Some thoughts for New Orleans:
- The levees should be replaced with two levees. An earthen levee should suffice for the primary, outer wall. The redundant levee should be a little more engineered.
- The levee system should segment the city so that in the event of a breach, only a portion of the city floods.
- it is time for light rail to connect the br to the no. this will be handy not only for future evacuations, but also all the commuting workers who will relocate businesses to br but still want to live in the dirty dirty.
- someone should shoot the oysterfisherman who are suing to prevent the state from diverting the mississipi into the marshes and replenishing the coastline.
- the interstate system should be revised in low-lying areas to be above sea level at all points.
- bridges across large bodies of water should be constructed such that rising water does not displace segments from their risers.
- speech lessons for future governors, perhaps from the no mayor.
- replace lee circle with a commemorative park for the lone star state as a sign of appreciation for what organized government can achieve. refugees in texas started school last week. refugees in louisiana might start school this week.
- hurricane proof cell phone towers. lots of them. seriously.
- locks on the lake end of the canals.
- new superdome with some sort of refugee accomodations in mind.

We walked up the hill towards the house, and Jake suddenly turned to the left and ran off into the thicket. “Where the hell is he going?” Kyle exclaimed. Barley was still walking around on the trail in front of us, towards the faint sounds of bluegrass and laughter out above the clearing. The sun was drifting down behind the mountain, casting a warm orange glow on all of the bales of straw that were dotted along the edge of the hill. The glow filtered through Hannah’s blonde frizz. I watched the back of her head while she trod up in front of me.
Jake started braying continuously in a voice not quite like his usual. It wasn’t the same as his bark when he wants food, or the howl he makes when Mom leaves him behind, or even the sound he makes when she comes home and he runs circles around her feet. He almost sounded like he was in pain. I thought maybe he felt lost in the thicket and was crying for us to come get him. I laughed at his silly desperate howl. In a moment, two white tailed deer darted out from the woods, and leaped down the hill behind us.
“That’s the sound they make,” my mom told me later. “That hunting howl... That’s what Dad’s dogs always sounded like. They could run for days and days when they’re on the trail of something.”
Eventually, Jake made his way up out of the other side of the woods, and sat at my feet while I spit watermelon seeds over his head. “Someone ought to wrap up that peach pie,” my grandmother said as she stacked up the dishes on the picnic table.
I jerked my head around. “IT’S PEACH?!” I exclaimed. I went ahead and cut myself a slice. Apple pie I like alright, but I’m not usually gonna make room in my stomach for it. Peach is another story. Peach pie is a rarity.
Peach pie and watermelon and a sun setting over the mountain. Goodbye sweet summer. A week ago I was begging for time to stop. I wanted to swim indefinitely through the humid air. I have spent many days and nights sauntering through the streets of my neighborhood, listening to the mocking buzz of cicadas. That’s the sound of summer saying goodbye.
In the course of the past week, I learned a little lesson. Summer wore out her welcome, and patted me on the back with reassurance of why she had to be on her way.
Between her brutal assault on the Gulf Coastline, and the sad entanglements of my own trivial life, the message was made clear to me. Suddenly I’m tired.
I’m ready for brisk air to make me short of breath, just like the strong waves at the beach have done. A shortness of breath and a flash of excitement and fear, like the way I feel when I see a guy I want to touch. Sometimes the waves knocked me over. Sometimes the air will sting my face.
I’m ready to endure the adventure of my arctic apartment. This year I won’t be facing it alone. Abby and I can joke about the ludicrousness of the situation, and bundle up to enjoy the heat and the beer elsewhere.
I would like to look out my window and see that the world will be shutting down for the day, to descend into the Maryland pandemonium that comes along with an inch of snow.
A few months from now, I’ll probably have another new perspective on things. The last of the cold days will slowly pass behind me and wildflowers will populate the hillside. New leaves on the trees will muffle the bluegrass while I play with the dogs down the hill. I’ll brace myself to be knocked down and battered by the ocean again.

As I am sure you all must know....me and Miss Pussycat got out.....most of our instruments were also evacuated, but the entire electronics lab was destroyed and many Pussycat paintings and puppets were also lost. Also, the house (SPELLCASTER LODGE) is questionable.......the front gable blew off and the whole downstairs (the LODGE) was REALLY the underwater dance club for about 3-4 days. Unfortunately the only things dancing were dead animals, benzine, E-coli, fire ants, and human feces........Our entire building structure being condemned is a real possibility. The good news is that as far as I know all Rhinestone Records Krewe are ok......Trachiotomy rode it out along with Strangebone (Jeff Matson), DJ Math Problem (Brian Marchese), Mikey Serabrini, Danger Dan Fusilier (famous painter of Mother in Law), Jamie & Raven, and many others. Antoinette K-Doe (of the MOTHER IN LAW LOUNGE) also stayed and survived but her lounge saw even deeper water than the Lodge. I know that many of you are having various benefits and you should send your money to any place that makes the most sense to you....if you are donating directly to the Lodge please know that the $ will go to replace equiptment and to re-build the Spellcaster because we have no insurance of any kind. It will also go to keep the show on the road for many of the above mentioned Hurricane heroes. The reason I am writing this is because I have been asked by benefit organizers to explain somehow what is happening and where the benefit funds for Rhinestone Records will go.......so, that is my explaination about money........as far as what is happening.......i don't know what the fuck is happening.....this is biblical and it is breaking my heart to see New Orleans burnt, flooded, neglected, ethnically cleansed, and basically shoved underwater to drown........but we can breath underwater baby. Cajun Atlantis has just begun to emerge and the moment those fuckers let us back in the gates, we are going straight to the gun store and then to the boat bar for all the free drinks we can drink. Thank you all for everything........WE LOVE YOU!...............sincerely, Mr.Q and all of Rhinestone Records

In other news, i will be in Seattle this weekend, am flying to Chicago next
wednesday for about a week or so and will eventually end up in memphis
for the GonerFest on the weekend of the 25th of September...i don't really
know what i'm gonna do from there but i will probably hook up with my
old carpentry boss and get back down to NOLA as soon as they open
the doors to the motherfucker...all im bringing are my tools and a bag of
clothes all my records and shit are staying up here in portland...probably
gonna look into getting some disease immunizations while in Chicago too
...it just doesn't make any sense to me to sit up here and flip fucking
hamburgerswhen the only place i've ever felt at home in is totally shattered...
and anyone who's giving up on this is a fucking PUSSY...
new orleans will always be new orleans no matter what it looks like
and the only thing thats gonna make it change is if the people that give it it's character decide to bail right now. oh yeah...we also raised eleven hundred
bucks the other night at our hurricane benefit up here for the goner fund.
See ya at the gun store.

Click the image to go to the site for more info, and make sure you note what item gets the least funding!

the drugs in the wingnut kool aid must be pretty good.

i constantly hear about all the great things going on in iraq. when you listen to the wingnuts spout propaganda, you'd think that wingnuts would be enlisting en masse to go to iraq because it such a beacon of democracy, peace and prosperity. you wingnuts were absolutely right when you said that we'd be greeted as liberators by the iraqi people who would shower us with flowers and blowjobs. it's a good thing you wingnuts didn't listen to the voice of reason, because some one had to protect us from all of sadam hussein's weapons of mass destruction. with all the GREAT THINGS going on in iraq, you'd think we wouldn't have such a problem getting people to sign up to go over there. hey, i have a question. why aren't all the wingnuts signing up to go to iraq to enjoy all the flowers and blowjobs the iraqi people are throwing at us?



i guess you guys aren't spending too much time thinking about iraq these days. since we took over iraq, gas is now twenty cents a gallon. no wonder the economy is doing so well! i guess the enlistment problem is due to the amazing wingnut domestic agenda. aside from from working to make birth control illegal, you've had fellow wingnut, Pat Buchanan, say this about your stellar domestic leadership:

George Bush LOST NEW ORLEANS!

you wingnuts must be proud!!!

your only failure has been that you couldn't save that brain dead terri schiavo... but then again you saved the stem cells and got evolution and science out of the schools!1!!!1!!

this post is dedicated to you, wingnuts! please mindlessly repeat the propaganda you hear on your "news sources" here! don't feel the need to not spout it word for word just like you heard it! after all, we're celebrating wingnuttia, not objective thinking! or even what you see with your own two eyes for that matter!!!



sheeple, you should be proud.

it's not like red states have to rely on blue states to fund their ignorant ideology or anything. i mean, that would make wingnuts a bunch of welfare cheats.

wankers.