Mon belle Louisiane
I was born, raised and still live in southeastern Louisiana. I have personal ties to everywhere in the area, from St. Bernard Parish to Lafourche Parish and all points south. The Cajun side of my family comes from the west, and the Dago side comes from the east. I’ve somehow managed to blend right there in the middle. As my heart was leaning to the east after Katrina, my heart is leaning to the west right now after the oil spill.
I know it doesn’t look too pretty on a map, with the veiny-type appendages coming from the land, but trust me – when you see it in person at eye-level, it is truly a sight to behold. The world has already heard about the love affair we all have with the city of New Orleans and points east, but I don’t think everyone knows just how much we love L’Acadiane.
We’ve got character, and quite a few characters.
We’ve got an amazing sunset that is rivaled by very few.
… and we have trees that grow in water.
We’ve got cute, cuddly animals.
And our food? The best in the world.
We’re a happy bunch. We laugh often. We laugh to deal with our pain. In fact, I am convinced that the first BP jokes came from down here when everyone else was too scared to make them.
We may not be the richest people in the world, but we never really did care for materialistic things. As long as we have happiness, we feel like the richest people in the world. We’ve got deep bonds with our family and take care of each other. In fact, we’d even treat you like family.
We have a language all our own, and some things we say may sound really funny to you, maybe even a little scary. When we want to “axe you” it just means we want to ask you a question, and dat meenoo is probably really sweet. If you’re actin’ coo-yôn, don’t be so haunt when we point it out. And dat zink? You wash da dishes in dere. “What time it is?” and “Where you at?” may seem like horrible usage of English, but it’s quite normal to us. Word placement isn’t really that important, is it?
Patriotism is rampant around here, a trait that has been passed down by one of the greatest generations ever to grace us that volunteered in droves to support the country in World War II, whether in foreign lands or on the home front. They ignored the prior cruelty imposed by the government and heeded the call of duty, with many of them sacrificing their lives for what they believed to be the greater good.
We love our region, from l’côte des Allemands all the way down to the Fourchon. Older generations in my family tell stories about places they would frequent as kids, like Bird Island, that were washed away by hurricanes. The place where my great-grandmother was born, Cheniere Caminada, was completely wiped out by a hurricane in the 1890s. It’s a way of life down here in Acadiana, and we all know that our marshes and fragile coastline aren’t going to be the same for our children and future generations to enjoy, because that’s how nature works down here.
In the back of our minds, we always knew it was possible, but never did we think that one of our greatest economic treasures would harm us in such an unimaginable way. While many of us are dependent on the waters for fishing, many of us are also dependent on our oil in one way or another. We cope better with Mother Nature harming us than with human greed and error destroying the life we know.
Soon there will be another huge news story to take your attention away from us. It happens. Maybe another environmental catastrophe, maybe a massive hurricane. Maybe there will be an earth-shattering political scandal. Or maybe you will just get tired of hearing about the oil spill because of information overload. All reasons understandable. But we aren’t going to quit caring. We are not going to give up fighting this. We refuse to let BP destroy our fragile culture that has been long endangered. We are strong people, and we are not going to let the oil win.
After all, we have a beautiful state with beautiful people and a lot to offer the world. We are not going to let this be a symbolic picture of our state:
We are stronger than that. We’ve had our tests before, and we’ve always passed them with flying colors. Sure, this one is going to take a little while to recover from, but we will recover. We will be back, maybe not as strong as before, but we’ll be just fine. We always are.
Let’s forget about the Gaza flotilla for a second…
I know the things I’m about to write may be construed as “controversial,” even hateful, and that’s to be expected when discussing the Israeli-Palestinian issue. Before I get started, I want to clarify that I am not simply “pro-Israel” or “pro-Palestine.” I’m pro-humanity.
Sunday night, and well into the pre-dawn hours of Monday morning, I followed the developing story of the Gaza aid flotilla on various fronts, including Twitter and Al Jazeera. (Why Al Jazeera? Because no other news agency was reporting it, and I get a lot of my news from them.) It’s pointless to sit here and give explanations of what it’s all about since I’m sure you’ve all read or heard about it already.
I’m not going to sit here and claim things to be fact or write as if I know for certain that certain events did or didn’t happen. Some people are going to accept what Israel says as fact, and others are not. As with just about everything regarding anything Israel and Palestine, it’s hard to get hard, factual information because the propaganda from both sides is overwhelming. I’m trying to look at the entire issue from a neutral standpoint and am basing my opinion on historical fact and on a humanitarian basis.
One of my biggest “world view” annoyances is that some people fail to examine the reasons why terrorist organizations exist. To do this is to sit back and take in the wrongdoings that our Western governments have done in the past, something that is hard for many people to accept. Once people finally begin to understand certain events in common era history, then maybe they will understand why they carry so much hatred. Saying this does not make me a sympathizer. This doesn’t mean I condone what they do or want to advocate for their cause. This doesn’t mean that I agree 100% with what makes them angry, but I do understand why they are angry. I think they just go about making their points in vile ways. This goes for any terrorist organization, be it the IRA or Al Queda (or just about any group on this list).
But this isn’t a history lesson, nor is this a blog entry where I will talk about why various terrorist organizations are full of the hate they carry.
I’ve been active on Twitter for a couple of years and, before the Iranian elections last year, I was oblivious to the worldwide impact something so simple could have. (I think everyone underestimated the power of Twitter before then.) I had a renewed confidence in the overall goodness that is out there in the world after having had my faith in humanity so damaged previously. It was truly amazing to witness.
When socialism began to make sense: My political identity crisis.
I never thought that I, of all people, would think socialism ever made sense.
I was always a fan of capitalism, right up until I was a victim of it. I’ve always felt the big corporation bosses had the right to do what they wanted to do. And, really, in a way, I feel they do have the right to do what they want since this is the system that’s in place for them, but it doesn’t make it right. They either don’t see or don’t care how it effects the workers, the ones doing the real work in the company – the ones not collecting fat checks to sit there and dictate how everyone else is supposed to work. I’m not saying company big wigs don’t have hard jobs, but, at the end of the day, who are the ones keeping the company running? That’s right. The little guy.
I never worked for a multi-million dollar business before 5 years ago. I had worked for small businesses, one of them being my family’s bakery, so I was ignorant to the workings of corporations. In my naiveté, I assumed all bosses valued their employees and knew that, as long as the workers were happy, business would run smoothly. This did hold true for my first three years at the company I work for now. While not a “large” corporation, it’s still a decent size. We had wonderful benefits and perks, great pay and a corporate staff that seemed to genuinely care. The only beef I had with the company was the illogical way they allowed us to use our sick time (you have to be out a week before sick pay kicks in) or the piddly amount of vacation time given (no vacation until you’ve been with the company a year, when you get a week… 2 weeks at three years… 3 weeks at 8 years…). Of course, the vacation time was just my inner greed. This is America, after all. We don’t get 6 weeks vacation like they do over in Europe. Besides, this is the country where we live to work, not work to live.
Call me racist if you feel inclined to do so.
I’m writing this post knowing that, chances are, I’m going to more than likely either anger or offend the crap out of people. This is a risk I’m willing to take, and you know where to find me if I bother you. In fact, I’m just going to go ahead and annoy as many people as possible on the next line.
I don’t think Rand Paul is racist.
There. I said it.
And I’m going to say this too: I’m sick and tired of people equating “Libertarian” to “Republican.” Bite. Me. I’ve already gotten that rant out in a previous entry. I’m not writing this to go off on that again.
As I stated in this entry, racism sickens me. I do not agree with any form of it, do not participate in it, and lose respect for anyone who may. However, no matter how vile I think racism is, in this country, the racists are allowed to be racist. The racists are allowed to spout off any racist drivel they feel the desire to spout off. The racists are allowed to wear their little racist shirts, name their dogs little racist names, go to their racist churches and hold their racist rallies on the courthouse steps and hold their private little racist meetings. The racists, should they own their own businesses, should also have the right to refuse to allow certain people into their establishments.
That’s not me being a racist – that’s me saying that if they want to refuse to serve someone a Coke, it’s their right, as a private establishment owner, to refuse to serve someone a Coke. They don’t receive public funds, so, therefore, as a Libertarian, I don’t think the public (government) has the right to tell them how to run their business. If they want to lose money because their racists idiots who don’t want to let everyone buy a Coke, THEN SO BE IT.
How did that George Wallace quote go? “Segregation now, segregation forever”? That is racism.
Saying something along the lines of, “I don’t think the government should be able to tell a private property owner how to utilize their land, or a business owner how to run their business” is NOT racism.
No matter how many examples I try to give to explain my stance on this issue, someone reading this is only going to say, “So you’re equating [insert example here] to a human being?”
So, I was just sitting here thinking about the Tea Party…
Rand Paul, the “Tea Party Candidate” for the Republican Kentucky Senate primary won by a landslide last night, beating the “Washington Establishment” candidate, Trey Grayson, with a whopping 58.8% of the votes.
The Tea Party supporters were quick to use this victory as proof that they are a force to be reckoned with. I have to politely disagree.
If any of you are on Ron Paul’s mailing lists, be it e-mail or snail mail, his personal list or that of his Campaign for Liberty, you will recall how he rallied his supporters behind his son, Rand, and encouraged them to donate money, and I’m sure many of them did. Rand is not a political clone of his father, but that didn’t matter to many, because, c’mon – he’s Ron Paul’s son. Rand is often called the “less quirky” of the two Pauls, which basically means that he’s more Republican than his libertarian-minded father.
I’m not trying to say that there are an insane amount of Ron Paul supporters in Kentucky, but to diminish his influence in his son’s election wouldn’t be fair. Granted, in the 2008 Republican Presidential primary, Ron Paul placed 3rd in Kentucky, which may not say much to most people given that only he and John McCain were the only two still left in the race for the nomination. However, Ron Paul’s base is very loyal, and, at least from what I’m seeing, it seems that his supporters are growing in numbers and have been growing during the entire 2008 Presidential election, not just after the election of Barack Obama.
Could they be growing because of the Tea Party movement? Of course.
Are Ron Paul’s supporters all a part of the Tea Party movement? Of course not.
In fact, it is my own personal observation that the “older” Ron Paul supporters (those who have been fans of his prior to the aftermath of 2008) shun the Tea Party movement. Some of them are frustrated with the Tea Party, wondering where these “new” liberty-lovers were before Barack Obama became President. Others can’t seem to find any common ground with the Tea Party, especially since a bulk of them are huge supporters of Sarah Palin. And, well, when you have the Tea Party down in Texas challenging Ron Paul, then… well…. you get the picture.
What can those wacky Muslims possibly infiltrate next?
I had way too many things yesterday that set me off into the rage stratosphere, so it was incredibly hard to pick just one thing to focus on in order to write a long-overdue entry. In fact, I tried my hardest to write this last night, but too many expletives were coming out, so I found it best to relax, sleep on it, then try again.
(Also, please note that this post is sometimes dripping with sarcasm.)
There aren’t many things in this world that render me completely nauseated (in an “I am quite embarrassed that I share the same continent with these people” way) than blatant, unabashed racism. I mean, just look at what we Americans have to be “proud” of when it comes to hate groups: Ku Klux Klan, The Nuwaubians, Aryan Nation, Nation of Islam, Volksfront, New Black Panther Party…
… just to name a few.
We have our individuals who make us proud, like David Duke, Louis Farrakhan and Debbie Schlussel.
Yeah, that woman.
The rage inside of me today that the woman is responsible for is indescribable. I cannot even put into words how utterly vile I think she is.
And I despise her even more because I am about to sit here and write kind words about Amir Khan.
[disclaimer: I think Khan is a fantastic boxer, but I hold him in the same esteem as I do Floyd Mayweather, Jr. They’re just two boxers I love to hate, but I know they’re damn good at what they do.]
Male species, this post is for you.
I’m not a hardcore feminist by any means. I find the bulk of the feminist movement to be a joke, not because I think women are a joke (hello, I am one), but because I saw how incredibly hypocritical many of these feminist groups were during the 2008 presidential election and I came to realize that they weren’t interested in promoting a particular movement, just their own selfish agendas. The way these groups ignored what was happening to both Hillary Clinton and Sarah Palin spoke volumes to me through their silence. Never once did I see them come to the aid of these women who were both in the spotlight of the entire world who were deemed incapable of holding whatever job they were campaigning for simply because they were women. Besides, I find that whole “womyn” thing to be incredibly stupid, and I personally like to shave my pits.
This isn’t to say that I don’t have my moments. I do get severely annoyed when I hear a male say I can’t do something because I’m female (keep in mind that I will admit when I can’t). I cannot stand when I hear a male say something is “woman’s work,” since the only thing I classify as “woman’s work” is carrying a human being in a uterus since a male really can’t do that (unless they’re going through that sex change stage and still have female reproductive parts inside). I take out my own garbage, can cut my own grass, and, if I really wanted to learn, I’m sure I could learn how to operate heavy machinery. I cook because I actually like to cook. I work in an office because I don’t want an outside job in the summer. I drink beer, watch sports, use foul language and burp. If this causes problems for you, tough. I’m not a feminist, but I’m not a mold of a Stepford wife either.
I just want to clear some things up to the males out there who may be reading this.
I’m not a scary bitch because I may disagree with you or call you out on something. I don’t care who I rant to, who I get in a debate with, or who I give my opinions to. If I think you’re acting stupid, I’m going to tell you. If I know you’re wrong on something you’re spouting off, I’m going to correct you. If I don’t agree with your opinion, I’m going to counter it. If my doing this causes you to feel emasculated, then perhaps you needed to lose your balls. Maybe now you’ll grow some bigger ones in their place.
Things that are bothering me right now.
Ever since I decided to cave and get myself a Twitter account (that I actually use), I’ve found blogging to be a bit pointless, since I’m able to get my ranting out using the restrictive 140 character rule. Of course, there are ways to bypass it – Twitlonger, for one. Spamming my followers’ timelines for two. As much as I tend to rant on Twitter, there comes a time when there are just way too many things I feel the need to complain about. This is when I utilize my blog. I didn’t name it “The Soapbox” for nothing.
So, I present to you, dear reader, the 5 things that are bothering me at this very moment:
1. My job. I complain enough about this on a daily basis, so if I complain about it here, I’ll just be beating a dead horse. I do, however, just want to say that if the place would burn down tomorrow, I would only be upset because my mini-Union Jack guitar on my desk burned with it. I found that sucker on Ebay and haven’t been able to find another one since.
2. Music. Yes, music is bothering me at this very moment. Why? Have you heard some of the crap they’re throwing out there these days? Lady GaGa? Justin Bieber? The only saving grace to this new music coming out is that I think the emo kids have all grown up, thus saving the razor blades for the people who really need them. What really bothers me about this isn’t the music itself. No one is forcing me to listen to this crap (if my 4-year-old starts listening to music like this when she gets in that tween stage, I will consider myself a failure as a parent). What’s bothering me about all of this is that I have turned into my parents. I find myself saying phrases like, “This isn’t music. This is noise.” and “What is this on the radio?” and, sometimes, “Turn that shit down!” I have become one of those people who insist that the music of their generation is the best. You know how it goes – your parents did that. “Music will never be as good as it was in the 60s and 70s.” “No band will ever be as good as The Beatles.” “Elvis is rolling over in his grave right now.” “I can’t believe they remade that song and butchered it.” I find myself feeling sorry for these kids growing up right now, because they will have never experienced the amazingness of Britpop blaring through the speakers. Grunge? They don’t know what that was really all about. Nirvana is overrated and, while they were good, there were many bands better, like Soundgarden and Sonic Youth. You love The Pumpkins, you say? Let me tell you the story about when I saw them at Lollapalooza in 1994. By the way, Lollapalooza was once cool. That was before I changed from one who loved arena shows to one who now prefers the biggest venue to catch a show be the House of Blues. Maybe I’m getting bothered by all of it because I’m going through one of my nostalgia trips that tend to pop up sporadically, usually triggered by a song I hear on the radio or a conversation with an old friend. These kids will never know what it’s like to walk into a music store – not a chain music store, either – and buy something just because the clerk recommended them to you. I don’t even think they know what a music store is, unless it’s called iTunes. They missed out on the 90s, and now the voice of their generation is Miley Cyrus. Liam Gallagher was so much better.
#3 The Velvet Underground: The Velvet Underground & Nico
I’m trying to randomize these things as much as I can. This is yet another album I love – one of my favorites. This entry is not going to be one of my best since whenever I listen to this album my brain goes to mush and I can’t form a complete, comprehensive thought.
Side note before I actually get into substance: I once had a pair of pajama pants with that banana all over them. They met an unfortunate fate.
Dear, dear concept album of epic proportions, how do I love thee? You were recorded in one day, glorious postmodern masterpiece. You aren’t overdone, you aren’t overly-produced. Your classic raw sound and John Cale-Lou Reed amazingness (I just made it a word) make this an album that is still fresh and should be appreciated by all.
While the rest of the world was busy hoping for that hippie-dreamed world of sunshine, rainbows and unicorns, bands like The Velvet Underground were making music about their real world, that included heroin – lots of heroin – and a grim outlook. Screw peace and love – they wanted to spread their nihilistic attitude.
The Velvet Underground & Nico was their debut effort that didn’t fall flat. Andy Warhol (yes, that one) is credited with producing the album, but it really wasn’t, but we’ll pretend that we don’t know that. We will credit him with making this album possible, however, since they were probably only given a chance because of their direct involvement with Warhol. Of course, they were also written off because of the same reason. After the album was released it did okay, but soon Warhol was uninterested and they were left to go on to 3 more albums, all as brilliant as the other.
The album opener, “Sunday Morning,” is one of the best album openers ever. Simple, dreamy, and it makes you actually feel like it’s a Sunday morning. “Venus in Furs” is probably the most well-known song on here, and while I think it’s a good song, it has the tendency to be overrated. “I’m Waiting for the Man” sounds Dylanesque, and is, in my opinion, one of the best songs on the album, along with the super raw sound of “Run Run Run.”
The best story told on the album is with the song “Heroin,” which by the title I’m sure you can tell what that story is. It starts out all over the place, but the end result is almost perfection.
“Femme Fatale” and “I’ll Be Your Mirror,” both sung by Nico, are both enchanting songs, perhaps due to Nico’s haunting voice, although in the former, she’s somewhat overshadowed by the background.
Did I mention that I love this album?
01. Sunday Morning
02. I’m Waiting for the Man
03. Femme Fatale
04. Venus in Furs
05. Run Run Run
06. All Tomorrow’s Parties
07. Heroin
08. There She Goes Again
09. I’ll Be Your Mirror
10. The Black Angel’s Death Song
11. European Son
Don’t get fooled (again). Roger Daltrey still rocks.
I don’t usually like picking on kids because I feel like I’m being that schoolyard bully who picked on those other kids who were smaller. However, there comes a time every now and then when not only can I not resist, but it just needs to be done.
Last week, I had the great pleasure of attending the Roger Daltrey and Eric Clapton show at the New Orleans Arena. The two of them were both worthy of being headliners. Clapton because, well, he was the headliner and this is his tour. Daltrey because he totally owned that stage.
Now, to comply with full disclosure, I have to admit that had Daltrey not been opening, chances are I would have passed this show up like I’ve done the other times Clapton has been to town. I love Roger Daltrey and The Who with a love that can only be overshadowed by my love for The Beatles. I love Eric Clapton too, but it was never a love that could justify (in my mind) spending over $50 for a concert ticket.
As the countdown began, I started checking the daily reviews of the shows that had happened the night before (because I’m one of those people who actually do that kind of thing). They all had the same result: Eric Clapton sounded fantastic but was not a showman and Roger Daltrey was engaging and could still rock. After witnessing it for myself, I can say that I am in 100% agreement with every single one of those reviews.
I never planned on posting a blog post with my own review of the show because I’ve talked endlessly about it to everyone. I figured I had let out all of the excitement that I had pent up inside and there was no reason to keep hounding on it. That was, until this morning, when a friend of mine sent me a link to an article in the LSU student newspaper “The Reveille” about the show.