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THINGS I HAVE DONE RECENTLY

1. Tried to avoid looking directly at the awkward, karaoke-singing cowboy on WWL’s morning show. (I was not entirely successful.)

2. Laughed my gay ass off.

3. Pondered the possibility of new living room furniture.

4. Realized that a theme can be taken too far.

5. Sang the praises of my sister and thanked goddess that we were not twins. [NSFW]

6. Sat dumbfounded and utterly confused, thanks to Jesus’ General:

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A MOMENTARY DISTRACTION FROM METEOROLOGY:

Ruthie the Duck Girl dies of cancer at 74

Ruthie the Duck Girl, a French Quarter eccentric who zoomed from bar to bar on roller skates, often wearing a ratty fur coat and long skirt and trailed by a duck or two, died Sept. 6 at Our Lady of the Lake Hospital in Baton Rouge. She was 74.

Ruthie, whose real name was Ruth Grace Moulon, had been suffering from cancer of the mouth and lungs when the residents of her Uptown New Orleans nursing home were evacuated to Baton Rouge as Hurricane Gustav approached, said Carol Cunningham, a close friend who watched over her for nearly 40 years.

“I’ve always looked at Ruthie like a little bird with a broken wing, ” Cunningham said. “She was always so dear to me.”

Miss Moulon, a lifelong New Orleanian, became a French Quarter fixture, achieving legendary status in a city that treasures people who live outside the mainstream. Along the way, she acquired a coterie of people like Cunningham who found places for her to live, paid her bills and made sure she got home at night….

• Full obituary via the Times-Picayune

• Ruthie’s life story at EccentricNewOrleans.com

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Houstonians:

You probably can’t read this right now, you’ve probably got other things on your mind, but on behalf of everyone in the 504, I want to apologize for the insensitive, assholish comments of our Numbskull-in-Chief–you know, when he encouraged you to seek shelter from Hurricane Ike at a hotel in New Orleans and to ask for the “Mayor Ray Nagin special rate”.

Based on Hizzoner’s previous nonsensical outbursts, I’d hoped that none of you would take him seriously, but sadly, I’ve been proven wrong. Unlike the rest of us, who have learned to ignore the schmuck, you took him at his word–hell, you don’t live with him, you’re in a pinch, so I can totally understand.

Of course, it’s just as frustrating (to us, anyway) that his damn press secretary–She of Who Rarely Speaks, Ceeon Quiett–can’t even be bothered to make a public apology on chrome-dome’s behalf. No, poor Steve Perry, whose office at the CVB has essentially been running PR for the city since Katrina, has had to cover his ass. That is not an easy thing to do, because Nagin is SUCH A BIG ASS.

But this isn’t about us, it’s about you. Again, I’m sorry that you misunderstood him. I’m also sorry that the hotels themselves didn’t step up to the plate and offer cut rates to evacuees on their own. We pride ourselves on being a thoroughly hospitable city, and if there’s anyone we should feel hospitable toward, it’s y’all.

If you need anything from us–aside from a hotel room, obviously, please let us know.

Sincerely,

Richard

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Hi, Houston:

I’m sure you’re aware of Hurricane Ike by now. I know it took the news outlets a while pick it up, what with that fascinating story about lipstick and a goat or something taking up front-page real estate, but now that journalists have heard the words “certain death”, it’s pretty much all Ike, all the time.

Over the past two days, I’ve spoken to a few of you who aren’t especially worried–and to be fair, you’re probably way better prepared for Ike than New Orleans was for Katrina. For one, you’re on higher ground, and for two, your mayor isn’t retarded. As far as I can tell, anyway.

That said, I also understand that you guys haven’t been through anything this severe in, like, 20 years, so I’d just like to point something out:

Do you see where New Orleans is on that image? Right below Lake Pontchartrain, next to the Louisiana/Mississippi border? Where that pretty blue radar imagery is hovering? Well, that’s the light stuff, and lemme tell you: IT IS NO PICNIC. In all seriousness: IT IS MAJORLY FUCKED UP OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW. And y’all are going to get more than the pretty blue stuff.

I’m not trying to be alarmist, I’m not trying to amp up the fear factor, but I’m concerned–especially because you all were so considerate and generous and giving when we found ourselves in need just three years ago. I know I speak for all New Orleanians when I say that we would love the chance to return the favor (despite the dumbass, glib comments from our dumbass, glib mayor), but please don’t head our way now. Think San Antonio, Austin, El Paso–anyplace west. Or stock up on non-perishable items, bring the pets and potted plants inside, and hunker down at your place. Either way, please take it seriously, and be prepared for a nasty 24 hours.

When all this is over, it’s our turn to take you guys out for drinks. We at least owe you that.

Good luck, and we’ll see you soon!

xoxo/Richard

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We are not out of the woods yet. However:

I am tentatively beginning to consider the possibility of potentially unpacking half my suitcase. Maybe.