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1025Fwd: ECHOES OF NEW ORLEANS

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  • Greg Cannon
    Aug 31, 2005
      --- Progressive Review <ssmith@...> wrote:

      > Date: Wed, 31 Aug 2005 11:14:43 -0400
      > To: news@...
      > From: Progressive Review <ssmith@...>
      > Subject: UNDERNEWS EXTRA: ECHOES OF NEW ORLEANS
      >
      > NOTE: This can also be found at
      > http://prorev.com/2005/08/echoes-of-new-orleans.htm
      >
      >
      ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > ECHOES OF NEW ORLEANS
      > from the Progressive Review
      >
      > Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans
      > And miss it each night and day
      >
      > I know I'm not wrong... this feeling's gettin'
      > stronger
      >
      > The longer, I stay away
      >
      > Miss them moss covered vines...the tall sugar pines
      >
      > Where mockin' birds used to sing
      >
      > And I'd like to see that lazy Mississippi...hurryin'
      > into spring
      >
      > The moonlight on the bayou.......a Creole tune....
      > that fills the air
      >
      > I dream... about Magnolias in bloom....and I'm
      > wishin' I was there
      >
      > Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans
      > When that's where you left your heart
      >
      > And there's one thing more...I miss the one I care
      > for
      >
      > More than I miss New Orleans
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > There's a difference between the blues of the New
      > Orleans guys and
      > anyone else and the difference is in a chord, but I
      > can't figure the
      > name of it. It's a different chord, and they all
      > make it. - Jimmy Rushing
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > New Orleans food is as delicious as the less
      > criminal forms of sin - Mark Twain
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > I went down to St. James Infirmary To see my baby
      > there, She was lyin'
      > on a long white table, So sweet, so cool, so fair.
      >
      > Went up to see the doctor, "She's very low," he
      > said; Went back to see
      > my baby Good God! She's lying there dead.
      >
      > I went down to old Joe's barroom, On the corner by
      > the square They
      > were serving the drinks as usual, And the usual
      > crowd was there.
      >
      > On my left stood old Joe McKennedy, And his eyes
      > were bloodshot red;
      > He turned to the crowd around him, These are the
      > words he said:
      >
      > Let her go, let her go, God bless her; Wherever she
      > may be She may
      > search the wide world over And never find a better
      > man than me
      >
      > Oh, when I die, please bury me In my ten dollar
      > Stetson hat; Put a
      > twenty-dollar gold piece on my watch chain So my
      > friends'll know I
      > died standin' pat.
      >
      > Get six gamblers to carry my coffin Six chorus girls
      > to sing me a song
      > Put a twenty-piece jazz band on my tail gate To
      > raise Hell as we go along
      >
      > Now that's the end of my story Let's have another
      > round of booze And
      > if anyone should ask you just tell them I've got the
      > St. James Infirmary blues
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > The people cannot have wells, and so they take
      > rain-water. Neither can
      > they conveniently have cellars or graves, the town
      > being built upon
      > "made ground;" so they do without both, and few of
      > the living
      > complain, and none of the others. - Mark Twain
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > Carnival is a butterfly of winter whose last real
      > flight of Mardi Gras
      > forever ends his glory. Another season is the season
      > of another
      > butterfly, and the tattered, scattered, fragments of
      > rainbow wings are
      > in turn the record of his day. - Perry Young
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > It's a funny thing how life can be such a drag one
      > minute and a solid
      > sender the next. The day I got out of jail Mardi
      > Gras was being
      > celebrated. It is a great day for all of New
      > Orleans, and particularly
      > for the Zulu Aid Pleasure and Social Club. . . When
      > I ran into this
      > celebration and the good music I forgot all about
      > Sore Dick [the
      > prison yard captain] and the Parish Prison - Louis
      > Armstrong
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > Don't write anything you can phone. Don't phone
      > anything you can talk.
      > Don't talk anything you can whisper. Don't whisper
      > anything you can
      > smile. Don't smile anything you can nod. Don't nod
      > anything you can
      > wink. - Earl Long
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > People say I steal. Well, all politicians steal. I
      > steal. But a lot of
      > what I stole has spilled over in no-toll bridges,
      > hospitals . . . and
      > to build this university. - Huey Long
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > The river rose all day
      > The river rose all night
      > Some people got lost in the flood
      > Some people got away alright
      > The river have busted through clear down to
      > Plaquemines
      > Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline
      >
      > Louisiana, Louisiana
      > They're tyrin' to wash us away
      > They're tryin' to wash us away
      > Louisiana, Louisiana
      > They're tryin' to wash us away
      > They're tryin' to wash us away
      >
      > President Coolidge came down in a railroad train
      > With a little fat man with a note-pad in his hand
      > The President say, "Little fat man isn't it a shame
      > what the river has done
      > To this poor crackers land." - Louisiana, 1927
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > TYLER BRIDGES, BAD BET ON THE BAYOU -
      > Over the past thirty years, Louisiana has seen a
      > parade of elected
      > officials convicted of crimes. The list includes a
      > governor, an
      > attorney general, an elections commissioner, an
      > agriculture
      > commissioner, three successive insurance
      > commissioners, a congressman,
      > a federal judge, a State Senate president, six other
      > state
      > legislators, and a host of appointed officials,
      > local sheriffs, city
      > councilmen, and parish police jurors (who are the
      > equivalent of county
      > commissioners). Of the eight men and women elected
      > to statewide office
      > in 1991, three -- Governor Edwin Edwards, elections
      > commissioner Jerry
      > Fowler, and insurance commissioner Jim Brown -- were
      > later convicted
      > of crimes. The FBI said more people -- sixty-six --
      > were indicted on
      > public-corruption charges in Louisiana in 1999 than
      > in any other state. . .
      >
      > "We're just not genetically disposed to handle
      > money," lamented
      > political consultant James Carville, who was from
      > Carville, Louisiana.
      > "We ought to bring in the legislature from another
      > state -- maybe
      > Wisconsin or Minnesota -- to handle our money. In
      > return, we'll handle
      > the cooking and entertainment for them. They'll
      > handle our fiscal
      > oversight, and we'll handle their cultural matters."
      > . . .
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > IMan come down from Chicago, gonna set that levy
      > right; / He said it's
      > got to be 3 feet high up or it won't make it thru
      > the night. / The old
      > man down in the quarter / said don't you listen to
      > that boy, / The
      > water be down by mornin', son he'll be on his way to
      > Illinois - Leon Everette
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > Forget that New Orleans is actually a little like
      > the Combat Zone with
      > French cooking, it still happens to be part of the
      > great state of
      > Louisiana where people play the political game the
      > same way it's
      > played in Lebanon. The place is one layer after
      > another of tribes,
      > factions and at least a million laughs. The
      > busybodies and goo-goos
      > who adorn Beacon Hill would soon be calling room
      > service at McLean
      > Hospital if they plied their preachy trade in Baton
      > Rouge. The
      > suspender set around Boston. . . would be babbling
      > to a Vienna-bred
      > shrink if they found themselves going one on one
      > with a bunch of
      > down-home pols who think that Ben Franklin is famous
      > because he
      > invented the $100 bill. - A. J. Liebling
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > There is a house in New Orleans
      > They call the Rising Sun...
      >
      > Way down in Louisiana
      > Close to New Orleans
      > Way back up in the woods
      > Among the evergreens...
      >
      > She's my red-hot Louisiana Mama
      > From a town called New Orleans
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > Like the morning [Earl Long] saw that Schwegmann's
      > was selling
      > potatoes for forty-nine cents a ten-pound sack.
      > Schwegmann's is a
      > string of three big supermarkets here that sell
      > everything --
      > furniture, automobile parts, grits, steak....Earl
      > says, 'Come on,
      > boys, I can't afford to pass that up,' and he goes
      > downstairs and gets
      > into his eleven-thousand-dollar air-conditioned
      > official Cadillac ...
      > , and the state troopers get out in front on
      > motorcycles to clear the
      > way, . . . and they take off. They pull up in front
      > of Schwegmann's --
      > all the sirens blowing, frightening hell out of the
      > other shoppers. .
      > . . So he buys a hundred pounds of the potatoes and
      > tells a state
      > senator to pick them up and carry them to the car,
      > and then he sees
      > some alarm clocks on sale and buys three hundred
      > dollars' worth, and
      > tells some representatives from upcountry to carry
      > them. And
      > eighty-seven dozen goldfish in individual plastic
      > bags of water, and
      > two cases of that sweet Mogen David wine. . ..
      > "Well, when they got
      > out there on the sidewalk, under about a hundred
      > degrees of heat, the
      > stuff won't all go in the trunk of the Cadillac. . .
      > . So Uncle Earl
      > sends a couple of senators and a judge into the
      > store again to buy
      > some rope. - A.J. Liebling
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > Blanche DuBois: You're married to a madman.
      >
      > Stella: I wish you'd stop taking it for granted that
      > I'm in something
      > I want to get out of.
      >
      > Blanche DuBois: What you are talking about is desire
      > - just brutal
      > Desire. The name of that rattle-trap streetcar that
      > bangs through the
      > Quarter, up one old narrow street and down another.
      >
      > Stella: Haven't you ever ridden on that streetcar?
      >
      > Blanche DuBois: It brought me here. Where I'm not
      > wanted and where I'm
      > ashamed to be.
      >
      > Stella: Don't you think your superior attitude is a
      > little out of place?
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > bury me down in new orleans
      > so I can spend eternity above ground
      > you can flood this town
      > but you can't shut the party down
      > ain't no drownin' the spirit
      > we callin' the children home
      > ain't no drownin' the spirit
      > we callin' the children home
      >
      > - B. Payne, P. Barrere, and F. Tackett, 'Calling the
      > Children Home'
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > Here . . . is Ignatius Reilly, without progenitor in
      > any literature I
      > know of -- slob extraordinary, a mad Oliver Hardy, a
      > fat Don Quixote,
      > a perverse Thomas Aquinas rolled into one -- who is
      > in violent revolt
      > against the entire modern age, lying in his flannel
      > nightshirt, in a
      > back bedroom on Constantinople Street in New
      > Orleans, who between
      > gigantic seizures of flatulence and eructations is
      > filling dozens of
      > Big Chief tablets with invective.
      >
      > His mother thinks he needs to go to work. He does,
      > in a succession of
      > jobs. Each job rapidly escalates into a lunatic
      > adventure, a
      > full-blown disaster; yet each has, like Don
      > Quixote's, its own eerie logic. . .
      >
      > Imagine an Aquinas gone to pot, transported to New
      > Orleans whence he
      > makes a wild foray through the swamps to LSU at
      > Baton Rouge, where his
      > lumber jacket is stolen in the faculty men's room
      > where he is seated,
      > overcome by mammoth gastrointestinal problems. His
      > pyloric valve
      > periodically closes in response to the lack of a
      > "proper geometry and
      > theology" in the modern world. - Walker Percy,
      > Introduction to
      > Confederacy of Dunces
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > I could only imagine how many haggard and depraved
      > eyes were regarding
      > me hungrily from behind the closed shutters; I tried
      > not to think
      > about it. Already I was beginning to feel like an
      > especially toothsome
      > steak in a meat market. However, no one called
      > enticingly from the
      > shutters; those devious mentalities throbbing away
      > in their dark
      > apartments were apparently more subtle seducers. I
      > thought that a
      > note, at least, might flutter down. A frozen orange
      > juice can came
      > flying out of one of the windows and barely missed
      > me. I stooped over
      > and picked it up in order to inspect the empty tin
      > cylinder for a
      > communication of some sort, but only a viscous
      > residue on concentrated
      > juice trickled out on my hand. Was this some obscene
      > message? While I
      > was pondering the matter and staring up at the
      > window from which the
      > can had been hurled, an old vagrant approached the
      > wagon and pleaded
      > for a frankfurter. Grudgingly I sold him one,
      > ruefully concluding
      > that, as always, work was interfering at a crucial
      > moment. - Ignatius
      > J. Reilly in Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy
      > Toole
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > I know all about you degenerates in the Quarter. I
      > ain't let rooms ten
      > years in the Quarter for nothin'. - Tennesee
      > Williams, Angels in the Alcove
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > One of these days the people of Louisiana are going
      > to get good
      > government - and they aren't going to like it. -
      > Huey Long
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > Hard work is damn near as overrated as monogamy. -
      > Huey Long
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > I'm for the po' folk, I'm for the middlin' folk, and
      > I'm for the rich
      > folk, if they behave themselves. - Earl Long
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > I'm not against anybody for reasons of race, creed,
      > or any ism he
      > might believe in except nuttism, skingameism or
      > communism. - Earl Long
      >
      > ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
      >
      > Hell yes, I think you should use ideals or any other
      > goddamn thing you
      > can get your hands on - Earl Long asked by a young
      > state legislator
      > whether ideals had any role in politics
      >
      > THANKS TO METAFILTER FOR LEADS TO SOME OF THE SONGS
      >
      >
      >
      >
      >
      ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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