Super Beehive

Here's a festive hair style for that ultimate in retro look! The mid-1960's beehive. Imagine wearing that one to teach in; or to wear to an academic department meeting! Living on the edge? Here's one for Sunday School.

I'll bet that would look absolutely fine on Rodeo Drive or Fifth Avenue!

But I'll pass. The Bardot twist was too high maintenance for me. This one also looks like hard work. Will the mussed up look ever pass?

What to Worry About Next?

What to worry about next?

It would seem that the coronavirus, the usual stupidity in Washington, and the hijinks occurring in Baton Rouge (and several state capitals near you!), there would be enough on the fearmongers' plates. Well, you could toss in the two major political parties to serve as sources of amusement and network television. 

But no: there's more!

It seems that Orleanians Hilda Walspurgis and Anna Pacquin are stormily indignant over another peril to threaten the peace of proper New Orleans* citizens.

It seems that we now have to worry about 5G!

Okay. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!

It seems that 5G is the latest development in cellular microwave transmissions. Clearly the next level over 4G, and light years better than 3G.

(Our state of finances could always use a few G's in the ole bank account.)

Anyway, this 5G allegedly causes cancer, autism, even possibly hemorrhoids. Well, I'm exaggerating; but only a little.

Some people always have to have something to fear. I suppose the boogerman looks under the bed each night to see if Chuck Norris is there!, 

Anyway, they went around St. Cletus's Parish neighborhood with a petition to stop 5G. 
Their technique to obtain names was two-pronged, using both the carrot and the stick approach. Anna wore some serious décollété (the carrot, maybe?), and Hilda served up the stick with her doomsday threats.

But, mostly, they got a lot of signatures against 5G so that people would get off their backs. Damned nuisance petition-mongers!

*Pronunciation note: Most natives call it 'New Orlins' in most of the city. Pretentious Uptowners and lousy songwriters say 'New Or-leenz.' Only idiots and sarcastic Yankees call it 'Nawlins.' For true! Darlin, it gets further complicated. New Orlins is in 'Orleenz Parish. So much for consistency being the hobgoblin for small minds.

The Prophetess and Crazy Chester Meet the Fifth Horseman

Well, peeps, you've heard of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: they are commonly reckoned as War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death. Now it happened that Madeline the Prophetess and Crazy Chester ran into a fifth one: Rude Mannered Turistas.

Running into strange sorts is commonplace if you're down in New Orleans's French Quarter in the wee hours of the morning, especially away from the Tourists. New Orleans has always been tolerant of weirdness. Drunks, mischievous youths, and Turistas sporting berets for the duration we can deal with. However, Madeline and Chester ran into a new twist.

It happened innocently enough. Chester and Madeline were talking; just commenting on trivia (both were good at wasting-time talk. And they were talking in the language of Descartes and Pascal.

Oops! Maybe Justin Wilson and Dave Robichaux. Yes, they were using a dialect of French and Louisiana Creole mixture. To be candid, the French as spoken in New Orleans's French Quarter would cause the hoity-toity Parisian to shudder! (They're linguistic purists there.)

And, without any preamble, this loud and brassy middle-aged women approached them and bawled them out:

"This is the United States. Talk English!"

So Crazy Chester goes to Madeline, "The United States? When did this happen?"

"And Madeline replies, "I dunno. Missed that item now that the Picyaune is no longer around." She was alluding to the fact that the T-P was bought out by a Baton Rouge paper (Good Lord!). And everyone knows that there be monsters upriver, on the other side of the Bonnet Carre Spillway, and no one should risk his immortal soul by venturing there.

The rude-mannered visitor decided that those two were psycho.

Thanking the Saints in the Times-Picyaune

The old Times-Picyaune had a delightful quirk that definitely made it part of the scene in Old and Present-Day New Orleans: thanking the saints in the personals section of the classified ads in the T-P. 

No, not the New Orleans Saints football team; the heavenly saintly numbers like in "When the Saints Come Marching In!"

Yes, in the personals you can see the usual:

I am applying for clemency.

I am responsible for no other debts than my own.

I am applying for a license as notary public.

In other words, the usual sort of business that personals ads carry.

But, for many years, the  old Times-Picyaune would also have these peculiar saints ads:

Thanks to the Little Flower for hearing my prayers.

Thanks to St. Jude for favor granted.

Thanks to St. Aloysius for the Saints winning.

Thanks to St. Anthony for answering my prayers.

St. Expedité answered my prayers. Thank you!

Apparently, whatever be the questionable merits of the New York Times or the Washington Post, apparently the Times-Picyaune was celestially home-delivered and had a saintly following.

A Unit of Male Coolness

Background

Previously, a unit of feminine beauty, the millihelen, has already been proposed.  This useful concept, based on the conceit that because Helen of Troy was rumored to cause the launching of a thousand ships, you could express the degree of feminine beauty in terms of how many ships a given female would she cause to be launched.  For example, if Heidi Klum inspired the sailors of 44 ships to go out, she would warrant a rating of 44 millihelens.  And Britney Spears would draw the exertions of ten ships, gaining her 10 millihelens.

Guys, of course, are not required to be beautiful.  As a matter of fact, evolutionary psychologists have proposed the women choose potential mates on the basis of being a good provider, having higher status, liking children (and pets), being ambitious and industrious, being dependable, having athletic process, and  having good health.  Less emphasis is placed on physical attractiveness, except as a possible index of good health (Buss, 2004).  However, many of those important traits may be summarized in terms of how cool the guy manages to be (or dissemble).

The Concept

I am indebted to the movie, The Tao of Steve, for this idea.  In that movie, the male protagonist noted that really, really cool guys tended to be named Steve.  For example, the actor Steve McQueen, still charismatic in the reruns of The Magnificant Seven, The Getaway, and Bullitt, and the Hawaiian detective character Steve McGarett of the oldie Hawaii Five-o.  Does coolness devolve to Steveness?  Perhaps so; therefore, if we could express how cool a guy is in terms of how much Steveness he has, we'd have a workable measure.

Therefore, I propose the unit of measure, the millisteve.  A man (or boy) measuring one millisteve has one/thousandth the degree of coolness of Steve McQueen.

Some Examples

My extra X-chromosome entitles me to an opinion on this, okay?

Name	Millisteves
Matthew McConaughey	33
Hugh Jackman	28
Patrick Swayze	21
Rob Lowe	17
Charlie Sheen	14
Hugh Grant	11
John Wayne*	8
Robert Redford	6
Alec Baldwin*	2
Justin Bieber	-30

*Grossly overrated.

And Now, Something for the Guys:

Implications for Males

Once you all get this point in mind, you guys can score a winning impression and possibly score in other ways, too.  [Swear now that you will use this information for good only!]  I'll admit, women and girls are confusing for males who are inclined only toward the black-and-white obvious and unable to get subtleties.  After all, how good are they at getting hints?  And, they're well-known to be disposed to like action movies or the Three Stooges.

Here's the essence.  Just ask yourself, What Would Steve Do?  (WWSD!)  And do the same.

Yes.  Be Steve.

     Buss, D. M.  (2004).  Evolutionary Psychology, 2nd ed.  Boston: Allyn and Bacon.

Earl K. Long, Known as "Uncle Earl"

Earl K. Long, one of the Governors of Louisiana, was elected to three nonconsecutive terms as Governor in the period of time between the late 1939s to 1960. As a matter of fact, he died while running for the U.S. Senate. He was flamboyant, to say the least! He was a progressive, 1950's-style in the South. He even had a lady friend who was a mainstay on Bourbon Street and was tucked away for a time in one of the state's mental hospitals. He got out by firing the Superintendent.

His older brother was Huey Long.

He had been referred to as "The Last of the Red-Hot Papas."

He was the subject of this rockabilly song by Jay Chevalier:

Another Session of EN 455, Victorian Poetry

Another session of EN 455, Victorian Poetry:


Dr. Smathers (Visiting Professor from the United Kingdom): Today we will discuss a poem by one of the most beloved of Victorian poets: "Pippa Passes," by Robert Browning. Can any of you scholars give us some insights into the poem, its theme and message?

Mike Brown (a member of the football team): Uh, it's about this chick named Pippa; and she's got a very gifted arm. She's a triple threat, as she can execute the option three ways, and passes accurately for 50 yards!. Because of that, she's the first girl to make the varsity, and may eventually be a pro prospect.

Belinda Cortez (a pre-med major): You would make a lewd interpretation on that poem.  Actually, it's a poem about the success of her eliminative processes.

Mike Brown:  That's a very alimentary conclusion.

Dr. Smathers: Now, Ms. Cortez, I think that you might have missed the optimistic message: God's in His heaven/All's right with the world!  How does that fit in?

Belinda Cortez: She had a successful movement; and she has afterwards that satisfied feeling. My boyfriend and my dog both always feel better when they have successfully pottied.

Mike Brown: No, she completed a pass for a touchdown!
Tom Wilson: Touchdown is the clown in As You Like It.

Dr. Smathers: No, the poem is about a young, silk-winding girl who wandes innocently through the region of Asolo, kindness and virtue to the people she passes. As she sings her song she influences others to act for the good — or, at the least, reminds them of the existence of a moral order. 

Dewayne Fontenot: %$%+$$!-oh?
Clarissa Tyler: She was also known for her ass.

Dr. Smathers: I don't recall any beast of burden mentioned in Robert Browning's poem.

Kate Thomas: No, silly. Pippa's the sister of the model who married Prince William!  She has a Kardashian bum.

Dr. Smathers: Kardashian bum? Would you please clarify for the class that term you used . . . . I don't think you were referring to a vagrant?

Kate Thomas: You know, Kim Kardashian. She has a lot of junk in her trunk.

Later on, Dr. Smathers went into the English Department office.

The Secretary: Smathers, how did it go?

Dr. Smathers: Oh, they talked, for a change. But I got more than I bargained for.  I'm not au courant on modern slang.  Somehow the class wound up talking about debris in the boot of a Ms. Kardashian's auto.

The Secretary: Never end a sentence with a preposition.  One day you will learn to understand us Americans.

Comment on the Coronavirus

There is some serious stuff going on, and it's time to stop pussyfooting and get serious about it. This coronavirus is real, and should not be taken lightly. Yes, there is a broad range of symptoms that can occur, ranging from very unpleasant to life-threatening. And, presently, there is no vaccine. There may be one in the undetermined future; but right now all we can manage is a holding action.

Right now we don't know how many casualties will occur from it; but we should recognize that the loss of anyone's life is not acceptable. Because of this, all of us should take up the practice of social distancing. And hygiene. Scrub your hands. Wear disposable gloves. If you think you have symptoms, try to get tested. Lay a supply of provisions; but don't hoard. And profiteering from this crisis is beyond disgusting.

And, above all, start caring about our fellow man. And act with sense.

Now is the time to put our political and social differences behind us. These divide us at a time when we have long past our luxury of petty arguments. All of us are in this together; we may handle it if we're on the same page.

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I regret to write that I have now enabled moderator control of comments. After nearly ten years I have to take this step. Sorry. I do value your thoughts -- but I do not want to provide an occasion for someone to indulge his sick fantasies. You know what I mean . . . .

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Happy St. Patrick's Day to you all. Here's a cheerful-sounding, yet pointed song "If I Should Fall From Grace With God" by the Irish folk-punk group The Pogues:

For those preferring a more traditional sound, here's the  Clancy Brothers singing "Rising of the Moon."

I did a St. Patrick's Day post once before. Here's a twist on the meaning of Erin Go Bragh. Anyway, in this time of coronavirus worries, it's important to keep our spirits up.

Erin go Bragh!

Angel

The Ecumenical Prayer Session

In a wholesome spirit of Ecumenicism, the Real Deal Baptist Church and St. Cletus Parish decided to hold a joint prayer session, singing, and miniature golf tournament. After all, Brother Bob and Father Devereaux, both experienced in the foibles of their flocks, figured nothing could possibly go wrong by offering a mixed schedule.

But -- wait! This is New Orleans.

It was true. Missy Chauvin on Action News television slipped in a good word for the prayer session/singing. Moreover, the audience got a bump up because Action News also carried an announcement as follows:

"Nude party held at political meeting; details at ten!"

Now if there's anything that juices up interest in New Orleans, it's Saints football, scandal, and sheer quirkiness. Oh well, two out of three ain't  bad. Orleanians like their religion in small doses; fifteen-minute sermons tops! Especially if the Saints have an afternoon game.

Well, Brother Bob and Father Devereaux expected a small turnout for their efforts. However, Suzette the Existential Stripper decided to enter into the festivities as a way of riding the coattails of the free-lance stripper business. (She also did paint-stripping; she ain't proud, nohow!) And the Bearcat Marching Band, hoping for free glimpses and publicity, came around too.

The general confusion got the two events confused. Alas, neither Father Devereaux nor Brother Bob planned a political meeting; but that's how the mentis populi took it. 

Folks got too much politicking, and they got tired of this Lent thing right away. 

And there were a few people out there that were just jonesing for a miniature golf tournament! As far as they could tell, nobody had to give up miniature golf for Lent!

Note to prudes: This DOES NOT require action!

[I wrote this  before the apparent need for social distancing. I think that both Brother Bob and Father D. would have eschewed large gatherings now.]

Happy Pi Day, you all!

The Correct Pronunciation of New Orleans

Now that Mardi Gras is past, and the local devout are into Lent, it's time to mention again that there is a correct way to pronounce the largest city in Louisiana but; a number of incorrect ways.

First off, it ain't N'Awlins. God Almighty! That sound is discordant to the ears of the locals. Don't even say that in fun. It is likely to be taken as making fun of Orleanians' accents. Perhaps some Lakeview Yat* or some uptown debutante or some Gentilly good old boy will kick you soundly in the seat for saying that!

Also, don't ever call it New ORLEENZ! Yes, I know; those damned songs use that pronunciation; but it ain't right! N.O. locals tend to roll their eyes.

It's correctly "Way down yonder in New Orlins."

Check this out from Business Insider.




*Like me. I'm a proud Yat.

The Political Campaign

Well, Crazy Chester was finally persuaded by some locals in the city ward to run for the legislature.

Yes, he dropped his scally hat into that charmed circle of pols without the blessing of the local ward heeler. Needless to say, the odd crew at St. Cletus's Parish and the local Baptists found him a breath of fresh air despite his connections with the local underworld. So, with Suzette as his campaign manager, he launched into a vigorous campaign of impromptu speeches at local bars, Knights of Columbus Halls, and the rubber chicken dinners before business groups.

Naturally, he still traded in numbers; this was before the racing season when there was only football and politics going on. People get darned tired of those, and long for something with flavor since the local politicians seem to have sent their mistresses to the Gulf Coast of Mississippi for sun and invisibility from the snooping tabloids.

Actually, Crazy Chester almost dropped out of the race. It happened inadvertently; Crazy Chester dropped into Mass at St. Cletus's' and Father Devereaux gave a sermon on the inadvisability of consorting with bad companions. Now Chester dealt with grifters, numbers-runners, 'gentlemen's club' entertainers, and locoweed sellers on a daily basis; but he wondered if he was crossing that Plimsoll line of moral turpitude. After all, the Louisiana Legislature is not known as a place for choirboys!

He expressed his anxieties regarding his candidacy to Prophetess Madeline; but felt better when he saw her wearing a "You Get Better Odds with Chester."!

  "We know of no spectacle so ridiculous as that of the British public in one of its periodical fits of morality." -- Lord Macaulay

New Orleans gets these fits of morality too; but a few sazeracs are the usual cure.

*Still, the local talent palls when compared to the REAL professionals: Congresspersons.

An Aggie Joke

The professors at A&M were having their weekly staff meeting when one teacher spoke up and said "Do you people realize we have a student here who has been attending classes for over nine years and he still hasn't received a degree?" 

"Why no, we didn't know that.  What can we do? We don't want A&M to get a bad name!"

" I know," one teacher said, "Let's gather all the students at Kyle field and give this guy a pop test. Something simple he can't possibly miss, and then we will hand him his diploma."

The next day everyone was gathered in the stadium. The teacher announced over the PA system, "Now, ponder, if you can answer this question, you will become a graduate of Texas A&M. Okay?"

"Okay," he said. 

"Now take your time and answer this. How much is 3 plus 4?" 

The student was deep in thought for a long period of time. 

Finally he spoke. "The answer is 7!"

The crowd went into an uproar and started hollering, whooping, and chanting, "GIVE HIM ANOTHER CHANCE, GIVE HIM ANOTHER CHANCE !"

Crass Bumper Sticker

While innocently driving on I - 10 (if that can be loosely accepted), I saw one of the more tasteless bumper stickers to ever grace a vehicle. Later, I googled it; and found a surfeit of examples of this genre:

Now, in some benighted universe, if I should happen to be a passenger in a car with this sticker, I would display a sign:

                    I bought gas!                    

Some Jokes

Joe took his blind date to the carnival. "What would you like to do first, Kim?" asked Joe. "I want to get weighed," she said. They ambled over to the weight guesser. He guessed 130 pounds. She got on the scale; it read 110 and she won a prize.

Next the couple went on the ferris wheel. When the ride was over, Joe again asked Kim what she would like to do. "I want to get weighed," she said. Back to the weight guesser they went. Since they had been there before, he guessed her correct weight, and Joe lost his dollar.

The couple walked around the carnival and again he asked where to next. "I want to get weighed," she responded. By this time, Joe figured she was really weird and took her home early, dropping her off with a handshake.

Her roommate, Laura, asked her about the blind date, "How'd it go?" 

Kim responded, "Oh, Wauwa, it was wousy."

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A salesman went out of town for business. After a couple of weeks he came home and told his wife about it. 

"Guess what dear, I earned 4000 dollars by selling 50 mattresses and 30 pairs of panties." 

The wife replied, "Really, well with just one mattress and no panties I earned twice as much." 
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Boudreaux was called up to the Louisiana National Guard. Because he was a smooth talker the CO put him in charge of explaining benefits to new recruits.

After a week the CO noticed Boudreaux had a 100% sign up rate for supplemental insurance. Impressed, the CO sits in on one of Boudreaux’s sessions.

“If you boys goes to Afghanistan and you gets yoself kilt, the gubmint pays you benefishary $50,000. But if you gets the supplemental insurance, which only cost tirty dollas a month, the gubmint pays you benefishary $400,000.”

"Now, which ones of you do you think are gonna be sent first?"

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—A priest, a minister and a rabbi are discussing when life begins. The priests says, “It begins at conception.

The minister says, “Life begins at 24 weeks gestation.”

The rabbi says, “You are both wrong, Life begins when the kids move out of the house and the dog dies.”

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A guy is recounting his previous night's drunken adventure to his buddy.

"I'm telling ya man. This is the best bar in the whole city. Every Friday night they have all you can drink specials for $2. And the best part... a sorority house is right next door and the place is just filled with young, gorgeous, single, women."

"Well let's go next Friday then!"

"Aye, and that's where the problem lies. Like I said, it was all you can drink, so I had my fill and my memory is pretty fuzzy. All I can remember about the place is it had big purple double doors in the front and a golden toilet in the restroom."

"A golden toilet?"

"Aye, a golden toilet. Even in my blacked out state I can remember thinking how strange it was for the toilet to be painted gold."

The pair decide they are going to find this bar with the $2 drinks, gorgeous gals, big purple doors, and a golden toilet. The next Friday they head out and catch a cab. They explain to the cab driver what they are looking for and he says it doesn't sound familiar, but if it's in this city he will find it.

So, after driving all over town without much luck they finally pull up to this little dive bar and lo and behold it has over-sized double doors painted a bright purple. The guy gets excited and tells his buddy, "I think this is it!"

The bar hasn't opened up yet for the night, but they notice the bartender bringing out a bag of trash to the dumpster, so they go over to ask him about it.

"Hey, does this place have golden toilets?"

The bartender is confused. "What?!?"

"Does this place have golden toilets? I was in the best bar of my life last week and the only thing I can remember is it has purple doors like this one and a golden toilet in the men's room."

The bartender thinks for a minute, seems to realize what is going on, then opens up the door to bar and yells, "Hey Sam, I think I found the guy that took a dump in your tuba!"