So I'm on my lunch break, and I've got a craving for bad Chinese food. Like the sloppy, messy kind of goop they throw in styrofoam containers, coating everything in a gelatinous brown paste. So I make a u-ey in the middle of St. Claude Avenue and head over to my favorite ghetto--and I do mean Good Times/Cleopatra Jones/Foxy Brown-ghetto--Chinese food place. It's not even a restaurant, really; more like a snowball stand that just happens to serve Chinese. But not as clean. Eew.
Anyway, I'm standing on the sidewalk, waiting for my order to come up, when a low-stylin Buick Regal pulls up to the curb, its stereo blaring none other than the incomparable Teena Marie. And for a moment, as I looked around and saw that I was probably the only honky for several blocks, I felt somehow one with Miss Teena--lily white girl, black girl world. And I think to myself, was I always this, um, racially aware (for lack of a better term)? And my hunch is no, but New Orleans has created that awareness in me. The Creole legacy to the city has been an intricate caste system, complex and fascinating.
As a lucky bonus, on the way back to the office I heard another great one: Nancy Wilson's fantastic version of "Guess Who I Saw Today." So...subtle, yes? I wonder what would happen if Lil' Kim were to do a cover...
Guess who I saw today, muthafucka?
Lovah, brotha, bitch-bastard-sucka?
Bitch saw yo' stank ass with that party ho' Jojo
On the downlow
In the bistro
Workin' yo' shrinky-dink yo-yo
Creepin' out the do'
To yo' crib
And now you gon' fib
To me?
Sucka mc?
You must be crazy.
Get on back to yo' chick
Outta my face, suck my dick.
Pussy.
