Endless Joe

The Lazarus Post

2012-01-17T23:16:00.003-06:00

Hello there, blog. I guess it's time I let you out of the cellar to see a little sunlight. But, not too much. I don't want you getting greedy for attention.

I forget I even have this thing most of the time, which means I'm sure each and every single one of you has as well, which means I'm talking to myself in text form. I'm fine with that.

I've become comfortable with quitting things. Or, at the very least, prioritizing things more effectively. I've been doing a radio show for the past few months, and I've decided that this Friday's show will be my last. It's not gaining me anything, outside of a few weirdo listeners. I don't get paid for it. I don't have the time I need to make it what I envisioned in the beginning. Ultimately, if I'm going to stress out about something, I think it should be something worthwhile that I enjoy. Or, at the very least, something I can make into exactly what I envision. One more thing off the plate that wasn't going to nourish me anyway. It feels good.

I want to get back to basics. More film projects. More stand-up comedy. More writing. More podcasts. I enjoy those things. They're creative outlets that I can make into exactly what I want on my terms.

It's important to be less ambitious about my job title or my notoriety, and more ambitious about my personal happiness.

2012 is the year I want to return to being an honest and happy man. I'm a little closer.

4:25 AM: Monday

2011-08-29T04:25:00.002-05:00

Was woken up in the middle of the night by a dream about an ex. In the dream, I spotted her in some strange mall, and I was eyeing her ... seeing where she was going. Trying to catch her attention. She ends up looking at baby beds, and she sees me. She starts going on about being alone, but wanting a baby. I, of course, try to talk her out of that silliness. She asks me why we never worked out, and I politely tell her, "Because you didn't love me."

Upon waking up, I was struck by this awful stomach pain that has been on again/off again a recurring bane of my existence. Now, it's nearly 4:30 in the morning, and I still can't sleep because I'm in too much pain.

Gotta wake at 8 AM to go to my job that I'd kill any one of you with a sharpened bone to be able to skip this week.

Aging is for the birds.

San Fermin 2011

2011-07-11T22:49:00.004-05:00

The NOLA Running of the Bulls occurred this past weekend. It was a fun and exhausting event. I have fresh scrapes, a warped sleep schedule, and large bruises on my ass to attest to this.

Exhibit A:

Dig the video for the full experience. My buddy, Jason, and I combined our footage to try to give you all the crazy sweaty details of what it's like to run with the rollerbulls.

Still True

2011-07-11T22:33:00.003-05:00

I ran across this old blog entry from about 3 years ago on a now defunct blog o' mine. It still holds true, albeit without the sense of crazed desperation I felt back then.

I find it physically painful to restrain the urge to keep driving ... and driving and driving and driving ...

I want to go everywhere. I want to do marvelous things. I want to be in very specific somewheres at very specific sometimes.

I want to eat everything on the planet simultaneously. I want to drink anything until I burst. So long as it's cold.

I want to feel sick. Lovesick, homesick, carsick, sick from being full. Sick from simply being well too long.

I don't want to be HERE, doing whatever THIS is.

I want to feel fulfilled. I want to feel validated. I want to create things I'm actually proud of.

I want to be unafraid. I want to be unconcerned.

I want to be emotionally transparent. I want to be intellectually stimulated. I want to be free.

I want to weep from the pure hope of it all.

I want to be many things that I am not, nor will I ever be ... because I simply don't have the capacity.

But, mostly, I don't want to have to try. And so it goes ...

Party.

2011-05-06T00:37:00.003-05:00

Ever walk around in a drug store drunk, under the fluorescent lights, picking out a Mother's Day card, reeking of tequila ... with puffy, red eyes from crying?

No?

Well, you don't know how the hell to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, nerd.

Old School Is The New School

2011-04-20T21:44:00.003-05:00

I'm sure all of it's a phase that will fade away as quickly as the "Homeless Guy With Golden Voice" buzz ... but, I'm enjoying living life like it's the year 2000 lately.

A buddy and I were recently discussing how ICQ should make a comeback. If you have to ask what ICQ is, you don't know nothin' and I don't respect you. It was like hotornot.com (back when that was considered a legitimate dating site), Myspace, and let's just say ... Wal-Mart ... all wrapped into one back in the day. It was the communication method. It was the FUTURE! And then it died a horrible death when everyone left it like a sad old ghost town for AIM. I held on for as long as I could, sticking to my good ol' ICQ until I was like the mayor of the application. Just me, by myself, with no damn contacts left.

But, for nostalgia reasons, we dug up our old ICQ numbers, dusted them off, and logged in. And it's actually .... not bad at all. You can import AIM contacts (although I've had some problems with that), and also all your Facebook chat contacts. Of course, none of my old ICQ contacts still use the thing, but I think all of you should. Join the revolution. I'm at ICQ #: 143702682. Holler.

Beyond that, I've been working out regularly again. Jogging, lifting weights, doing the ab workouts, eating better, the whole bit. Back when I was in high school and fresh out, I was in great shape. I was in weightlifting, used to box, play football. I look at old videos and pictures from back then and it makes me feel like some sort of amorphous, unwieldy blob. So, to hell with it. I'm committing to getting back in shape with more than a "Well ... I'll jog a couple times a month, and eat one grilled meal instead of fried every two weeks and see what happens" approach. I'm sore as hell, and I'm sure I'm embarrassing myself publicly ... but, it feels great. If my willpower can stand the test of time, I might be able to take my shirt off in public without shedding tears before summer's end.

Got myself some Dr. Bronner's soap and an accupressure mat. When the hell did I turn into such a punkass?

This punkass is going to take a shower, drink some wine, and write up a business proposal. It's almost like I'm a responsible adult man. But, I'm only faking it for the cameras ...

And Then There's This ...

2011-03-27T15:20:00.004-05:00

A few misfit clips I've shot that needed a cozy home ... in your heart. Enjoy?

Butter On Yer Bagel

2011-03-25T20:58:00.003-05:00

Every time I write something about updating this thing more frequently, or tell myself to get on the damn thing and write a blog entry more often, I slip into some sort of creative coma and return only to apologize and rebuke everything I've previously written. So, here's another one of those. With lagniappe.

Thankfully, the parade season has come and gone. Having lived in various parts of Louisiana for a number of years, the magic has all but died, and the result is that I look at parades as one long, excruciating traffic nightmare. I enjoyed riding in one parade, and drinking enough to dissolve those unnecessary portions of my liver. I repeated the feat for St. Patrick's Day (which I generally don't celebrate), because of a work function. And I'm glad to report I dressed like a buffoon and destroyed any semblance of credibility I might have had for both occasions.

As stated in my lame-ass mission statement, I'm continuing to write stand-up comedy, work on my upcoming radio show, and try to drum up freelance work on top of my normal soul-sucking responsibilities.

Trying to do the podcast more often, but that's still proving to be a kick in the teeth. Here's the deal: I record the Radio Wazoo podcast from the radio station in the French Quarter where I work 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Going back on a weekend night and spending it recording feels like an extra day of work, and it keeps me from feeling like doing the damn thing at all. I recently (finally) got a much-needed raise, so I'm hoping to invest in some home recording equipment that will allow me to do the podcast in a more free form. Maybe I'll do little mini-updates that aren't whole shows. I don't know. I kick around useless ideas more often than I care to admit.

Beyond that, the radio show I'll be doing will be posted as a "podcast" of its own on the site, so hopefully that'll matter to a couple of people.

My problem is that I can create things all damn day long ... but, I'm terrible at the technical aspect of things, the marketing aspect of things, and the business aspect. Which is why I will remain deep within the sad, crusty margins and might as well be making dream catchers and giving them to old ladies.

I'm thinking about getting a dog. As I've gotten older, I've become selfish and cynical. A part of that is realism and ambition, but sometimes I worry that it's overboard, and I'm on a runaway train to becoming a bitter old coot in gardening pants, tearing up Nerf footballs that land in my yard. I'm thinking that getting a dog might soften me a little bit. Maybe force me out of the house more, make me more affectionate. It might be good for me. I basically live like a 28 year old child. I work at a fun job that feels like playtime, I live alone and don't pick up after myself as often as I should or cook as often as I should. Maybe being responsible for a beast will make me grow up a little.

Then again, that's a 10 to 15 year commitment. That's long. I can't even commit to where I might live in a couple of years, buying new things, or even committing to dinner plans a week ahead of time. It makes me feel tethered. What the hell will I do if I've got a dog? Do you know how long I'll be in the fetal position crying if that thing finally up and dies when I'm 42? I don't know if I can handle that. My trick to avoiding pain is never allowing its foot in the door in the first place. I'm an emotional coward in that way.

I don't know what's what yet. I'm rambling.

Another update coming soon. Something different. I'm sick of this "me me me" self-indulgent crap. This is just me keeping the fingers moving and having absolutely nothing to say from the onset. Public mental masturbation. Glad you peeked in when I opened up the trench coat here. Hey .... if I'm going to waste MY time, I'm glad I could waste yours as well.

The ... Plan?

2011-01-31T23:19:00.005-06:00

I've pretty much committed to leaving New Orleans when my lease expires. There are times when I still love it here, and there are people who make my time here great ... but, I've been spinning my wheels in the same place for years now. I'm worn out.

My exit strategy involves trying to find work that doesn't rely on geography ... or my proximity to a specific place. I want to be able to move somewhere I really enjoy, and work freely from there. Not have to depend on where work is to live somewhere.

It's proving to be extremely hard. But, I'm feeling creative ... and I think I can hammer it out. I have about a year and a half from now to get it done.

Aaaaaannnnd .... GO!

Get the Fun Back

2011-01-09T22:29:00.004-06:00

A while back, I made a brief list of choices I can make and ways I can go about making my life more enjoyable again. In the past few years, a lot of the simple joys have seemingly gone bye-bye ... and surprisingly enough, I was able to point to a few things that caused it. I'm not one for resolutions, because they're really just well-intentioned lies. But, I'm slowly implementing some of these things, and I have to be honest ... it's helping. I plan to do every damn thing on the list at some point. Hopefully in this year. And hopefully that won't end up a well-intentioned lie.

1. Friendships. Real friendships are the most important thing. Surrounding myself with people I actually want to be around, not feel obligated to see. And surround myself with them often. Don't be afraid to call people on a whim.

2. Adventures. Little road trips, trips to the aquarium, the sculpture garden, the museum ... go places. Do things I've never done in the city, or haven't done in a long time. Doing new, fun things is key.

3. Photography. Get a decent camera and take pictures again. Lots of them. Name them. The fun I had with that and the quiet enjoyment I got out of taking and sharing them was huge. Back to the old school. Those moments are priceless, and video isn't the same.

4. Image. Get back in shape and start giving a fuck about how I look again. Start dressing better. It's okay to look good. It inspires confidence.

5. Guilt. Let go of the guilt I feel over people I may have hurt or may be hurting. Live my life for what makes me happy, and stop worrying about how every little thing I do affects other people. If my intentions are without malice, they don't warrant guilt. Be free.

6. Separate. Stop treating my life like it's a business or I'm an entertainer. Do things because I enjoy them, not because people are expecting output. I don't need to be prolific. I'm not making money off of these things. Create when I'm feeling creative, not because I feel obligated to. Don't worry about keeping up with twenty different online profiles and promotion. Let it go.

7. Drink. No, seriously .... drink more. Not fall-down drunk, but have a couple of drinks after work. Get loose. Allow myself to chase my own head around. De-stress. A bottle of good liquor, or beer in the fridge goes a long way.

8. Untether. Draw the line between work and real life. My job is not who I am. Live my real life after work and don't stress about it. I don't get paid enough to stress about it. Added responsibility is what killed magic in my life. Don't allow it to. It's just like an Alltel job (or any of my shitty jobs). It's just my job. It's what I do to pay bills and afford my REAL life afterward.

9. Write. Writing allows me to expound on thoughts and discover new ideas I never really thought about just by keeping the fingers moving. It's really my best form of expression. Get back into it. Blog more. Get back on Livejournal, if need be.

10. Emotions. Cry randomly when it hits me for seemingly no reason. Stop stifling that. Take little drives past places with memories attached, listen to sad music, and allow myself to feel those feelings. I've been acting like a super-efficient Spock for too long, and it's murdering emotion. Highs and lows are minimal. Allow myself to feel both intensely again. Push my own hand with these emotions, if need be.

11. Think. Go on drives and listen to music, go for a walk or jog. But, just unplug and allow myself to have ideas and enjoy my own thoughts.

12. Sex. I've played the field for a while now, and a lot of the guilt and stressful entanglement I've gotten into is because of that. Don't be so afraid to go after someone I'm genuinely interested in. I haven't been in love for over six years now. That feeling is amazing. Just getting laid is FUN ... but, it ultimately leads to stress and guilt and self-loathing and depression. Stop being afraid to be in a real relationship. With someone I genuinely feel something for.

13. Laze. Be unproductive. Take entire days and weekends where I do no writing or editing or podcasting. I don't need to stress myself out with these things when they're gaining me nothing. Instead, take the time to enjoy things around me. Wake up early and get drunk and play Mario Golf. Go eat and walk around. Whatever it may be, just have fun and don't worry about things that are essentially meaningless and nothing more than self-induced stresses.

14. Music. Get back into music, and actively seek out new and good songs and bands. New music creates an atmosphere, and will attach itself to events and memories in ways that enrich the entire experience.

15. Film. Start making Youtube videos again, and don't worry about how many views or comments they get. Just do it for fun. Don't force it. If there's a day where it feels good to create one, do it and share it. It's fulfilling to get those ideas out there just because I feel inspired to again.

16. Read. Reading gave me food for thought and enriched the way I saw the world. Take a day where I just lay around in bed and read. Go through a whole book in a day or two. Really dive in. Or just put time aside to commit to one. It helps the old brain.

Chicken Fingers

2010-12-06T21:33:00.001-06:00

Some time ago, while a friend and I were eating at Raisin' Canes, I noticed a young couple playing those "young couple" games in a corner booth. A heavy-set girl, probably 15 or 16 ... and a skinny, awkward, shaggy young man of the same age. She kept making sexual gestures with the straw, hugging up to him ... all of the ridiculous things that kids "of the age" do. It occurred to me that, at some point, the young man will probably take to heart some of the slanderous things his friends and peers will say about the girl's weight or appearance, and abandon her. Maybe he'll just break it off, maybe he'll be too chicken-shit and cheat on her. Either way, it's inescapable that he's going to break her poor, fat heart. It almost saddened me to the point of ruining my meal.

Then, I remembered that the dipping sauce I had in front of me was delicious. It all seemed about right then.

Because of a Threat

2010-11-12T16:26:00.003-06:00

I am updating this only because of a threat involving Michael Cera. Which I cannot bear. My internet has been disconnected because I'm destitute, but it's actually been nice not having the availability to fuck around. I'll probably eventually cave and get it re-connected. Because fucking around is the American way. More later.

Fuck Michael Cera.

Hell

2010-09-18T01:15:00.001-05:00

I love too many people. I'm drinking a bottle of wine by myself, watching the spin cycle on my dryer and thinking, "How appropriate ...."

Oh, Selfish Me

2010-08-22T21:06:00.002-05:00

I feel like an absentee dad. I keep neglecting this space, or at the very least bumping it to the dark corners of my "To Do" list. I need to get better at managing my time, really. I've got too many things to do and not enough hours in which to do them. I'm starting to remove myself from certain projects and endeavors that have shown themselves to be a waste of my time, which helps. Unfortunately, the only way to discover what IS a waste of my time is to allow something to waste huge amounts of my time.

I've recently fizzled out of the stand-up comedy thing. I've had a few negative experiences, and haven't had ample time to dedicate to writing new material. However, I plan on jumping back into it with a few fellow comedians who have like-mindedly decided that the comedy scene here in New Orleans is awful and needs to be destroyed. If we're not successful in being subversive, at the very least we hope to make a few people laugh, think, and feel genuine revulsion. I'll start back at square one: the open mics. There's nothing to lose and no one on my side to begin with. It's perfect.

As far as the podcast goes, I've given up the stress of trying to churn it out weekly like clockwork. With the other responsibilities I have, it's simply not realistic. Beyond that, it makes the goddamn thing feel like homework, which it should never be. I want my creative endeavors to be acts of love and joy and inspiration. I find myself feeling increasingly anchored to them, feeling a sense of responsibility to the people who enjoy them to churn projects out faster and without the necessary preparation or thought. It really betrays the entire purpose. I'm not making money or seeking money for pretty much anything I put out there. But, I've been treating these things like it's a business. It really threatened to murder the joy of creating for me, and I've only recently come to the conclusion that it's OKAY to throw self-induced shackles off. I can work at my own pace and present things as they come to me. I've long had a perfectionist streak and am notorious for being a self-flagellating guilt and stress monger. I do it to myself for reasons I've never been clear about.

I've got a ton of vague plans and ideas on the horizon, but nothing with form enough to talk about right now. Or ... I COULD, but it would be tremendously boring and I'd feel like a fool when 70% of what I talked about never materialized.

A few people have asked me via email and the wazooproductions.com message board to describe my creative process. I'd like to address that, but it's difficult for a few reasons.

1. It makes me sound like a legitimate artist or content creator, which I am definitely not. It feels pompous to even attempt to describe my "creative process".

2. The truth of it is, there ISN'T much of a process, or a defined trigger for what inspires me. My muses are too inconsistent and varied to put a finger on.

3. The places my ideas come from really depend on my headspace.

If I were to attempt to name the most consistent place where my ideas come from, I'd have to say it's desperation. Whether it be desperation in terms of my finances or my relationships or existential crisis. Most of the things I do that I'm actually proud of come from a dark place, even if the end result is comedic. Rarely does a joke or a concept for a sketch come from a purely happy place. The punchline is generally incidental, and I'll find it on the way to the deeper point. Many times, I'm intentionally vague. The sad clown is the most over-used cliche in the world, but it's also pretty spot-on. The comedians I admire and respect, and the people whose points of view I share and whose company I enjoy are at their core pretty melancholy. Myself included. This isn't to say that myself or my closest friends are overtly depressive, hostile, or heavy to be around. It's more a matter of where the root of things lie. Sadness is pretty hilarious in the end. It's the only comedy with heart or honesty. Being okay with it is the hardest part, but once you come to grips with that and realize it's simply what your outlook is ... it's smooth sailing.

I turned 28 a few days ago, and while the age itself is meaningless ... the closer it is to that new, round number. 30 years old. It shouldn't be a line in the sand. I'm a pretty rational guy most of the time. But, I'm feeling this increased pressure to do something huge or dive off the deep-end somehow. Maybe take a risk, even if the prospects for success are close to nil. I feel like I've been sleep-walking for a long time and taking the easy road because it's safe. By the time I've got a zero and the end of my age again, I want to either have scars and a story, or the keys to a new car and a thorough knowledge of tax law.

It's storming outside, and I'm drinking St. Germain cocktails in my underwear. Honestly, it feels pretty right.

My City

2010-05-30T00:44:00.003-05:00

Apologies for the lack of updates. I don't think anyone reads this, so I'll be apologizing to the cosmos alone. I've been drinking. That's my warning.

Too much has been going on. Work has been draining me ... disaster talk ... more duties than I can fit into a day. But, the fact is I still enjoy my job for the most part and consider it a blessing to have. I get paid to be creative, push a few buttons, and direct people as best I can. I can't complain.

I just performed my first paid gig as a stand-up comic, and it went amazingly well. This outlet is new to me, and I'm still feeling things out ... but, thus far it's been nothing short of fantastic. I feed off the panic and fear, and the honesty of in-your-face, real-time judgement is new and exciting. I feel like it keeps me tethered to the sensibilities of others, while allowing me to challenge those same sensibilities in other people ... strangers who would never hang out with me in any other context. It's wild, and I hope to continue on this path for as long as I can stand it.

Other opportunities are opening up before me, and I can scarcely juggle them all. I mean that in a positive sense. I wouldn't put these things in the rotation if they weren't worthwhile and I didn't believe in them. I have paid writing gigs, paid film and TV and editing opportunities. Creative outlets are becoming increasingly available, and it's everything I ever hoped for. Sometimes I find myself stressed and ungrateful because there's too much on my plate. I have to slap myself out of this, and realize that the dark side of opportunity is still something I've always wanted. Eventually the pony has to shit. But, I still have the fucking pony.

I'm riding around the city tonight ... listening to music after hanging out with friends ... generally having the kind of weekend I've needed for a long time. And as much as I talk about leaving New Orleans, and as much trash as I talk about this city I live in ... I love it. Deeply and truly, I do love New Orleans. The city has a push pull relationship with me that I can almost equate to the mildly crazy girl you love dearly. She hurts you. You wonder why you put up with all this shit, but in the end ... it's because she's mysterious and magical and compelling. She keeps you on your toes and keeps you honest. The crazy ones are truly the most honest people. And in a strange way, this city is the most honest I can think of in its identity.

I talk often about leaving New Orleans ... but, in the end ... this is MY city. I love it. I'm able to take it for granted because I truly feel at home here. I'm comfortable. I admire it's broken, cracked spirit. It's an old, drunken whore who will still bring you soup if you're ill.

As for the podcast, my apologies for not keeping that consistent and weekly as of late. There has been too much going on, and I've just realized the pressure of keeping a few people appeased is not worth the sanity it's costing me. I'll keep doing it. This is my promise. It just may not be like clockwork. Hopefully you guys will stick with me, and when one DOES pop up, it'll be more of an event. Maybe that's just lazy justification on my part.

Has any of this been coherent? Who am I talking to? I don't think anyone is reading this. But, I've found it quite nice to jot these thoughts down. So, thank you binary code. And good night.

Much more to come. And much love transmitted.

All Hail the Traffic Jam

2010-02-05T19:15:00.002-06:00

I'm convinced that if you've lived in Louisiana for more than 5 years, are above the age of 16, and don't hate Mardi Gras ... you're either mentally ill or unemployed. Possibly both. The traffic jams and long detours have already begun here in New Orleans, and I'm considering skipping town when the parades are in full effect. Some of us have places to go and things to do during Mardi Gras time. And the whole affair just becomes a blood-boiling nightmare to those of us with any other obligations except for standing in a median freezing and half-drunk on swill in a plastic cup. It's fun if you're a tourist or a kid. But, as a grown ass resident of the city, it's a living hell. Hooray for filthy streets covered in pollution and cheap plastic beads! Hooray for the rage-inducing delays and seemingly random street closings! Hooray for the drunken, stumbling tourists who think the entire city is Bourbon Street!

The only good thing about Mardi Gras is king cake.

Who Dat Maelstrom

2010-01-30T15:26:00.005-06:00

In eight days, The Saints will compete in their very first Superbowl in team history. It promises to be a hell of a contest between two teams who played a hell of a season. But, let's be honest here: The Saints, if they hadn't firmly laid claim to the title during the course of the regular season, have now cemented themselves as America's Team. Few people outside of Indianapolis fans or perhaps embittered die-hards of the many teams the Saints left battered in their wake will be rooting against New Orleans. It's the ultimate Cinderella story. And while the story-lines surrounding the Superbowl are already growing old and trite, one can't help but to be swept up in what this game could mean for the crescent city.

When the Saints beat the Vikings for the NFC championship in nail-biting fashion in overtime, I was watching the game in a crowded bar with friends. It was a night of huge highs and lows, and by the time Garrett Hartley kicked the game winning field-goal, everyone in the place was emotionally drained. I'll remember the night for the rest of my life. It was one of the most perfect evenings I've ever experienced. When it came time for the game-deciding kick, the owner of the bar locked the door, everyone crowded underneath the big screen, standing hushed as the ball went into the air. As soon as it became apparent that the ball was going to split the uprights, the bar bursted into cheers and screams and elation. The bartenders began popping corks and passing champagne to everyone in the bar. There were tears streaming down the faces of at least half the patrons, and hugs and kisses and dancing were happening at every turn. My friends and I walked into the street where cars were already stopping in the middle of the road so the passengers could get out and dance with the pedestrians. Music was blaring from every direction, cars were honking in celebration, with people hanging out of windows, chanting, cheering, and occasionally flashing their breasts.

As we walked down the street, not a single car that passed went without honking and yelling "Who Dat", and we gladly returned the sentiment. When we finally got to another bar down the street, most of the patrons were outside. We quickly grabbed our drinks and went outside to join them, whooping and hollering at every passing car or person. Cars stopped to give high-fives, pulled over to dance with us, and nobody we came across the entire night was without a broad smile across their face. Later on, we decided to drive down the street to get even more of a feel for what was going on in the city. On the radio, announcers were jubilantly calling out, "Pigs have flown! Hell has frozen over! The Saints are going to the Superbowl!" as we rolled the windows and sunroof down. Cops were on the streets, but not pulling anyone over or telling anyone to get off the road. They were seemingly there just to make sure no one was hurt, and the smiles on their faces made it clear that they understood what this meant to everyone in New Orleans. The girls in my car stood on the seats to shout out of the sunroof as happy hands and faces surrounded us. I crept along as if it were a parade route, and the jubilant masses came toward the car, slapping us five, pumping their fists, and shouting "Who Dat" until they were hoarse.

There were no riots, no flipped vehicles, no fires. This city knows how to celebrate, and seeing the absolute unity that a Saints Superbowl had caused was almost too moving to convey.

The euphoria is mostly over now, and all eyes are looking forward to next Sunday. Many citizens are saying that they don't care whether The Saints win or lose. They say that just getting there was enough. But, I'd like all of you fellow Saints fans to keep this in mind: we can win this thing. And as magical as the NFC Championship game was, it was merely a pep rally. When we bring home that Lombardi trophy, this city and its fanbase will never be the same. It may be one of the most important moments in New Orleans' long and storied history. There's a sense of pride, a sense of expectation, and a commitment to excellence that go along with winning the biggest prize in the game. That mentality of being first-class ... FINALLY first class ... can and should spread to other lines of thought within the citizenry. We can demand more from our populace, more from our elected leaders, more in terms of infrastructure, business, modernization, and progress. To call a Superbowl victory the catalyst for such a widespread change of mindset may seem completely far fetched. But, if you had been in the heart of the city and seen what I've seen ... you'll believe just about anything is possible.

In the Year 3000

2010-01-27T22:40:00.002-06:00

Increasingly, it looks like we're all headed toward a future full of morbidly obese people suffering from night terrors and new-age maladies like restless leg syndrome. None of these people will be able to pay for the medical treatment they require, either for the legitimate or more fantastical conditions they're afflicted with. They will lie helplessly, reeking of death, and pondering their long-shattered dreams ... as the newest reality shows blare from the TV sets, reminding them that Hollywood is full of 17 year old millionaires, while they're living on a pittance and have to poop through a tube. All social skills and old-time niceties are long forgotten in this brave new age. So, these people can only croak at their chirping, bleating computer screens; the closest they know to interaction. The digital world, and all the disposable gadgetry that's now available via vending machine is what encompasses the new so-called "real life".

I really shouldn't let the buzz about the iPad cause me to become so unsettled. However, all things considered, I'm pretty sure I just described my own bleak future ... 10 years from now.