The Chocolate War

I know, I know! I was just as flabber-GAS-ted, ap-PALLED, dumb-FOUND-ed, SPEEEEECH-less, THUNDAH-F***ING-struck..hold on, let me get the thesaurus here... 
 
addled agape aghast agog astonished astounded awe-struck awed baffled befuddled bowled over confused dazed dazzled disconcerted dizzy dumbstruck flipped out floored flustered giddy lost misled muddled mystified perplexed punchy puzzled rattled reeling shocked shook up staggered startled struck speechless stumped stunned stupefied surprised taken aback thrown uncertain unglued...AS THE REST OF THE NATION!! 
 
I was in Ohio last week attending a marketing seminar, dressed to the hilt in my "I fleur-de-lis New Orleans" t-shirt, "Rebuild New Orleans" cap, and my ripe-smelling, embossed "Relief, Rebuild, Renew" Mardi Gras-hued rubber bracelet that I have worn since early September after the BIG ONE. I was so defiantly proud of my city and I was ready to roll like a gaudy float where the delighted, the suspicious and the curious would circle around me and ask me a gazillion questions about New Orleans. I was ready to toss 'em the "Yes, we're fine but we're not really fine" answer, jump on my soapbox and bowl right over 'em with the whole lagniappe. 

 

Mind you, the only question I've been accustomed to around New Orleans is, "So? How did you make out?" and I know they are not asking me about my frenching technique. We ask this question to one another in empathy because whatever the answer is, we know, we know. It doesn't matter if we lost much or hardly any, we're all drinking for the same reason - a sense of loss. We tend to huddle over our Bud Lights and bemoan our fate. We may be different but we're one, brutha! So we throw away our money on booze rather than sheetrock and identify with one another, we BOND! 
 
F**k FEMA, gimme another Bud Light! 
 
Now being in Ohio, it was a nice respite from the daily reminders of devastation back home -- the rolling hills, the snow-dusted barns and everyone there is gosh-darn NICE! But I was glad to be an outsider because there's no place....well, you get the drift. 
 
So there I was in my hotel room, listening to bits and pieces of the news while I was getting dressed when Ray Nagin, MY mayor of MY city appeared on tv and said... 
 
"It's time for us to rebuild a New Orleans, the one that should be a chocolate New Orleans. And I don't care what people are saying Uptown or wherever they are. This city will be chocolate at the end of the day. This city will be a majority African-American city. It's the way God wants it to be. You can't have New Orleans no other way; it wouldn't be New Orleans." (For full transcript, click here!)
 
Silence. 
 
Stunned silence. 
 
More stunned silence. 
 
My jaw lit. ter. ral. ly dropped to the floor...no wait, I was on the fifth floor, it went through ALL FIVE floors and into the basement! I was absolutely astounded. APPALLED! Just reread the second paragraph... 
 
It was then I really felt like an outsider looking in! The weight of my unhinged jaw buckled my knees and I HAD to sit down. 
 
What. The. F**K?! 
 
I felt betrayed. I voted for this man, supported this man and greatly admired this man immediately after the storm when he broke down and cried for help! This man wore New Orleans on his sleeve and I was proud of him! Forget that he is black and I'm white, we're BROTHERS, man, BROTHERS!!! 
 
Well, all that went out the window, down several floors to the traffic below, and run over so many times that it was embedded in every tire in the city of Akron. 
 
I was rendered immovable. The world ceased to exist around me and I don't think I even blinked! The timing just couldn't be better for this NOLA PR Puf'N'Strut. For a moment, I felt like a fool to be a New Orleans brand in the middle of Ohio and wished that I had a Saints paper bag somewhere in my luggage. But then this slow burning resolve just grew within me and I thought, "Oh hell, if I can survive Katrina, then all this is just the aftermath. Let it roll!" 
 
So I donned my NOLA gear and headed out the door, ready to face the world...and the ridicule. Everywhere I went, there were questions of "What IS going on down there?", "What is up with THAT mayor?" and a couple of "Got chocolate?" Even an owner of a classy, upscale restaurant dressed in a tux leaned closely and said to me in a wide-eyed, conspiratorial whisper, "I saw CNN today...you must be dying!" 
 
Oh, I was dying alright but I was bristling polite, trying to take it all in stride. Certainly, it was not the type of questions I was expecting when I arrived in Ohio and believe me, I was ready to knock a few heads but being from New Orleans, I didn't want a tv camera to appear out of nowhere and spotlight another lunatic from the Chocolate City to go Willy Wonka! 
 
I suppose with a few eye rolls and a loud exasperate sigh, I could get my point across without mentioning a thing about chocolate but inquiring minds wanna know! SO here's my Cocoa Puffs: 
 
Mr. Mayor, you said that you had a deep and meaningful conversation with two of the most powerful figures in the world: Martin Luther King and God (in that order according to you). While it may be surprising that as white chocolate (I AM a New Orleans resident....), I am very familiar with King's powerful and passionate "I have a dream" speech. Here was this man who spoke VOLUMES about Freedom that resonated with every man, woman and child! I mean, Marty can move MOUNTAINS with words, man! I, for one, would stand up and applaud his speech!!! Now that he has passed on to the heavenly plane, all he can say to you (and to us) from the other side is "I don't like that" and "I don't like that either"? 
 
Shoot! And I thought my chances of singing would be much better than my earthly croaking once I reach the other side! Now I'm so depressed and disillusioned! 
 
But then you conversed with God (albeit briefly). My heart lifted a beat! Pray tell! What words of infinite wisdom have God doth part with you! 
 
And God spoketh: "I am mad at you and the citizens of New Orleans! America too! I am so fed up with all of you and your lame-brained shenanigans! Year after year, I've sent down hurricanes to pound into your thick numbskulls and I'm not getting through! Ivan and Hugo, Dennis and Andrew, Cindi, Katrina and Rita! Heaven, I even threw in Alpha through Zeta but y'all are still not getting the message!!! FOR THE LAST TIME, KNOCK IT OFF AND MAKE IT ALL CHOCOLATE! I WANT IT BY THE END OF THE DAY - NO OTHER WAY ABOUT IT, YA HEAR?!?!?" 
 
Boy, I can hear the sound of bible pages across America flapping open for discussion on this entirely new revelation! Who woulda thunk that CHOCOLATE would be gospel! Pass the bon-bon, cher! 
 
I was about to cross off James Van Praagh, Sylvia Browne, John Edward and Pat Robertson off my Divine Intervention list, you went back and apologized for all the "wrong" things you have said -- or actually what Marty and God have said. My faith has been shakened! Come on, Mr. Mayor, who's talking what? Did you really have a conversation with Them or not? Because if you're really serious, I'm going to haul all my Elmer's® Gold Bricks down to City Hall to pay for a spiritual reading with you! Or were you just, and I quote Couch Tommy, being glib? 
 
Believe me, Mr. Mayor, I'm all for free speech, even if it was from the other side but right now we, the hurricane-ravaged, FEMA-weary citizens of New Orleans are in no mood for that kind of hooey! We've already been blown apart by the Bitch so we do NOT need to be blown even further apart by a Blowhard! The time is to UNITE not DIVIDE our quest for a better New Orleans! To do so, we must call out to every local, state and goverment level for assistance to better our communities, our schools, OUR LEVEES -HELLO?!, our lives and our city but it all begins here with the tip of our tongues, not slip of our tongues! 
 
But since you've already let the cat out of the bag, I can't see why we can't don a "Willy Nagin And The Chocolate City" t-shirt and fend for our city ourselves.

Melancholic

I was interrupted from my reverie by the bartender as I stood there with a drink in front of me left untouched. With the patrons drunkenly dancing in the bright lights to the tunes of a rocking band behind me, I must have appeared to be out of sorts and I was.

“Is everything alright? You seem....melancholic.”

Melancholic.

I brushed her off with a wave of my hand, embarrassed by my transparency. “Nah, just thinking.” Grabbing my drink, I tipped her and walked off.

Maybe it was the booze. Or maybe it was Christmas season. Could be that that kind of music has put me in that frame of mind. I don’t know…but I do know.

It’s what lay out there beyond those doors into the darkness of my beloved New Orleans and what remained in my memory before then. Then. The days before Katrina.

Like Dorothy who opened the door to the glorious city of Munchkinland where everything was Technicolor, I can still see myself in my mind being silhouetted by the light pouring from outside in as I stepped into the hustling, bustling neighborhood of mine. People were just on the go to destinations unknown. Neighborhood cats languished on stoops, eyeing the birds pecking at breadcrumbs on the street left by the elderly lady two doors down. Eager dogs dragged their owners down the street while young mothers with their children in tow pointed out every little thing in description. Bikers flashed by, tilting their heads in acknowledgement and neighbors waved hello as they climbed into their cars, hurrying off to work. But no matter the weather, rain or shine, hot or cold, it’s always something different when I opened the door to an ever-changing world and yet it was always the same.

Beautiful.

Now it’s all gone – blasted by the winds and water of August 29th. That front door that once belonged to my home remain closed and all that lay beyond that door to the outside world has ceased to exist. The million of colors have now been reduced to two – sepia and gray. There is nary a sight or sound of birds that chirped or scolded the cats below from the highest perches nor a smiling face that can be seen anywhere. Not a fresh-faced child can be found peering curiously into a garden up and down the block. Even the clocks and calendars don’t have numbers anymore – hours and days are suspended in timelessness and all that is left is the dust of the past.

New Orleans has become a soulless city and in my mind, I lead a really charmed life then and never knew about it…until now. Everyday is a reminder whether I drive by darkened homes marked with amber and gray striations, their doors and windows exposing the hollows from within or open the local paper to front page news that blare Discontentment, Hopelessness and Strife. Every morning, I wake up to another day, a different kind of day to a different door that is far from my home and this time around, it’s not the same. It’s a different world that does not belong to me, nor I to that world.

While Christmas is on its way, the holiday is still too far in the distance to even feel the spirit. If I had my door, just then, maybe I can open it to the magic of Christmas where I can see my people hurrying by my stoop, arms laden with gifts, disappearing into the light of gold as they stepped into their homes. If I had my door, I would feel the icy winds chap my face, while I string my stoop with lights, beckoning to my neighbors that Christmas is on its way to New Orleans. If I had my door, I would see the children’s faces illuminate the night in anticipation of Santa’s arrival, eagerly hoping and wishing for all they wanted and more. If only I just have my door, just one more time, I would be down on my knees to thank God for the gifts that I opened each and every day beyond that door. Just one more time....

Instead, all that fades into melancholic as I mourn the loss of my door.

THANK GOD, I AM FINE

This is the first time in days since I am able to communicate to the outside world! If anyone is reading this, I AM FINE!

PLEASE, please donate anything for my city, we NEED your help! Please post my blog on yours and ask them to blogroll me and I PROMISE you, you will be thanked - one way or another, I PROMISE you that I will thank you somehow!

I don't have much time to post but this is a story of a lifetime, a story that I wish never happened. I managed to evacuate before the storm hit but I left with just two suitcases of clothes and shoes, photos and momentoes. I took off for Kentwood, Louisiana and even there, we lost electricity and the next day, water. It was devastating to me and my spirit. We then regrouped in Mandeville where there are water and generators to power fans, refrigerator and other small appliances.

I have not nor am I allowed to return home but from what I hear, my house was underwater so I pretty much lost everything. I don't care about that, I'm just lucky to be alive and my family and friends are alive. My city that I love so much is pretty much ruined by Katrina but what really devastates me is that those damn thugs and looters further destroy New Orleans. It's unbelievable.

I've been trying to be strong but there are times that I just break down and cry. The aftermath is hard to endure but I refuse to give in. I HAVE to be strong for me and New Orleans....I have to.....it's the only way that I and New Orleans can survive.

For those of you who are reading this in the comfort of your own homes, consider yourself very, very lucky. I never, EVER thought I would experience this in my lifetime and now, I realized that I took my life before Katrina for granted. From here on out, I know what my priorities are and what is and what's not important, it's life and all that encompasses it, that is so beautiful.

From now on, I will lead a zen life...to simplify my life with less material things and more awareness to those who I love. God, I love them so much that I cannot wait to see them again and hold them and hug them for the longest time and never want to let them go.

I promise you, I will be back. I just want to let you know that I'm okay. I will be out for a while but I PROMISE you, I will be back.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONCERN AND PRAYERS!! LOVE YOU ALL!!! If anyone needs to get in touch with me, PLEASE CALL MY CELL PHONE 504-723-0628!!!!

Krazy Kat Eyes New Orleans

Okay, I thought that we were safe from Hurricane Kat but it merely sniffed at battered Florida and turned its finicky head for fresh meat. Feeling like a wary mouse facing the jittery kat, I'm contemplating on whether I should hold on to the big cheese or drop it and run. This kat's tail is just too twitchy for me to take decipher its intentions so I'd rather be safe than have this kat pounce on me!

According to the National Hurricane Center's map and to the latest report, this is not looking good for us New Orleanians. For those who don't know, New Orleans is several feet below city level - in some areas by 30 feet!! Because of the erosion of marshlands south of New Orleans which acts a buffer, our coastline has been been receding due to past hurricanes, continuous sedimentary discharge of the Mississippi River into the Gulf and other natural causes as well as lack of state funds for the coastal restoration program. Since there is less land to break down hurricane winds, the warm waters will uphold its strength before striking and deluge the city with Gulf waters and rain. That's one problem.....the levees are another. According to the Times Picayune article recently, there is speculation that the levees in some areas have been declared structurally unsound. With a break in the levees, the mighty Mississippi River will have a new diversion and flow right into the city.

So what does this all mean? To give you the visual of what will happen to my city, watch this*!

Here's another way of looking at it. Put a bowl in a sink full of water and run the faucet into the bowl. When the bowl fills up to the brim, it will sink. That's New Orleans. So if this hurricane is indeed THE ONE, it'll be months or even years before the waters will recede. Why? Our pumping stations will be underwater as well.

So where does that leave me? With a few belongings and a prayer.

Until then, I'll keep you posted.


*For more information on this, read this.

Illustration Friday: Reflection

I've joined Illustration Friday, a web-based illustration circle. Every Friday a new theme is issued, and I have a week to create and upload an illustration relating to that theme.

This week's theme is "Reflection". I remember as a kid, I used to partake on nature's ink-blots in the sky and reflect on why I see things the way I interpret them rather than just the way they are.

Anyway, this is my first time illustrating using a computer program rather than drawing or painting. It took me a few hours but eh, I'll get the hang of it.

Channel Surfing USA

I’m not gonna bore you with my summer vacation pics because I didn’t take any. Instead I’ll just bore you about how I spent my summer vacation at my mom’s house.

Mom asked if I could come and spend the weekend with her and help her around the house. I was glad to oblige and even took off more than the weekend to help her. Besides, I reeeeally miss her cable. But first, I wanted to take my mom to a fancy restaurant downtown called the Polo Lounge where Jonathan Wright, a renown chef serves the finest luncheon in town.

DAY 1

I showed up at my mom’s house ready to take her to the buffet and she greeted me with “Is that what you’re wearing?” Not “Hi, hon” or “GLAD to see you!” or even “Gee, another day of global warming” but instead she said, “Is THAT what you’re wearing?”

Okay, I thought this was a mother-daughter type of thing but I didn’t know that sons get the flak too. I looked down at my clothes. Nice black sandals, hip jeans, and a dressy-casual shirt. I shaved and combed my hair. The last look in the mirror I recalled said YOU’RE COOKIN’, GOOD LOOKIN’!

So I asked her defensively, “Yeah, what’s wrong with what I’m wearing, ma?”

“Nothing, dear,” she said dismissively.

“What do you mean ‘nothing’? Ya brought it up so I must be wearing something obNOXious.”

“Honey, there’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing. It’s nothing,” as she went looking for her purse. There’s that “nothing” word again, that humongous implication that just hung in the air like a very foul stench.

Well, this good looking guy just ain’t gonna take THAT so I dismissed THAT and dragged her ass to the buffet.

DAY 2

My mom gave me the to-do list verbatim but first asked if I wanted to go with her to The Red Maple for dinner since my little sister is waiting on tables and she could really use the $100 tip. For their awesome filet mignon, I agreed and besides, it would be fun to give my little sister the runaround.

My mom then proceeds to tell me not to wear anything like THAT the day before.

DAY 3

I was watching The Discovery Channel for 5 hours straight about the dinosaurs and cavemen when my mom came in the room wearing her ancient housedress from the Paleolithic Era. I made a snide comment if she was planning to go anywhere in THAT.

Zing.

I realized later that the evil eye she gave me meant that I had to go in search for supper like a caveman.

DAY 4

I watched Animal Planet for 6 hours straight, fascinated with all the God-given creatures that just kept gnawing on each other. For some strange reason, I was hankering for sloppy barbecued baby back ribs.

DAY 5

I continued with the chores while my mom went to get her hair fixed. All the whilst, I wondered why she needed to get her hair “fixed” instead of getting her hair “done”. It’s not like the beautician had to bang her Sally Mae Brown hair back into shape. You fix things like a broken lawnmower or a broken cable wire but how do you “fix” hair?

Guess it’s a southern slang among women in New Orleans and I needn’t spend another thought on such vapidity. It’s time for Comedy Central!

DAY 6 (THE LAST DAY!)

I crammed all my cable viewing while washing clothes before I returned home to my funky tv with horrible reception and can only watch Channel 8 and 26. Reluctantly, I packed my things and bid cable good-bye…..and my mother too.

She handed me all her leftovers, hugged and thanked me for helping her around the house. She paused for a moment as she picked at the lint on my shirt and said, “I love you.”

“And John, please get rid of that shirt.”

On vacation...

Wish I was there but that's the postcard I'm sending myself. Be back next week!

CAUTION: Viewing indecent exposure may cause poor judgment, lack of coordination or possibly early death.

I came across this article and a few thoughts came to mind: “How did I miss the call for participants in the erotic study?”, “Why are tax-dollars being wasted on this no-brainer of a study?”, “Could I conduct my own erotic study?”, “Do I have a case to get my job back?” and “What is it about boobs that make me lose train of thought?”

Erotic Images: Strange, Temporary Effect
When we see a flash of nudity or violence on a television screen or computer monitor, the visual image so overwhelms our brains that we actually fail to process what we see immediately afterwards. It's a kind of temporary blindness.

OOOoooohhhh, so THAT’S why I didn’t see or hear my former boss walk in while I was sitting there agog at those HUGE naked tits on my computer monitor. That also explains the time lapse when I finally came to and found myself sprawled on my couch with a pink slip in my hand and packed boxes at my feet.

I could use this information to file a suit against my previous employer and prove that I was WRONGFULLY terminated after the fact of Googling for the definition of ‘abreast’ and was being blindsided by those HUMONGOUS mammaries on HOT SLUT GIRLS.

Honest - it was not my fault!

Researchers from Vanderbilt University and Yale University have concluded that people fail to detect visual images that appeared one-fifth of a second after emotional or erotic images, whereas they can detect those images with little problem after neutral images.

We, the people pay these brilliant researchers to study smut and arrive at conclusions we already know? C'mon...it's quite evident that since men were able to walk upright on land, we've fallen all over the place whenever we pass beautiful women with nice T&As. Feet, motion, vertical fixtures and plain janes became nonexistant!

We could have saved our money and conducted our own erotic study by flipping channels on tv:

“New Super-Turbo Kotex tampon…” *click* “…the nice scent of Febreeze…” * click* “PRAISE THE LORD, ALMI-“ * click* “Call 555-DEAL for 2-for-1 Domino’s pizza” boop-boop-boop-beep-beep-bip-baap * click* “...this kitty litter STINKS….” * click* “Samantha, what do you think of my boobs?” aaaaaaaaaand time, space and pizza delivery guys cease to exist.

Here's another way we can put that theory to the test. Ladies, take off your blouse and take a walk.

Down the 4400 block of Iberville Street….on the right side…..in front of a beige building…..with a porch.

They dubbed it "emotion-induced blindness." (Me thinks it should be "BOOB-induced blindness"). This effect can explain some common human behaviors. "If you are simply driving down the road and you see a naked woman on the side of the road, the odds are that it is going to capture your attention and for a fraction of a second afterwards, you are going to be less able to pay attention to the other information in your environment," Zald said. "So you might not see that car coming at you or the person crossing the street because your bottleneck for information processing has been jammed."

This happened to a friend of mine who drove by a HUGE billboard with 4 busty strippers promoting a strip club in town. He excitedly pointed out to his passenger that Alyssa was one of the Gold Club girls, not paying attention to the oncoming trunk of a 84 Dodge Daytona. It was a very minor fender bender but he sustained MASSIVE injuries when his girlfriend, the passenger throttled his bottleneck.

As for myself, I find that often times, when a sexy busty woman come into view, I tend to stop in mid-sentence and........