Tomorrow is election day in New Orleans. My absentee ballot was mailed off weeks ago (I can only hope the USPS got it there). This is the first election antediluvian, and probably the most important since at least reconstruction (maybe ever). It’s obvious at this point that those along the Gulf cannot count on the federal government. Like any municipal election, the basics such as crime, education and infrastructure are at the forefront. But these are magnified in Orleans Parish. The issues of immediate and long term concern are unprecidrented. So, stick with what you got, or throw the bums out, but be involved in the decission. And screw that huggy feel good crap about everyone rallying around whoever wins. The Mayor and all the Council members should have their feet held to the fire. Call them on their bullshit and accept nothing but the best. Fight for your vision of New Orleans.

Jessica Simpson may be playing the part of Lucy Ewing in the Dallas movie. She already has The Dukes Of Hazzard movie under her belt, at this point I’m pulling for her to land a role in the Hulk sequal. Then she will have pulled off an amazing hat trick — starring in a movie from every show on CBS’s early 80’s Friday night line-up. My own personal casting choice for JR Ewing is 50 Cent seeing as how he already knows how to get shot. But, if a rapper must be cast, I, of course, insist on Sir Mix-A-Lot. Afterall, he is the JR Ewing of Seattle.

Sherman Oaks, CA — The trip is over. The updates stopped because basically all I did on the last portions was hang out with friends. And while this was awesome, not exactly blog worthy (in case anyone was wondering).
But a quick recap. Swung through Virginia. Got to see Rob and Donna, and Norm and Liz. Alcohol was consumed, sports were watched, video games were played.
Hit the SAV. Stayed at the new and improved case de Heidel. Lee and Ginger were doing great. G looked like a beautiful mom to be. Man, with those two as parents, that is going to be the most affection showered kid in the world. Lucky little baby.
Headed to Northeast Georgia. Saw the family. Hung out with my Athens folks. Saw the usual downtown gang. Got to hang out with Jayme for the first time in a long time. Good stories as always. And for the first time I got to hear all about having, and losing, your own TV show.
I swung through New Orleans. It was comforting to see those familiar places and faces. But that city, and that whole region, is still so very fucked up.
I shot across Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and California to land here in Sherman Oaks. It’s my new home.
STATES VISITED: 33
MILES DRIVEN: 13,139

Suffolk, VA — Back on the East Coast and back in the South. It feels good to be in Flair Country. I still haven’t quite outrun the cold weather, but it appears as if snow is a thing of the past, and not a moment to soon.
I must give Pittsburgh its due. That is one happening little town with a vibrant arts community right smack dab in the middle of blue collar America. I enjoyed myself at the Andy Warhol Museum. I’ve always been a big Warhol fan and have wanted to see the place for years. Almost every aspect of his career and life was covred (painting, silk screening, film, music, writing, publishing, family, friends, shootings). My only complaint would be the repitition. Look, I know the guy liked Marilyn Monroe, but do we need to see the same piece over and over again. C’mon Warhol museum, a little variety wouldn’t hurt you.
Upon leaving Pittsburgh I had a traveling plan. I would drive across New York, find a nice little place near Cooperstown, check out the Hall in the morning and then hit New England (all the while taking more of the Drunken Mardi Gras conversations that had started about 10:00 AM EST). However, I lost yet another battle to Mother Nature (that bitch has got my number). Somewhere in central New York (I think between Rochester and Syracuse) snow started falling. I thought this was no big deal, seeing as how I was only a few exits away from where I had planned to spend the night. Here arised one of the first of several problems I would encounter on this particular evening. Apparently, the state of New York hasn’t gotten down with that whole name the exits after the mileage thing. So, even though I was only two or three exits away, I had no idea how far that would actually be (mileage wise). The snow not only continued to fall, but greatly intinsified. My visibility did not extend much past my windshield wipers. For much of this portion of the journey, I had no idea what, if any, lane I was in, or if I was even on the road. I decided it would be in my best interest to take the next avliable lodging opportuity and deal with this in the AM. But, because of the visibility issues, I completely missed not one, but two exits. When I saw the next one, I sslloooowwllyy veared down the ramp and through the toll booth. The only hotel avliable was what could generously be called a throw back. This placed used actual keys. With a “fuck it, this will do” attitude, I drove to the front of my room. I stepped out of my no longer slip sliding car and found myslef standing in snow that reached my mid calf. Whatever, all I wanted was four walls, a ceiling, a floor and a toilet. And that’s about all I got. Once in the room, I cranked the heat up to a Florida retirement community level, bundled up, and settled in for a long winter’s nap. After a reasonable amount of time, I noticed the room had not gotten any warmer. Sure enough, the heating system was not working. Once again the “fuck it, this will do” attitude came into play.
The next morning, a quick check of the weather let me know that the New England leg of this journey wasn’t happening. No biggie, just means I spend an extra day in New York. I hit Cooperstown to bask in the greatness. The Hall of Fame building is not the grand catherdral I expected. Just a modest looking brick structure in the middle of a small town. It was all I hoped it could be and nothing close to my dreams. There is just no way to squeeze the entire history of baseball and all those that have played it into one place. However, I did find that it was a good thing Mordeci Brown was not deaf. I marveled, I gawked, I smiled, I frowned. And I walked out mentally counting down the seconds to opening day.
I was off to the city and could already feel myself getting energized. I hadn’t been to New York in over five years, and I forgot how fucking much I fucking love that fucking place. Once settled into my hotel, I set out to see some stuff I hadn’t seen before. I walked around Time Square and Broadway (both were right out my door) because I had never seen them all lit up at night. With that mission accomplished, I found a nice pub to spend the next few hours in. The next morning brought snow, and a desire to stay under a blanket for a while longer. Then I headed downtown to go to Battery Park. Not an ideal day for such an envedour. I stopped by Ground Zero (this was my first time in NYC post 9/11). I have heard all of the comparisons between this area and New Orleans post-Katrina. With all due respect, there is no comparison. The reasons these two events happened are completely different, the feelings afterwords were completely different and the size and scope of the affected area is completely different. The only similarities I saw between the two is that they brought death and destruction to a major American city.
That night I was able to smile plenty as I got to hang out with Samantha in Union Square. She looked even better than I felt. We caught up on our loves, heartbreaks, conquests and careers. The next night my personal joy continued as I spent some quality time with Mandy. I got a super cool tour of her place of employment. We saw a quality show with some amazing talent. This leg of the journey reminded me that even though I have seen some amazing sights on this trip, seeing those I care about and don’t get to see often enough has been the true highlight.

Pittsburgh, PA — There’s snow in these here hills. More than enough to close public schools in Georgia for upwards up two months. It’s actually weird being back in the eastern standard. Now when making phone calls I have to time zone subtraction instead of time zone addition.
Spent some quality time in Iowa City with my friend Peter. He showed me the nightlife that kids enjoy while attending the University of Iowa. Apparently one of the hip bar promos there is 21 pichers for $21 on your 21st birthday. No word on the subsequent 21 DUIs and 21 date rapes. Another inexplicably popular fad is pub crawl groups. This entails putting together a group, getting matching T-shirts made, and then all wearing them out on the same night when you go out club hopping. There is no way this would have worked in my college experience. Athenians are way too cool for that. But the city did turn me on to the coolest laundramat in the world. They provided free laundry supplies. If you needed detergent, fabric softener, etc. you just went over to the counter and took it. But the real kicker was their dryer policy. If your clothes didn’t fully dry on the first cycle (which mine never do) you simply alerted the attendent and then she provided the funds to remove the remaining bits of moisture from your wardrobe.
I had planned to visit Miineapolis and Milwaukee (really wanted to check out the birth places of Prince and the Violent Femmes), but the weather was not cooperative. I ended up spending a night in Toledo. While out to grab some dinner, I noticed a tavern tucked between a bowling alley and a Motel 6. If you think I passed up the opportunity to pound down a couple of cold ones there, then you don’t know me that well. I walked in and sat at the bar. There was a couple to my left, and a couple to my right. I ordered my beer, paid my $1.75 (and it wasn’t even on special) and sat back ready to soke in some culture. That didn’t take long. The TV was broadcasting the women’s figure skating medal ceramony. The fellow to my left looked at the screen and gave a breakdown of the result more consise than Scott Hamilton could ever dream of, “Two Americans and a chink.” I was quite sure the countries represented were Japan, USA and Russia. He then repeated his world wise assesment of the final standings, “Two Americans and a chink.” His female companion and the bartender were discussing which of the two girls had taken Michelle Kwan’s place. I knew the answer was neither. Seeing as how one of the skaters was on the team before Kwan, one was Japanese and one was Russian. I decided my involvement in this conversation would not add enjoyment to anyone’s evening (plus, the rest of Mr. Xenophobia’s bowling team was sure to stroll though the doors any second now). At this point, my personal nominee for the next US Ambassador to the UN piped up again, “I never understood how a chink got to be on the American team.” At this point all I could think was, “Wow. I sure am glad I’m up north with all these progressive thinking folks and not back down south where everyone is a racisct redneck.”
The next day I made my way into Cleveland to check out the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame. However this plan was aborted due to the fact that the Hall closes at 5:00 PM. Not very metal. So I headed down to Amish country and kicked it with Maggie and James for a couple of days.
Then back up to Cleveland again. It was a weekday during normal business hours so it was OK to engage in some Rawkin’. The Hall was interesting, but not awe inspiring. It was kinda of like dining at the world’s best Hard Rock Cafe (but the $20 admission chare did include a 12 month subscription to Rolling Stone). Afterwords I headed down to Canton to tour the Professional Football Hall of Fame. The displays on the history of football were entertaining and educational. I now know where the term gridiorn comes from. I could have spent hours viewing the video displays of all the inductees. There was even a display on leagues that challenged the NFL. I enjoyed looking back on the USFL and remembering all those wacky mascots. There was also mention of the AFL, AAFL and WFL. But not a peep about the CFL or XFL. How could there not be a CFL exibit there? The fan interaction was a huge dispointment. It started out with a basic elementary school autumn canival game where you try to throw a football through a hole. Then there were a couple of stations where you could play Madden. After that a NTN trivia game and a chance to play QB1. BORING! The gift shop offered nothing more than 32 very small team stores. The usual crap you would expect and probobly not want, unless you desire a 2005 inductee shirt with Dan Marino’s head on it (by the way I hope he gets gnonoria and dies). After that I spent some time with new Cantonians Anthony, Jill and Alex. It was nice to see them all doing well and settling in.
I left and made my journey toward Pittsburgh. It was harrowing to say the least. Rarely traveled snow covered roads through winding mountains. But I made it.
Last week yet another report was released on the inept government response to hurricane Katrina. This one was titled Lessons Learned. Isn’t that cute. Sounds like the name of a reaffirming book written for elementary school kids. The first list in the lessons learned should have been (1) humans are not amphibious. A smile was put on my face that this report actually called the Red Cross to the mat. I continue my crusade against the heartless fuckers. Down with the Red Cross. Once again, I would like to say to the American Red Cross “Thanks for nothing. Abslolutley nothing. Except for wasting hours of my time waiting on hold, waiting in lines and sitting around shelters.” I was amazed that somehow, once again, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff avoided almost any blame. How could his department have bungled things so badly and he have abslolutely nothing to do with it? The funniest item from the press conference was this quote from White House homeland security advisor Frances Fragos Townsend. “I reject outright any suggestion that President Bush was anything less than fully involved.” Really? Outright reject? Would anyone want to admit to being fully involved in that debacle? Wouldn’t you want to paint a picture of yourself being somewhat out of the loop? Better to labled ignorant than incompetent, right?
It’s been six months since I intially evacuated. Six months without a home. Six months without sleeping in my own bed. It seems like a lifetime ago. Since then so much has happened to me and the place I called home. I still vividly recall those chaotic first few hours and days following Katrina’s landfall. The sadness of watching the images on TV. The joy of hearing a friend’s voice on the phone. The unimaginable horror of getting the worst news possible. The overwhelming relief of talking to someone upon whome I had all but given up hope. The frustration and confusion of the following weeks (and much of that same frustration and confusion still continuing to this day). Many of us have gone back. Many of us have moved on. Many of us are still in limbo. I have moved on, physcially if not mentally. My life is starting to fall into place. I’ve got all but one of my insurance claims settled (that K-21 claim is still in the works). I am still working with FEMA. I am still waiting to hear back from the SBA. And I still hate the American Red Cross. It’ll all be sorted out soon.
So I say to all my friends and loved ones on the Gulf Coast and around the world, from the bottom of my heart, HAPPY MARDI GRAS!