I like to tell people who’ve never been to Mardi Gras that it is nothing like what you see on TV. Which is true. Celebrated correctly, Carnival in New Orleans is really just like a citywide barbeque. I even made up slogan about it. “New Orleans: where fun is a family value.” I’ll stand by this, too. In four years, I’ve never seen a single woman flash her breasts at a parade. No one does this outside Bourbon Street. What I do see is lots of families camped out on the neutral ground with lawn chairs and a grille. At its core, Mardi Gras has less to do with debauchery than it does with a citywide belief that it is essential to shut everything down once a year and hang out with your neighbors.

Of course, this is painting an awfully soft focus on what is undoubtedly a beer-heavy holiday. Or, in my case, Jello shot heavy. I make batches and batches of the puppies every year, and I carry them around in a little cooler bag to share with friends and strangers, and occasionally, to trade for a really hot pair of beads. (But, seriously, the beads have really got to be smokin.) Jello shots are my Mardi Gras thing. People are starting to know me for it, which I’ll admit I enjoy far more than the Jello itself.

The point is…what is the point? Oh yeah, sometimes Mardi Gras is kind of gross.

This year I dressed up as Kelly for Fat Tuesday. (Shut up, betch.) Around noon, some pals and I were dancing in the street - good times! During “Baby Got Back,” a man in his late-ish 60’s wearing a pink golf shirt came up to me, took my hand, and began to direct me away from the crowd. (Why did I follow him? Hello! Did you read the part about the Jello shots?) Anyway, he lead me a few feet away up to a younger man, his 40 year old son, and said to his son, “Well, you said you like ‘em tall and blonde….What do you want to do with her?”

To make the scene a bit more clear:

That’s me, next to the Dick-in-a-Box. (My fabulous neighbor.) So, this old guy in the pink shirt motions to me, says, “You said you like em tall and blonde. What do you want to do with her?” and all I can think is, “Dude. I am obviously neither blonde nor tall.”

I said exactly that, and he just stared at me, his eyes all out of focus. I had warped his mind. So I took my leave of him, wishing I’d had the presence of mind to be more offended by his foul nature than I was by his ridiculously bad eyesight. I ran to tell my friends the tale and one of them said, “You should have told him that window unit over there would kick his ass if he wasn’t careful.”

Yes. Totally do not mess with this guy.

Posted by jackson on 23 Feb 2007
Filed Under: uncategorized | 1 Comment »

I’m just hearing about it today for the first time, but apparently Nashville City Council member Eric Crafton recently sponsored a measure to declare English the city’s official language. His “thinking”? That this would serve as an incentive for immigrants to learn to speak English, already. The measure passed with a 24-14 vote. Ouch.

Mayor Bill Purcell, who I have to admit I know nothing about, swooped in to save Music City from insanity — at least for today — and vetoed the measure. Good on you, Purcell.

Of course, now Councilmember Crafton is plugging away at the votes for an override, and in the event that doesn’t work, has plans to force a referendum on the issue. We’ll have to live to fight another day…

Posted by jackson on 12 Feb 2007
Filed Under: Honky Tonk, Politics | No Comments »

They say you never really know what goes on behind closed doors. One of the things that goes on behind the closed doors of my house is the repeated singing of this, the most fabulous clip ever from a show I’m finally old enough to admit I love, America’s Funniest Home Videos.

Posted by jackson on 12 Feb 2007
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Barack Obama officially announced his presidency in Springfield, IL today. We’ve got a long way to go, but it is possible that he will be the first African-American POTUS.  I haven’t yet decided who gets my vote, but Obama’s the kind of speaker that makes me feel like dancing. Makes me feel like a better day’s ahead.
But how far ahead?

My alma mater, Macalester College, the school that saved me from sure death by red state, has shown up in the AP wires with a nasty, racist incident. According to the article, there was an off-campus costume party with the theme “politically incorrect.” Anyone ever heard of a toga? I was under the (apparently deluded) impression that the controversy around the concept of “political correctness” was as played as Bill Maher himself.

It seems terribly naive to say it now, but I thought it was finally a forgone conclusion that language matters, that the way we talk to each other matters. I thought we were slightly less defensive these days. I mean, not at Fox News or anything. But this is Macalester, y’all. When I was there, it was chock full of well meaning middle class white kids, all of whom were practically clawing towards freedom from prejudice. (Whether or not any of us knew shit is another matter, but really, the effort was there.)

The real reason Mac made the AP wires is thanks to two students: one of whom came to this ill-advised theme party dressed as a KKK member, and another who donned black face with, god save us all, a nuce around his neck. It sort of illustrates why we needed political correctness in the first place, eh? Given the chance to shed those pesky rules so many people feel shamed into following, you come dressed as the KKK? You come in blackface? Because lynching is politically incorrect?

Well, I don’t really know what to say that isn’t painfully obvious. It makes me feel like a serious old fogey to say it, but Macalester is not the same school I went to. But, it isn’t 1994 any more, is it? We, as a nation, are grappling with our racism in new ways, it seems. I grew up in the smile-and-act-nice era, a deeply flawed plan of action. The new era? I don’t know what it is yet, but it certainly seems to include a lot of scary mistakes. In the next year and a half, as we watch Senator Obama run a presdential campaign, I imagine this will only get more intense. We can only hope it gets us somewhere.

Posted by jackson on 11 Feb 2007
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Just found this one on Boing Boing, When Harry Met Sally recut as a thriller…

Posted by jackson on 02 Feb 2007
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I first heard of Molly Ivins around 15 years ago. I heard about her from my mom, who had found in Ivins the columnist of her dreams. Both Texan, both good liberals, just a couple of years apart in age, my mom and Molly Ivins were like two peas in a pod. Ivins being the funnier, more articulate one, of course. Every Sunday, my mom would read Ivins’ column and laugh and laugh and say, “Ooo, I just love Molly Ivers!”

Ivers? Even today, it raises my adolescent fury regarding my mom’s clinical problem with getting people’s names wrong. Plus, I always thought it was so weird to confuse “Ivins,” which is a pretty average-sounding name, with “Ivers” which doesn’t sound like a name at all. (Of course, a quick google search will show that my perspective on the matter is a little skewed…plenty of people have the last name Ivers.)

In any case, Ivins was a figure in our lives. I’ve never heard her name, or any bastardization thereof, and not thought of my mom. Last year, we began a debate over Ivins’ proclamation that she would not support Hillary Clinton’s presidential bid that continues to this day. While I appreciated Ivins’ strong stance against the war in Iraq, for reasons I’ll get into another day, her anti-Hillary musings did not sit well with me. My mom takes Ivins’ word as gospel. So we argue, and push, and learn more about each other as we try to hash out our politics. It’s good. Ivins made our lives a little bit more interesting, and I’m sorry she won’t be around to see how things play out in 2008.

Posted by jackson on 01 Feb 2007
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In my glee over finally figuring out how to embed video on my site, I forgot to say that Buns came from salon.com, not me. “Rabbit Bites” appears there every Tuesday afternoon.  I wish I could take credit for Buns. I love the grey rapper.

Posted by jackson on 01 Feb 2007
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