Change of Plans

Being the dedicated employee that I am...I'm back on the road*. So, we just gonna do something different.




I assume y'all will have heard this classic rock....classic. Ballsy riffs and a squealing lead, hollered lyrics...classic. You should hear it on the gigantic speakers at Davis-Wade. It really comes to full throat on those arena sized speakers.

Of course, none of this changes the fact that the song is nonsense. These fella's were from New York or someplace. One of 'em might even have been a Canadian. It's painfully obvious that they looked at map and picked a town on the river...for the setting.

It's the tale of a Cajun lady that lives in Louisiana, across the Mississippi River from Vicksburg. I'm not saying a Coonass has never stopped for gas in Waterproof or Delta but, at that point on the river, you're a lot closer to Arkansas than you are Lafayette (Laugh-a-et). That's on the map. In spirit...you are in Arkansas.

She might as well have been living at the rest stop in Cleveland, Ohio where they sell Boudin.

"Boudin?"

"Yeah..it's a sausage they make in Louisiana."

"Yes ma'am," I couldn't help but chuckle, "I've ate a lot of Boudin. I just can't believe I'm seeing it here."

I was as polite about as I could be but, I immediately felt bad when I realized how disappointed she was that I had stole her thunder. I guarantee she had plenty more opportunities to wow the yokels round there. Besides, I was flabbergasted.

It weren't real Boudin anyway...you can't sell blood.

Anyway, I'll tell you what they do have in north Louisiana...the Robertsons.



A family of good'uns that have made a pile a money with handmade duck calls.

Sorry about the commercials..if the embeds even work...but, it's worth it. They play it up and clown but, between the lines you'll find the best representation of Southerners that's ever been on television.



If you live over here you've seen Duck Dynasty..or at least heard of it. I don't know how our British readers get American TV but, if you get the chance check it out.

Disclaimer for C...they hunt. They eat what they hunt though and don't eat meat if they didn't kill it themselves. I can't help but see that as a moral step up...they are off the grid and the meat Industry would go broke if it was up to these folks.




P.S. The Church of Christ is not a cult ninnies.

*Told y'all I'd go if it involved New Orleans.

Go GATAHS!



Tuesday I was in New Orleans. As usual I was driving around trying to find a place that I'd already been to a million different times. Freaking Mid City.

It did give me the opportunity to hear this exchange between a radio host and a real live, pure bread coonass...

Host..."Where?"
Budreaxbeaux Tibbadeaux..."I kayn...I kayn...you know whey dey tawk like dey English bu dey nah English,,You know..
Host: Uhh
B.T....You know...whey dey Cadolics and dey Padastans done get along too well.
Host..Ireland?
B.T....Yeeee AWLand...AWLAND...AWLAND...dem people was so nice to me.

Harmless, even charming, on a Tuesday morning, Deebeaux Budreaux...is a differnt creature all together on Saturday nights in the Fall when the Byooo Bangles...his Tigahs...take the field. Higher than Cooter Brown...and meaner than a cat box.

Big game today. LSU was picked to win The Conference at the begining of they year and they are undefeated. The Gators have surprised everybody with how they've been able to wear teams down.  They too are undefeated and both teams are ranked in the top 10.

In short, IT'S ON!

I'm ready(not pictured Mexcian Cokecolas, Mallow Cups and pint cans of Boddingtons).

Trivia: Our own Ronnie is a graduate of the Louisiana State University. We might have a thought for Ronnie Jr but, we will be ruthlessly wishing the worst for senior.

Of course, we can't let this pass without playing the most outrageously over-the-top intro video ever made...



Never ever gets old.

Thankfully the game's in Gainesville this year.

GO GATAHS!

Gators are in all Blue...haven't seen that in a while.

Already got a fight.

You got Knocked the.....OUT!

Field Goal?

Gators 0 - LSU 3.

If the Gators keep beatin' on 'em like that...it'll be a good day.

They are scrapin' after every play.

What a catch...great through to the OUTSIDE.

Great hit but not nearly as hard as the celebration...settle down clowns.

Put that in your crawfish boil beeot....!!!!!

All defense.

...and field position. Pure football. 

Another 3 and out for LSU. If this keeps up a blocked kick or a punt return will put the Gators up. 

CAAAAAAAAAAAARAP!

That's what we been waitin' for....interception Watkins!!!!

Good grief. There are teams in the NFL that don't have defenses this good.

Go Punter.

Shut 'em down.

What was that?

Look out now...the Gators are on the move.

FIRST DOWN!!!

Really?........................REALLY??????

Those were points they just fumbled away.

CHOMP! CHOMP! CHOMP!

Punt that ball!

Gillisllee is chimpping away at it...he'll break eventually.

Why Driskle Why???

Great stop at the end. This game should at least be tied.

Gators 0 LSU 6

There you go baby...North and South...North and South.

Right back where we were...field position and defense.

Reed.

Here comes Gillisillee baby...he's sneaky like that.

There's not gonna be anybody left on LSU's team if this keeps up.

Tack another 15 on it.

Finally using their speed against 'em...come on y'all.

TOUCHDOWN!!!!! TOUCHDOWN!!! TOUCHDOWN!!!!! TOUCHDOWN GILLISSILLEE!!!

GATORS 7 - LSU 6

 CRAP.

Wait...hold that crap...that looks like a fumble.

Gator BALL.

Gillissillee running WILD!

FIRST DOWN!

The Gators are droppin' the hammer like a blacksmith right now.

One quarter to go...the Gators haven't given up a point in the 4th quarter all year.

Gators 7 - LSU 6

Half the distance to the goal.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSS!!!! THat is LSU y'all that the Gators are pushing around...EEEEEEEEEELLLL ESSSSSSSS UUUUUUUUU.  THe Gators are BACK!!!! Back!!!! BACK!!!!!!!

GATORS 14 - LSU 6

The Gators are a steamroller right now.

Just one play...one play. They're back on 'em again now.

Nine minutes....which in football times is like an hour.

Gillissillee down hill....that's the headline.

Burn that clock....burn it down.

D####! 5:43 til victory.

In com pleeeetion.  Punt y'all...Punt.

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhh!

4th and 15....4th DOWN and 15!

Beautiful Punt LSU...beautiful punt.

1:42 y'all....1 minute and 42 seconds. First down Gators.

1:08.

:20...LSU has 20 seconds to score and pick up two point conversion.

:09...9 seconds

TURN OUT THE LIGHTS THE PARTY'S OVER!!!!!

HOW BOUT THEM GATORS!!!!!!!

A couple of quotes

Florida Gator Head Coach Will Muschamp: 

''That was typical 1980 SEC right there today,'' Muschamp said. ''It was a physical, physical match. ... That's the difference between playing in this league and these other leagues you watch on TV. I know you guys like all these points being scored, but the quarterback won't make it through the season in our league.''

Defensive End Dominique Easley:

''Them boys was huffing and puffing,'' Easley said. ''I was looking in people's eyes and they were scared. That's what we wanted. We wanted to take somebody's will. We like to take people's will, not just win the game. Make them remember this night.''

...and it's a wrap.



Treading Water

Yo Le Tango - Treading Water.


We are waiting...waiting for Isaac to turn hurricane. Waiting to see where it'll land. Waiting for Wednesday to see what, if anything, we're dealing with. Above all, waiting to make sure the **** cable's on Thursday night for South Carolina at Vanderbilt.

I was supossed to be on my way to Natchez this morning...then onto the Louisiana State Penitentiary...



Angola...red hats, Leadbelly, the Rodeo.

That trip's been cancelled. Not only are prisoners being transferred there from the Coast...people from south Louisiana have booked every hotel room from here to Dallas.

Folks are jumpy. If you live around here, especially south of here, hurricanes are just part of the territory. They don't come every year but they will come. Some are worse than others.

Kate was the worst one I sat through as a kid. Me and the Sister spent that night in the hallway just like them kids in the picture. Even in there we could hear the wind pushing against the house and pine cones pelted the roof at a rattling pace.

Of course, my parents, in true Cracker fashion, stood on the front porch gawking.

"Look a'dat."

"D'you see that?"

Turns out what they were watching was the glow of tornadoes that were bouncing dangerously around the house. Just as the storm started to show the first signs of slowing, my brother pulled into the drive way. He had spent the worst of it trying to find a place to buy cigarettes. HA!

The real disaster became clear the next morning when we realized that, instead of being cut loose for a week while the school was shutdown, we'd be spending every hour of daylight picking up limbs and raking.

Some are worse than others...then there's Katrina. Seven years ago today, on a creepily similar path to Isaac, she reached her most vicious strength. Next day she came ashore on the western edge of the Mississippi Gulf Coast and erased it. The counter clockwise sweep of the storm took care of the rest...a 30ft wall of water mauled everything in it's path. Houses were blown to atoms, floating casinos were picked up and moved half a mile inland. More than 200 Mississippians lost their lives. Jackson is 160 miles from the coast. Katrina hit it us as a Category 2 storm.

For a minute that was the story. Then the levees gave way in New Orleans. Even though Mississippi had taken Katrina in the teeth, the Gulf Coast was almost forgotten. I read a story in the Guardian a couple of years ago on the anniversary of the storm. It claimed that New Orleans had been hit by a 30ft storm surge.

It conjured up images of the Quarter being crushed by giant waves...of Andrew Jackson being toppled in his square and, most horrifying of all, Crescent City Books being turned to pulp. Not exactly...that's what happened to Mississippi...the extreme northeastern edge of New Orleans sticks out between Lake Pontchartrain and Lake Borgne.* Except over land, there isn't really a clear path from the Gulf to New Orleans. To be sure, the water came and it was a disaster but it was not an obliteration event like the Coast had suffered.

Of course, one reason Mississippi didn't make as many headlines was because our governor, Hailey Barbour, came out the next day and declared that looters would be shot...and everybody knew he meant it.

Anyway, Isaac is not Katrina...and maybe once it passes maybe people can get back taking these things in stride and I won't have to cancel my &*&^ plans and spend the entire week in the office.



A Katrina stump...trees killed by the storm have been carved into fish, dolphins and birds from Gulf Port to Waveland. Reminders but pleasant.

*The French Quarter in New Orleans sits against the Mississippi River and being on that side it avoided most of the damage.

Waffle House - Ephemera and Detritus

High Street Waffle House.

After the closing of Tastee Donuts in Fondern, and before the need for wi-fi, I lived there. Waffle House is a Southern Institution...you wouldn't pass it up if you were in these parts.

A couple of weeks ago, I stopped at a gas station in Poplarville to get a cup of coffee. As I leaned on the hood smoking a cigarette two cars pulled up and out poured 10 kids from Birmingham England. They were on their way from New Orleans to Memphis. Best I could tell they had been having the time of their life.

Two things they were most excited about at the moment...one, the Mug Shot papers. You'll find 'em in every gas station. It's just a little paper magazine that reprints the county mug shoots, booking photos, for that month.

"Ohhhh...somebody be'd going to jail over this back home."

And the food..."Waffle House...yeah Waffle House," it kinda echoed around the nodding group.

It wasn't uncommon for Brits to show up at High St. on their way to New Orleans. It was right off the interstate.

"How much farther?"

"Three hours maybe"

Slumped shoulders and a look of total defeat.

The food is scrumptious...when they're clean enough to eat in. Usually the first six months they're fine...then the retired hookers, drug dealers, etc. are moved in and it's a steady decent. Most of the clientele don't care...truckers, cops, working girls and students.

The place is open 24 hours...that's all you really need to know.

High St. was where I got through school and met half the people in my life...and this was my view.



I was sitting in that very spot the night that David Allan Coe asked if he and a very young, very Asian, very stoned woman could have the booth.



It's also the place where I met Allan...our Allan. I was there preparing to start at Millsaps. He was already a superstar there....preparing for a senior year that would end with three Oral and Written comprehensive exams. He left the place with a degree in History, Philosophy and Religious Studies. He would go on to receive a PhD in Philosophy and is now warping young minds in Mobile Alabama. He is most famous for holding the position of non-contributing Philosopher here at Flimsy Cups.



I also met Matt M. there...and for the next four years we spent hours there almost every day. Talking (mostly music and his lady troubles), smoking and drinking as much coffee as they could make. About $1.09 for a bottomless cup back then.



Matt's at Princeton now studying music.

There was Brannon...a kind of brooding figure that delivered papers in the morning and pizzas at night during his last year of high school. He had calculated every dime it would take to pay rent and buy groceries for four years of college. He'd have a hasbrown...but, no smother or cover. That 75 cents might be the difference between having a tube of toothpaste in March or brushing with baking soda.

He was also brilliant and, last I heard, a PhD candidate at Harvard...probably done by now.




The help were ambiguous about our presence. They'd clown with us sometimes...ask for rides home, try to sell us dope...growl about having to make another pot of coffee.

They had their own problems...bail bondsmen, the poleese, ex girlfriends.



What really makes a Waffle House besides never closing and the ash trays...is the sound. Stainless steel constantly banging and scraping on cast iron, the ring of plates spinning on linoleum, shouted orders, metal spoons pinging against ceramic coffee cups.

For someone who can't concentrate when it's quiet it was the best possible place to study...and I worked my way through school in that place. That and I doodled.



Sometimes both.

I have stacks of these little tablets...occasionally there are notes but, mostly just doodles and misc. thoughts.

Somehow it all worked out.

We aren't done with the Waffle House.

BOO! It's Books.

A lotta talk about the books on blogs this week.

I think there are a couple of reasons for this...one, people like to read. Two, a lot of people live in places where they're about to be shut in for the next couple of months.

I like readin' too I reckon. Mainly I like buying books but, what I really love is tormenting my friends and family.

This post isn't so much an effort to claim a tea cup at the book club, but to put Martha and Allan on the couch. Both of whom love books...and have a clinical obsession with order.*

Wackos.



That's me sittin' outside Beckham Books in the Quarter...burnin' one before I go in.

I needn't have bothered...they never have anything I want in there. Even for the book sniffers there's nothing...too many dirty cat boxes. I'd tell you to skip it but, if you're the kind of person that goes to these places...you're gonna go anyway.



Crescent City Books. We've been here before but the last picture wasn't nearly this crappy...and it didn't have a cat in it.

On this particular day I paid 25 bucks for a book on French Imperialism in Senegal. I found the same book for 10 dollars later that day but, that place didn't have a cat to feed.



Here's where the magic really happens...Arcadian Books. The place can't be much bigger than your dinning room....



...and this is the glorious result.

Relax you two...it's just a picture. You aren't actually there and the room isn't actually spinning.

Besides, this cat's got it under control.



Just ask 'im where something is. Besides, even though he's only got about a tenth of the space, it's still not as bad as Choctaw.

Speaking of books and Jackson...dig it.



This old place used to be a favorite of Mississippi legislators...evidently the state was practically run out of there at one time. According to Harry down at Choctaw...a blind drunk William Faulkner was often tucked into bed there by Eudora Welty.

The coolest thing about the Sun-n-Sands was the dance floor. Six by six parquet floor in front of a juke box. It would've been an effort to get two people on it at the same time...but worth it I'm sure.

Anyway....
________________________________________________________

Aside from books, there's also been a lot of talk of malaise...a lack of inspiration.

Look how easy it is y'all...just post some really bad photos and make a few asinine remarks. Failing that you could draw inspiration from your surroundings...which I'm assuming for some of y'all is gonna look a lot like this til April.



Night.

*I've got my fingers crossed that Adam also falls into this category. I think it's a safe bet.

Canal Buuuuullll-uhhhhh-vaaaard - A Devious Turn

I'm claiming victory over the po-leese.

It's costing me 110 bucks. It's worth every penny. Obviously they've decided that no man among them, even if they could find one, can catch me.

They've had to resort to unmanned predator drones to follow my every move.

Thursday night, I got a letter from the City of New...processed in ohio by the way...they got yankees doing their dirty work. "Evidently" I was speeding. There's a picture of the truck, on Canal Boulevard, passing a speed limit sign that reads 20....absolutely no indication of the speed at which I was driving when the picture was took.

They tried this crap in Mississippi and it went over about as well as you would expect in these parts. Inanimate objects cannot issue tickets in this state. An actual human being has to catch you doing something.

Punks, should have just sent a white handkerchief in the mail.

On the Road - Hubig's Pies

It's occurred to me that, given all the time I spend on the road, as a service to my readers, I should start to compile the vast knowledge I've acquired into something like a survival guide. Not only do I have the experience that comes with spending 72 hours a week behind the wheel but, it also fits in with my natural tendency to be always thinking of others...rarely thinking of myself.

A compendium of things like how to navigate when your GPS is on the blink...or how to maintain a properly functioning vehicle...



You can leave your wife and kids behind but, your health travels with you.



We'll keep an up to date list of exactly where to get donuts and cheap cigarettes when travelling in Mississippi and Louisiana.

Our first installment concerns the proper (by negative example) procedure for heating a Hubig's Famous New Orleans Style pie on the dashboard.



Just because I spend my days going in and out of the finest kitchens in the Southeast doesn't mean I get to eat in 'em. Besides, a true hallmark of the Road Warrior is not having the time for proper meals. If you want to eat meals...go work for wages. It takes caffine, sugar and, intestinal fortitude to live this life.

Hubigs Pies...delicious in any state but, like anything involving butter solids, heavenly at room temperature. That's when the magic happens...crumbly becomes flaky...viscous becomes gooey. There's always the microwave, but....



...you run the risk of burning a hole between your mouth and your nasal cavities.

The better option is your dash. Granted there is an abundance of sunshine where I live and even on a chilly day it beats down enough warmth to melt butter on a dashboard. If you "live" in colder climes...you'll be running the heat.

What you don't want to do is what I did last week on the way back from Baton Rouge. Conditions were perfect..not only was the sun brightly shining but, it was a cool day and I had the heat set to a gentle warmth. I watched that Hubig's Apple on the dash all day long. Letting the anticipation build...at times I could smell it. My mouth would water. I would resit. This was going to be my treat for the last leg of the trip...coffee at the McDonald's in McComb and my delicious fried apple pie.

I was set when I pulled back on the I-55 headed towards Brookhaven. In a couple of miles the coffee would cool enough to drink and it would be time to rip that brittle paper open on the form of delicious.

"WT..."

The bottom of my pie was perfectly soft to the touch...but, the top was like a block of dry ice. I had let the sun set on my pie. Evidently 50 degrees hitting your windshield at 80 miles an hour, in the dark, turns the thing into a freezer coil. Disaster...or, it would have been if not for the Mackdonald's coffee. After 10 miles, the temperature of the coffee had dropped down to just above the boiling point. I was able to cool my coffee to a potable temperature and heat my pie right up to the melting point.

Adapt and overcome. That's how you survive on the road.

Canal Buuuuullll-uhhhhh-vaaaard - Right on Canal.

Back to Hattiesburg... http://flimsycups.blogspot.com/2011/11/canal-buuuuullll-uhhhhh-vaaaard.html

I had an appointment on Vicksburg St. in New Orleans...and I've just gotten an abbreviated version of the directions, that I forgot, over the phone from Martha.

"Ok then...right on Canal, right on Harrison, right on Vicksburg. Got it. Thanks Sugar."

What could possibly go wrong?

Well, nothing between Hattiesburg and Canal St. I could drive that blind folded...in the rain. I was feeling pretty smug as I got closer to the exit. The appointment wasn't for another hour and a half. I'd cruise by the address just to make sure (we're still talking about New Orleans after all). Then head down in the Quarter for a binget and some coffee, a smoke. I got this ****.

"What the...?"

The exit was not where it should have been. I had to cross over Canal to get to it. In the Grand Scheme of Things, no great sin against the proper placement of Interstate Exits but, in relation to my directions, it was the start of a series of missteps that wouldn't end for another hour and twenty-nine minutes.

Entering Canal from that direction meant that a right turn would take me into The Quarter...or along the edge of it. Canal, at least in my mind, is it's eastern border. It's probably actually the southern border but, who can keep up? At any rate, Canal is a boundary of The Quarter and runs perpendicular to the River...'course it probably ends at a bend making it an acute or, more likely, an obtuse angle. All the angles in New Orleans are obtuse.

That was a problem for a couple of reasons. One, I was "certain" that I should be heading away from the river. I had mentally mapped out the directions in my mind and this wasn't right but, given my track record in that area, how could I be certain of anything.

Secondly, I was looking for Harrison St. Not a very French sounding name but, then again...all the Quarter streets change names and become more sensibly Anglo once they cross Canal. Chartes St. becomes Camp, Burgundy becomes University, Marais St. becomes Villeres...wait a minute. Anyway, you get the picture. It's possible that Brie or Grenouille St. could, once they cross Canal, become Harrison.

I was still deliberating as I pulled up to Canal...and decided to just go with the directions and turned right toward the river...when this came on the FM....



For the next couple of minutes I didn't care where I was headin'...

_________________________________________________

Pictures for the Mayor...



Central Grocery



Muffaletto

Canal Buuuuullll-uhhhhh-vaaaard.

I left the house at O-Dark Thirty this morning and headed to New Orleans. It's only a three hour drive, I didn't have to be there until noon but, I didn't know exactly where I was going. I did have directions but I know how helpful those can be in Mid City.

I once drove in circles 'til I got dizzy trying to make sense of the relationship between Canal St and Carrolton...and I had a flippin map and a compass. It can be a nightmare down there. Streets change names when they cross boulevards and avenues. Worse still, these roads often determine the directional designation of a street. In other words, whether a street is called north or south has nothing to do with the direction that it travels but whether it is north or south of certain roads. You can be driving on South Crazy St heading west...or maybe even north.

The place is a giant crescent, Crescent City, but the streets aren't laid out like a spider web...that would be too deliberate and regular. The maps look like The Boy's attempts at drawing a cat..and street signs are put up with a nonchalance that only New Orleans could achieve.

So, I had no expectation that the directions would get me exactly where I was going but they'd get me close enough to be guided in by phone. Between an early start and my approximate directions I was in good shape...or so I thought as I smoked a cigarette, drank coffee, outside of a gas station in Hattiesburg. Then the phone buzzed in my pocket.

"Hey Sugar."

"Uhm...I've got a set of directions here. Did you need those?"

"Awwwwww CRAP! Let me get something to write on."

I tried to tell myself it was no big deal. Martha had the directions...just write Em down...no problem but, I knew I was in trouble.

"Just start at Canal," gee great, "I know Canal's in there right?"

I was trying to keep the details to a minimum...genius.

"Yep you get off the Interstate at Canal and turn right...then you make a right turn on Harrison...Oh my.," oh no, "it looks like you'll have to drive about thirty miles to get to Harrison."

WHAT THE...assuming my vague, spinning, mental picture of the area was correct...that'd put me in the middle of Lake Ponchatrain!

"No..no. Wait. Harrison is right there off the exit...right on Canal, right on Harrison and then right Vicksburg."

"Ok then...right on Canal, right on Harrison, right on Vicksburg. Got it. Thanks Sugar."

At that I was still pretty confident I'd get where I was going. I had hours to get there and a general direction of where I needed to be. In New Orleans, sometimes, that's all you can hope for. I stubbed out the smoke, climbed in the truck and me and Elvis headed south on 49...



to be continued

The Week That Was...Maybe

I'm desperately tryin to get back to Jackson. Took me three hours to get from New Orleans to McComb, Mississippi...birthplace of Bo Diddley and Brittany Spears.

Road WORK!

I'm ready for the last 60 miles...I gotta cokecola, a bag a cold boiled peanuts, and two moon pies for the road. Just try and stop me.

Before I head out for the last leg...here's a quick runndown of the week. A list of events, one from each day, that were more interesting than the dissolution of REM.

Monday...it rained during my drive to Oxford.

Tuesday...I almost died when I inadvertently ate an under cooked piece of gator meat.

Wed...we had some work done on our roof. In the process a horde of misquotes descended on our yard like panties on the stage at a Tom Jones Concert.

Thurs...I heard OOPS I Did It Again on my way to Louisiana.

Fri...I got burned for ten bucks on a book at Crecent City in New Orleans...and then I ate two Moon Pies on the way home.

That's it...as far as I know.

No Smoking at the Old Absinthe House

New Orleans.

I had a call in Chalmette yesterday and after it was over I went down into the The Quarter.



Just as stanky as ever. Bourbon St. runs through the middle of the quarter like an open sewer line. It produces this violently acrid cloud of stale beer, urine and vomit that grudgingly dissipates the closer you get to the river.



Of course, state law prohibits you smoking in The Old Absinthe House so you needn't worry about your health down there. Get blind drunk and pass out on the steps of one of those dank strip clubs ridiculously billed as a Cabaret...your plans of living forever will not be affected.



That's Bourbon St. though and despite it there are some lovely places in The Quarter.



You can even get books down there.



Crescent City Books.

Of all the bookstores around...Square Books, Lemuria, Choctaw (Allan's favorite...they use a peculiar shelving system there that really puts his mind at ease and allows him to linger so he can find the title he's huntin) are all great and all have their specialties. Crescent City caters to mine. That's the British History shelves (complete with the mandatory separate section for Winston Churchill). Africa, India and the rest are well represented too. I've got a book in my bag from there now...The Rise and Fall of the Asante Empire. On my shelves at home, among others, are a copy of The Pro-Boers, a review copy of The Seed is Mine, and a collection of Boer primary documents translated into English (you try to find it). I love that place.

I'll tell you what else I love.... muffalettas!



There's no better place to get 'em than Central Grocery.



You just can't beat the place...that's all.



I had a half...washed it down with a frigid root beer.

Then it was time to go.



I've got a few calls in Picayune, Mississippi...which means one thing.



Paul's Pastry.

I'm a little worn out with the road and can't wait to get home to the boy and Martha...but, I reckon there are worse places to be away from home.

Post #8

I-aam-sit-ing-onn-the-paa-tee-o.

I've been on the road the last four days...down one side of Louisiana and up the other.



It did exactly what it looks like it's about to do...I was still an hour and half on the interstate from where I was goin'. It was blinding rain, in the dark, on Louisiana roads...and was about as much fun as it sounds.



I know the roads in Mississippi are like a washboard, but at least they weren't drawn up by a blind man at an OTB taking instructions from a witch doctor sittin' in the corner eatin on a buttered, purple candle. I've been in New Orleans a hundred times...I had a map y'all and a compass in the car and still it took me 40 minutes to figure out how Canal and Carrolton related to one another...I'm still not sure I got it figured out.



Anyway, I made it...got a Central Grocery muffaletta, carried it around for a couple of hours...hmmm hmmm hmmmm...washed it down with an ice flecked root beer.

I-am-eat-ing-aaa-sand-wichhh.