HumidCity

so it’s as if i’m charlton heston walking down the beach…. DAMN DIRTY APES! DAMN DIRTY BUSH! DAMN DIRTY FEMA! but somehow that post-apocalyptic analogy is missing something… no witty or insightful sequals (thank goodness), no action figures (although the t-shirt biz and faux fleur de crap is still blooming), and no great tie-ins (apologies to brinkly, rose, spike lee, and the cast/ ace bandage of k-ville)

no it’s hard to survive new orleans… you know the day in/ day out life in a trailer or the previously unheard/ unreported/ or downright ignored gunshots, the visits for katrina related illnesses or the lack of understanding and loss of jobs, the strain on relationship, the self doubt, the suicides and countless others contemplated or attempted…hard indeed, but are you really that happy to see me?

new orleans has become a forgotten city perhaps except when luminaries like brad pitt draw the media or criminals too numerous to hold office get elected and re-elected… it’s hard geetting to sleep, it’s hard getting out of bed… and yes, i remembered to take my medicine,

BLOG THIS!

phfred@notthat.com

2006 with its floods, pestilence, and piracy (yes, real pirates- no, not the imitation depp and disney variety) pales in comparison to the four “whore’s men” of the apocalypse that are now on the horizon… the eve of destruction will be far worse than what the 60’s mcguinns and mcguires ever dreamed or dreamt of…. this korean war will make hawkeye spill his martini, or better yet, do a spit take (??)…. klinger will rip his hose…. but don’t you fret, kim jong-il will buy us all a round of henessey as slim pickens comes back to sing “til we meet again”

as i walk around new orleans, it’s as if the bomb has already fallen… the naked, wasted, abandoned city, the crumbled buildings, the dashed hopes, the smells of disease and refuse, all surrounded by the symphony of the militaristic drone as hummers and tanks roll through, as another band of vigilantes fire and the mad max-like maruders and ne’er-do-wells do their mad max-like maruader and vigilante thang… and the MURDER, oh the MURDER… more vicious than the nazis more horrendous than the korean interment camps… and the worst murder one between strangily estranged lovers…. her head in a pot to boil, her limbs in the oven to roast… who is the omega man? who is the damn dirty ape? neither charlton heston nor michael moore could make this film….

you can’t make that sh*t up… i wish i could…

in “apocalypse now,” kurtz mutters that ” ‘IF’ is the middle word in ‘LIFE’ “… a scary apoco-thought is revealed… a glimmer of hope perhaps… IF is life’s crunchity goodness … IF is life’s life-affirming nugat, IF is life’s impatient licks to the center of a blow pop…. all of life’s IF’s are all these hopes sandwiched inside the four letters… L I F E…. i see the IF… i see the potential.. but like Kurtz i also have seen the horror, i’ve smelled it, tasted it, heard its screams in my sleep as i lie awake in my FEMA trailer waiting for the other shoe to drop, another shot to be fired, another robber, burglar, rapist, politician….to rob, burgle, rape, or politic me.

i can see the pot on the stove, the limbs in the oven… IF may be the middle word in LIFE, but EAT is the middle word in DEATH, and this is one last supper that i can no longer stomach…. the cook? the thief? his wife? her lover? “shall we start with the…. it’s a delicacy?”

BLOG THIS!