Author: Gil

Just walked down the street to the recently-opened health food store for a snack. Standing on the checkout line, I noticed a guy walking into the store behind me. He had a sling on his right arm, made out of a bandanna. He got on line a moment later, and I heard this odd clicking sound, so I turned around to check it out.

He had a bottle of Vitamin Water wedged between his legs, and was trying to open it with one hand. I immediately said, “You need a hand?”

That’s when I noticed that the bandanna-sling was a bit shorter than it should have been.

He raised his forearm-stump, smiled and said, “Well, I bet you know the answer to THAT question, buddy!”

I suck.

The albino alligator at the New Orleans Aquarium survived the flood! Nothing will kill that creepy-ass sonofabitch!

Amy’s parents now have electricity at home! No more generator for them!

Still no phone service, so we can’t prank-call them or anything.

Update: Looks like they got power going in the city, too! Yay!

Peter M. DeLorenzo is an automotive industry consultant who also writes a weekly column at the Autoextremist. He pulls no punches, despite the fact that some of his livelihood comes from the companies he criticizes in the column.

Anyway, this week’s column (it’ll be replaced by Sept. 14, and the archives don’t seem to be online) is all about the effects of the post-Katrina gas crunch on the SUV market. It’s not a pretty picture, and DeLorenzo savages the auto industry for its mega-reliance on these cars:

Detroit marketers in particular created “the need” and “the want” here, folks – and don’t for a minute be misled into thinking otherwise. Detroit single-handedly pushed an egregiously callous marketing strategy that revolved around launching more and more variations of larger SUVs into this market and creating the demand for vehicles that were a dismal combination of laughable space utilization, miserable handling dynamics and piss-poor fuel economy – wasteful mastodons that made little sense even under the most wildly optimistic scenarios. Not only did they push bigger and bigger SUVs and “urbanized” pickup trucks, they made these vehicles drive like cars so that people would realistically consider them as benign alternatives for their transportation needs – even if they were woefully inappropriate choices in every respect.

He doesn’t have high hopes for the industry this fall.

Gilligan is dead.

Amy’s mom called about an hour ago. They just took Amy’s sister, her husband and their kid Mason (Amy’s 3-year-old godson, who sounds just like Meatwad) back to their house. Looks like some wind damage (some roof shingles are gone), but nothing major. Lots of lawn cleanup. No power at that house either, but houses a few streets over have had power restored, so it looks like it’s a matter of (brief) time.

And I’m serious about Kung-Fu Hustle. It’s really entertaining.

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Amy & I were settling in to watch Kung-Fu Hustle last night when her parents called from home with an update. Cell coverage is much better in their area, but they’re still operating off the generator they brought back from Arkansas.

Strangely enough, even though gas prices up here in NJ have shot up to $3.30 for a gallon of regular, they seem to be around $2.60 down near them (about 15 miles from where they live). My only theories about this are

A) that there are still few cars returning down there, so there’s not much demand for gas; or

B) gas station owners and attendants are afraid of being shot to death if they start price-gouging.

Her parents reported that it’s hot and the mosquitoes are the only happy ones around, but it seems like everyone’s accounted for & safe.

And Kung-Fu Hustle was one of the most entertaining movies I’ve ever seen.

During the Concert for Hurricane Relief telethon, Kanye West just announced, “George Bush doesn’t care about black people,” while Mike Myers stood beside him and tried to keep a straight face.

Great post by Vodkapundit about the city, its demise, and the inherent elements of New Orleans that are contributing to its destruction.

After my one semester at Tulane, I thought New Orleans’ motto should have been, “A city where you can get away with murder, as long as it’s not a white guy.”

That said, it was also my favorite city to visit in America.

In early 2003, when I was thinking of bailing on the northeast, the only strategy I could come up with was getting all of my money together, moving down to New Orleans, and drinking for a year straight.