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And on top of all of her accomplishments, she can add to her list that I think she is hot. I hate the Democrats so fucking much. Seriously. Bush has had two black Secretaries of State, and you hear nary a word about it. This is for two reasons. 1) Bush is a Republican. It was a big honking deal when Clinton made Madeline Albright the first female Secretary of State. MTV announced it with much fanfare, they could barely contain their seminal fluids. I was surprised when delicious wine didn't flow from her eyeballs after the buildup they gave her. But Powell? Rice? Crickets chirped. When you're a Republican, you can do NOTHING right. Nothing at all. You don't get an inch. It is for this reason I think the Republicans should stop trying to appease the hippies. They aren't listening. 2) They're not black enough. I think Rice would get a lot more street cred if she'd bob her head back and forth and get pissed off. But unfortunately she is intelligent, well spoken, and consistently awesome. I have actually heard both Powell and Rice referred to as "Uncle Toms." This is a fucking disgrace. It is a sad state of affairs when great accomplishments, education, and worldwide respect make you not black enough. Permalink to this post. |
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So many people I've talked to have expressed regret about spending too much money on their wedding, or otherwise making their wedding a stressful occasion. Tracey and I were determined to make our wedding enjoyable rather than a chore. The first thing we did is get most of the pictures out of the way before the wedding so we didn't have to spend the whole time being carted around by a photographer trying to "capture the moment" and as a consequence "ruining the moment." We had a violin player who played a bunch of stuff as the guests arrived, and then played the traditional "Here comes the bride" type stuff during the wedding. Our ceremony was short and sweet so our friends wouldn't have to sit around bored waiting for the food and drinks. Though short, the ceremony was very nice. The location, Vintage Court, really was a nice setting for a wedding. Adam, the violin player and I played "Something in her Shows" by Bingo, which came out pretty good. A bunch of the guests told me I sounded like Buddy Holly, which is better than sounding like Bob Dylan or Tiny Tim. Afterwords a bunch of us went to Pat O Brien's to celebrate. We figured that Tiki's was just a little too seedy for a tux and a wedding dress. One final note: Tracey and I wrote our own vows. Here's what I said: These are my personal vows. I am not going to use thee or thine. I am not going to use artificial language to pretty up the occasion. We are here to be married forever, and I don't think this is the time to muddy the waters with platitudes. Here we are on this journey of life. Where am I going? What am I going to do when I grow up? How am I going to Make It? Everyone who is young asks these questions. We fret our lives away waiting for the answer. What is it that will make me happy? What is it that will finally settle this stirring inside of me that tells me something is wrong? Maybe if I move to the next town, maybe if I lose that ten pounds, maybe if I meet a woman who is pretty, maybe if I meet a woman who is wise, maybe if I make all of that money, maybe if I can change peoples' lives. I do not believe that by marrying you I will answer any of these questions or fill any of these holes. Being with you, there will still be these questions. Where are we going? What are we going to be when we grow up? But what is happening is that "I" is turning into "we". We share something that is unique in the universe. The saints and the sinners and the heretics and believers can argue the meaning of life all they like, there is one thing that I know is true, and that is what we feel. Our moments spent smiling into the New Orleans sun and feeling this thing together, that is real. These moments when Clint sings a song we both love, these moments when Taco rolls around on the floor for a belly rub, the mornings where a Jazz Band parades down our street for seemingly no reason at all, these things belong to us. No one else in the history of the world has felt or will feel what we feel together. And these good things bring with them the bad. The bad day at work, the family strife, the bills, the failures, the pain, the sickness, the listlessness, they are all there, magified by our reliance on one another. It is this understanding that makes me certain of my vow to you: To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, all of those things that everyone else says. I am saying them here, except in my own words. I understand that there will always be the temptation of the easy way out, the coward's path to a simpler, less fulfilling life. My vow to you is simple: Wherever this road brings us, we are walking it together. Permalink to this post. |
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New Orleans thanked us by having a gutter punk slash my tires and cost me $400. I'm sure he felt like he was "sticking it to the man." He showed that rich jackoff with a shiny new truck. Never mind that the rich jackoff drives an hour to work. Never mind that this guy is stuck paying two house notes after the mess of Katrina. The gutter punks of the world know what's REALLY IMPORTANT man. Anyway. I'm getting rid of my truck. It was a mistake to buy it in the first place. Between the monthly note, the full coverage insurance, and the gas to Hammond and back every day, it is costing me an arm and a leg. I think I am going to trade it in for another Honda Civic. Given that I am getting tight on money for the first time in over five years, Tracey and I won't be going out very much for the next several months. Of course, this had to happen right before Convergence when everybody is going to be having a grand old time. Though to be honest, it's never really a good time to be low on money in New Orleans. There is always something going on. In other news, I'm down to about 175 pounds, and my abs are starting to show. I know you care. I have only cheated on my diet once since being back from San Francisco, and that was a bacon and cheese sandwich Tracey made for me one night. Other than that, I have been around 1800 calories a day of completely healthy food. I am like a monk. I have started having dreams about eating cookies and candy bars again. I find that quite disturbing. So, Tracey and I will be married as of June 3. Just a six month delay thanks to Katrina. I have always hated the idea of long engagements, and now I'm one of those "engaged forever dudes." Anyhoo, we'll be married soon so people can stop asking me why I'm already wearing my wedding ring. Now that we're going out a lot less, we have been playing a lot more video games to entertain ourselves. Our game du jour is Mortal Kombat Shaolin Monks, which is a really fun co-op beat-em-up. I have also been playing Starcraft again...If any of you are interested in some online Starcraft games, give me a holler. Permalink to this post. |
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Gutter punks are generally white, 16-30 year old crusty pieces of shit that live in the streets of the city. They aren't homeless due to an inability to find a job, or because they are hard on luck, they are homeless because they enjoy the lifestyle. They want to be gutter punks. A lot of these punks are even trust fund babies -- I knew one personally. Here in New Orleans, it isn't solely a derogatory term, I have heard many gutter punks refer to themselves as such. The liberal minded among you may see some romance in the way these people live. You believe that they aren't conforming to society's oppressive norms, or that they're living a more "real" lifestyle apart from the meaningless trappings of society, or maybe that they have reached some sort of zen understanding of the futility of work. Go fuck yourself. Gutter punks are a sign of the rot of society. These are utterly worthless pieces of shit. They are leeches upon civilization. These people are not closer to their roots. These people are not some sort of modern primitive hunter-gatherer. These people could not survive outside of the city. They are completely incapable of fending for themselves. "What?" you may ask, "These people have no jobs! They are the ultimate survivors!" Ha! These people are the epitome of dependent. They are bums. They contribute nothing to anyone but themselves. Their ability to survive does not come from some sort of crafty ingenuity, or a gritty survival instinct; their survival is the result of the incredible success of others in our society. Our society is so opulent that these useless worms can live off of our excess fat. Their sustenance is our droppings, and our liberal-indoctrinated guilt at being more wealthy than someone else. When I see some guilty tourist giving one of these vile beasts money, I just want to throttle him. Do you really think this person is a victim of something other than their own lack of worth? Way back in the early 90s, the gutter punks were pretty populous in the quarter. But back then, they were different. They were still pretty worthless, but they really weren't very violent. They pretty much hung out, smoked pot, begged, and ate people's trash. They were just an unsightly wart on the city. Over the years, several city council members put a lot of effort into clearing out the gutter punks, and the city was better for it. Of course, the left never stopped whining about their "draconion" methods. After Katrina we saw a new wave of gutter punks, but this wave was not the same breed as before. This breed is an unpleasant mutant strain. The new gutter punks aren't lazy-eyed stoned hippies. These new human turds are crazy-eyed, aggressive, and downright mean. They are dangerous. Tales of violence rarely followed the gutter punks of yesteryear, but these new beasts seem to revel in the violent cloud that follows them. Where did they all come from? After Katrina, as I've said, the only thing we REALLY needed to worry about was the levees. Make those levees Category 5 proof and the businesses will come. The people with money will fix their own problems as long as the government provides a secure city infrastructure. Fuck the poor people. Seriously, fuck them. They are a drain. But of course, I am a coldhearted pig. I am a capitalist bastard. I don't Understand the Plight of the Less Fortunate. I am a white boy raised in whitesville and I don't know what it's like to be poor. Ignore the fact that I have **been** poor and lived in a shithole. I'm white and conservative, so I must have come from a privileged background. Anyway, you were asking me where the gutter punks came from. Sorry about the rant. After Katrina, the nanny state came in with tons of handouts. The tax money that should be going into infrastructure is going into the hands of poor people so they can buy cigarettes and beer. And of course, not get jobs. Then they can bitch about how all of the Mexicans are stealing the jobs that they never applied for. So the city is flooded with handouts from Uncle Sam, the Red Cross, the Church of Inifinite Guilt et al. Well, the gutter punks along the West Coast caught wind of this, loaded up their shitty vans adorned with leftist slogans, and headed out to where to handouts flow. And this week, by god, one of those fuckers slashed my tires. Permalink to this post. |
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