Monday, May 28, 2007

This man was working on the Uptown streetcar line today--all alone, mind you, but working nonetheless. And maybe because I was tired, or maybe because I was woozy from having blood drawn, or maybe because I'm a sappy pantywaisted cakeboy, but for some reason I got a little choked up. I rolled down the window and yelled "THANK YOU!" I don't think he heard me, but it's the thought, right?

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Destrehan, Louisiana, 5.25.07

Friday, May 25, 2007

Gayer by the day: I dreamt last night that I was Tyra Banks' hairdresser. (Please note, I am not a hairdresser in real life. Far from it.)

Anyway, she turned to me and said, "Baby, you have got to stop putting all that glitter spray up in my weave!" And I hung my head in shame.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

SPIN, NATCH

"Bush and Rove are innocent"

The Justice Department's former White House liaison testified Wednesday that she never discussed the hiring or firing of U.S. attorneys with White House officials.... [CNN]

"Someone's been a naughty girl"

The Justice Department’s former liaison to the White House testified before Congress today that she improperly weighed political factors in considering applicants for career positions in the department, and she said she was sorry.... [NYT]

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

This may come as a shock, but New Orleans has some problems. Chief among them: erratic crime, rising sea levels, and a thoroughly unhinged jackass of a mayor who was elected by wealthy Uptowners and bussed-in, destitute evacuees--neither of whom have to deal with his shit because the former can always jet off to Gstaad and the latter still live in Houston.

So, basically the last thing we need is more problems. Especially more loonies. Luckily, this one was stopped at the border:

NEW YORK -- A fashion writer accused of sexually abusing a former co-worker while dressed as a firefighter hoped to go to New Orleans and lead a gang of angry Hurricane Katrina survivors, a psychologist testified.

Dr. William Barr, a neuropsychologist, said Monday that the plan was something Peter Braunstein told him he considered while on the run after the attack on the woman on Halloween night 2005 in New York.

"He talked about going to New Orleans because he thought there were a lot of angry people down there and he could provide them some kind of leadership," Barr testified....

Braunstein, 43, is accused of igniting smoke bombs while wearing firefighter gear and tricking his way into a former co-worker's apartment, where he knocked her out with chloroform, tied her to a bed and sexually abused her for nearly 13 hours.

--CNN

(Which kinda reminds me of the time a vanity arsonist set fire to the Bourbon Pub, just so he could get a pat on the back and maybe some sympathy sex. But that's another story.)

Anyway, this guy was caught before he infiltrated our city, but surely he's not alone. New Orleans has always been a magnet for folks on the fringe, so how many chloroform-wielding, Hero Syndrome-suffering others walk among us? Common Ground, I'm lookin' in your direction....

UPDATE #1: The New York Times reveals that Mr. Braunstein drafted a manifesto (brownie point #1) in which he threatened to kill Anna Wintour (brownie point #2). Maybe he's not so bad after all.

UPDATE #2: Apparently, the judge thought he really was so bad after all.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED IN THE LAST TEN DAYS

1. Elsewhere, I have insisted that the worst job in the entire world is that of the Halloween costume model. I would like to qualify that statement: the most demeaning job in the entire world is that of the Halloween costume model. The most tiresome job in the entire world is that of the Las Vegas weatherman. I mean, just hire a monkey in a suit.

2. I find no joy or pleasure in gambling because I don't believe in luck. I believe in chance, which is luck divorced from theology.

3. Additionally, I find no joy or pleasure in gambling because don't like giving money to people I don't know. Please do not attempt to introduce me to the owners of the Luxor, the Venetian, or any other theme park masquerading as a hotel. My mind is made up.

4. What happens in Vegas does not necessarily stay in Vegas. By which I mean I brought back an annoying rash that has emerged symmetrically on my feet and forearms. And sadly, I did nothing to deserve it. Perhaps I am allergic to the desert.

5. As we learned a couple of weeks ago, blogging is totally dead, but then, I never know when to quit, do I?

6. I despise the whiny, addled, excuse-making character otherwise known as A. J. Soprano. I was hoping he would drown this week. I was rooting for it. Aloud. But at least we got to see James Gandolfini in a suit, dripping wet. Hello, nurse....

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Dear Mr. Falwell:

Yes, that's all there is.

Best,
Richard

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Miss Andrea needs to read her Emily Post, because everyone knows you don't come early to a party. And the bitch is way freakin' early.

I'm glad all that global warming nonsense has been put to bed. Otherwise someone might think that an increase in oceanic surface temperatures is causing North America's hurricane season to kick off weeks ahead of schedule. But of course, that's crazy talk.

Monday, May 07, 2007

Not to be all Sally McSexcrimes with two lascivious posts in a row, but clearly, spring has done sprung in Washington Park:

thursday may 3rd at 5pm, i had my child in the swing and a man on the bench who had been staring at us for some time exposed himself and jerked off. i'd like to warn other parents since i think he is a park regular and i wouldn't want another child to be assaulted. by the time i could call the police he had left.

he looked like mid 40's, around 5'11", thin, big thick glasses. he was wearing tan cordouroy [sic] pants, a big gray t-shirt, sneakers and a light colored baseball cap. he sat alone and stared at the children.

--From the seriously useful mailing list of the seriously out-of-date Marigny.org.

Which leads me to believe that either Brad Pitt was doing some epic pre-Fest partying, or someone got lost on his way to the Phoenix. Or both.

Saturday, May 05, 2007

So, this showed up in today's Picayune:

A two-hour undercover operation in Kenner netted the arrest of 14 men for soliciting sex from female police officers, authorities said Friday.

Posing as prostitutes, the officers were sent late Thursday to a section of Airline Drive and a stretch of Veterans Memorial Boulevard, Kenner Police Department spokesman James Gallagher said. The exact locations were not disclosed.

-- Times-Picayune

Pretty standard, right? The article goes on to name all 14 johns (which is, BTW, more than ABC has done with its 40-some-odd pounds of "DC Madam" records). And then there's this:

All were booked with prostitution and crime against nature except Griffin, who was booked only with crime against nature, and Chica-Garcia, Franco and Pridger, who were booked only with prostitution.

Now, I'm guessing that's supposed to be a point of clarification, but for those not acquainted with Louisiana's byzantine legal code, it raises way more questions than it answers. I mean, is it supposed to tell us something about the johns'...predilections? Can we assume that Chica-Garcia, Franco, and Pridger are the dullards of the bunch, since they probably didn't get any? Is Griffin is the brainiac, since he weaseled his way out of paying? Free legal advice, anyone?

Thursday, May 03, 2007

ODDS & ENDS

• Valerie Bertinelli came to me in a dream last night. On the phone. She called me. We talked for a very long time. She was flirty. Coquettish. She confided that she was not wearing a bra, and she made little kissing noises. She insisted that she is not--as the loathsome Kirstie Alley claims--fat; she is merely voluptuous. I put her on hold and made myself a sandwich.
• Former New Jersey governor Jim McGreevey now says he wants to be a priest. But it's not simply another case of a self-loathing cockgobbler hitching himself to the church or the military or some other homophobic institution with a uniform fetish. No, Jimmy's doing it the classy way. He's converted to the Episcopal church--you know, the one that ordains gay priests? And he's joined a seminary. In Manhattan. In Chelsea. Apparently, someone wants to have his cakeboy and eat him, too. (Side note: Jim's domestic life isn't so rosy, being complicated in part by Jonno's closepersonalfriend, photographer Richard Rinaldi, who has a penchant for taking pictures of naked men.)
• Today's Times-Picayune features the hilarious headline Drug dealer suspect nabbed on toilet! Then they go and ruin it all in the first paragraph by explaining that "Federal agents found a drug suspect hiding in the bathroom of the Central City house that locals said was a neighborhood crack cocaine parlor." Which isn't funny at all. Arresting a crack dealer while he's taking a shit would be a scream, like Alexyss K. Tylor. But hiding from the cops in the can is merely sad, like Rich Little. Very, very sad. (Side note: I'm intrigued, however, to hear that crack dealers in New Orleans are doing well enough to upgrade from mere crack houses to the far-swankier crack parlors. Mazel tov, miscreants!)

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