I can only hope that this story — about Terry Schiavo’s parents selling the names and e-mails of their supporters/donors to a direct-mail firm — isn’t true. Because if it is, it might count as the single most disturbing aspect of this whole episode.
New Orleans
As I mentioned a few posts ago, I took some pix down in Louisiana last weekend. I meant to post them earlier, but my flight trouble Monday/Tuesday, combined with the official VM Mom‘s flight delays yesterday, left me with no time or energy to get to processing them.
Without further ado:
Here’s a streetcorner in New Orleans. I liked the color composition, but the day was pretty overcast and ugly.
This is the Cornstalk Fence Inn, which doesn’t seem to require much by way of explanation.
Jackson Square. It was, as mentioned, overcast and foggy.
Really overcast and foggy. This is the Mississippi.
Did I mention that fog?
AAIEE! Ghost ship! With gambling!
Another composition I liked. A local mentioned that it used to be a brothel.
Back to the home of the official VM girlfriend‘s parents in Des Allemands! Time for lunch!
I’m not joking here. It’s a whole table of boiled, seasoned crawfish.
Mason (official VM girlfriend’s godson) doesn’t know what to make of it all. I had some trepidation when they warned me, “Don’t eat the dead ones.”
“You mean there are live ones?”
Evidently, if the crawfish’s tail is straight, that means it was dead before it was boiled with the others. That means it might taste funny or have weird microbes. You know: as opposed to the ones that were pulled live out of the carcinogen-laced Mississippi runoff.
“You actually eat those?” Mason asked. I was with him. I ate the meat from the tail, but I was convinced they were just pulling my leg about sucking the juice from the front half. “But not too hard, or the other stuff comes loose.”
On Easter, Mason broke out the John Deere tractor.
He hauled ass for a while.
The tyke at rest.
It was a fun trip, even with the general trepidation that’s supposed to come with “meeting the folks.” My own can be pretty entertaining, so I never make a big deal out of meeting other people’s.
I’ll be in Dallas for a couple of days next week, and I’ll try to get some nice pix down there. As I recall, though, it had one of the most grotesque skylines I’ve ever seen. My other main memory of Dallas is jumping around a hotel room, blown up on Colt 45, cheering as Charlie Hayes caught the last out for the Yankees in the 1996 World Series.
Oh, and there’s the time I almost got killed in a sports bar in the hotel. I’ll save that one for later.
Fortunately, I live in NJ
New York Press reveals its annual list of the 50 most loathsome New Yorkers.
MSY/RIC/EWR
Took a convoluted path home from New Orleans. Weather was terrible in NJ, with a whole ton of thunderstorms, so the flight was delayed. Midway through, the pilot announced that Newark Airport was closed and that we’d be landing in Richmond, VA, which was near us. We took on fuel, but after an hour or two of sitting, the decision was made to call it a night. The pilot cited microbursts as the reason the airport was closed. I said, “I’d rather find that out here in Richmond than over Newark.”
Continental got us hotel rooms and we headed out to get some rest. The flight headed out this morning at 7am, necessitating a 4:30am wakeup call. Today’s part went off sans hitch, but I’m exhausted, so none of my NO,LA pix until tonight or tomorrow, dear reader.
Bad pun of the day
Official VM girlfriend: Take a right on Camp. I think it turns into Decatur.
Gil: Are you sure? I thought Camp turns into Kitsch! Bwah-ha-hah!
(Thanks. I’ll be here all week.)
Explosive Shells
Made it into Des Allemands, LA last night. Had the pleasant surprise, after checking in at Continental, to find that my seat had been upgraded to first class. I hadn’t flown first class since 1990, so this rocked the house.
The official VM girlfriend was unhappy about having to sit in row 29, squeezed between two fat passengers, but I’m sure she was assuaged by the in-flight movie.
After we got in, her family took us to Drago’s, where I got to experience some famous char-broiled oysters. Her dad said he tried to use their recipe at home, but the grill wouldn’t get as hot as they keep it at the restaurant.
“Also, some of the oyster-shells would explode.”
Off to New Orleans today. It was about 78 degrees with 245% humidity at 8am, but it’s better than ice and snow.
Meet the Parents
So sorry to be away, dear reader. I’ve been working on some nefarious plots (moo-hoo-ha-ha-ha) that have taken away from my VM time. I’ll fill you in when they come to fruition.
Today, I’m heading off with the official VM girlfriend to Louisiana to see her family for Easter. Keep in mind, Easter’s not a particularly fun holiday for Jews to be on the outskirts of, but she sez her family doesn’t make any sort of somber occasion out of it. I literally have no idea what gentiles do on Easter, so it oughtta be fun, anthropologically speaking. As long as they don’t break out in a chorus of Throw the Jew Down the Well, everything oughtta be fine.
I still haven’t put together any sorta coherent opinion about the Schiavo case, except to feel bad about noting the irony that she got into this condition because of an eating disorder.
On the radio Wednesday, I heard Governor Pataki (R-NY) explain how the NFL will bring the Superbowl to New York in 2010 if the city builds the new stadium. I thought, “How wonderful! Eventually, New York City will be able to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with cities like Jacksonville and Tempe!”
That’s all the funny you’re getting.
Guest column
New VM reader Sam enjoys my basketball writing, so I offered him a chance to post here, following the latest Shaq-Kobe match. Because he’s in Canada, this means I now have a foreign correspondent!
A buddy invited me over to his place last night to jam a little and watch the Heat/Lakers game on his new 52″ HDTV. Last night was the first time I have had a chance to watch HDTV and I must say, outstanding! I couldn’t get over the clarity. It was awesome!
[Ed. note: I know, I know. I saw the Superbowl on HD this year, and sports is pretty obviously going to drive that consumer market. Especially in my house. Grr.]
Now I’m going to go into an NBA rant. Okay, deservedly so, everyone is on Toronto GM Rob Babcock’s case for screwing up the Vince Carter trade and then doing nothing at the deadline, but what about the Lakers and the cluster f*ck screw job they have done to their team?! They go from an elite championship team to nothing — that’s worse than the Raptors in my opinion because the Raps were NEVER going to win a playoff round, let alone championship with VC (I hope you are paying attention, Nets fans, ’cause its also going to happen to you).
So what did the Lakers get in return for Shaq? A bag of basketballs from Miami, which is no different than the Raps, and they are going to miss the playoffs (are you seeing the similarities here?).
Who’s talking about this travesty? Who won that trade? Heat 51 – 16. The Lakers and their fans should be embarrassed. Another example of a team catering to the wishes of one superstar player at the expense of the team (are the similarities spooky, or what?).
Lamar Odom was a non-factor last night and it looked like Kobe is on the decline (like VC – scary, oooh). They got spanked.
(Take a deep breath, Sam.)
Peace, out.
–Sam R.
PS: I saw the post-game interview with the Godfather, er, Shaq. He compared Penny Hardaway to Fredo, Kobe to Sonny and Wade to Michael — the heir apparent. This guy’s hysterical. Really funny stuff. Shaq truly is the most electrifying man in sports entertainment today.
Look, kids! It’s the culture of irresponsibility!
Today, the U.S. Congress held hearings about the use of steroids in Major League Baseball. It takes some work, bending my brain around that concept. While the House and Senate are debating over the federal budget and whether to deny the White House’s proposed cuts to Medicare funding, our duly elected representatives are able to take time out to grill Rafael Palmiero, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa’s translator.
The impetus for the hearings wasn’t the spate of home runs getting belted out of stadia in the past 10 years. Nor was it the BALCO trial, in which transcripts of Jason Giambi’s secret grand jury testimony were leaked. (No one’s holding hearings to find out where the leak came from.)
No, these hearings are being held because Jose Canseco wrote a book in which he “named names” of MLB steroid users.
Again, try to wrap your head around that concept. It’s especially daunting for those of us who didn’t think Jose could even read or write. Regardless, Congress decided that enough is enough, and set the stage for today’s grandstanding.
Every question of substance was dashed by the use of the Fifth Amendment, as anyone with half a brain knew they’d be. But Jose did manage to utter a great comment, in his prepared statement:
Why did I take steroids? The answer is simple. Because myself and others had no choice if we wanted to continue playing. Because MLB did nothing to take it out of the sport.
That’s right: Jose (and others) took steroids because the league didn’t make him stop.
Would you dickheads please get back to gutting Social Security or something, and stop wasting time with this idiocy?