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Sloe Gin, Tire Fires and the Big Easy



“May he live in interesting times.”
- Alleged Chinese Curse



Goodbye old friend, you are not forgotten …from your gin soaked streets to your sodden marsh, from the back alley lifestyles to the plantation mansions. You were taken away in an instant.

There are moments when events start to cluster and bubble through the murky depths of time, only to be released onto the collective consciousness of mankind. You never know for sure if you are in one of those moments, but sometimes you can get that FEELING. This time WILL be remembered. This time has importance … and power. The big events happen together and they never allow themselves to be ignored.

As the levees broke, and the water came cresting down into the city of New Orleans that day, a moment began. It’s being called the largest natural disaster in US history, thousands upon thousands dead …drowned like rats in their attics. The survivors are left to rot in “Superdomes” filled to the brim with excrement and garbage, the refuse of society left out in the cold. The big men in charge, as usual, deny any blame. These same men who cut the funding and decided against intervening earlier are playing a “who me?” game with people’s lives. I understand that life is a gamble, and I understand the need to weigh consequences, but when the hatchet falls, be man enough to accept your decisions.




“The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions”

“At any time, we are only 2 days away from anarchy.” I’m not sure where I heard that before, but it becomes fitting in light of what has happened recently. No food, no water, no electricity… the value of dogs and ammunition start to outweigh money and prestige. The city fell into chaos as the looting and raping began. Fires burned unquenched as bands of marauders held up hospital supply trucks at gunpoint. The need for food and water is as excusable as breathing, but the need for electronics and rape is never forgiven. The seediest city in the country started to live up to its reputation. Overshadowed by it all, were the genuine humanitarians. People from miles around brought boats and supplies to help where they could and to try to stop the devastation that just kept unraveling in front of them.

When it’s all over, the streets will be awash with bodies and the world will have seemed to have come to an end. Whatever the survivors can make out through their hazy, chemical-fire burned eyes will make them fall to their knees. Things will never be the same. Can you rebuild tradition? Can you rebuild history? Many men have thought so. When the waters have been drained and the bodies have been laid to rest, will the spirit linger? Will the same men who let the city be destroyed rebuild it in their own puritanical image? We shall soon see my friends, we shall soon see.


For New Orleans

For everything it stood for, the dark and the light…
For the days spent wallowing, drinking long into the night…
For letting go and forgetting, the rules that they bound…
For looking for something that’s never been found…

For the streets full of grit, of dank and of grime…
For the lessons you taught over well wasted time…
Like an old haunting ghost watching over our backs
We’ll try to stay loose and run the train off the tracks.


We shall not forget the Big Easy.



To all the fallen and helpless, to the brave and selfless, the people of New Orleans… this article is for you.

Jonny O
Sept 8th, 2005