Alan Gutierrez

I find this disturbing. It is not funny. It is a “fake news” show from Fox News. Their answer to the Daily Show and the Colbert Report. When I heard it mentioned I searched and came across this clip of one of the segments on the Half Hour News Hour. Watch it. It will get you motivated for the coming political quadrennial. Update: I’m sorry about this post. If you do need to laugh now, please read
Charlie Brooker’s review.

In response to Bart Everson’s post Ugly, I considered the following. In addition, it might be further consideration about the nightmare I had, where I’d found I’d returned to Michigan to live. A Michigan booster addressed me in the comments, and I’ve neglected to respond.

I have a very confused sense of place. I live in New Orleans. I cannot leave. I cannot live anywhere else. I had a conversation recently, where I was asked how long I plan to say in New Orleans. I said I plan to die here, so the duration is any one’s guess. The follow up was a request to give three reasons why.

1. I am unemployable anywhere else.
2. I have absolutely no means by which to leave New Orleans.
3. After two weeks in any other city I am profoundly depressed. Since living in New Orleans this is much worse, because I am aware of the depression.

Which is to say that I am trapped in New Orleans.

Yet, I am delighted to be trapped in New Orleans, since it gives me the sense of place, and an entitlement to that sense of place, that I did not have before.

There is no sense of place to which I can return, no place to return. I am from Detroit originally, but my family left in 1976 when I was four. If I say that I’m from Detroit, people in the know will ask, are you really from Detroit? Which is to ask, which suburb of Detroit do you come from? By taking part in the economic evacuation of the Motor City, I’ve relinquished my claim.

I am from Huntington Woods, a suburb of Detroit. A nice suburb, but there is no sense of place. It is lovely housing stock, but it is housing, only housing. There is no place to return, no place to visit. Scotia Park? Burton Elementary? I sat in the park across from my childhood home a few years back, and was concerned that I’d get reported for loitering.

I’m learning how to enjoy my weekends.

On Friday evening, I wandered down to the recently reopened Fair Grinds, on Ponce de Leon off Esplanade, with my computer, with the intention of doing work. There was a band on the sidewalk playing and people where up and down the street, drinking wine from the wine shop, Sip, listening to music.

I’d wanted so dearly to do something anti-social for a change. The day had already been given over to PovertyPalooza at the Pierre Marquette Hotel. It was a burst of mingling with dear people, among a group who’s ambition was palpable. A dissonance that is exhausting.

Almost alone in the shop itself, I’ve unraveled my bluey, and laid out the MacBook, when Jared Michael Zeller taps me on the shoulder. I’m out the door in a few short minutes to get caught up with him. I want to regale him with tales of the orgy of self-congratulation at the Piere Marquette.

This corner of New Orleans has sprung to life now. Across the street at the fabulous and financially challenging restaurant Dega’s, Jeane Nathan is supping with her husband Bob Tannon. I must tell her how much I enjoyed her question about poverty earlier in the day. Not a question of course, but when the 1 Economy MC Rey Ramsey began to take questions, Jeane Nathan thanked him for the forum, and then made a number of, run of the mill post-flood political statements, that must have been in violation of Rey’s admonishment to not talk about political issues during the dialog on poverty. Public housing closed and going to waste, was what I recalled.

Indeed, Jeane confirmed that one of the muffins was calling cut, with a finger across the thought while Jeane spoke. My estimation of 1 Economy Corporation went down the last notch, from misguided to an all too clever scam. Invite your funders to a Donahue set, and walk through the audience asking them how they are alleviating poverty. A dog chasing it’s tail.

On Saturday, after a morning at Fair Grinds contending with task anxiety, I set out to teach an Internet Workshop on publishing at ThinkNOLA. This was an event hosted at Melanie and Ken Ehrlich’s house.

Ray Broussard stopped by to give me a ride. He was gracious enough to pick up the tab at Liuzza’s by the Track, where he had a catfish po’ boy and I had the phenomenal bbq shrimp po’ boy, with fresh cut French fries, and an Abita Amber in a frozen glass.

Melanie and Ken have a new home, the only one on the block, in their Gentilly neighborhood. They are across the street form the Holy Cross site. That has got to give them some hope for someday having neighbors again.

We had a little classroom already setup, coffee and cookies. K.C. King arrived. I proceeded to give a lecture on ranking and show them Google Analytics, to stress the importance of publishing. We all took a page on the Wiki and began to learn the ins and outs of Textile markup.

It went well. We decided to meet again next weekend and work further on the website.

Saturday night I was out until the wee hours, and rode home listening to birds chirping. I’d met Mimi Dimassa at Mimi’s on Franklin. But, Mimi doesn’t own Mimi’s. Mimi is developing a project to build homes using sprayed concrete. I interested her in the Road Home Unconference. I hope to hear from her this week.

The next day, I was dragging for being up so late. It was good to have been up late on a weekend for once. Not really the best way to spend a weekend however. I much preferred my Sunday night at Bacchanal, for the second weekend in a row.

It was packed. I ordered salmon and sat with the people with whom I stood in line. Exchanged stories about migration toward New Orleans with a woman that was also a Detroit toddler.

Then hours drifted by while I sat with another gal I’ve known these many months. We spoke with a couple visiting from Tennessee, first about New Orleans, then about immigration for a tick, and then onto the Iraq war.

Thus, I’ve heard two very kind things said to me this weekend. Melanie Ehrlich ended the lessons on Saturday saying, “I feel so empowered.” What a strange thing to hear from Dr. Ehrlich.

Then the kind fellow from Tennessee said that I should work for the State Department. Yes, I’m sure there was a subtle joke at my expense, but a much better way to end a discussion than to have to “agree to disagree.”

That was the weekend that was. Last weekend. it has taken me this many days to write this piece.

And ever. They drag. Last weekend, I promised myself that I wouldn’t worry assign myself tasks this weekend. It’s one thing to feel melancholic, it’s another thing to have your melancholy interfere with your work. No such interference, because there is no work for me this weekend.

My expectations were frightfully low. At the outset, saying that if you talk about levees, you’ll have the mike yanked, doesn’t seem like he’d have us talk about anything that I’d really care about, because I care so much about those levees.

But then, I’d resigned myself. They are having a conference. A catered conference at the Pere Marquette Hotel. A conference on poverty. Fine. I’m here. It’s not so odd.

The outburst? We’re listening to people speak, one person after another. There are questions from the audience. Guess what? Jeane Nathan drew my applause. Go figure. There were a lot of great moments from New Orleanians.

I’m ready to say something nice about the format, so I ask to speak. Unfortunately, while I was waiting I had an impulse control failure.

Our master of ceremonies introduces a woman from the Allstate Foundation. She talks about her work alleviating poverty. At Allstate they are always exploring new ways to alleviate poverty.

Everyone around me is rolling their eyes and squirming in their seats. It had to be said.

Pay your claims!

The fellow standing next to me sits me down. I lost my chance to speak. You might as well thank me for having it end on time.

The townhall roadies were upset at my outburst. One woman, at the end, a young and professional woman who’d been working some sort of sound board, stares at me in deathly earnest, and asks, are you from ACORN?

She had something to say to me. I wouldn’t hear it. Allstate is bullshit. You gaffed letting that woman speak here. While State Farm in indicted for RICO in Mississippi in the same week, no less. Big mistake. You should have done your homework.

I’m not from ACORN. I’m from Mid-City.

• Another Legal Victory Against Allstate.
• Allstate Agent 007: Gene Harper.
• Shell Game of Allstate Adjusters.
• Allstate Denied Claim We Never Made.

Later, the fellow who sat me down turns out to be from the organization, and was not much flustered by the outburst. Nice fellow. Which makes me feel that, like any organization, there are some people within it that are more comfortable with the human aspect of humans than most of my contemporaries.

It took me a while to learn myself.

The chatter afterwards was very good, which indicates that material was very good. There is a lot to learn from that particular audience. They are not afraid to talk about race, they are not afraid to relate their own experiences, and most of all, they are all New Orleanians who have an intimate knowledge of government, city, state and federal, as well as the quasi-governments they’ve formed to fill the void, to get things done.

I’d like to follow the Road Home Unconfernece with a HOUSING, FULL STOP Unconference, that can address the one issue that makes us all feel like we’re living on the fringes, from Lakeview to Treme, from Carrollton to New Orleans East.

Ray Ramsey, you wanted to get people talking about poverty. Here I am making your conference a success. I hope the organizers can see that.

I’ve been invited to a poverty conference tomorrow. Those two words together made me groan. When I mention it to any of the neighbors, the make that almost laugh exhale puff, because it is that close to being funny. I’m sure this is being conducted in New Orleans, because of the horrendous poverty exposed by the levee breech, but New Orleans residents have had too close a look at nonprofit world. They are launching a website as part of the event. Yes, website. Take that poverty! Poverty is an industry. This sounds like a trade show.

Last night I had a nightmare. I was back in Michigan. That was all. I’d gone back to Michigan. It was a horrible, horrible mistake. I did not now how I’d made it. I had to get back to New Orleans. I had no means. I woke up in a panic. I woke up in New Orleans.

Found this funny category in someone’s blog, someone who I don’t know. He categorizes prioritized, numbered articles in their own special category. It struck me as an idea for a blog. Everyday, take one of those articles that are the 10 things everyone should know, or the 7 things they don’t want you to know, or the 8 ways to drastically improve your whatnot, and link to it, but with a bullet list that has a maximum three word summary of each item. Dear reader, why trouble yourself with event reading the article? Have someone read it for you. Oddly, the authors of these articles would probably appreciate the incoming traffic. Via: links for 2007-05-20 by Edward Vielmetti.