Otis,
Ya asked me how it was going test driving animation software. I figured out this much today. This sh#t is easier than it looks. I want to see and play with some more software before deciding on which one to use.
Written by cartoonist Eric T Styles about moving into the French Quarter of New Orleans. The day to day experience of living in one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world. The Quarter Rat is the name of the publication that Styles illustrates for featuring off the wall stories as told by locals who work as bartenders, bouncers, dancers and in the service industry on Bourbon Street.
Showing posts with label new orleans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new orleans. Show all posts
Thursday, July 26, 2012
I got to get me some sleep, after I finish my last energy drink. Let me know what ya think.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
the first time someone f*cked with 1/4 Rats
I have found myself taking an interest in American history since I have moved down to New Orleans. I never really had much before, perhaps because the history books made it seem dull and distant. Walking the streets of the French Quarter everyday, history is never distant. In fact it trips your feet on a daily basis. In the Quarter very little has changed, not just the grand old structures but the souls who still dwell here. When I was working as a painter at the Pontalba Building I could literally turn around and see the statue of General Andrew Jackson tipping his hat to me. I found myself going on line to learn more about this stern looking man who was watching me work all day.
The War of 1812 was just some bit of history that seemed irrelevant and detached from anything that I knew. After studying up on it a bit, I now realize that I am standing in the middle of one of the prominent places in American history, which eventually changed the course of world history in the long run. Even 200 years later, as much as our nation has changed, (perhaps not for the better) things in the French Quarter might not be that different. At least the people haven't changed much, let me explain.
The War of 1812 was never certain for America, the British were a super power of the world at that time. They were the best trained, most disciplined, best equipped, best funded and most victorious military in the the world of their day. They had just kicked Napoleon's ass, they ruled most of the world at that time and were fierce about keeping it that way. Like the proverbial bully, they had been abusing and humiliating the young United States by going after our shipping and forced inscription of our merchant sailors. Once we had declared war on them, the British made it a point to try and put the young upstart nation it's it's place. We got our asses kicked from Canada on down the East coast.
Washington D.C. had been invaded by the Limies who burned the city to the ground after all of the pussy politicians fled. Some might say our first victory was at Fort McHenry in Baltimore. That was not so much a decisive victory as a stalemate. Really the only thing that came out of that battle is a national anthem that very few people can sing very well. If we had waited, the national anthem might have been written down here in New Orleans. Not only would it have probably have been a much better song, but we could have been able to dance to it.
The British knew the war was drawing to a close and desperately wanted to control New Orleans by war's end. That would have meant that they controlled the Mississippi River and about forty percent of America's commerce. Wars are always about money. Enter Andrew Jackson, orphaned as a child when his family were killed by the British, he had a grudge to settle. Jackson was a bad ass muthafucka, always looking for a fight and quick to start a duel with anyone who looked at him the wrong way. If there ever was a Dirty Harry in U.S. history, it was Jackson.
As bad ass as Jackson was, he would need help, he enlisted QUARTER RATS. Of course in 1814 there was only the French Quarter and like today it was inhabited by the most diverse group of misfits, criminals and cut throats in the nation. Jackson was charismatic enough to enlist everyone who could hold a gun, when there weren't enough guns the rest were given farm implements. The only real professional soldiers were regular militia from Tennessee and Mississippi, some Marines and Navy, but the majority were made up of what at best could be called "rag tag." Frontiersman with muskets who were the homeless of their day, free men of color who were given equal pay and standing, Pirates, Indians, Creole farmers and shop keepers from New Orleans all stood along side Cajuns, and the French to protect our liberty.
Jean Lafitte is still highly regarded in the French Quarter. An enterprising privateer who was as much a politician as a pirate. Lafitte had spent a better part of his time eluding the British and Americans in the Barataria swamps while pillaging Spanish merchant vessels. When the war came to his city of New Orleans Lafitte sided with the Americans offering his men and looted Spanish munitions for a price and a pardon. His offer had nothing to do with patriotism, he was betting on who he believed would win and who he thought would allow him to continue his plundering. A true mercenary and the start of the military industrial complex in the Americas. Men of his character can still be found operating in the French Quarter.
The British were appalled by the hit and run tactics employed by the Americans. Choctaw Indians and "dirty shirts" conducted gorilla warfare against the Red Coats which was unimaginable by those who fought in the well ordered ranks of Napoleonic battles. Snipers in trees taking out officers had a demoralizing effect on troops.
Long story short, the strongest Army of the most powerful nation on Earth got it's balls kicked by the highly out numbered Quarter Rats.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Lucky for you that I ain't your father...
Early this morning Uptown in New Orleans on Broadway an intoxicated 19 year old sideswiped three parked cars at about 5:00 AM. Most likely this never would have made the news except it was Mayor Mitch Landrieu's son Benjamin Landrieu. For those of you outside of the Big Easy the Landrieu's name is big down here in politics. The Mayor was called to the scene and acording to him, he watched from a distance as his son was cuffed and arrested. Mitch told the cops on the scene not to give the son any preferencial treatment. Well handled.
Some today argued that the boy was rushed through the booking because he was released with in three hours or so. If that was the case, fine, at least he was booked. I would be willing to bet in most small towns across America, the mayor's son would have been driven home by the cop and the matter of damaged vehicles would have been taken care of after the fact somehow. As a father of a teenager, I can imagine the mix of emotions that Landrieu went through, as a father, concerned for his son's poor decisions and as a public figure in a town known to be ruthless to it's leaders. My heart went out to Mitch, but at least the boy didn't pull a Kennedy and leave some helpless girl drowning in an overturned car along the Mississippi.
I was on the family's side until I saw his mug shot snapped down at O.P.P. "Benjamin, do you think this is funny boy? Think this is cute? You damaged three cars, belonging to three people who awoke this morning to a very bad day because of you. They might have missed work because you are an asshole. If you were my kid I would be bitch slapping that shit eating grin off of your face in the cop shop parking lot. Your expression says it all, you'll get out of this and you can't wait to brag to your buddies what you did." Your expression tells me that you have no idea that you committed a criminal act, could have killed someone and that you caused your father (who probably bought the car you wrecked) a lot of political embarrassment. You spoiled snot nosed punk.
According to reports the little shithead was charged with Driving While Intoxicated, Reckless Operation of a Vehicle, and Driving
on Roadway Laned for Traffic (essentially, an improper lane change), no where have I read about a charge of under aged drinking. Usually cops throw everything they can at you and let the prosecutor and defense lawyers haggle down to one or two charges. This is New Orleans, the home of drive through Daiquiri shops, but still he is only 19 years old. Here is the kicker, Mayor Landrieu had already scheduled a press conference for this morning about "nuisance bars" that allowed underage drinking. Why do I have a gut feeling that this isn't the first time that little Benjamin has come home drunk.
It gets better. Of course there were news cameras waiting for him when he was released from holding. Evidently his old man's political career means nothing to the boy. Instead of showing a little humility and maturity Benjamin tells the press to "Get the fuck out of my way" and then proceeds to flip the reporters the finger after he gets into the back of an Suburban. HEY ASSHOLE! These are the same people that can make or break your father's next election. You are not a cool rock star, you are the spoiled brat of a politician who's credibility has just dropped a few points in the past few hours because of you, so what is your response? To be an even bigger douchebag.
I don't bother to write about local politics, nothing differant here than any other town. The Mayor is already dealing with waking up in the morning to hear about four people being murdered the night before and having to try and seem like he is doing something about it. I'm not writing about this to make a point about policy, just that Mitch's biggest headache right now is his arrogant spoiled brat.
I don't bother to write about local politics, nothing differant here than any other town. The Mayor is already dealing with waking up in the morning to hear about four people being murdered the night before and having to try and seem like he is doing something about it. I'm not writing about this to make a point about policy, just that Mitch's biggest headache right now is his arrogant spoiled brat.
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