Protest

Back in the 60's when I was in my late teens and early twenties there were all kinds of protest about all kinds of things. We protest Vietnam, why we couldn't have legal pot etc. I haven't been involved in a protest since then until now. A group called Murdered Gulf sponsored a protest against BP in New Orleans in Jackson Square. The group says they are a small group of New Orleanians who are pissed off about the spill. They had a good protest, a good size crowd and it was well planned and attended by a cross-section of protesters. The only problem I had with it was that I don't think enough people knew about it. Also the national press didn't give it any attention although the local stations did. Looking back on the all the 60's protests I'm not sure what good they did. Oh, the photos of those protest are used to show anger and discontent but what did we accomplish? I'm not sure protesting against BP will make any difference either, but it sure as hell feels good!

Oil

According to officials the oil spill is getting near MS. This comes from noaa the agency that I have found to be extremely conservative in their predictions of oil coming ashore. I don't think many people here on the coast are ready for it to happen. It seems that most, including the news and TV folks are sort of living in a denial mentality. If they don't think it, it won't happen. Most everyone here is concerned with tourism. I can understand that and I understand that the fishing, shrimp, and oyster fisherman and industry are in great peril. I think that this spill is going to destroy the economy of the Ms, Gulf coast in a way that no hurricane, including Katrina has. Following a hurricane, clean up starts, rebuilding gets going and people are able to get their lives in some kind of order although it takes years to do so. And the people of the Ms. Gulf Coast are remarkable in their ability to persevere and to come back, although the Coast has not returned as swiftly following Katrina as it did after Camille. I'm not sure the Coast will be able to do that with the oil. It's going to destroy the Gulf and it's creatures like nothing ever has. The group from Alaska that came to Louisiana tried to tell the people that it takes years, sometimes a lifetime and then things are never 'normal' again. That is a hard fact to wrap one's mind around. It's depressing, scary and sad. It is such a huge impending disaster that we sometimes do better to ignore it until we have to accept it.

NEW POST ON SAPS!

DESERTED SIX FLAGS NEW ORLEANS

Rio and the baby Duck

Yesterday one of the many little ducks that live at the apartment got under the net wire fence that we have around the bottom of the patio to keep the dogs in. Rio went out and came face to face with the little fuzzy critter. It scared both of them. The little duck was tweeting for his mother to HELP! And Rio looked at me like WHAT??? He always runs up to the fence after any of the ducks in what is a show of his male badness, but when faced with a real live duck he had not clue. He has a lot of toy ducks and loves them but this THING was live and running around. IN the meantime the mother duck was trying to peck him through the wire. It was a wild five minutes until I caught the little duck and returned him to his mother. When that was done, Rio turned and came in with the look of a watch dog who had done his duty on this face.

Charlie

We have a HUGE salamander that invades the patio each day. Charlie, the 'winnie' dog wants to kill and knowing Charlie eat it. He stalks the thing each morning until the sun is scorching his black butt and he is forced inside to seek a/c. The last experience I had with a 'winnie' dog and a salamander was when Stretch ate one on the patio. I call our vet P. Larkin and he said give him a cap full of hydrogen peroxide until he threw up. You would be surprised how much fun that was, plus a lot of foaming at the mouth, spitting etc. But it worked. So I'm ready for Charlie when he eats this critter. And knowing Charlie, he will eat it!

"Sheeeeen"

I heard on the radio today that Halley Barbour is thinking of running for president. I have no idea if this is true of not. However, it is interesting. When Haley first ran for governor I didn't vote for him. I didn't vote for him because of that good ole boy accent that he can use at will. His voice just killed me!!!!! Then there was Katrina and Haley did a good job of handling that crisis and he looked downright sharp compared to Blanco from Louisiana. So I kinda got to like old Halley a bit more. Then he fought the cigarette tax to the bitter end and I liked him a LOT more. Now we have the oil spill mess looming and I've been watching Haley and his handling of it. A few suggestion; stop listening to Gene Taylor when he describes the oil spill as looking like chocolate milk (learn some intelligent sounding descriptive words) and stop saying the word SHEEN! When he says 'sheeeen' with that good ole boy drawl I just can't see him as president. Maybe a voice coach to work on the accent? In answer to the question. . . .would I vote for Haley Barbour for President? Hell, yeah! I'd vote for a turnip to replace Obama.

Tweeting

I have learned to Tweet. Yeah, I actually figured it all out on my own; how to download it, how to use it and how to seek out tweets from others that I am interested in. I'm sort of proud of that because I'm sixty two and did not grow up with computers, cell phones, instant messager, e-mails, texting or twitter. However, I read a recent article that senior citizens were taking to all of the above like ducks to water. I like that. Shows we are not brain dead anyway. The main problem that I have with all of it is the subject matter. There is a BIG difference in what is important to the various age groups which is sometimes annoying at best. But all In all I'm proud that I learned to tweet. As you get older you tend to take thee things a personal challenge.

Mothers Day

I had a great Mothers Day. It started on Friday night with dinner at the Beau Rivage in Biloxi and a bit of gambling. Saturday was a long slow day spent at home with my daughter. I got some nice gifts, a Fossil purse in these great spring colors, a bracelet which as tiny symbols of all the things I like inside the heart shaped charm, and a vase of live flowers. Sunday for lunch my daughter took me to eat Mexican. The restaurant gave each woman there a live rose. I thought that was a nice gesture. A mother couldn't have asked for a better day. AH, make that a better weekend.

Grease

Everyone is waiting to hear if the containment of the oil spill works this morning. We are all hoping that it does. I am hoping that it does work for the obvious reason; to stop crude pouring into the Gulf, but for other reasons too. If we expect BP to take care of us we are as foolish as the people in New Orleans who waited for the Feds to take care of them following Katrina. BP is already ignoring the citizens who live here who have volunteered to do clean up work. Over ten thousand have volunteered and yet BP refused to even accept the list of names. In the past week workers in orange vest and hard hats (??) have seen seen picking up debris on the beach before the oil arrives (if it does). When reporters tried to talk to these men they responded that BP told them not to talk. The reporter stuck with them and found that they were from Texas, Illinois, and other areas and hired by BP. The oil company has already said it is contracting out a company to clean oily birds. Why not hire the people here who need and want to help to do this job? At recent town meeting BP offered 'training secessions' for volunteers. These turned out to be simple safety lessons on what to wear (gloves) etc. when picking up trash on the beach. Now let me see. Many of the people who volunteered are lifetime residents of the area. Do they really need this information from BP? That training was a simple way of shutting up the volunteers and it was insulting and patronizing. So if the Coast thinks BP has their best interest at heart they need to check out the Alaskan spill and see how that worked out and how swiftly BP paid claims. (They were still dribbling money to the area in 2009.) If you believed BP you can believe the governor who says the Feds will do right by us if the oil reaches us. While you're at you might as well grab some crude and grease up, bend over and grab your ankles, cause here it comes!

New SAPS Post

GHOST ON THE TRACKS!

I Sometimes Hate Facebook

Ah, Facebook. How I hate you!! I didn't get into Facebook for a long time because I had nothing that I thought was worthy of writing for a few disinterested people to read. I still think that. And yeah, I realize that this blog is probably boring as Aunt Bertha at a family reunion, but here the thing . . you don't HAVE to read it to try to find something interesting. IF you don't go to a blog you don't read it cause it's not stuck in your face (thus the name Facebook???). On Facebook you have to sort through the bullshit to find the post you want to check out. However, it amazes me how many people think that everyone is interested in every detail of their day. If they fart it is on Facebook! Facebook has everything from how smart their kids are, to how their religious beliefs are functioning, to how much they LONG to be on Facebook 24/7. There is little depth tom any of the posts. Perhaps it's a sign of my old age that I just can't get past being somewhat bored with how many hearts you have collected or what stray animal you found or how many sunflowers you fertilized on Farmville. Of all the games that are available that one is the most boring. Why inflict it on the rest of us? You don't have to post every single time you find an egg do you?? I don't give a shit! I DO enjoy reading about something that friends and family had done, or heard or seen. IF used that way Facebook is a great way to stay in touch. And that is why I still go to Facebook. I recently found a high school classmate that I had not heard from in 40 years. She and I have reviewed past history, caught up on our families and rebuilt a friendship. But we did it with messages to each other and did not inflict it on all the readers. That is what it's all about. But most of Facebook has the depth of one inch of muddy water and a lot of rotten Farmville duck eggs rolling around in a Sunflower patch. Try Twitter. It's shorter, faster and to the point.

A Good Character is Fun To Write

I started writing a short story to take a break from writing on The Legend of Story Cazaunoux. I wrote the first short story about a character named Kane, a 17 year old street kid in New Orleans. (New Orleans is a major source of settings and plots.) It may not be worth a shit, but it was fun to write and came very easily. I like characters like Kane. A protagonists has to be liked by the reader and they have to be 'human' unless you want a really boring character. So I made Kane a pickpocket and a very good one. I decided to let him be a guy who could also pick just about any lock, carry a knife and be willing to use it if he needs to, and be a street magician. But he also needed some internal conflict. Well, being a street kid made that easy. Why was he on the street? Who does he like? Who does he fear most? Does he trust people? How does he like on the street? I think a good story needs physical conflict and internal conflict so Kane is a good character to have plenty of both. After I finished the first story (Kane 1) I had an idea for a second (Kane 2) and in that one I introduced a couple of new characters. So Kane now had a network of acquaintance's, friends, antagonists (bad cops?) and others. All was good. And then I saw this picture.

It a photo taken of the back wall of St. Louis Cathedral. And instantly I had the ENDING for a third story. Having the ending means I had the last 200 or so words WRITTEN in my head. So I had to write a story to led up to the ending. It was pretty easy. I love to write stories or books that take a bit of history and make my character fit into the mix. It is easy writing and fun. So I wrote the third story (Kane 3) and it's my favorite so far. Just one problem; this is turning into a book length process. So I may make Kane a book. Even if it is never published it's a good story and I can share with anyone who wants to read it. (It you want to read the stories let me know I'll send you a copy.) I am going to start on Kane 4 this am. He had turned into a really good character and like all of them he has taken off on his own path and I'm just along to record his journey.

Oil On The Water

Politics on the coast is truly amazing. I guess I shouldn't be surprised by that fact since this place did host the Dixie Mafia, has a history of past dirty politics and as recently as last year had the May of Gulfport charged with fraud for accepting Katrina money. They will do anything to try to prompt tourism, including hiding their heads in the sand or up their butts. Since the oil rig explosion in the Gulf experts have been saying get ready for an oil spill or for the very real possibility of one. The pipes under the collapsed rig has two leaks. It's dumping oil in the water. BP despite talking a big game is doing virtually nothing. At last report they had two ships out there and are talking about drilling another well to divert the oil. That will take months. Meanwhile there is a spill that seen from the air goes as far as the eye can see. Accu Weather says that it will be near shore by late in the week, and that the area to be affected will reach from Pensacola to South Louisiana. AP reported that the spill is comparable to the 1979 disastrous spill. But the Director of the Sand Beach Authority said yesterday the he didn't think we would be affected. The coast seems to believe their officials. I realize that there is not a lot anyone can do here to prevent this from happening, but at least don't appear so ignorant. At least acknowledge that the giant oily mess is bearing down on us and the sea creatures and birds who live in the waters. At least pull your head out of you butt and stop worrying about the golf tournament that is starting here on Fri. It should stard just in time to greet the oil on the beach. Bet the national media notices.

me and weather

I am starting to see some similarities between myself and the weather here. I woke up at five this morning and the sun was on the horizon, the sky clear and it looked like a nice day was coming. I stayed awake about an hour, feeling pretty good and then dozed back off. I woke up at eight and felt like a big truck hit me and it was raining outside. Every day is like that. You never know what's coming. Each day can bring a new ailment or reactivate an old one. But I guess that's the price for being around a long time and it's better to be here to complain that not.

New Ant and Grasshopper

The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building hishouse and laying up supplies for the winter.
The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances andplays the summer away..
Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed.
The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.
MORAL OF THE STORY: Be responsible for yourself!

MODERN VERSION
The ant works hard in the withering heat and the rain all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.
The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances andplays the summer away.
Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference anddemands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fedwhile he is cold and starving.
CBS, NBC , PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of theshivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortablehome with a table filled with food.
America is stunned by the sharp contrast.
How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poorgrasshopper is allowed to suffer so?
Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper and everybodycries when they sing, 'It's Not Easy Being Green.'
Acorn stages a demonstration in front of the ant's house where thenews stations film the group singing,'We shall overcome.' Rev.Jeremiah Wright then has the group kneel down to pray to God for thegrasshopper's sake.
President Obama condemns the ant and blames President Bush, PresidentReagan, Christopher Columbus, and the Pope for the grasshopper'splight.
Nancy Pelosi & Harry Reid exclaim in an interview with Larry King thatthe ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both callfor an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.
Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Actretroactive to the beginning of the summer.
The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of greenbugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his homeis confiscated by the Government Green Czar and given to the grasshopper.
The story ends as we see the grasshopper and his free-loading friendsfinishing up the last bits of the ant's food while the governmenthouse he is in, which, as you recall, just happens to be the ant's oldhouse, crumbles around them because the grasshopper doesn't maintainit.
The ant has disappeared in the snow, never to be seen again..
The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident, and thehouse, now abandoned, is taken over by a gang ofspiders who terrorizethe ramshackle, once prosperous and once peaceful, neighborhood.
The entire Nation collapses bringing the rest of the free world with it.
MORAL OF THE STORY: Be careful how you vote in 2010.

Rio (the thief)

Instead of hunting Easter eggs, Rio was looking for Milkbones...

After eating all the milkbones he took some time to relax...

TO THINK THE PEOPLE WHO WROTE THIS VOTE AND MAY HAVE REPRODUCED!!!

OLD

Just in case you weren't feeling too old today.The people who are starting college this fall were born in 1991.They are too young to remember the space shuttle blowing up.Their lifetime has always included AIDS.The CD was introduced two years before they were born.They have always had an answering machine.They have always had cable.Jay Leno has always been on the Tonight Show. (until recently)Popcorn has always been micro waved.They never took a swim and thought about Jaws.They don't know who Mork was or where he was from.They never heard: 'Where's the Beef?', 'I'd walk a mile for a Camel ', or 'de plane Boss, de plane'. McDonald's never came in Styrofoam containers.They don't have a clue how to use a typewriter
P.S. Save the earth. It's the only planet with chocolate.

New Post on SAPS!

http://saps-ghosts.blogspot.com/

URSULINE CONVENT

New Orleans

Vampires in the Attic?

Stress Relief

1. Picture yourself lying on your belly on a warm rock that hangs out over a crystal clear stream.
2. Picture yourself with both your hands dangling in the cool running water.
3. Birds are sweetly singing in the cool mountain air.
4. No one knows your secret place.
5. You are in total seclusion from that hectic place called the world.
6. The soothing sound of a gentle water fall fills the air with a cascade of serenity.
7. The water is so crystal clear that you can easily make out the face of Nancy Pelosi, the person you are holding underwater.
There!! See? It really does work

The Great Tomato Growing Contest of 2010

It's that time of the year again! Time for the great tomato growing challenge. For a lot of years my brother-in-law and I have competed growing tomatoes. It is sort of a loosely ruled competition for who gets the FIRST RIPE TOMATO from our plants. Not the first on the plant, but the first RIPE one. We used to have a twenty dollar bet but have sort of let that slide. Actually what happen was I lost last year due to my limited space (patio), limited sun (only morning) and I refused to pay him when he won since he had an outdoor REAL garden. It seems to me that I should have some sort of allowance for the handicaps that patio growing has in comparison to outdoor country growing like he has. This competition allows us to show what pros we are by doing things like rushing to Lowe's and getting a plant already sporting a tomato. There is a lot the novice grower can learn from us pros. This years competition is open to any of our children who would like to accept the challenge from both of us professional tomato growers. It think that it is time to pass down the skills of planting, soil preparation, fertilizing, prune or not pruning, and how to attach a store bought tomato to the vine with tape, toothpick, plastic string etc long enough to get a photo to show the other competitors. To enter this competition one must be able to lie, cheat, fake it, bluff, and do all of the fore mentioned with a straight face. But I figure none of those sissies or their pansy husbands or boyfriends will be up to the challenge. They will all have some flimsy excuse like work, a baby, or something cause they are all city slickers who just ain't up to the challenge. After all it takes a real farmer to handle this. So it is on, Rich. Let the lying, cheating, bullshit talking (and a little growing) begin!!!!

Saturday Night in the Complex

AH!! The joys of apartment living. It is four-thirty am and the cops have been called and now everybody is wide awake and a bit pissy about being up this early. Earlier in the evening there was the usual comings and goings, extra traffic, loud talk and slammed doors that reflect Saturday night in the complex. We have 12 families in this building and there are 27 building so there are a lot of people close together. As expected there is a difference in living in a complex and a private dwelling. One difference is the number of times the cops get called. One night there was the third floor group who insisted on playing their boom-boom music at top volume. That would not have been too bad but they opened the patio door so ALL the rest of us could savor the sound too. Somebody call the cops. He told them to shut it down and waited in his car to see if she did. Nope! Back up the stairs he went and that time he had a real attitude. Quiet!!! Then there was the teen who sat in his truck which features straight pipes and listen to HIS boom-boom music. Again not a problem except his truck sounded like a skidder pulling a log out of the woods. He would start it and stop it; all at four am. Again someone called the cops. Then tonight we had the saga of the prom queen. She had on a prom dress and the boy a tux. They walked around and around the area while she cried and made a high pitched whiny sound that only dolphin 20 miles out in the Gulf could hear and evidently all the dogs in the complex heard her too cause they all barked. She told the boy she wanted to leave and would hit his keys and his truck horn would beep; he said no and hit it again which brought a second beep. So it was sort of EEEEEEK! BOO! HOO! BEEP! BEEP! for about two hours outside the bedroom window, until the cops came to this one too. It was a big female cop and she was not happy! Again quiet! The strangest thing of all is that I DIDN'T call the cops. Someone else did it. I have spent a lot of years in apartments and have about seen it all. Thirty years ago when I lived at Brittany Apartments every Saturday night was party time. Cops knew the residents by name. Brittany was an upscale apartment then but come Saturday night and we had fist fights, screaming break-ups (straight and gay), skinny dipping in the pool, squealing tires, broken beer bottles and loud, loud Led Zeppelin. If the cops came there was a reason. All in all I think the new apartment dwellers have lost the ability to really party down. Back then we lived up to the phase, "It ain't a party till the cops break it up!"

Zu the Vampire - Excerpt (No. 2) From Storms

Zu Poydou walked to the mirror over the fireplace and stared at his reflection. He saw a thin dirty face, with high strong cheekbones and full curved lips. His eyes were green and intense with dark bruised looking shadows beneath them. Zu’s hair was dark and long and hung in thick tangles past his shoulders. Monster. That was what his grandfather had called him. Monster. What kind of monster? He stared at himself trying to see the monster that must be there. He reached up and pushed his hair back and then looked at his hands. They were thin with big knuckles and long fingers. His nails were dirty. He should bath, but he didn’t seem to have the energy. And no one cared if he was clean or not. He wondered if Norton would return. He hoped so. He waited for him. He wanted to kill the man when he did return. He felt the tingle in his mouth at the thought of the murder that he longed for and he pulled back his lip and touched the tip of the extended canine tooth with his finger. It was not there all of the time and he wondered why. A monster? He turned from the mirror and walked to the door, stepping over the thick vines that had pushed their way under the door and were now reaching for the interior of the dark house. He stood on the veranda and looked across the swamp. He could leave, but he had never been anywhere but here, he did not know anyone in the world and he had no idea of what to expect if he tried to leave. Was he a monster? Would others see that he was and lock him away again? He did not think he could stand to be beaten again or tormented for reasons he didn’t understand and so he stayed. He turned and walked back inside to the piano that stood dust covered in the center of the room. He sat down and watched a large field rat move inside the opened grand piano; on the wires that connected the keys. He sat very still for a long time, watching the glittering eyes of the rodent as it became bolder and moved nearer to him. He could see the tips of its small yellowed teeth just below the furry jaw and the small whiskers as they twitched near the black nose. The rat watched him and he watched it. Then with a movement so quick that it didn’t allow the rat time to react Zu snatched the rodent up. He sank his fangs into the rat and sucked the blood, swallowing it in big greedy gulps until the creature was sunken and dry. He dropped the body of the rat on the floor, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, closed his haunted eyes and began to play Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 1.

Woolmarket

Woolmarket was the first school that I ever taught. I had a first grade class in 1969. My first principal was Mr. B Hill. Those students would be in their early forties today.

Why I Voted Democrat

I voted Democrat because I love the fact that I can now marry whatever I want. I've decided to marry my horse.
I voted Democrat because I believe oil companies' profits of 4% on a gallon of gas are obscene but the government taxing the same gallon of gas at 15% isn't.
I voted Democrat because I believe the government will do a better job of spending the money I earn than I would.
I voted Democrat because freedom of speech is fine as long as nobody is offended by it.
I voted Democrat because when we pull out of Iraq I trust that the bad guys will stop what they're doing because they now think we're good people.
I voted Democrat because I'm way too irresponsible to own a gun, and I know that my local police are all I need to protect me from murderers and thieves.
I voted Democrat because I believe that people who can't tell us if it will rain on Friday can tell us that the polar ice caps will melt away in ten years if I don't start driving a Prius.
I voted Democrat because I'm not concerned about the Slaughter of millions of babies so long as we keep all death row inmates alive.
I voted Democrat because I believe that business should not be allowed to make profits for themselves. They need to break even and give the rest away to the government for redistribution as THEY see fit.
I voted Democrat because I believe liberal judges need to rewrite the Constitution every few days to suit some fringe kooks who would never get their agendas past the voters.
I voted Democrat because my head is so firmly planted up my ass that it is unlikely that I'll ever have another clear point of view.

The Banister Of Life

As You Slide Down the Banister of Life, Remember

1. Jim Baker and Jimmy Swaggert have written An impressive new book. It's called .......... 'Ministers Do More Than Lay People'
2. Transvestite: A guy who likes to eat, drink And be Mary..

3. The difference between the Pope and Your boss, the Pope only expects you To kiss his ring.
4. My mind works like lightning, One brilliant Flash and it is gone.
5. The only time the world beats a path to Your door is if you're in the bathroom.
6. I hate sex in the movies. Tried it once. The seat folded up, the drink spilled and That ice, well, it really chilled the mood.
7. It used to be only death and taxes Now, of course, there's shipping and handling, too.
8. A husband is someone who, after taking the trash out, gives the impression that he just cleaned the whole house.
9. My next house will have no kitchen - just Vending machines and a large trash can.
10. A blond said, 'I was worried that my Mechanic might try to rip me off. I was relieved when he told me all I needed was turn signal fluid.'
11. Definition of a teenager? God's punishment...for enjoying sex.
12. As you slide down the banister of life, may The splinters never point the wrong way...

Be who you are and say what you feel...

because those that matter..don't mind... and those that mind... don't matter!

Cover

This is one idea for the

cover of the new book.

Of course the title has

not been decided upon as yet.

Good Old Wally World!

WASHINGTON TOWNSHIP, N.J. (AP) -- A Walmart store announcement ordering black people to leave brought chagrin and apologies Wednesday from leaders of the company, which has built a fragile trust among minority communities.
A male voice came over the public-address system Sunday evening at a store in Washington Township, in southern New Jersey, and calmly announced: "Attention, Walmart customers: All black people, leave the store now."
Shoppers in the store at the time said a manager quickly got on the public-address system and apologized for the remark. And while it was unclear whether a rogue patron or an employee was responsible for the comment, many customers expressed their anger to store management.

Well, really I don't see why everyone got their panties in a wad about the above news article and the events a Wally world. It's not just black folks who think that the stores and clerks and managers are all asses. Have you ever tried to return any thing to the store, especially if it is a so called seasonal item? I once tried to return a six dollar set of landscaping lights in December and was told that they were a holiday item. What? A person can't use landscaping lights all year? I created a small scene, by backing up the line, yelling for a manager and insisting that they take the sign down that said, "Customer Satisfaction Guaranteed." I was not a damn bit satisfied! And BEFORE I left they knew it. I did get my dollars back after a zoned out check out girl said, "If we refund your money, Walmart loses money." I could feel the veins standing out in my head. I responded with something like, "I give a flying fuck about Walmart making money?!" That's when I got my refund.
That someone got hold of their speaker is not surprising to me. The stores need to get their act together on a whole lot of fronts.

Peachtree Road

Southerners sort of fluff up our winter feathers when springs gets here and we turn our collective faces toward the coming of warm weather. Sure there will be the old Easter Snap and we will have to pull out the hoodies one more time, but summer is coming. This morning I was listening to Elton Johns "Peachtree Road" CD. And if you are like one of my ex friends who once told me that 'I don't listen to him cause he's gay' then you might as well stop reading now. That is one of the stupidest statements I have ever heard. The lyrics of Elton Johns songs are written by Bernie Taupin, one of the best poets around today. Anyway back to the subject at hand. One of the songs on the album is called Porch Swing in Tupelo and it about life in the south. All of the phrases brings to mind a slice of the south especially in the summer. He sings of a porch swing on a hot afternoon, the Natchez Trace and the State of Grace in reference to Graceland. All of those have memories if you are a Southerner. So do 'dinner on the grounds, rolling down the Mississippi headin' back in time', and the saying that my grandmother used to use to express surprise, hush your mouth! If some of that doesn't stir your southern roots then you are not a southerner and it's all over your head anyway. The songs speaks of grease monkeys working under the shade trees. Do you know what that is? And of small towns that close on Sunday cause everyone's in church. That's not the case everywhere and is unique in the south. Oh and the 'change a minute' weather that was fair and sunny fifteen minutes ago and is now windy and cloudy. I like spring and the song stirred up memories of past summers and perhaps a past time. I like 'the old south all around me' and hope that we 'please don't change things too much'.

Listing for Story C

I found this listing for my first Book on several sites. It is still out there at a few bookstores. I remember how excited I was to see it for the first itme.

Legend of Story Cazaunoux: A New Orleans Novel by C. J. Murray
BUY THIS ITEM (Contact Author or store)
Limited Time Offer! Everyone receives the Member Price on books.

(Paperback) $14.95
Pub. Date: February 1998
310pp
Reader Rating:
See All Detailed Ratings

FIVE OF FIVE STARS

Read customer reviews
Legend of Story Cazaunoux: A New Orleans Novel
Reader Rating: See Below-
Great book about a sexy Voodoo Priest and his vampire lover.

Very factual in representation of N. O.

Author had in-depth knowledge of voodoo and vampire lore.

LOVED IT!!!!

http://www.filedby.com/c_j_murray/486979/works/2415985/The_Legend_of_Story_Cazaunoux_A_New_Orleans_Novel/

Excerpt (No.1) from "STORMS"

A friend of mine ask me to publish an excerpt from the book I'm working on. This is a conversation between the woman who raise him and the main character, Story Cazaunoux who is the Voudou (leader) of a sect of voodooism. He is preparing to face an unknown foe to protect his family. The book is fiction but has historic fact through out. Julia Brown was a real voodoo queen who was believed by many to have caused the 1915 hurricane that destroyed Manchac. She was documented in a New Orleans newspaper at the time. I hope you like it.

“You grow stronger.” Lynn said and watched him raise his eyes from the cup to her face. He smiled and nodded.
“So do you.” He said.
“I fear for you Story and then I realize that there is no need; not from paranormal beings or situations anyway.” She said watching him. “When you grow hard and quiet I know you are building your strength and dominance. It is a physical feat that energizes and changes the space around you. I can feel the shift in the pressure of the air.”
He nodded again. Lynn reached out and took his left hand. She could feet the bones and tendons in it. She turned his hand over and studied the palm wondering why there was no mark or sign of what he could do with these hands. But these were merely the instruments that channeled his supreme strength from the hidden dark center that lay deep inside him near the very core of his being and that manifested into acts which she was at a loss to explain. She wondered as she always had what it must be like to be Story; if he realized fully what he was, what he was capable of doing, how he was so different from other people. She supposed that he did for she had watched him struggle with that difference in his youth; trying to control it, to understand it, to accept it, to manage it, trying to conform to please Will, his adoptive father. But even for Will he could not deny what he was. She touched the band that he still wore on his third finger.
“Where is the other ring, Story?” She asked.
“Tia (Story's daughter) has it. She does finding spell to get.” He answered. “The beka use who I love against me and she helps it. It not easy to be me.” He said, still reading her thought from a few seconds ago. “Never was. It not a thing I can compare to other people. I have no experience with any other way to be. I am only me.” He said with his unusual use and placement of his words.
She knew that it was true and that he had no deep understanding of the so called normal existence. For Story the mystic, paranormal, supernatural with its various creatures, it’s realms of time and space was where he was most comfortable. The so called normal was much more difficult. She knew that his hardest struggles had been with human relationships; with understanding human wants, desires, emotions and cruelty. His inability to recognize the wickedness in humans had lead to most of his pain through the years. But what was he to do about the desire for love and acceptance that had always driven him?
Story watched her face and she knew that he was reading her thoughts as clearly as if she had spoken them.
“Perhaps all want what not need or understand.” He said. “I cannot live with only the creatures of other worlds, Lynn. It not enough.”
“I know.” She said.
He picked one of the blue candles that stood on the table and with his fingernail began to carve symbols into the wax. Her mind went to another time when that hand was badly burned while trying to save Sarah. The infection had very nearly killed him. Story had been sixteen years old at the time. For months he had disappeared, lost and sick roaming the swamps of Larosa until Will, who had never given up on finding the boy had returned home with him. He had found Story in the middle of a hurricane, and she wondered if the hurricanes were all related. There was that hurricane, the Great West India of 1915 that destroyed three Manchac communities and was said to be called up by Julia Brown who was Story's great, great, grandmother and a Voodoo queen. There was Hurricane Katrina which had taken Story's wife Sarah. Did the power of the storms affect the future?
“You will be protected, Story. Either by the god you do not know or the ones you serve. Maybe both.” She said. He finished carving on the candle and placed it back into its holder. Lynn stood up and put her cup into the dishwasher, then walked to where he sat, put her arm around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. Then she turned and left the room. Story sat in the kitchen and watched as the light outside faded and even then he did not rise to turn on a light. He heard Lynn and Will upstairs and was comforted by their presence. He thought of Sarah and Tia and of their part in what was coming, of Donita Di Di and how the distant past had the ability to reach out with cold fingers and touch the present. He thought of the beka and what effect its evil presence would have on the future. He sensed a more immediate future; dark shapes moving in the middle distance between his chair and the wall at the other side of the room. Story could see them gathering forces and the time between the past and the present giving their dark shapes substance in the physical world, driving events that would surprise everyone but him. Unlike others, most of which believe that the supernatural and reality run on two parallel tracks, Story realized that the illusion of convergence in the distance was no optical illusion after all.

Copyright by CJ Murray 2010 All Rights Reserved

Happy Birthday, Richard or Damn We Gettin Old!

Today is my brother-in-laws birthday and he is standing in the shadow of his 60's. Actually he is so far up against 60 that you can't sick a greased pin between him and it. He didn't make a big impression on me the first few time I was around him way, way back when I first met him. He was such a show off! And there was the little matter of him hitting me in the back of the head with an inter tube while we were at the river. I'm not sure if he has ever admitted to that in all these 40 some odd years. We still have heated discussions about the truth of that matter. Despite the rough beginning I have come to like my one brother a good bit, despite the fact that he still can pull a caper now and then. He does have some pretty good qualities that I seldom mention. He's been a good husband to my sister (she might have a rebuttal to that). and he raise three great daughters and has managed to whip three son-in-laws into some semblance of shape. His nieces and nephews think he's a cool old dude. And I'm pretty sure his little grandson thinks he's the funniest/coolest/smartest/ guy in the world. He's a good hunter, a good Gardener (and hell no I'm not admitting that he can grow a bigger tomato than me), must know a million jokes about any subject and can bake better than Paula Deen. All in all he's been a good brother for a lotta years and I hope he has a great birthday and a whole lot more! Love you, Rich!!!!

May you live in interesting times-

May you find what you are looking for-

May you come to the attention of those in authority-

~Chinese Curse~

Insults with Class

"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire." -- Winston Churchill

"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure." -- Clarence Darrow

"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary." -- William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)

"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it." -- Groucho Marx

"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it." -- Mark Twain

"He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends." -- Oscar Wilde

"I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend... If you have one." -- George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill...followed by Churchill's response: "Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second, if there is one." -- Winston Churchill

"I feel so miserable without you; it's almost like having you here." -- Stephen Bishop

"He is a self-made man and worships his creator." -- John Bright

"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial." -- Irvin S. Cobb

"He is not only dull himself; he is the cause of dullness in others." -- Samuel Johnson

"He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up." -- Paul Keating

Apolo's Heart in Right Place

A letter writer (Feb. 28) apparently concluded that U.S. speed skater Apolo Ohno was not a “true American” at the recently concluded Olympics. He called Ohno a “disgrace,” and a “shame and an embarrassment” for not placing his hand over his heart when our country’s national anthem was playing at Ohno’s “gold medal” ceremony and suggested that Ohno skate for some other country that “he loves so much more.”
The only problem with this report is that Ohno didn’t win a gold medal. He won a silver and two bronze medals. No U.S. national anthem was played for Ohno, because Olympic rules provide that only the national anthem of the gold medalist is played as national flags of the three medalists are raised during the medal ceremony.
I read this person’s “patriotic” letter just after I watched Ohno carrying a U.S. flag around the short track after winning a silver medal. I have to say to the writer that it isn’t where your hand is, it’s where your heart is. No one has a window into the soul of another American. Apolo Ohno is a national treasure and his pride and love for America is evident in his face, and in his words. (Article from Yahoo News)

"Whatever I did

I have proof

I didn't do it."

-NC

Boomers

I watched the Brokaw special "Boomers" on TV Tue. I had read the book and found it pretty good but the show tended to lump the entire 50's and 60's into a few big events and overlook all the smaller things that defined the boomers. It was just some more of the same stuff we have already heard. When Brokaw asks Tom Hanks about the most important popular culture of the generation, Hanks steps past television - the answer most people would give - to music. I agree that music was the defining common thread with all boomers. "I knew what time it was by the television," says Hanks. "But I knew how I felt by the music." I love that statement. The music was worth an hour all by itself. But the inclusion of Hanks also suggests a problem, which is trying to understand a generation through its most familiar people and most famous events. He barely touches on the so called every day boomer; those of us who didn't burn draft cards, or attend Woodstock. Hurricane Camille came ashore the same night as Woodstock, so those of us in Ms. were otherwise occupied. An interview with a career military man reveals more than the interview with draft resistance spokesman David Harris, who's been yapping on the subject for four decades and he's gotten a little tiring after all that time. Many of the younger generation think all there is to Boomers was Vietnam, the civil rights movement, smoking pot and screwing in the mud at Woodstock. It's easy to sum up the very complex issues with a phrase like "The '60s was a background for profound social change." Or you get a guy who went to Woodstock saying he would go back to the 1960s in an instant, while writer P.J. O'Rourke says they were hypocritical and awful. I never had any use for the prissy O'Rourke anyway. I'm pretty proud to be a Boomer and to have lived through all that happened then. I haven't seen anything to match the era. But the TV special was a little tiring to me but maybe in the end, there is no way to show how it was because the times were as varied as the Boomers themselves.We really thought we were going to change the world back then, but it just hasn't happened. YET.

Rio's Birthday

Poncho Rio turned three years old today. He celebrated the event with a party at his home in Ocean Springs. He had hard milk (Ice Cream), Beggin Strips, Milk Bones and chicken for his birthday meal. He received may gifts including two chewy rope toys, a fat stuffed toy chicken and a fat stuffed toy rabbit. His family and friends attended the party. Guest included, his Ba, his Gonny, Stretch, Chica, Babe, And Charlie. In the above picture you can see the sleepy effects of all the partying. Happy Birthday. Rio.

Scribes

Nine years ago I wrote "The Legend Of Story Cazaunoux" which is about the Voudou of South Louisiana. Story, the Voudou is the leader of a sect of voodooist in New Orleans. The main character, Story (who is my favorite character ever) was a lot of fun to develop and having the power to make a character what you want is great, but I quickly learned that editors want a "3 dimensional" character. Since I was discouraged from majoring in journalism I didn't know a LOT of terms, meanings and techniques necessary to write. Three dimensional is just what it sounds like. The character can't be a flat, told about person. It takes a while to make someone come alive on paper. And no matter how much the writer knows about the character, the readers will never know ALL there is to know about him. Though I am not as good as probably 95% of writers, the book did get published by a small publisher, and I made some money off of the sales. The best part of the whole process was seeing the book on shelves in New Orleans French Quarter shops. It was nice to see it in Books a Million and for a while it was sold on Amazon. Reading "Story" now makes me to re-write it. I see so much that I could have made much better. For several years I have been thinking of writing a second part to the 'Story'. Well, as the editors say you have to have a plot. I had about half of one. Then a few months ago I got an idea for the book. I wrote a bio on the character, a plot, a synopsis of it and sent it to my old editor. He said to write it and so I am working on it. This one will have all of the same characters, plus a few new ones, and will incorporate some historical events with total fiction. It is set in New Orleans and Manchac Swamp. I am enjoying writing it. Even if it isn't published for some reason it will still be created, and the characters will be brought to life. Once they are created you cannot stop then from taking on a life of their own even if only to you. And you cannot make them do things that are contrary to their personality. It simply will not work if you do.
Writing fiction is fun and mixing it with some history is fairly easy, but requires a lot of research. Rewrites are not fun. My editor taught me to show not tell, use a lot of dialogue, description, give protagonists and antagonist good and bad traits, have a decent plot and always have a lot of conflict. And to cut, cut , cut. He also said it your can't write a thirty word sentence you aren't worth a shit! He and I have clashed over re-writes. He is usually right. And I make the changes he wants. I learned by listening to Jeff Eastin not to use the words 'just' and 'besides'. He calls the use of either "lazy writing".
The second little book I wrote is called "The Magic Of Isha Swift" and it a kids book about a handicapped kid. It's a small book and I only had four areas that the editor wanted me to re-write.

The third book I wrote is called "Different Dancers" and it about a Native American boy who is a grass dancer and the son of white teachers who move to the reservation. The two become unlikely friends. The main character in "Dancer" is Harley White Eagle. I love that book and Harley. I mailed it out to publishers and as always waited for the rejections to come. (THEY ALWAYS DO!) I mailed it to a group called Council of Indian Education in Billings that I though sounded really promising. Nothing came from them. For two years. Then one day the phone rang and a man who identified himself as Hap Gilliand said he was the editor there and that they wanted to publish "Dancer". Being a big shot author (ha ha), I asked him what had taken so damn long. He said the manuscript had gotten lost in one of their 'preview readers' home for two years and when found he like it and wanted it. TWO YEARS!! The book had to pass inspection by a council of eight Native Americans writers from various tribes for authenticity and it did. I only had to make two changes in the book. One was the weight of a buffalo and the other was the menu for a Powwow. Not bad, I thought. That is one I've very proud of.
Well anyway, I'm writing again and even if it doesn't amount to anything I enjoy it. I have a friend that likes to write but refuses to send anything to any publications for fear of rejections. I understand that. It's scary to think that someone will think that your baby is ugly. But rejections make your skin tough and your writing better. And when it's finally published you laugh about them when you clean out your 'rejection drawer'. Your baby was pretty after all.

Heard that all senior citizens will recieve another stimulus package.
It will contain two watermelon seeds, cornbread mix, and 10 coupons to KFC.
The directions are in Spanish.

How to Feel Better!

I am passing this on to you because it definitely works, and we could all use a little more calmness in our lives. By following simple advice heard on the Dr. Phil show, you too can find inner peace. Dr Phil proclaimed, "The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you have started and have never finished."So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn't finished. Before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a bottle of White Zinfandel, a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream, a package of Oreos, the remainder of my old Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some Doritos, and a box of Valentine chocolates! You have no idea how freaking good I feel right now. :-)

But The Pulitzer????

First the Saints won the Super bowl and now the National Enquirer is in the running for a Pulitzer Prize. Looks like this is going to be one of those 'I'll be damned' years. My grandma loved the Enquirer and believed every word that was printed in it. She was on a fixed income and did not waste her small monthly check of anything. But she bought the Enquirer. And she pass it on to me when she finished with it. Most people think that real newspapers are sold on newsstands. The magazines you pick up at the supermarket checkout, alongside the chewing gum and all-capitals headlines and cheap paper that they're not to be taken seriously. You might learn, this week in the National Enquirer, for example, that Whitney Houston is "DYING!" — "SHE COLLAPSES after cocaine and booze binges" — but even if you buy it, you don't necessarily believe it. It's entertainment. Whether it's true or not is largely beside the point. It seems that is about to change. It might have come as a surprise last week to learn that the Pulitzer committee, bestowers of the world's most celebrated journalism awards, had stroked their chins, weighed the arguments, and concluded that the Enquirer will be eligible to be considered for their investigative reporting and national news reporting awards. The magazine's executive editor, Barry Levine, who just a few days previously had been telling Pulitzer committee-members that they needed "to get their heads out of the sand", was jubilant. "That persistence, that old-fashioned shoe-leather reporting that we exhibited on this story, (The John Edwards Scandal) at the end of the day, is what the Pulitzer committee recognised," he said, Maybe my grandma was on to something or maybe this is just an indication on how low the main stream media has gone with the slanted, bullshit they attempt to force feed their readers. Personally I hope the Enquirer wins.

Maybe He's Bored With Koreans Too?

Why does Apolo Anton Ohno yawn before his races?
By Martin Rogers

VANCOUVER, British Columbia – Seconds before the biggest moment of his career, the excitement and adrenaline were finally too much for Apolo Anton Ohno. He couldn't hold it in any longer.
He yawned.
Television viewers were stunned by the American's apparently lackadaisical approach to the race, which would determine whether he would become the Winter Olympian with the most medals in U.S. history. (He did, with a bronze.)
British Open golf champion Stewart Cink even Tweeted that Ohno's action made him yawn, too, as he watched on TV.
Yet some sneaky investigation by Yahoo! Sports revealed there is madness behind Ohno's moribundity.
A friend of Ohno's – who asked not to be named because, er, "Apolo might not like it" – revealed that the yawning lets extra oxygen into his lungs in the seconds before bursting across the ice.
Ohno himself confirmed as much to Yahoo! Sports. "It makes me feel better," he said. "It gets the oxygen in and the nerves out."

Quotes I Like

"Here is a test to find out whether your mission in life is complete. If you're alive, it isn't.
Richard Bach

"Give me a break! You could sell light switches to the Amish." Peter Burke

"Human spirit to rise up again & again to challenge the obstacles, odds & unforseen challenges. Anything is possible-believe-want-do! "
Apolo Ohno



"I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn't work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness. " Stan Hall


"Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity." Dr. Matthew Links


"Do not argue with an idiot. He will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience." CJ Murray

"It's not stealing when rich men do it." Neal Caffery

"We all die of one disease . . . it's called time." Terrion Brossard

"All romance ends in disillusionment . . . or death." Lassiter from Psych

"You have a lot of rules for someone who doesn't play by them." Peter Burke

"If you lie down with dogs you get up with fleas." Mozzie

"Real life seems to have no plot." Ivy Burnett

"This shit ain't nothing but the thrill ride from hell." Lynn Sheffield (about life in general)

"Women need a reason to have sex, men just need a place." Billy Crystal

"Why does the Vatican have lightening rods?" Terrion Brossard

"There are a lot of waiting rooms in hell." Blant Belzac

Apolo Ohno

Apolo Ohno Breaks record for most metals in Winter Olympics.

Apolo Ohno is used to being at the head of the pack in short-track speedskating. The 27-year-old has no regrets about giving himself another shot at the Olympics. "I'm glad I made the right decision," he said. "And that I'm here."

To this day, a lot of people think he jumped the gun in his first race in 2006.
Of course they do, right? It's the Olympics and it's Apolo Anton Ohno, and the guy has high drama embedded in his DNA.
It was the last night of competition at the 2006 Turin Winter Games. The curtain closer on a couple of weeks in Italy that had not gone well for Ohno or, for that matter, America.
The 500-meter sprint. This race — one and a quarter times around a track inside a hockey rink — is all about the start. Blink, you lose. High stakes, fried nerves. Chances at redemption. Twice, skaters in the pack of five — coiled up like Lycra-clad snakes at the start line — jumped the starter's gun.
So Ohno, being Ohno, figured now would be a good moment to "time the start."
"You know what? This is it, man!" he told himself. "I'm going to try to time this bad boy."
That, he did. When the starter's pistol cracked the third time, Ohno already had a half-stride on the pack. Sprinting with the calm dignity of a cat being chased by Dobermans, Ohno led from start to finish, blasting across the finish line to claim gold.
The feat, if it didn't save the Olympics for America, at least avoided the indignity of losing in the medal count to the Canadians. It was vintage Ohno.
"Honestly? I think I just timed it perfectly," he says, four years later. "If you watch it in slow-mo, it looks like I jumped," he insists. "If you watch it in regular I timed the start."
He laughs again.
"They didn't call it back, so ... "

So it was written: Ohno's fourth Olympic medal. Later that night, he would claim a fifth, in the team relay, tying him with speedskating legend Eric Heiden for the most medals won by a U.S. male Winter Olympian.
I'm glad I made the right decision," he says. "And that I'm here."
From the time he was 14, Apolo Anton Ohno has been many things to many people, but boring has never been one of them. His first Olympic medal was won as he crawled across the finish line, blood trailing from one thigh, in Salt Lake City in 2002.
There's a reason Ohno is the first guy you see when NBC starts endlessly pitching the 2010 Vancouver Games to the public. Lots of them, actually.
Ohno has grown, before our eyes, from a precocious inline-skate punk from Federal Way into a literal Olympics ambassador.
Easily lost in the footlights of his fame is that Ohno, a master of a sport requiring an uncommon marriage of power, finesse, reflex and smarts, is one of the remarkable athletes of his generation.

"I'm leaner than I've ever been, lighter than I've ever been," says Ohno, who lives in Seattle. "The other thing is, I love what I'm doing, more than I ever have in the past. I really do. This sport has not gotten any easier for me. In fact, it's gotten harder. But I love it."

Sometimes, he admits, he has to talk himself into it. That first workout of the day is hard to start. The third one is tough to finish. In between, Ohno in the past several months has frequently taken to the blogosphere, posting multiple daily affirmations on Facebook, Twitter and his Web page.
"Tired, but still pushing on," he tweeted Jan. 29. "Many distractions right now — yet I'm staying on track."
"To be or not to be," he posted another time. "I'm about being better than yesterday. Post-2010, come train with me — I'll help you achieve your goals!"
Another day: "No distractions. Make a step in the rt direction 2day. Get in yr zone. Stay focused. Live now!"
It is manna to his many fans. But Ohno says all the sports-psych stuff is for his benefit, as well.
"It's almost like reiteration of what I want to feel like," he says. "It's almost like reminding myself, and motivating myself: 'Hey, look where you're at today. Look where you've got to go.' "

Ohno gets mail almost daily from fans who tell him he has, in some way, changed their lives. He thinks to himself: "All I've really ever done is skate."
He plans to offer payback via a post-Games nutritional-supplement business venture, the 8Zone, which will incorporate the decade of sport science Ohno has absorbed. If the business is profitable, he plans to plow money back into Olympic sports, through sponsorships.

In the short term, however, the ice at Vancouver's Pacific Coliseum is his sole focus.
"This is very special," he says of the Vancouver Games, the site of his first competitive races as a young teen. "It's special for my father, for me, for all my friends who are going to be there."
His course, near and far, is set. Unlike most Winter Olympians, Ohno has enough sponsorship money to keep him financially comfortable — and a career course is laid out before him. And he is savvy enough to relish every remaining step of what he always has referred to as a journey.
"When I'm done skating, I guarantee you that I will not look back and remember standing on the podium," he says, looking wistful. "I'm going to remember these days — being with the team. Training alone, in my basement. Training when everybody else is sleeping. Doing things that nobody else is doing. Digging down. Seeing what kind of character I truly have. I love that stuff."
.
"I've never prepared like this in my life — for anything," he says. "I want to leave nothing on the table."

Happy Mardi Gras!

The Tropical Isle, New Orleans

THE WORLDS BEST BAR