Ladies and gentlemen of the press, invited guests, good morning and welcome to New Orleans. My name is Ray Nagin, and I am your king.
No, just kidding, just kidding. Totally kidding. But seriously–could you imagine if I’d said that for real and all? Omigod, that’d be so freaky! One of y’all would Photoshopped a tiara on this bald, sexy head before I was done talking, and that’d be all she wrote. Hell, that’d make for some news. Maybe get me on the cover of the Picayune. They don’t talk about me much over there anymore.
But seriously, folks. I’m the mayor of New Orleans, and I’d like to invite each and every one of you to bow down and lick my balls.
Sorry, sorry–just kidding again. Did I fool you twice? I honestly think I saw some of you start to lean over! Andy Cooper, I’m looking at you. Troy Carter? You, too. Don’t gimme that look, bro. I know you at least thought about it. I’m not stupid.
But enough of all that. I invited you here today to talk about the recovery and rebuilding that’s going on in New Orleans. Despite facing a lot of hurdles at the state and federal level, I think we’re doing a fantastic job, and I’d like to take personal credit for each and every good thing that’s happening around the city.
Now, I know there are some people out there who think I don’t do anything, They think I just show up to check the mail and talk about how vagina-friendly I am. But you know, from the minute I finish my workout at 10:00am ’till I leave for Commander’s Palace at 11:30am, I am in my office working. Talking to people. Smoking things. Looking at stuff. You know: mayor stuff. I work a lot.
I also know that some people are saying that neighborhood groups should get the credit for New Orleans’ recovery. But if that’s true, they ought to take the blame, too. Why can’t they fix our roads? Why can’t they fix our schools, huh? Why can’t they do something about the spiraling crime rate? Man, I’m scared to walk from my Town Car to the tennis court for fear of being touched by some homeless guy. I mean, I don’t swing that way….
Whoa. Is the room spinning for any of y’all? I better sit down…. That’s better. Now, where was I?
Oh yeah: But the neighborhood groups won’t take responsibility for all that junk, so I don’t think they should get any credit, either. So I say we abolish neighborhood groups and give all the credit back to me. You know, credit for all that stuff I’m doing. And the blame should lay squarely where it belongs: with Bobby Jindal and ol’ whatshisname. My chief of police? That guy. He did it. Not me.
Now before I let y’all go, let me just remind you:
I am important!
I am a valuable member of this community!
I’m good enough, I’m strong enough, and gosh darnit, people like me!
I blew Richard Speck!
No just kidding again. That was some shit in some crazy movie I saw one night when my wife was out of town and my boy Troy and I got high. On life–high on life, man. Because I would never smoke crack. With Troy. Again.
sturtle [dot] com 