Nagin sighted in The Land of Boudin
Leonard Earl Johnson
Les Amis de Marigny, New Orleans
Greetings from The Land of Boudin,
My Birthday is August 22, 1943. This year's celebration -- not quite over -- has been a hoot.
Yesterday, in celebration, a friend and I went out to see an old Cajun cottage being moved to a site of loving restoration by another friend. On the way home, we lunched on boudin from Janice's Supermarket, in Sunset.
Best damn boudin this side of the Mississippi, cher! exclaimed a heavyset man next to me.
We went to the Catholic Academy of the Sacred Heart grounds, in nearby Grand Coteau, to find shade for our lunch, then returned to Janice's for more boudin to take home.
In line, buying a cooler full of boudin, was none other than New Orlean's long suffering Mayor Ray Nagin, whipping boy to the displaced, and the fearfully at home.
(Perhaps you know, The City is murder capital, not only of The Swamps, but all the lands plundered by Goofus W. and the Bush Crime Family. Not to mention, it is not rebuilt after two years of largely empty Federal words, and our levees are now built higher on one bank than the other.)
I told him he did not deserve all the criticism he was getting. Nagin's smile was as tender as smiles can be. His Wife nodded. His body guard looked around. I flashed my gold tooth.
Maybe, "On our way home from Alexandria," Nagin was buying so much boudin to share with Barack Obama. "We always stop here for boudin," he said. There were no license plates on his very dark-windowed Ford muscle van, by le way.
Which reminds me, do you recall him saying Goofus W.'s Airforce One was the ultimate pimpmobil? The spirited tongue of Long and Edwards lives!
Hope you be well, un-murdered and full of good boudin.
La vie de bohème, L. E. J., du marais de Lafayette et de Nouvelle-Orléans.
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You may want to fix yourself a stiff drink first.
(Slides 1 & 4 were blank when I posted this.