I'm perhaps overfond of quoting and paraphrasing Abraham Lincoln's injunction of how to treat the people in the defeated South: "Let them up easy." I guess I overuse it because it works in so many contexts including the endgame of the battle for the Democratic nomination. Obama had an excellent day Tuesday and looks like the inevitable nominee BUT it's been a closely fought battle and the Obamaites need to let Senator Clinton to exit with her dignity intact. So, no victory laps or spiking the ball.

The signs are that the candidate himself understands the delicacy of the situation. I saw his interview with Brian Williams and his comments about Clinton were complimentary. For her part, she seems to be dialing back the scorched earth rhetoric about Obama. The question now is not *if* she concedes the nomination but when and how. I think it's in Obama's interest for Senator Clinton to stay in the race through the West Virginia and Kentucky primaries. If she were to quit tomorrow, she'd still go on to beat Obama in both states, which would be awkward for him.

The outlines of a deal are presented at Salon.com in an excellent article by Dan Conley. Conley describes delicate exit negotiations in Virginia in 1994 between then Senator Chuck Robb and former Governor Doug Wilder. Wilder and Robb were longtime enemies who were able to bury the hatchet and Robb went on to win in a terrible political climate for Democrats. 2008, of course, should be the best year for Democrats since 1964 or 1974 so Conley's description of the Robb-Wilder dance should show the pessimists that there's light at the end of this particular tunnel. The issue of race was also at the forefront of that intra-party dispute so if everyone will take a deep breath, the nation can be spared a third Bush term in the person of Senator Walnuts.

This year's nomination contest has been a family fight of the highest and nastiest order. When candidates largely agree on the issues, things usually get personal; it's the way of the real world. But family fights can end if the combatants have the will to cut out the petty bullshit. Hillary Clinton is a pragmatst and I somehow doubt that she wants to be remembered as the spoiler who helped defeat the first African-American nominee of her party. Likewise, Barack Obama needs her support and the votes of her supporters in the general election. It's time for them to act like adults and kiss and make up.

Okay, that's all the unsolicited advice I have to offer Obama and Clinton. I'm sure that there will be more in the future; it's what bloggers do, after all.

The Louisiana legislature is in session, which means that our elected officials are busy trying to pass idiotic laws. The dumbest proposal of all comes from Rep. Ernest Wooton who wants to let college students carry concealed weapons on campus. Mr. Wooton should read today's Picayune frontpager about dumbshit frat boys at Tulane. I don't think we want knuckleheads like that packing heat.

My friend Chris Wiseman wrote a letter to the editor, which was published in yesterday's paper. It's a brilliant parody of the whole damn fool notion: "Jarvis DeBerry does us all a great service by calling attention to Rep. Ernest Wooton's push to allow concealed weapons on college campuses.

My 4-year-old son is a pre-K student at the day care center on the campus of Loyola University New Orleans. Rep. Wooton's idea does not go far enough. Please, sir, allow us to arm the preschoolers!

As a parent, I would be proud to send my boy to day care packing heat for the safety of all.

In addition, the children at the adjacent Catholic elementary school should be given guns, as should the students at the high school just up the street.

The crime statistics for my city make it obvious that what we need are more guns on our streets and campuses."

It's a pity that NOLA.com doesn't let the booboise comment on the letters. There are probably people who took Chris' suggestions seriously...

The whole thing reminds me of the time Archie Bunker proposed a similar solution to skyjacking:

... comes from the world of sports. Some Chicago White Sox players are under attack for <drum roll> putting a blowup doll in the dugout to ward off a batting slump. LINK. Jeez, that's merely tacky and stupidstitious. Hell, from all the hubbub, I thought the Pale Hose were planning to throw the next World Series they make or have another Disco Demolition night. What a let down...

Here's a tabloid headline for the story: D'oh doll doings in Chitown.

Hat Tip: Tim Tagaris on the tweeter tube.
 

Renard Poche is a phenomenal musician; name an instrument, he can play it. He's also the coolest person I've ever met: he always wears shades and he never sweats. Now that's cool. I know Renard via his girlfriend, my blogger buddy and PAN krewe mate, Lisa Palumbo who is nearly as cool as Renard...

Renard has played with Dr. John, Allen Toussaint, Aaron Neville, Irma Thomas and Johnny Adams to name just a few. He's just finished his first solo album and is striking out on his own as a frontman. The album, 4U/4 Me, is available for download at Renard Poche.com. It's a chance for the rest of us to be *almost* as cool as Renard. Check it out, y'all. 

Here's a picture of Lisa, Renard and lil' ole me from Jazz Fest 2007 taken during Steely Dan's set by Dr. A:

Last weekend, a lone NOPD cruiser broke up a Jazz funeral in Treme. LINK. There's been a lot of speculation hither and yon as to whether this is part of a concerted effort to mess with NOLA's second line tradition. I'm more skeptical: right now NOPD is hanging on by its collective fingernails. The department is plagued by bad morale and indiscipline, which is a toxic combination that leads to cowboy cops doing stupid things.

The whole episode is mysterious: there's no police report and no record whatsoever. NOPD has acknowledged that the second liners did NOT need a permit since they were on the sidewalk and NOT impeding the flow of traffic. When in doubt, I check with my sources in the department so I touched base with Deep Blog who confirmed my suspicions: "I wish we were capable of concerted action on anything but right now we're just hanging in there. Nothing works and the chain of command isn't what it should be." 

Deep Blog went on to give me *his* theory of what went down. "I think it was some asshole who thought it would be fun to break up a second line." The renegade/jerk cop theory has been my assumption as well due to all the disciplinary problems the force has. NOPD would be better off if it conducted a proper inquiry rather than ignoring the problem. But its institutional preference is to sweep things under the rug and hope that nobody notices the lump of dirt.

NOPD under Nagin and Riley has hit bottom. Riley is a paper pusher, a born number two man and not a leader. He's neither respected nor liked by the men and women he commands and to be an effective police chief, you've got to be one or the other. Among Riley's predecessors, Eddie Compass was well liked whereas Richard Pennington, who really shook things up, was respected but disliked.

Back to Deep Blog. He/she/it is a bit nostalgic for the Pennington era, which was when they cleaned up their act and maintained discipline in the ranks. Btw, in case you're wondering Deep Blog may be one person or several people but he/she/it is neither Mark Felt nor Bob Woodward. In any event, I'm not telling...

I've resisted falling for this year's Hornets team because I mistrust the owner. I've also been skeptical that the team could beat the defending champion San Antonio Spurs in their second round series. Obviously, I was wrong on the second point: the Hornets have a great chance to oust the Spurs after two blow-outs. I've never seen a team do a better job defending Tim Duncan who is perhaps the best power forward in NBA history. The Hornets have even made bumblers out of the high-flying hoops trapeze act of Tony (I'm French) Parker and Manu, Manu Ginoblli. I'm impressed.

I'm still unsure as to whether the Hornets can go all the way. The team of destiny thing hasn't applied that often in the NBA. Teams tend to spend several years knocking on the door before winning it all; that was even the case with the Jordan-Pippen Bulls and the Thomas-Dumars Pistons. BUT the Hornets definitely have something special going on this season and whatever their eventual fate it's going to be a helluva ride.

Here's a wee tribute to the Hornets courtesy of the pre-fab four: 

I'm feeling both lazy and expansive this morning hence this omnibus post. Besides, I haven't made it on to Jeopardy yet so the post title makes me feel as if I have. We're all entitled to the odd delusion.

Last Friday, Dr. A and I went to the Jazz Shabat at Touro Synagogue. It was fun but damn was it long. I believe it's still going on as I write this. Liprap and her husband are in choir at Touro but they don't wear robes like your basic Protestant choral group. They did, however, do at least one vaguely Prot sounding number, which gave me a pain in the tucchus. 

The musical highlights of the evening were a set by Kermit Ruffins and the Barbecue Swingers and a tune from the Yiddish Theatre performed by Ben Schenck of the Panorama Brass Band. Panorama provided the core of the band, which meant that much of the music was Klezmerlicious. The non-musical highlight was running into an acquaintance we haven't seen for 10 years who is now a big muckety-muck on the Touro board. He was surprised to see us and asked how we happened to be there. I told him we knew Leigh and he asked where I knew her from. Blogging, I replied. He gave me that OMG, why aren't you in a bathrobe look and he fled us. Actually, he was running the event so he had to get back to it but I like the idea of bloggers striking fear into people. It makes me feel like a Gentile Golem...

We ran into Liprap at Jazz fest on Saturday. I guess she was furloughed from the choir while the program continued. I informed her that I'd outed her as a blogger and then told her about a remark I'd made to Dr. A at Touro. I looked around the room and leaned over and whispered in her ear: "I could pass but you can't with that nose. It's pure shiksa."

Speaking of Jazz Fest, the Fairgrounds was lousy with bloggerazzi. We ran into Dangerblond, Sophmom and B in the middle of Kim's shopping frenzy. Dangerblond asked me to kow-tow to her but I declined to do so. I don't want to feed that ego. We had serial run-ins with Ray Shea who had suspiciously clean shoes given the muck and mire that covered the ground. He's assured me that he got good and dirty later but ya never know. We also ran into HammHawk and greeted him with a loud "Dayam." He didn't blush as much this time when we quoted his fiiiine evaluation. I heard an alarming rumor that Mr. Wet had reverted to his misspent youth and was seen watching Jimmy Buffett and mangling the words to Why Don't We Get Drunk And Screw.  

At the end of the day we ran into a flock of bloggers: Maitri, Lisa Mulvey and the dread Loki without his much better half. I had a momentary lapse of reason (sounds Pink Floydish to me) and offered Loki a ride home. It's a pity that we have a hatchback because we couldn't put him in the trunk. It's okay I guess, he tends to play monkey to my organ grinder (no off-color remarks, please) and clap his cymbals and act goofy as all get out. 

Next time, I'll make it a true daily double, Alex.

I had to work today and even turned down an offer of free Jazz Fest tickets; thanks Justin. And while I'm thanking people in a fulsome show-bizzy way, thanks to Dangerblond for allowing us to follow in her wake as she shopped her way through the Fairgrounds.

Now where was I? Oh yeah, I had a crappy day at work but reading Hana Morris' wonderful post about her family's trip to Jazz Fest and the cemetery provided some relief (balm?) to my crankiness. It's a sad, poignant and well-written piece that makes me very glad that she's keeping the mime blog alive. Ashley obviously wasn't the only quality blogger in the family.

This week's Sunday Morning Video is dedicated to everyone who saw the Hornets game and heard about a certain mascot's problems:

Dr. A and I went to a sneak preview of a Brit-doc, Young @ Heart the other night. I didn't know what to expect: the movie is about a geezer chorus by that name in Northhampton, Mass. It sounded suspiciously heart warming to me and uplift isn't usually my thing. I was wrong. Yeah, it was a bit uplifting but not in a mawkish or vomit inducing way. I don't usually fall for material like this but when I do, I fall hard. I loved this movie: I even misted up several times and I *never* cry at the movies.

The chorus is the brain child of a youngster in his 50's, Bob Climan. Their repertoire is not that of a typical chorus: they do songs by the Ramones, Talking Heads, Coldplay, the Bee Gees, the Clash and even Sonic Youth. The trailer looked campy but the movie itself is a spot on look at old folks who've learned how to rock.

If you're even vaguely gerontophobic, however, this is not a film for you. I have a confession to make: I like old people. They're the only ones who can attain my level of crankiness and get away with it; I'm envious, y'all.  Besides, I come from a long line of people who live into their 80's so I have no choice but to respect my elders. I may be one myself one day...

Young @ Heart must be seen to be believed. The choristas are charming, funny and sharp as tacks. My favorite was Fred Knittle who is a retired do-gooder and unrepentant Shecky. He told some of the best marriage jokes this side of Henny Youngman. Here's my favorite, which was addressed to his wife of 50+ years: "Our marriage is based on trust and faith. I don't trust her and she has no faith in me." <baboom. rim shot>

Here are a few clips. the first one features the chorus singing (what else?) I Wanna Be Sedated: 

They also do some terrific versions of Talking Heads songs. Their version of Road To Nowhere is swell and surprisingly suited to a chorus:

 
Speaking of men who wear very large suits, David Byrne heard about the chorus and invited them to perform with him in Noo Yawk. Here they are with a spirited rendition of the Talking Heads classic, Heaven:

Picayune columnist James Gill seems to have his mojo back at least on the subject of Malaka Jim Bernazanni. This morning Gill pointed out that not only is Malaka Jim an arrogant windbag, he can't count either: one has to live in Orleans Parish for 5 years to run for Mayor and Bernazanni would have fallen short by a couple of months in 2010. Oops. 

I've had a hard time writing anything of any length and depth of late but especially since my friend Ashley Morris' untimely and tragic death. Many of our mutual blogger friends have written beautifully of their friendship with Ashley but I haven't be able to. It's not because I don't have a lot to say about the remarkable Perfesser Morris but finding the words has been hard.

Perhaps it's because we had an odd and almost inexplicable chemistry. From the first time I met Ashley I felt as if we'd known each other forever. I was even pretty good at predicting what he'd post on a given subject and wore him out sending late night Karnakian emails. Others may have spent more time with Ashley but I got him and he got me. How the hell that happened, I'll never know...

He was one of the only people with whom I could discuss certain arcane music geek type topics, such as: why do Yes fans hate Trevor Rabin the way certain New Orleanians loathe the Landrieus? We both thought it was inexplicable but life is full of mysteries both major and minor.

Another thing that Ashley and I had in common was that we were both self described "failed musicians." And therein lies the depth of the connection: Ashley was a drummer and I played the bass. I guess that made us, in an odd way, the rhythm section of the NOLA blogosphere. There's always a special connection between drummers and bassists but in our case it usually manifested itself non-musically in a barrage of insults and jokes. I remember the day Ashley, Oyster, Maitri and I showed political alpha geek Tim Tagaris around town complete with lunch at Liuzza's and the 9th Ward misery tour. The one liners were flying thick and fast and Tim asked: "Are they always like this?" We were indeed. I miss days like those.

Well, I guess my writer's block about Ashley has diminished but his family's needs have not. So please donate to the Ashley Morris Memorial fund. If you do, I promise not to tell *too* many drummer jokes but there are so many good ones...

Speaking of rhythm sections, here's my favorite, Alan White and Chris Squire as well as the much maligned Trevor Rabin performing Hold On, which is what we're trying to do here in Debrisville, after all:

It happened on the mean streets of Kenner and the back alley of the internets. Scarlet women, johns, pimps, craigslist, the story has it all except for significance. But tabloid sex sells. Last night, WWL news devoted 6 minutes-a lifetime on tevee-to Paul Murphy's breathless report informing us that <drum roll> the internet is being used to sell SIN. Shocked? Me neither. Lucy Bustamante looked a bit dazed after the story but her normal facial expression is one of constant surprise...

Murphy was on the inside of a sting by the Kenner police who got some media love out of the story. As a viewer I was left cold and didn't care much: Kenner is a giant strip mall and not the most colorful setting for a tawdry non-scandal such as this. Ho hum if you know what I mean.

Now if a certain US Senator had been caught with his...uh...diapers down the story would have rocked. I miss the days of Jimmy Swaggart and skanky hos on Airline Highway; now that was a proper Jefferson Parish scandal...

Here's a link to video of this "expose" of <ahem> cyberhooking.

All I've got to say to the folks at WWL is this: 

I didn't see Al Green at Jazzfest last weekend but I heard he brought an old lady in a wheelchair out of the audience and onstage with him. He's *always* been a showman; especially before he got religion. Here's a vintage clip of Al in a plaid suit singing his ass off:

Photos by Corey Lowenstein, News & Observer.

Senator Barack Obama took a break from dealing with Jeremiah's Wright's douchebaggery and hung out with the North Carolina Tar Heels basketball team. LINK. Obama played a little pickup hoops, not well but enthusiastically. I'm not sure if Coach Roy Williams has endorsed Obama but he's know to be one of them thar liberals just like his mentor Dean Smith.

The Eddie Haskell of the Gret Stet, Governor PBJ was on the Tonight Show last night. I just watched it on YouTube and here's my summary: PBJ talked too fast and Jay Leno was as smarmy as ever. The fact that I remember Jay Leno when he was funny makes me feel old, old, old. I never watch the show because he's such an annoying little dweeb but he *does* make me miss Johnny Carson. Johnny was as smooth as silk and was able to be consistently funny in the talk show format, which ain't easy.

PBJ isn't funny and even if he *could* tell a joke nobody could understand it anyway cos he's one fast talkin' dude. He did say one very funny thing: that he's not interested in running for Veep...

Here's the clip:

L: Hugo does his Scooter Homan impression. M: The fleur de bee. R: Chris Paul hitchhikes.

The Hornets are poised to beat the Dallas Mavericks in their first round playoff series. Yeah, I know their nickname has bupkis to do with New Orleans, George Shinn is a shit head, Byron Scott would rather be an Okie and Peja Stojakovic looks terrible in teal BUT they're our team, dammit. Seriously, the Hornets got game, y'all.

In honor of our boys in teal and gold it's time to play...the blues? Why? It beats the hell out of me but Slim Harpo's I'm A King Bee is a helluva song and the Hornets are a helluva team.

The first variation features Muddy Water aka McKinley Morganfield whose awful real name makes the case for stage names: 

Round two of the King Bee variations features the Rolling Stones when Brian Jones was alive and Mick and Keith were still ingenues:

Last but certainly not least Syd Barrett and Pink Floyd who had them buzzing back in 1965:

Here are a few rainy day snaps taken by Dr. A on Saturday at Jazz Fest from the grandstand. Holy swim fins, Batman:

In the immortal words of Reverend Luvzus: "Dayam." 

Yeah, I know, it's not all that early but I'm an insomniac so I'm groggy after working and going to Hana's birthday party. Casa Morris was lousy with bloggers and a good time was had by all. I met Cosmo the kitten who did the kitty stole thang around my neck.

This Louis Jordan clip comes from a move called Look Out Sister. It's a great song and the clip is OTT campy: 

And now for something completely different while I'm trying to dry out after a wet, wet, wet day at Jazz Fest. It may not be seasonal but this footage of the last Carnival until the end of World War II is fascinating. That's why it's this week's Sunday Morning Video. Hey, it beats hearing Bernazanni telling us how great he is:

The FBI doesn't like its people to speculate about running for office so Jim Bernazanni has been transfered to the bureau's HQ in DC. LINK. He'll fit in at Washington: it's full of people who brag and shoot their mouths off. But Bernazanni is hinting that he might retire early and stay in Debrisville. I guess we can't live without him: hubris ain't pretty, y'all. 

Jeffrey has much more about the lawman who thinks he's above the law. LINK.

I've never been into Billy Joel and I'm not quite sure why he's playing at Jazz Fest later today. Oh yeah, I know why: to put butts on the...uh...grass or wherever. I usually don't bitch about the outside acts booked at the Fest because there's always someone good to see or something good to eat but I'm making an exception in this case. I've always thought of Mr. Joel as the Jimmy Durante of soft AOR rock so I'll pass on his set at the big ass stage and nosh on some boudin or something...

Anyway, back to what passes for the point of this post. I searched for Diana Krall videos (she's playing next weekend I *am* excited about seeing the Divine Diana) and lo and behold discovered that she'd covered Just The Way You Are:

My money is on Hagee. Hagar has some redeeming characteristics, after all. If Hagar went to a certain island where this year's Rex and some other Gret Stet nobs were "stranded," he'd mock Rex for appearing publicly in tights but he'd "rescue" them after charging a hefty fee. Hagee would tell them they were "stranded" because Rex had offended God by wearing tights and a bad wig in public. Bad nob, bad nob.

Speaking of castaways, I'm not sure what Hagee's position is on the moral implications of Gilligan's Island. I suspect he might find something gay in the relationship between the Skipper and his little buddy and condemn the whole enterprise as sinful. Hagar would get drunk, make a pass at Ginger and pass out because, as a Viking, he's not dressed for the tropics. Hagar is more fun but Hagee is funnier as well as infinitely more horrible.

Speaking of Gilligan's Island, there was a brilliant parody of its theme song done in 1978 by a San Francisco band, Little Roger and the Goosebumps. They not only parodied the catchy teevee theme but a certain ponderous-n-overplayed song by a famous rock band whose thuggish manager was not amused and threatened to sue them into oblivion. Here's Stairway To Gilligan's Island:

A comment was left at People Get Ready linking to this video made by DoubleTalkExpress, which points out that McCain's "straight talk" on Debrisville is really double talk: 

This is the coolest pop up video I've seen since the one VH-1 made for the swell Men At Work tune, Down Under: