in my own treat and all. I was bombarded by cards and gifts when I got to my desk. I basked in the love. It really did feel good. My e-mail was flooded as well.  Nothing like aging to show you what folks think of you.

My buddy Andrew took me out for lunch at the Brass Monkey. While there I was serenaded by 2/3 of the long defunct gospel group called "The Triple Hearts Trio." They had the local gentry in tow. The other third, kin of the gentry, finished the song solo, in passing, later on in the day. No lie.

Halfway through the lunch Andrew informed me that I'd finish up my day at work, go home, and follow the instructions left for me there. I would not be returning to work for the week so he told me to tie up any loose ends that I need to and keep moving. He was deadly serious the whole time and had known all along what was waiting for me in the days ahead. I was impressed by his ability to play ignorant on this matter. Who am I to argue with a government agent?

She went to the trouble of calling my boss and using my personal days without asking me. She contacted my friends for my benefit. She must have had something really big up her sleeve...