Trombone Shorty, hands sliding down, was the best act at Jazz Fest, 2013.
This time, I was staying a block off Bourbon Street. Next time, I’m staying on Frenchman Street.
I’d get into the epidemic of gun violence, but I’m afraid it implies “I Hate the Hetero Sexual Christian White Male and Female.”
Not really afraid of this, or anything, in all honesty, besides liars.
They’ll die for a make believe cause; they’ll die for a make believe God; they’ll pledge allegiance to a flag pin.
God forbid words.
Fuck You, Andy.
And when I say Fuck You, I mean fuck your own ass with 2 of your own fingers, since you’re exposed: self-hater.
19 were shot yesterday on Frenchman Street. 20 schoolchildren were murdered at Sandy Hook. 31 bloody dots connect Sandy Hook to Columbine.
2 Fingers Up Andy’s Ass Guarantees A Money Shot.
Today, I’m hopeful. Today, there’s a good chance the news game will heal. Today, there’s news of the impending retirement of Barbara Walters.
Or, as she deserves to be remembered, Baba Wawa. Her journalistic epithet: she paved the way for Elisabeth Hasselbeck to teach American Women the key insight that as long as you’re outwardly cute, you can get away with saying the ugliest things.
19 were shot yesterday on Frenchman Street.