Saturday, August 30, 2008

Hey New Orleans!

(NOTICE: Foul language alert.
If you can't stand a little cussin' take
your dolly and go play elsewhere.)

ATTENTION: People of New Orleans,

Get. The. Fuck. Out.


Is that clear enough? Loud enough?

New Orleans is a steaming pile of shit.

The first time I went there I thought it was pretty cool. Jazz and blues leaked out of the bars, restaurants and clubs and gave it atmosphere, almost enough atmosphere to cover the smell of garbage, sewers and vomit in the French Quarter.

Overall I wasn’t that impressed with the food—never have been. At most of the nicer places the chefs and operators are overly self important and the food is style over substance.The one place that I truly enjoyed has closed it's doors, not because of Katrina but because the owners wanted to retire and they didn't feel that a new owner could carry on the same quality of food and dedication. I really mourn the demise of Ugleseiches.
Other than that- fuck 'em all.
There were/are a few places that are very good, but you could say that about any city... The way most people conceptualize New Orleans is that every bar is a fine ol' time and every restaurant is the acme of cuisine.

Ever since then, whenever I’ve gone to The Big Sleazy, the place has impressed me less and less each time.

The last time (February of 2008), it was absolutely revolting. Gone was the old-time jazz and blues; instead, it was loud, obscene rap music which poured out of the establishments (as opposed to the earlier leakage) and flooded the streets. Worse, the place was full of frat boys—either actual frat boys, or people behaving like frat boys—and that was as true for the women as for the men. Bourbon Street was too crowded (Pickpocket Central) and too rowdy (Fight Club, with vomit), and off Bourbon Street the place was eerily quiet (hello, thugs & muggers).

And above all, the place was filthy: and I’ve traveled not only in Asia but in Mexico, so I know filth when I see (and smell) it.

And that’s the part which is supposed to be the great big tourist attraction.

Even before Katrina, when you traveled outside the French Quarter, the place looked like Liberia: potholed streets, abject poverty, rundown houses and people sitting around with empty, sullen eyes.
Now it's even worse... Even shittier condition, but people are just sitting around waiting for their entitlement. Of course they use it to buy a Hummer or a Land Rover and continue to live in their FEMA trailer and not repair their house or whathaveyou.

Frankly, if the whole place—that is, the entire 400 square miles—had disappeared permanently under the Katrinian waves, like some modern-day Atlantis without the historical importance, I’d have thought, ”good riddance” and carried on with my life, untouched by the loss.

Don’t even get me started about the corruption, crime and decadence which would have justified its Gomorrah-like demise, or the government-dependent leaches who infest the place like maggots and worms in a rotting corpse.

Which is about as close a metaphor as I can think of for New Orleans, come to think of it. The hell with the place.

So here comes Gustav...

Get. The. Fuck. OUT.
Shut. The. Fuck. UP.

TBG- Not giving a shit.

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