Thursday, August 28, 2008
Just Like That...Only Not
Matt G: I've never really understood the fascination with New Orleans, actually. What's so great about the French Quarter if you're not there to get drunk or laid?
AD: It smells like piss, stale beer and rotten garbage. And yeah, if you're out of the "heh, bewbies!" demographic, there's not much attraction.
Matt G: And now you've got Gustav headed your way. Why does God hate Louisiana so much?
AD: Well, you make the mistake of thinking that New Orleans is actually a part of Louisiana when it's not. It's our own self-contained den of corruption, vice and iniquity, wholly surrounded by a pleasant place to live. You know, kinda like the Vatican.
Matt G: Yeah, like a photo negative of the Vatican.
AD: Exactly. You have this holy city, seat of one of the major sects of Christianity, totally surrounded by a secular country. Flip that around, and you've got New Orleans - the vice den tucked away in the corner of a Catholic church.
Matt G: And Nagin would be like the anti-Pope, right?
AD: And the New Orleans Police Department would be like the Swiss Guards, only less disciplined, prone to looting and wearing Fubu shirts instead of Renaissance uniforms.
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12 pithy observation(s).:
that's hysterical. but what about vegas? i thought new orleans was the chocolate city, not the city of sin.
If Louisiana had an asshole, New Orleans would be it.
Stay safe, AD!
We prefer the "boil-on-the-buttock" metaphor. The per se asshole would be the mouth of the Mississippi, methinks. That is where all the effluvia exits, after all.
But you didn't mention the Chocolate City.
Be careful down there.
When I was in San Francisco, they referred to NO as the San Francisco of the South.
Uhm. Cranky Husband and I go to NO to get drunk and laid quite a bit. in fact, we probably should credit NO with the creation of the Shark.
Just sayin'.
I happened to like NO a lot when I visited over a decade ago. Visited.
I had recently settled a nice lawsuit, which afforded me two weeks in the NO area, and I invted my two best friends to keep me company. I burned the Quarter and Bourbon Street out of my system the first night by being the fag hag third wheel to my two best friends. Spending the whole night at Oz and some other gay (boy) strip bar across Bourbon Street, I was far more concerned about keeping naughty bits outta my mised drinks from the strippers dancing on the bars. The last place a lesbian wants to be is a gay boy strip bar. Promise. My friends wanted to stay, and I was over it. I left them to party and retired to the hotel. I got a call at 10 am, confirming that the two of them were very able to make friends and continue their debauchery without me.
Thankfully, we spent the rest of the trip taking pontoon boat alligator tours of swamps and bayous, walking the cemetaries, hanging out in the square, riding the street cars into the garden district, and hoping to glimpse Anne Rice. Hey, it was the week before and after Halloween. What better place to watch the hard core goths, take chost tours and hang out in cemetaries?
Besides, the swamp tours really satisfied the Pagan in me, showing me a new beauty in Nature that Georgia just can not offer.
I can say that the party life mentality of the Quuarter has no appeal to me what so ever. Outside the city lies a beauty no other part of the country can match. That's the part Mother Nature will balance out with disasters like Katrina and Gustav. Mother Nature doesn't battle herself... only man.
Well, there is that little bit about New Orleans and the South Louisiana port being one of, if not the, largest ports in the world by volume of cargo, and (IIRC) 14th in terms of value shipped through. Oh, and you folks up in the midwest? 60% of the stuff you sell overseas passes through here. Had you strayed far from the Quarter, you might have seen some actual culture and discovered that the whole town doesn't smell like the leavings of drunken college students from Indiana. Then there's the small matter that from the time Bienville put us here until a certain Texan's Great Society gave us a permanent underclass on the dole, it was New Orleans' tax dollars carrying the rest of the state instead of the other way around. About the only thing the rest of the state can take credit for is the invention of the toothbrush. (Had it been invented here in New Orleans, it would be the teethbrush...) Everything north of I-10 is really Baja Arkansas anyhow, with such thriving metropoli as (Too Klan infested for Duke & Buchannan) Ruston and (the French Quarter, minus the class) Bossier City. You sister marrying, meth-mouthed, rat soup eating mo-fos can kiss my decadent New Orleanian backside.
Cybrludite,
ROFL...touche, my friend.
AD,
Cyberludite is going to sic Ignatius P. Reilly on you.
Here is an interesting Confederacy of Dunces link.
I lived there for four years, and being carless for three and a half of them, did a fair amount of prowling about on foot.
The Quarter's got several little subdistricts. Once you get away from the bars and tourist-leeching shops, it can be an antiquer's dream- my mother, when visiting, dragged me all over the damn place turning up the most bizarre little knickknacks imaginable. (My personal favorite was the stock certificate from Tucker Motor Company.) It's also something of a foodie's paradise, again outside of the establishments that exist to feed overpriced shrimp to the tourists. Outside the Quarter, Audubon Zoo and the Aquarium of the Americas are both top-flight.
...Admittedly, the ONLY things I genuinely miss about the city are the food, the zoos, and being on that bird migration route.
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