...more recent posts
Here's one I think goes here, or it could go into that thread about the bomber guy who Jim was wondering about. I think I saw him today and the reason I say that is because I think I remember a picture of that abortion bomber guy or I could be thinking about a guy from Florida (who is maybe in jail or just not hiding in NC?). I'm not sure but the thing is this guy I saw today was a masterpiece of malevolent geekiness, right out of central casting, even down to the tape on the bridge of his black rimmed glasses. Its Mardi Gras here in New Orleans so there's a lot of freaks in town.
Quiet Sunday morning on Rocheblave. I'm unloading tools. A block and a half a way scavengers are searching the Canal Blvd. neutral ground for lost treasures ( drugs, money, beads, and aluminum). Last night was the big Endymion parade. Frankie Muniz (?) was Grand Marshall. A half block the other way, on Bienville, The Baptist church is serenading the neighborhood with electronic hymns, nothing too inspiring but it lets you know you are in a God fearing vicinity, which can be a helpful reference point.
Across the street Muddy is tidying up in front of his very small sagging house. His mom is back in the hospital. The house is reminiscent of those "cribs" that were to be found in the neighborhoods surrounding the infamous Storyville district a hundred years ago. Muddy is pulling weeds from the small flower bed which is occupied by one large bush, and the diminishing weeds. He and I are working leisurely at similar, what could be called Sunday morning, speed.
The first time the late model panel truck with California plates passed, Muddy and I just shook our heads and went on working. After the fourth time, and without conferring, we are both pretty much done with this character, and find ourselves meeting in the middle of the street for his fifth pass. "What's up with this guy," I wondered out loud, and Muddy said, "I know, I was gonna stop him this time."
So we do, we stop him, we the protesters against protest. I asked him for some of his literature so I could refer to the correct group when I wrote George Bush to thank him for unleashing this version of conservatism on America. The man was fronting for a right to life organization that was making its point of how awful is abortion by showing on the side of this panel van a six by eight foot photograph of a red bloody late term aborted fetus. See how awful this is?, this is what your tax dollars pay for was the basic message of the pamphlets he retrieved from the back of the van, inside which he appeared to be camping.
Also in the back of the van were these three foot square canvasses stacked side by side, six or eight deep, each, if it is fair to judge from the one that was visible, being representations of aborted babies. The canvasses had an aged patina, and I came to think of them as art while standing there behind this guy's van, telling him in effect not to pass this way again. And then there came to me the conflict which perhaps is required of "good" art and I thought what would someone like NY's Guilliani make of these pictures. Would they be good things, or bad things? If there was a seminar I would attend so that I could move away from this nonplussed state from which I suffer and into that glare of enlightenment. The seminar would be called "When Conservatives become too Liberal." There would be free food.