Date: May 21, 2000

It being Sunday morning and all–time for the bevy of political roundtable/week-in-review TV shows–how’s about a little commentary to get your day going? For those too lazy to click through, it’s an article by James Gill for the Times-Picayune (our local paper here in NO) that amounts to a sort of “I told you so” dance. See, Harrah’s, the company that owns the only land-based casino in Louisiana, is complaining that their tax rate is too high (after they leapt at the proposal put together by the State Gaming Commission two years ago), and now they want our mean ol’ legislators to give ‘em a break. Funny, they don’t seem familiar with the concept of laissez-faire economics.

Of course, like many, many of the New Orleanaise, I’m waiting for the casino’s demise. (Have any of you seen the crappy building they put up at the foot of Canal Street to house the damn thing?) With Harrah’s out of the way, maybe we can finally get some faggoty furniture stores and shit. I think I’ll run say a novena to the spirits of the marketplace, just to speed things along.

Oh, and for anyone who cares, the headache’s gone. Maybe those cocktails helped. Then again, maybe I need something stronger….

Um, OUCH! I’ve got this headache that WILL not go away. It started around the time I went over to the new house for a festive afternoon of sanding and painting, so I thought it might just be from the heat, but lo and behold, I’m back at the crib and the AC’s cranked and my medulla oblongata’s still hammering away at a rate that’d make the Jungle Master shout out props. Perhaps it’s from the lead paint particles I’ve been sending into the air. Whatever it is, it’s starting to make me a little nervous. My freshman year, see, one of my fraternity brothers (yes, Mary, I was a frat rat for a full four years) complained of a headache that wouldn’t go away, and it turned out to be an aneurism. Of course, they only figured that out after he died in the emergency room. }:>(

Which reminds me: if I kick off anytime soon, Jonno gets everything–except, perhaps, my happy meal toy collection, which can probably only be appreciated by one person.

Side note: as I did my domestic chores today, I tuned in to public radio–no, not ’cause I’m snotty, but ’cause Iike All Things Considered and I ain’t got no radio in my truck anymore so I don’t get to hear it much. (Jeez, am I defensive or what?). So anyway, Prairie Home Companion was on (not my first choice), and on the show, for no good reason, was this Eastern European folk-singing group. It had been forever since I’d heard that kinda music, and in that big empty house, I got one of those stupid little chills. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t be so bad, but, like, getting weepy over Garrison Keillor? Ugh…

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