New Orleans: H2Oh-No

The evening news is covered from hour to hour with footage of Hurricane Katrina that completely destroyed the Gulf Coast and made it ground zero to the nation's worst natural disaster of the last 100 years. The footage contains images of New Orleans landmarks like the Superdome, the ultra-old above ground cemetaries and Bourbon Street, the most vomited upon road in the entire country as long as you don't count Barbara Streisand's star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

But quite frankly, I don't give a rat's rosey red ass about all that. Tourists might be biting their nails to the bone over St. Louis Cathedral, Storyville, the Jax Brewery and the Cabildo, but they can just crumble into the ground into a finely powered dust. When I look at the bird's eye view of the city, I'm looking for my grandparents' house on Annunciation Street in Uptown, the house my grandfather built with his own hands and proudly tried to stay in long after my grandmother developed Alzheimer's and he didn't have the strength to take care of her and himself on his own.

I'm looking for my aunts and uncles' homes, places where I spent many Christmases, Thanksgivings, Easters, weddings and funerals eating myself into a sugar induced stupor cooked by a loving family that made me who I am today -- successful, confidence and fatter than a Turducken dipped in chocolate.

I'm looking for some sign of my friends and former neighbors, some of whom I have known since elementary school. I got a hold of some of them just after the storm hit to make sure they and their families were safe. I haven't heard from my ex-girlfriends so I'm assuming the best (well, for me anyway).

New Orleans is (notice I didn't say was) my hometown. It's a place I've loved with all my heart for as long as it's been beating. Now that New Orleans is underwater and will take years to rebuild just to make it liveable again, my heart, they say, grew three times for the Crescent Ci-tay, which is a miracle considering how much Shiner Boch beer and pre-processed cheese it had to sort through from college.

For the first three days after the devastation, I dealt with the
pain the only way I knew how -- with humor. Cracking jokes about my pain kept me from screaming. I'd watch people pile into the Superdome by the tens of thousands before the city ordered the evacuations. The lines snaked up those big entrance ramps and down Poydras Street and all I could think was, "Man, the Superdome has never been this crowded before."

President George Bush left his vacation from Crawford early so he could start working on the recovery efforts. He said Wednesday after seeing the devasation from Air Force One that the country would help them rebuild the Gulf Coast through funding, and Bush vowed a personal start by repaying the tab he ran up at Tipitina's in the 1970's.

The sad truth is some of it can't be saved in time, most of it will be gone. That's when my sense of humor took a time out, and I broke down and cried like a prom date in a polka-dotted prom dress. My old man, who lived in New Orleans longer than me, emailed me from work saying he was relieved his parents and siblings made it out safe but devastated his personal pieces of history were disappearing in the cold, cruel waters. I told him something writer Harlan Ellison once said about the Holocaust, a tragic piece of his family's history. The only way it can disappear "is if you forget it."

New Orleans and the rest of the Gulf Coast will return. How do I know? Just look at the pictures of the people. There's devasation and destruction all around them, but few of them in the photographs are crying. Some are concerned, some are smiling, some are even laughing. Cynics call it denial. I call it something they've never experienced -- hope.

A city's most important asset will always be it's people, so New Orleans is the richest city in America. The people of New Orleans showed a lust for life before the hurricane that I've yet to see anywhere else, and that feeling i stronger than ever before. They won't let their home die.

We will celebrate the re-birth of New Orleans, Biloxi, Hattiesburg, Mobile, Grand Isle, Mandeville, Metairie, Old Metairie, Bucktown and the rest of the Gulf Coast some day, and we will thank God when it happens -- right up until the hangover.

What Would Jesus Do? Kill Them All and Let "Dad" Sort Them Out

For the past three months, I've been working as a ghostwriter on a book about the history and current state of religion. I can't put my name on it since I'm being paid as a ghostwriter, but it allows me to rant about the dangerously powerful position our relgious leaders have and how they are abusing it to control the minds of innocent people strictly for profit and politics, and someone else gets assassinated for me. It's a sweet gig.

That's why the news of televangelist Pat Robertson calling for the death of a fellow, power hungry political leader was music to my wax-filled ears. He actually called for the assassination of Venezulean President Hugo Chavez last week because it was sweeps week for religious programming such as "The 700 Club" and it was either call for the death of a world leader or do an entire week of shows about gals who go gaga for guys who look like Jesus.

Actually, he didn't come right out and say we should put two bullets in the back of his head. He actually said we should "take him out," so he could spin in later. According to Robertson's spin masters, he actually meant to say we should "take him out" of the country as in send in troops to forcibly remove him from the country. Then when people didn't believe him, his spin-meisters said we should just 'take him out" to dinner and explain to him in a calm, reasonable manner why he should stop the genocide over a steaming plate of microwave shrimp poppers and fajita nachos.

Why are religious leaders calling for the death of a president? Didn't Jesus teach us that "Thou shalt not kill thy neighbor's coveted wife" or something to that affect? If it would shut up people like Robertson who shouldn't have a say in our foreign policy, I'd be willing to bend the Ten Commandments federal building ban if it meant we could throw it back in his smug face.

Know Your States: Mine's Purple!

My close personal friend and fellow humorist Sasha Faynor (who doesn't have a website yet so I'll have to link her to here) read an email I sent her recently about yet another rejection letter I received from yet another newspaper about one of my columns (for fear of litigation, I also can't post a link to them so I will have to link to them here). I told her they rejected me because AND I QUOTE, ""as a Red Stater...I'm not sure how well you'd play here." Dear sweet delictable Sasha naively asked me, "What's a Red State?"

I explained to her in a calm, non-sarcastic manner that "red states" are those that dominated by Republicans that President Bush won during the last election. Then that little guy that jumps on to your shoulder who reminds you that your mean and hurtful words can cause emotional pain in your fellow human beings and that God put us all on this Earth to treat each other with patience, understanding and love. The little guy in the leather jacket with the three pack-a-day habit on the other side was beating the crap out of that little wussy.

I then explained to Sasha what the "other" color coded states meant. She has yet to stop nodding her head in confused interest.

BLUE STATES -- States that gave John Kerry electorial votes during the last election and hung themselves when Bush won a second term

BROWN STATES -- States that get way too worked up when an "Elevated Terrorist Alert Level" scrolls across the ticker on Fox News and suddenly need a change of underwear

GREEN STATES -- States being held hostage by Ralph Nader

YELLOW STATES -- States with low funding for indigent dental care programs

WHITE STATES -- States where the Starlight Vocal Band still performs to packed houses and mayonnaise sells by the gallon

PURPLE STATES -- States that Jerry Falwell refuses to visit because they are "one triangle away from supporting the gay community"

PINK STATES -- States that got thrown in the wash with the colors

BLACK STATES -- States that are really self-conscious about their weight but don't want to look thinner by dieting or exercising

No matter what your opinion is of organized religion, you have to admit that it makes people believe and do some crazy, stupid things and I'm not just talking about the mass genocide, horrific destruction and unncessary pain people inflict on each other in the name of God. I'm talking about the kind of stuff that would make God fire his publicity agent. "That's the last time you put my likeness on a grilled cheese sandwich!"

Pet Store Owner Claims Turtle Shell Contains Face of Satan But "Still Looks Better than Joan Rivers' Last Facelift"

Normally, a story about some crazed religious fanatic who claims to have a found the Shroud of Turin in his morning bowl of Alpha Bits wouldn't anger me this much. But this story kicked my blood pressure up a notch because not only was this story posted on CNN's website, it was posted ON THE FRONT PAGE. Was it under the "Offbeat" or "Entertainment" section? Hell no, it was listed as a "TOP STORY." If this story is on top, I don't want to know what's on the bottom. The same goes for Bill Clinton's sex life.

The owner of a pet store in Indiana said he discovered the Satanic reptile after a fire destroyed everything thing in his store except said turtle, which he named "Lucky." You know, if a fire destroyed my livelihood and the only thing that survived was a lousy turtle, I'd name it "Soup."

According to the owner, you can clearly see the face of Beelzebub on Lucky's shell including the devil's shoulder, horns and goatee, but only if you do about three hits of sunshine acid.

Say what you will about the director of the CIA but he's the most honest guy Bush has ever hired.

CIA Director Amazed His Job is So Hard, Can't Believe It's Not Butter

CIA Director Porter Goss in a public appearance so rare it will give you heart disease that his job is (and I'm quoting because making up quotes takes up too much of my time) "too much for this mortal." Will somebody get the limited edition "Lord of the Rings" box set of this guy's office and tell him to get back to work?

That's right, the man who's in charge of the Central Intelligence Agency (motto: shhhhhhhhhhhhh!) just told the world that his job is harder than the guy who proofreads Tolstoy's shopping list. Way to strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, Mr. Goss. Why don't you just drape a giant dress over the CIA building while you're at it? Also, Ashcroft won't be nervous about seeing the building's boobies.

Goss said he's so overwhelming by his job that requires him to wear a number of different hats as the CIA director, none of which inspire people to party, including having to spend five hours a day preparing and delivering President Bush's intelligence briefings. Well, no wonder he's so busy. If only Goss wouldn't have to use flash cards so much, maybe he could get some things done.

By the way, isn't this guy in charge of keeping secrets and shouldn't this be one of those secrets we keep from our (ummmmm) enemies? Let's hope he doesn't accidentally start writing down launch codes when he's building his own burger at Chili's.

Here's the deal, I can't begin to understand how hard your job may be. My daily duties consist of searching Google News for stories about Anna Nicole Smith and the Hilton Sisters. But if you've taken on one of the highest positions of power in the country and you can't do the job with the resources you have, tell the country how screwed your organization is in order to embarass people into doing their jobs, fix it yourself by firing the people who got hired because their uncle's brother works as a representative for Possum Stump, Arkansas or step the hell down. Like the soul crushing poster that hangs in my office of the kittty clawing his way back up the tree says, "Hang in there...you worthless corporate drone."

Normally, I don't post a lot of entertainment news on this blog because, as a comedy writer, the potential for hilarity in celebrity gossip and tell-alls are just too easy. Most times when I'm reading about Jennifer Lopez's latest nuptuals or Michael Jackson volunteering his time with the Vienna Boys Choir, I don't even have to write material. It's just rip and read. Case in point...

Actor Tom Sizemore Fakes Drug Test with Fake Penis

No folks, there's no joke in that headline. There's nothing fake about it (except for Sizemore's willy, of course). No artificial flavors or extra preservatives were added to it. The entire story can be summed up in that one headline. The only way this could've gotten funnier without my help is if a donkey was somehow involved.

Los Angeles County prosecutors said the actor was on probation for methamphetamine use and spousal abuse charges against his ex, and this is also something I didn't make up, former Hollywood madam Heidi Fleiss. Well, that explains where he got the fake penis.

He was required to take regular drug tests after a judge allowed him to leave the country to film a movie in Cambodia about the Southeast Asian prostitution trade. Oh dear God, could this cavalcade of seventh grade sexual snickering get any worse? Yes, it can.

Prosecutors said he's been caught once before trying to use drug test cheating device sold over the Internet including a similiar device called "The Whizzinator." Now if it were called "The Private Saver," then we'd really have something but you can't always get what you want.

One of my New Year's resolutions for 2005 was to do less rants about President Bush in my columns and drunken street ramblings for loose change by widening the scope of my sarcasm sniper rifle to stories outside of the political arena. I know I pick on him a lot, sometimes unfairly because he's one of the most widely loved and hated Republican presidents of our time with a checkered past and some wild ideas for the future. But as you can see later on in this story, Bush can't help but jump into the path of the bullet.

Canseco Uses New Book to Confess to Steroid Abuse, Accuse Other Players of Steroid Abuse, Encourage Literacy Among Today's Youth

According to the New York Daily News, Oakland A's big league batter and big time off-field batterer Jose Canseco has written a new book, which will be released through HarperCollins last this month, called "Juiced" in which he reveals to the world that not only did he use steroids during his baseball career but he also introduced them to Mark McGwire, Jason Giambi, Rafael Palmeiro, Ivan Rodriguez, Juan Gonzalez, Popeye, the Incredible Hulk, Mr. Clean and the guy who squirted the mustard on Harry Carey's hot dogs while he called games at Wrigley Field.

In fact, he claims he's so well known for spreading the use of steroids throughout the MLB that he called himself "The Chemist," the Daily News reported. He also said players used to call him "The Juice," but decided to change it later on since that sports nickname is less synonymous with steroids and more synonymous with murderers.

The book hasn't even hit the stands and it's got players, both current and former, running scared. McGwire's denied Canseco's claims as well as previous claims since he broke Roger Maris's home run record. Gregg Elkin, spokesman for the Texas Rangers, also denied abuse by past playrs. Darryl Strawberry also denied any such drug abuse. He wasn't named by Canseco, it's just a reflex for him at this point.

Here's the part about President Bush. As we all know, he once served as the Texas Rangers general managing partner since he wasn't as qualified to run the downtown Denny's in Arlington. Canseco said the problem was so widespread when he played for the Rangers in 1992 that he must have known about it. Of course, the White House denied Bush knew anything about the players when he ran the team. In fact, White House spokesman Scott McClellan noted during a recent press conference, "Back then, President Bush was so dumb..."

The team of reporters asked in unison, "How dumb was he?"

McClellan responded, "He was so dumb he thought a foul ball is what the players scratch when they're sitting in the dugout."