View current page
...more recent posts
The Friends Of Benign Intelligence 7.31.97
If it's fair to say M is a depravity magnet it is also fair to say I attract lunatics. The Heretic of English Turn showed up at the job site in Muirfield Place the other day. It was his day off and he wanted to see if I would be interested in having a meeting of minds at Dumaine. I said I was working late at a second job for the next two days and the two days after that I had a friend from Austin coming in town for a conference and that I would probably be spending some time with this friend in the evenings. The Heretic looked confused, and perhaps forlorn by this news so I relented and said if he wanted to meet as late as eight, I would be home and he could bring whomever he wanted into this ghetto. But don't bring anyone who is likely to be scared of this environment. He told me one of his psychic co-workers would like to meet me before I left for the day and I'm hot and tired and cranky and I said--"If she want's to read my aura before she will come to my house, the answer is no. I need to get to my second job on the other side of town." My aura is probably black anyway.
The Heretic has a Born Again Christian brother who lives in a cornfield in Indiana and has just published one of those Christian books. I think the Heretic is feeling a little pressured now to bring all his "God Is A Myth" ideas to fruition and get them into a publishable manuscript. I had told him long ago that I would be his devil's advocate meaning if I thought he was talking with a mouth full of shit, I would tell him so. Lord knows I could use such an advocate. Arkansas Julie Smith once told me I was being bombastic and I have liked her ever since.
The Heretic comes over and brings his 36-year-old daughter who, frankly, talks a little too much but is otherwise delightful, and has a rather interesting spin on life, and The Heretic reads a few thought provoking passages from some books he brought, and the evening is pleasantly uneventful. The Psychic nor the Theologian were able to make it this time. I'm have all these people back though. I think we could all use a break from the Death and Depravity.
Death And Diet Tips 8.15.97
I have often noticed an almost sinisterly interesting layout of your news stories and editorials. For example, the way a front page metro section news story might relate to an editorial, or a letter, in the back pages. I have to reckon you do this on purpose to stimulate interest, and even response, to various crises that afflict this fine city.
In this case, I refer to the Metro headline Aug. 15 which reads--4 killed within hours in N.O. What an outright drag for the mayor you chose this same day to publish one of his finer pieces of puffery--Bon appetit from mayor, wherein the mayor delivers to his adoring public--diet tips? Violent Death and Diet Tips all in one section of the newspaper? I do feel compelled to respond. Or rather, question, the mayor.
In your letter Mr. Mayor you suggest that "[we] enjoy the food of New Orleans in moderation and take a long walk on the streets and avenues to stay in shape…" When you say "streets and avenues" does that include Magazine Street, where on Aug. 14 "[a] teenager was ambushed in a hail of nearly a dozen bullets…," or how about 2700 St. Ann, a block from my home, where a young man was shot three times, "…once in the head…" When you say "streets and avenues," do you mean to include the 1500 block of Conti, which I believe is pretty close to the corner of Claiborne, a major thorough-fare many of us travel everyday, where a man "…walking around with a sawed off shotgun…" killed a young man in the Iberville courtyard. Mr. Mayor, did you realize there were 15 murders in one week in July? Are we all ignoring this because we imagine that none of the dead were registered voters, or because it seems like a cost effective way to eliminate the bad elements in our city? I would very much like to take a walk around the city with you, Mr. Mayor, but I'm not always sure you and I are living in the same one.
(So I confess I am no great admirer of Mr. Morial's public image, but at the same time I must begrudgingly admit that, as mayors go, we could probably do a lot worse. As the son of a former political consultant, I would like to make this one time offer of free advice--Mark, to assure re-election a year or so from now, lower your public profile to a point just shy of nonexistence. And please, no more diet tips. I will look forward to the next four or five years of your inspiring leadership).
Going For The Gold 7.27.97
Five more murders last night, makes twelve in five days. One of the murders happened right across the street from Harold Armour's bar in the Seventh Ward. Harold is the Neighborhood Watch cop for this district. Phillis was over this evening giving Mandy some Night Out Against Crime paraphenalia. Party over at Mama D's in a couple of weeks. Barbecue chicken, and whiskey, maybe deviled eggs. Anyway, Phillis said Harold heard the shots and when he went outside there was no one there--except for this young man lying on the sidewalk with the top half of his head missing. Last time there were this many murders in one week, the citizens marched on City Hall. I went with down with Mandy and Phillis. My brother, Alex, was in town and he came too. Our smarmy mayor had set up an image control team outside on the grounds. Had a stage, some inspirational speakers, maybe even a little gospel music. Then we all rushed for the chambers. Again, the mayor had the fix in and the chamber was filled mostly with city employees and lackeys. But there were enough piss off screaming citizens that it was quite a show to behold. The mayor never did show up though. Safety concerns. Unlike this week, that week's murder count included three white people (employees of the Pizza Kitchen in the Quarter. The young killers used potatoes for silencers on their guns). This week, as the boys at work might say, is just a bunch of niggers killing niggers. Punks and gangsters who aren't productive members of society so fuck 'em. This is our last favor to the young urban black as a society. To let them die without too much fuss. We have not been able to help them without making them weaker, we are not educating them, and we can't relate to them as being anything but a problem. It's the least we can do really, to let them die quietly, to let the young bad boys kill each other off, to accept their demise as an efficiency, not to disgrace them with our concern after the fact.
Monk's wife would not respond to calls from her sister today so her sister called emergency services and they busted the door down. His wife had been living with cancer for awhile and it killed her today.
It's ten o'clock Friday night and The Magnolia closes at eight so I walked over to Kim's on N. Broad, near the corner of St. Ann. I wanted a 22-ounce Heineken. Monk was standing in front of the iron gates that Kim puts up late at night. I gave him a feeble wave as I approached. We shook hands and he told me what I already knew and I told him how sorry I was. He had a lot of gin in him and he was looking for more. He had been married for 33 years. He walked off with a man I didn't recognize in search of something I cannot imagine.
Happiness is the absence of intellectual thought.
Saturday: Three more dead last night but one of those might be a repeat in the count so let's just say 14 in six days. One more day to go. Murder cannot continue at this pace but if it did the toll would top 600 for the year. The per capita equivalent in NYC would be 12,000. The actual count in NYC is closer to 1,200 for a year.
But overall the murder rate is down for the year, and all crime in our district is down, and the 2600 block of Dumaine is pretty quiet, so maybe I should just cheer up. There is no TV here and if I didn't read the newspaper I wouldn't even know any of this was happening. I wonder if ignorance is an option at this point?
Sunday: Some punk shot his lawyer last night and that makes fifteen.