Cheap Talk
I’m pretty well packed I think, have left various written messages and beer money for my house-sitter, have changed the batteries in the smoke alarms, have screwed the windows and back door shut, have set bear traps around the house, have put some fluids in the car and emptied piles of trash and roaches out of it, am trying my best not to think about the viability of my tires and the fact that 500 miles is a long trip in a car that won’t go faster than 60 mph, am not worrying about the lack of air-conditioning headed for a city that hit 96 degrees yesterday, don’t even want to think about the number of redneck communities my long-haired self will be driving through in a car with a right tail light that won’t stay lit, with a left head light that points upward, and which hasn’t seen a valid inspection sticker for two years. The failing brakes are something that concerns me least of all having years ago zig-zagged cross country almost six thousand miles in a car with only the emergency brake.
I am drinking Guinness Stout in preparation because I am traveling to the city where a Rastafarian learned me about Guinness Stout as a nutritional supplement. I won’t drive drunk, so, I won’t be leaving soon.
I can’t remember when last I was in Austin but it’s been awhile. I’m going to tell you this in advance: the Mexican food will be simply delicious, the people there will try to intoxicate me, the memories may overwhelm me.
Well, in New Orleans (pop. 477,000) yesterday, there were three murders. Our police chief, whom I support, and others of his ilk have addressed this problem by suggesting that we, as members of a caring community, must get more involved and report crimes as we see them happen. There is talk of witness protection-type programs to protect those who show the courage to stand up against violent criminals. Alas, talk is cheap, and the day to day reality is harsh. For example, two of yesterday’s killings are described in today’s Times Picayune: “Shortly after she testified Thursday before a grand jury as an eyewitness to her younger brother’s killing in March, a New Orleans woman and her longtime companion were gunned down outside their home in the 2800 block of Pauger Street.”
Pauger Street, that’s the 7th Ward, not far from the Fairgrounds, and the killings occurred at 12 noon as the couple returned from the courthouse. The gunman stood in front of their car and shot through the windshield, then walked around and shot repeatedly at the couple before fleeing in a waiting getaway car. The dead boyfriend was an activist. These type of killings are hard to forget and perhaps are explanation as to why the final four words of most murder reports in the paper are–no motives, no suspects.
Well, so, there’s never a lack of perspective here.
I hope you left the BB gun & plenty of ammo for the housesitter too ! Godspeed, JL..& don't be grillin' no Lone Rangers.
Yea, I made it.
I just happened to read this on the web what the hell does
franks comment mean
?
Although I was never privy to the code book that would explain some of Frank's colloquialisms (I don't know what grillin Lone Rangers means) I welcome his and all comments to the page.
The BB gun refers to some earlier admissions by me of using such a weapon to scare away wild dogs that threatened the longevity of Shorty's life. Shorty is the tiny, full grown, feral cat pictured top left. Godspeed, I think means good luck and be safe.
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I’m pretty well packed I think, have left various written messages and beer money for my house-sitter, have changed the batteries in the smoke alarms, have screwed the windows and back door shut, have set bear traps around the house, have put some fluids in the car and emptied piles of trash and roaches out of it, am trying my best not to think about the viability of my tires and the fact that 500 miles is a long trip in a car that won’t go faster than 60 mph, am not worrying about the lack of air-conditioning headed for a city that hit 96 degrees yesterday, don’t even want to think about the number of redneck communities my long-haired self will be driving through in a car with a right tail light that won’t stay lit, with a left head light that points upward, and which hasn’t seen a valid inspection sticker for two years. The failing brakes are something that concerns me least of all having years ago zig-zagged cross country almost six thousand miles in a car with only the emergency brake.
I am drinking Guinness Stout in preparation because I am traveling to the city where a Rastafarian learned me about Guinness Stout as a nutritional supplement. I won’t drive drunk, so, I won’t be leaving soon.
I can’t remember when last I was in Austin but it’s been awhile. I’m going to tell you this in advance: the Mexican food will be simply delicious, the people there will try to intoxicate me, the memories may overwhelm me.
Well, in New Orleans (pop. 477,000) yesterday, there were three murders. Our police chief, whom I support, and others of his ilk have addressed this problem by suggesting that we, as members of a caring community, must get more involved and report crimes as we see them happen. There is talk of witness protection-type programs to protect those who show the courage to stand up against violent criminals. Alas, talk is cheap, and the day to day reality is harsh. For example, two of yesterday’s killings are described in today’s Times Picayune: “Shortly after she testified Thursday before a grand jury as an eyewitness to her younger brother’s killing in March, a New Orleans woman and her longtime companion were gunned down outside their home in the 2800 block of Pauger Street.”
Pauger Street, that’s the 7th Ward, not far from the Fairgrounds, and the killings occurred at 12 noon as the couple returned from the courthouse. The gunman stood in front of their car and shot through the windshield, then walked around and shot repeatedly at the couple before fleeing in a waiting getaway car. The dead boyfriend was an activist. These type of killings are hard to forget and perhaps are explanation as to why the final four words of most murder reports in the paper are–no motives, no suspects.
Well, so, there’s never a lack of perspective here.
- jimlouis 5-17-2003 5:15 am
I hope you left the BB gun & plenty of ammo for the housesitter too ! Godspeed, JL..& don't be grillin' no Lone Rangers.
- frank 5-17-2003 6:16 am [add a comment]
Yea, I made it.
- jimlouis 5-18-2003 6:23 pm [add a comment]
I just happened to read this on the web what the hell does
franks comment mean
?
- anonymous (guest) 9-05-2003 10:14 am [add a comment]
Although I was never privy to the code book that would explain some of Frank's colloquialisms (I don't know what grillin Lone Rangers means) I welcome his and all comments to the page.
The BB gun refers to some earlier admissions by me of using such a weapon to scare away wild dogs that threatened the longevity of Shorty's life. Shorty is the tiny, full grown, feral cat pictured top left. Godspeed, I think means good luck and be safe.
- jimlouis 9-05-2003 3:57 pm [add a comment]