Ashley Morris: the blog: Draw the line, now

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Draw the line, now

Just fuck them.

From now on, you go into a New Orleans bar, you go to Jazzfest, you go to a restaurant, you gotta show ID. If you have a south Louisiana ID, you get one rate; you don’t, you pay more. That's the way it is now, bitches.

If we aren’t Americans, then these motherfuckers are going to pay for not being New Orleanians.

I’ll say it again: shut down the port, turn off the pipelines. Let the motherfuckers know we mean bidness. Let Mary block the chimp’s appointees, and maybe the fuckers will get the fucking message.

Although I really doubt it. We’re not dealing with the best and brightest, you know.

When a rancid cunt like Bay Buchanan can say shit like "I think Katrina has worn its welcome - I think the American people are tired of it”, and not be kicked in her fucking teeth, well, the time has come to draw the fucking line.

It’s us vs. them.

Hell, I want a Fleur-de-lis on my passport, not a bird.

When I go to Europe, I can say, hey, I just want some levees, not bombs.

People around the world do this. In Germany, people from Munich think of themselves first as Bavarian, then eventually as German. In Prague, they are Bohemians first, and Czechs second. It’s not pure isolationism, but we need to take it further.

They’ve rejected us, we need to reject them.

Does anybody other than the Brits and the Commonwealth care about cricket? No. But there, it is life and blood. It used to be that way in the South with NASCAR, but now that has been homogenized and made palatable for the masses in places you wouldn't want to live in on a bet. Cricket is in the commonwealth culture, and they don't care if you don't understand it. If the rest of the US wants any of our culture, they must pay.

We have our own culture, our own society, our own history (not like theirs), our own little part of the world, and we don't give a flying fuckeroonie what they think.

Let us argue amongst ourselves about who makes the best po-boys and so on. They can't say a fucking word, because they don’t know. No, just because the taxi took you to Mother’s once does not make you a fucking expert. Well, maybe if Mem was driving the cab.

We get to get people like Sam Jackson and Whitney Marcell back. Austin can keep Cyril. Let’s get our doctors and nurses back, too. My damn eye doctor moved to the northshore. Shit.

And Alphonso Jackson? Fuck. You. I don’t want some cocksucker like you deciding who gets to come back to MY town. Go back to Dallas and hang out with Laurel Keating. I think you two will get along fine, except for the fact that you’re black, and neither one of you want to live around black people. You’re blunt. Fuck you. More like dull, blunt, obtuse, rounded at the free end. Maybe if you smoked more blunts, you wouldn’t be such a cocksucking, asshole piece of shit.

I hope Tiger Woods loses a testicle. Why can this motherfucker say he’s taking time off from playing golf to be with his dad, yet really go car racing and bungee jumping. Just to avoid coming to New Orleans to play in our golf tournament. If you don't want to come here, or if you're scared of being around black people, just say so. Lying sack of shit. Why the fuck aren’t you in New Orleans, bitch? Did we not pony up enough of an appearance fee? Like hell you drive a Buick, you lying piece of shit motherfucker. Why not just change your name to Nike, and cut the bullshit. You should be here in New Orleans as an ambassador of your sport. Well, you’re an ambassador of greed, an ambassador of all that’s wrong with your sport. Fuck off and die. Maybe they’ll bury you in a Nike-logo’d casket.

And Houston. Houston? I say we pull a Fidel Castro, and release all our prisoners, and give them a bus ride to Houston. That will save us money, and give them problems. Hell yeah. Let them wreak fucking havoc on your suburban sprawl, your big-ass SUVs, your vinyl-siding artificial ugly motherfucking houses. Katrina fatigue my ass. Bitches, we used to be Americans, too. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. Katrina fatigue. Fuck you. You want crime? We can go medieval on your ass, you fucking fucks.

You know it’s bad when Ronnie Virgets sounds depressed.

When you read these stories, when you hear these children, you realize we have to do something.

Something.

They aren’t going to do it, they’ve showed their colors.

Fuck them.

Hasta la victoria siempre.

New Orleans über alles.

28 April 2006 at 03:13 AM | Permalink