Eleven Months

Having spent 11 months in Louisiana as a photographer and videographer after Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, I have accumulated thousands of images and hours of footage that have not been seen by anyone other than myself. My friend Tony originally set up this blog for me to provide a vehicle to share some of those experiences. He recently admitted to reading "I Got Things To Say" and being amused by my musings, the joke being that I really don't have much to say at all, but requested I start showing some of what I saw during the aftermath of the storms.

I don't know if there is any interest left in this story since it has been beaten to death in the media for over a year. You know it is worn out if Spike Lee got on the documentary bandwagon and put his slanty spin on the profit train from other people's misery. I've been to video documentary festivals flooded with pieces on Katrina and New Orleans and they have consistently blamed the government, showed only the negative, provided distorted views and opinions based on something other than fact and have mostly manufactured stories to support their personal agendas and assumptions.

I have interviewed many residents that had nothing but thanks for FEMA and the many organizations that joined in the relief efforts throughout Louisiana. I have also seen these same people on the news and in various other outlets bad mouthing FEMA and George Bush claiming they got no help from them at all while they conduct the interview sitting in their FEMA trailer free of charge, eating their free meals provided by FEMA, using the electricity and water set up and paid for by FEMA, with FEMA paid security patroling outside at no cost to them, where transportation is provided to residents (free) for job training (free) or to their actual jobs (if they had one) while FEMA pays for debris clean up, demolition of unrepairable homes, medical clinics, modular classrooms and many types of temporary housing options. This is just a small sampling of services provided for the victims by countless government, private, and faith based organizations.

Of course when I say free, I mean at the expense of tax paying citizens throughout the country, sharing the burden, making this devastating experience for one region a common experience to all.

I guess it's too late to say, "Don't get me started."

I suppose the one photo that says a great deal to me personally demonstrates the pain, confusion and hopelessness of the whole situation. An innocent victim abadonned by family, not understanding or knowing what comes next, left to fend on his own without any help from the very ones responsible for his care and well being. It breaks my heart every time I look at this photo and makes me feel just as helpless.


Perhaps I do have things to say. Thanks Tony.

Modern Conflict-Old Timey Solution

Curse or Cursor

I find myself in many situations where I am asked to help people defeat their computer demons. I help when I can, but I am certainly NOT an expert. I just fool around a lot on the PC and press buttons that make sense to me and go where they lead, then I try to replicate that sequence of commands in remedying problems for others.

For the more difficult problems I consult my "go to" experts for their advice and instruction.

Usually it is just learning a few simple commands while other times it is more like being a monkey painting underwater. A clam playing the guitar. A lamp preparing dinner. Cats and dogs living together under the same roof. The government admitting fault and accepting responsibility for its actions or lack of. In other words there are those of us that have no business operating a computer (or a country).

When I come across such a person I warn them that after 4 tries, and 4 failures, I will be taking their computer away from them and replacing it with a pad of paper, a pencil (with a huge eraser) and a telephone, preferably with a rotary dial.

This little rant was inspired by a video sent to me earlier today from a friend that teaches and understands. Enjoy the video.

Absent

During the day I am flooded with thoughts and ideas of what to write about. I have opinions and suggestions and observations galore. I sit in front of my laptop screen and prepare to enter a post and I go completely blank. Perhaps there is some merit to a "TV" coma. Watching a monitor flips a switch and brain power enters sleep mode.

What was I saying?

Interesting Day

I'm back in Connecticut this week for a week and I've already seen things in this one day to make the whole week worthwhile.

I watched a pig stroll along the sidewalk on a residential block. I stepped over forty scoops of frozen goose dung but not a bird was in view. Looking out the window from one of the conference rooms I was working in I witnessed a submarine surface in the river.

In my hotel room I have to enter my bathroom sideways in order to fit through the door only to come upon a toilet where the seat is barely one foot above the floor. Also a bit odd, the toilet has a silent flush which compels you to examine the bowl frequently to be certain the silent flush is a flush indeed. Nonetheless; my Speakman screams (personal shower head that goes where I go) and makes mini tiny toilet woes disappear, I have Connecticut cold Mt. Dew in the van and I'm off to Outback tonight on the company's dollar.

Living large in a tiny world.

Unbelievable.

That's all I've got to say about that.

Happy Music for Happy People!

Saturday night is a not a Saturday night if you don't spend some time with the "Big Joe" Polka Show.

The production value is horrendous - just barely utilizing 1972 technology and the polka bands appear thrown together by a drunk mechanic at a forgotten lodge in Minnesota. I must admit the dancing mummies are fantastic, sometimes wearing matching polka suits, king crowns, muskrat hairpieces and leederhosen. Every song is as familiar as the last and as musically challenged as the next. I watch in wonder as a well hidden piece of America is on display to either cherish with delight or goad you to declare Hee-Haw a national treasure. This is some kind of fun. Where else could you enjoy the Corn Cockle Polka and not get slapped across the face?

Ping - Pong

How can I be tired all of the time but can't get to sleep?

How can I have eaten a full diner and still be hungry?

How can I hate working if I'm miserable when I don't?

How can I sweat alot and not pee or pee alot and not sweat?

How can river dance be so entertaining if I can't stand celtic music?

How can you outrun a charging bull but get caught by a limping mummy?

How can white be all colors combined but black is the absence of color?

Fashion Wars

My friend Joe was helping his neighbor move and was tossing out her discarded items when he came across an album of old WW I and II photos in a box marked for trash. He is a bit of a history buff and I hate when photos are destroyed. We don't know the people in the portraits and she doesn't remember who they are, but I find value in these pieces of history that we all can share in, and I have begun to restore them.

This is a sample of some of the shots. One apparent way to win a war is to kill with fashion. This was from World War One when we knew how to kick some tail and turn some heads.

Sorry, Neighbor

All I remember is that I'm on top of a man made cliff which is flat with a straight edge that looks down about 1000 feet into an alley way with 2 abadonned cars lined up together at one end and some kids playing at the other end. I run along the edge quickly, look down and do a wild out of control cartwheel flip in the air calmly saying, "Oh no." I land back on the cliff about 4 feet away from the edge and declare, "That wasn't too bad."

A guy now sitting in a chair behind me asks what am I going to do next. I then start singing words that end in "ing" as though in a musical, running up to people now appearing near the edge, with broad theatrical gestures. To finish the song I charge the seated man, slide on my knees with my arms out wide and sing, "For you I'll do any ... thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggg." The last "ing" was held so long that even I was impressed and shocked that I could continue the note. Everyone around stood with open mouths in awe as the "ing" lasted and lasted and ... you get the idea. So pleased with singing the longest note humanly possible ever in the world I woke up.

Perhaps an apology is due to my neighbors that probably heard the longest note in the world. My neck was sore and my throat felt strained when I awoke. Then again, perhaps I should go door to door and collect my entertainment fees.

Tour De Arse

I hear the Police are back together and are going on tour. Do they really need bikes this bad?

Iconoclasts

Iconoclasts has become one of my favorite programs on Sundance Channel. I love watching people that are passionate about what they do, working their craft, no matter how seemingly mundane it may be to some. I am engrossed with the talents of others and delight in it. Every once in a while someone will spit brilliance out of their mouth that renders me in awe.

I've seen the episode with Dean Kamen several times and still get a slap in the head each time I watch. He demonstrates several of his inventions that could possibly save and enrich millions of lives. Small machines purifying water and generators creating electricity from dung, wheelchairs that stand up and climb up and down stairs and home dialysis machines. He then states that technology is the easy part, it's changing people that is difficult.

Solutions exist, but either the people that can benefit most cannot afford the devices, or people in general refuse to do anything differently than what they are accustomed to whether it be from pride, politics, inability to profit from it, ignorance or simple disbelief and skepticism. It's time to start cleaning water instead of spilling blood. Time to encourage instead of destroy. Time to help a brother out instead of kick him while he's down. It's time to share instead of steal or deny.

It might also be time to build a bigger soapbox, preferably with firm cushions. I snacked all the way through the program and can barely move. Seriously. I had 2 hot dogs, valentine's cake, a liter of Mountain Dew, popcorn, a milky way, kiwi, a can of peaches and pistachios. The show is only an hour long. Take the opportunity to watch!

Odd Choices

I have always been a fan of the unusual, but Dave, how much did that head augmentation set you back? Or is it simply a helium addiction that might require intervention?

Walken To The Car

At first I felt like I had turned into Gary Shandling for a brief moment on my walk to the car. Stick up hair with a pinch face and squinty eyes on a fat mug due to the hard blowing 6 degree slap in the face weather rushing into me head on.

I have been working in an office building all day where the "ladies" like it warm, so big ole wooly Bobbio had a sweat going on, and I don't like it. No matter. The more I sweat - the more I stink, so the cold winers stay clear of me and I don't have to listen to the dino sours yapping about it's cold and I'm cold and it's so cold in here and I'm gonna get a cold and it's so cold I can't feel my big enormous butt that should be keeping me toasted thru spring and other various cold this and cold that because it's only about 85 degrees next to a window and a hundred and a half next to a vent.

So with my sweaty hair and never a hat, I started walking to the car at the end of the day in a very hard breeze. By the time I got into my vehicle my hair had froze sticking straight up and back from the wind creating more of a Walken feel than Shanding. Nonetheless, with my frozen Walken hair, my Shandling squint of pain, my Buddy Hackett belly and my tear filled watery Dangerfield eyes, step aside folks, HOTTIE coming thru! No autographs, please, it's cold out here in Connecticut.