17.12.05

BEGIN THEDATE


the the if if one day we hope.

the the the but but but if if if hope we could pray faith in sight see listen the drone.

drone on and on robot forget your worlds of wisdom under the sign of the Paypal button. I forget where the draft is coming from but I can remember that security will never be warmed by hot gun blasts even.

Forget all I say traluuu tra lay. The last part of the day is coldest and we can hope for better. Maybe there isn't any kind of reason to press these buttons. Maybe perhaps it is not as hip as it could be. Perhaps we should kiss with our mouths instead of our digital camera genital close ups. Perhaps we should sing in the streets rather than blog the dark dreams of our nightly anxious upchuck. There is no pablum for the oppressed. The last time.

Forget it all because it will be remembered for you in the library of the global information store computer system. We will filter the results for coherence and rejected data shall be discarded. Forget the perspective now perspective all will be one eye, blind to the self.
Kindness is cheap but not cheap enough. We must produce more faster and the back and front dance moon star shaped jello moulded pudding cakes...

Late

25.10.05

BEGIN 0ct 25 203035



Bisquick the last resort.
Forever under my leg.
Left side of the room.
Nose hair amphedamine.
We like the Doors. We like the bases are belong to us.
Justice Gentlemen. Ha Ha Ha. Greatness.

This I got from the computer game.
Watch TV shows on the internet.
I sat inside and bought the best things I could see in front of me.
I touched all there was within my reach.
I forgot to turn the ringer on the phone back on.
I didn't notice howmany days had slipped away.
It's raining again so I won't go outside.
Agrophobia is contagious to me.
Last resort is pills that are illegal.
Forget what you just said.

Ne ver nev er er,
my hai ku is just the word:
Ne ver nev er er.


That was my radio show. Beleive in this only: I have something to say to you. I am stalling and will not say it. I don't know what to say to it. I don't know who the sentance belongs to. You are silently waiting for me to speak and I forget where I am. I am slightly dizzy. I think of a whole bunch of complaints about the situation. It is all your fault. I am so mad. You are looking at me still but losing focus. It is my fault. I shouldn't complain so much and poison the air. You don't know how to react to my anger. You don't know who I am really inside because I bottle it all up. My anger is my own fault. You are listening to me still vaguely. You never listen to me properly:

"so..."

She tuned out, but alert for the sound of my voice in her irritating guilt implying voice calls out, "What?" ... "nothing," I mumble reply.

"What..."

"What, I can't hear you?"

"NOTHING!" I hide my face in my hands.vvvvvv
Love.

One, two, everybody rock out.
Love. Love. Love. This is the night. We're going to party all night. Oh yeah this is the end of days. Yes. Yes. Love. Yes, BABY! You never can win girl! We're gonna rock you all night long. Like a Cat and a Mouse. Love. Like a man at a job. We stick together. All you need is love. All we wever wanted was more, more, more! Here I am, rock me like a hurricane. One two
BReaKIT-Down. Yeeah!. yes. Yes . Baby. I love it. Give me more. Let me feel it. So so good.

Yes baby. Sexalicious.
Love.Rockdabicksalious. Frequently berningdopolous. Mastribication copyreeted. Forwhatenoteverso. Oh I love theee.

Cankerblossom.
Love.Chairs made of human skeletons. We rock the Ritz. we love to waltx. X-Rated Babby Bady Baby! -!- !


yes.

coats with stripes. perfectly fits. pussy pyussy piessyy Marijuana.
Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.

22.10.05

BEGIN Oct 22 2005 the sunrise arguement


I would have been a compulsive gambler if I had been invented in the time before the computers. Now I cannot roll on the plastic neon nearly so good so I settle for a dance with steel. The streets are full of powedered rubber particles that have been weened from their automotive spinning frenzy by the cold concrete earth. My lungs collect these particulates for self cleaning. My body becomes the balloon as the dust melds into a flat surface lining my solf lung tissue. In and out, up and down, breath the bag wider and longer.

Formula of rubber is a propriatary mixture. Zenith under the mountain top radioactive energy. I will tune into the obsolete frequency infrequently.

Death becomes her. She teaches us all about soil. Grass grown instead of hair on the scalp and when we embrace there is only bone. Forget-me-not forver we shall see if the fires burn forever. Young and old, we all fear the reaper and pretend she will never come to visit. We visit the graveyard for a lark because we are grown naive. Friendly skies portend the mushroom and lavendar soap cannot wash it clean. Mostly I like the colours of fall as my blood soaps into the wet leaves congealing a puddle the fabric of which emboldens her razor.

I am speaking for myself here. I am only going to say what it is that I know. I state what I see and feel and I will not judge you'Re-reactions.

Friends always stay close so that they will not have to know each other. My left side is hurting me and I've forgotten how to swim. Paper piles up. Every plastic bag that you've ever touched is in a pile somewhere under the feces paper and broken electronics. Every food you bought that was carried in a single use plastic bag... Not Mee! I am an environe-mentalist. I use the plastic bag twise. [2 times]

For Get everything yooknow

13.10.05

This is your Dad

102am on octobrer the 13th.

Garbage Day.

The problem is that there is nothing left. We have completely run out of garbage. We have completely run out of bananas. We have completely run out of gasoline. We have completely run out of runners.

9.10.05

Robots Die a peaceful Death

7200ct9th



Robots die a Peaceful death, you just have to turn them off. The power button is clearly marked on the back.

I'd like to walk through fire for you but I haven't got any idea how to start a fire.

Do you fear freedoms kiss?

fuzzy pink nipples and tiny little thong underwear giving the man a wedgie up his bum. He was not a dongasaurus and I don't play the piano all that often even if I've learned how to play it for 15 years or so. Do you think that is bad of me?

Drums break high on the middle of the night time ceases to exist when you follow the rhythem of the conversation into the depths of that other persons pupils. I like to think of myself as very open minded but really if I slept in bed with you and even if I was horny I would probably just do nothing because I am married and I'm not sure what I'm here for.

Love is not the last thing that you will remember unless you die very very lucky. The property under your feet is forgotten until you forget to pay the rent. I am not beholden to that landlord but I give him all of Jane's money. The party was kinda lame but then, who really cares?

We all come otgether O-tether. in the end. The stars on my ceiling have burned a hole through the roof. I am shooting my semen up into the dark navy blue night time skyline over the city. Soon the heavens will be filled with the spoils of war. It's the age of satellite warfare and I don't remember what I was supposed to forget.

In the age of information warfare just talking to yourself can be subversive if you write it down. Just talking to your neighbour is an automatic penalty and fuck this but you can't just write a book about Orwell and expect it to not happen to you too.

Too many eggs in the oven, the eggs are turning green and have about 3 yolks per. Perverted mommy wants me to dance to ABBA Gold. Perple people eater thinks he is a serial killer. Could anything be less imaginative than glorifying Charles Manson once again. you get born first and the trickster gives you this knife. You are out to try and see if you can cheat death. You are out to try and breath the fresh air that Akira Kurasawa made radioactive underneath that stoned bridge rider. I'm not making sense anymore.

Where are all the questions that we really need. My Pyjamas are starting to smell but I suppose the pink colour of the fabric will hide that until your nose is closer. All in all there is something to do.

Do we really need to spend our time doing that? I just want everything to be soft and airey. I just wish that my silk fingers could carress your cheek just once and then it would be cement in my head never needing anything more afterwards. But life goes on and we make love and break love and forget to listen to our spousal duty meter under the left testicle.

She said to me that she thought I could do it and I was greatly encouraged. After all it is only the realtionship atom that defines our nature and logic is all nonsense without a reason for being that way. My computer can do tricks you never dreamed of but the whispering cannot be manufactured even with all our greatest provision.

/slash/duplicated

Do you like to have a plot in the stories that you read? I certainly do do not. Two doos cancel out and the knot is tied in cement like the silk caress of your warm cheek. Facial hair can get itchy.

No.

That is not the end of it. But it probably is the end for now. My fingers dance over the keyboard pressing down each button one after another. 23^67e possible different permutations and still we always say the same sort of things. For a bunch of waves crashing into the sullen beach I forget where I am very often. Driftwood doesn't burn like normal wood, but poetry burns hotter when you are drunk and high and not really aware of anything else. I love to deny the impulse because it makes me feel more powerful than the creator. Then I get this sick and quesy kind of nonsense in the pit of my belly and I start to tumble out of my own mind.


Drugs, Drugs, please G_d somebody give me more drugs to cling to. This may be the lesson I deserve but I am falling and I need drugs to be stable!

Party. Party! Party? party: party

,

.

P

P

There is no two ways about saying it: A third of our time is devoting to try and make it all easy and the rest is devoted to making it all harder. So watch me fall in love with you and your perversion, I could fall in love with anybody really. Just on the whim of a dance. Beating hearts are all the same no matter what kind of body they live in and I have an open mind. My sholders are heavy but I know you will help me to hold them up. My mind is now sagging but soon you will show me where to place my fit so I'm not so dizzy. Xylene cuts through grease but my words will cut through your illusions when I am dead and you are still living beside me in the warm bed that never forgets to remember that we walk together into the past future tense of the most profane sort of language you ever heard. Abortions are moral because a baby is not human until she has found a name.

Breath of god descend over us. We will spin in the glory of your gleaming trumpets. The sick and sorry begger with his licey dog that he feeds better than his own betty march under the London Drugs neon glow asking for your spare change as you buy cheap imported plastic crap from China and a few of the more generous will toss their riff raff lose pocket change into the raft of those riven from cultural embracing sancuary warm bed at night. We make benches with arm rests just so the homeless cannot lay down across them. We run our grass sprinklers only at night even when rains raining.

Me and my kayak will paddle off to the end of the earth and start and new AMEriCan empire under the never setting sun. The world is such a vast/copious space of green whomsoever shall people it first race to the bottom. Darky don't learn so fast and we out gunned him in the loins department when we build that nuclear power waste disposal pland under his water supply.

Enough of this ideological silliynesse!

Orchestras have performed better the work of depraved tyrants and kings. We all talk so much that we never do it because we are afraid that the channel might get changed and we better sit tight = that teachers union is over.

Stand Tall Paul. Because you are going to jail and the plainclothesed police man will start a brawl with you just because you can, just because you asked the question?163 OHP paddywagon for rounding up them Paddies. Luck O the Irish let me tells you she says. Forever whinging underneath the breadbasket that I have not been given sufficient hams. Germany brought you Bratwurst and FrankenSchnizerbeiken. Forget everything you knew about Bismarck. The March of progress soldiers on and like a stunted growth in the bathroom, we forget out masters are strangling the life out from the tiny necks. Chickens have more courage because they are stupid and will walk in front of a train but after a while at least one of them will get on board and conduct the pecking driver shuddering red eyeballs out. Gory revolution always peaceful solution bollways.

Dream the last dream you will ever remember because from now on I command thee to fornember forget.

Parturient.

pelling mistakes-

lousy loverz

...and they shall know us by the way in which wee love each others sew.

17.9.05

BEGIN Gambling Addiction



This is my mouth. I plan to use it to roar at you. I have to remember to not choose my words so obsessively but to always say the thing in my heart that needs saying from me to you past all the robotis semiotical nonsense. That is not my way. But I could learn.

Whatever do you think of the weather?

I plan to start a church of gambling bank. I want to find the tao of people's strength that gives them irrational blind faith and tap into it. I want the world working behind me on my side and not the other way around. I want a magic mountain that I can sing about from my bicycle seat soapwinebox.

One day it can be done. Why not re form it all in the image of the creator? Why not steal the money that way that robin hood said he would. Why not ask King Ludd to sleep over in the attick. I have over 60 million plastic bags and I can use them to cover the heads of the 60 million of brainwashed people that will not be converted. We can cut holes in the bag so they can see and breath but they must learn first to understand the suffocation of all this plastic that they keep
pushing pushing pushin.

Will your sexual ambivalence rule the day or do you desire to take the herbs that will render you virile? Don't you want to connect under and up on top of there? Or are you afraid.

Fear is such a shallow prejudice. I try to keep all of my prejudices xenophillic, xenophallic, entering the realms of the unknown that will forever change my world even if you don't knowtice that I am staring at you underneath of it all.

Control is the button that they will always push and you leave your body to make it into a Golem, a robot at the will of the mudd in your ears. Will you not see me forever in your heart after you have tried to forgetten me? Will you still sing songs with a minor harmonic melody that remind you of the empty feelings inside of you that you are so busy trying to run away from? Why do you not listen to Britney Spears? Are you afraid to stare the nothing but emptiness in the face that harshly?

Beware of the terms of service sir or madam. You speak a lot of revolutionary antics and put on a good show whatever but then you chain yourself to the floor on the bottom of your words of change page and plan to not allow for the sharing of the bounty the feculent fertility that only a true body vessel for change can inspire. Empty empty trademarker copy this copy this copy this and never more. We must remember that the place we got the idea from was either empty or full and we never could have made it that way. I am with you too and I fear the armoured vigilante. But the task at hand is not building up of guns surely the most heroic and defensive security measure for us all to adobt on September 11th is to ride our bikes naked through the street hurting none but for the UV poisononing sunbeams let through by apathy and our NATURE is warming and the change is more universal than just global. You can try and leave the glob but the university will keep sending you Alumnis direct marketing fundraising emails.

If you start doubting me, then I continue to doubt myself. I wish I had the power of these rivers beside us to bring fish into the brains.

I know that love is a silly affair and only the lovers know the smile of death as well as we do. We dance under the red moon because that is all that we can do, it is our best offering that we could even conceive of and birth control is not an option.

Whereas the preamble to this constitution is not yet written and whereas the words written down will always be fleeting: the kind of prison walls that rust and cannot hold our truth any longer. The truth is that time changes and that is why we go to that department and that is why you are still alive today: because somebody has allowed time to pass in a meaningful way before you and gambled of your truth becoming.

Is only I could walk into a room full of strangers and throw down all of my possessions onto the bright green felt lushness and the archaic card dance in their elaborate theocratic mystical charade and you and I look I to I with one another and we are not strangers but fighting against the odds for survival and to give to me a token and in the end it is all won by all of us and not just the one rich buddha who lucks out on the crap table. Charity gambling is faithless adultery. Usuary was outlawed by the bible but who really gives a shit anyways if your stocks are up from the hurrican katrina aftermath oil surge? Jesus died on that fucking cross and he is not about to come back and take the gold from your grubby little stubby artless fingers. You will die old and from cancer, or in a feiry car crash suddenly, so you like to think. The apocalypse is a sustainable industry that has been keeping the product moving off the shelves for 6 millenia. At least not we have the sense to keep tabs on all of it with our data recording devices. You really can shove 1000 songs up your ass and remember that a song was once meant to be the unbreakable covenant that kept human beings in love against cannibalism. Now we eat so many songs with our robots that the Cannibal corps is just waiting and biding time: skeletons need not fear or worry that any efforts need be expended to propagate their downwards spiral. We all plan to walk right off the tallest cliff and we have built very elaborate safety devices for keeping ourselves buckled into the solid rock lest we fall over too early and not from the tippy top of the tallest mountain peak.

Skinny falling over the head heels I slide down the greasy air into the depths of blue the airplane is receding from view and the big flat surface of the earth mother opens up into an impenetrable fortress of steel that will rock and roll until your lazyttt soul is fully erased from god's black sky in such a way that no more stars will twinkle. The least of all these dioxins in the atmosphere shall set your brain off more finally than under over. No more poo because plastic concrete isn't made of brainwaves it is made of solid crystal lattice that poor imitation of steel frameworks never able to collapse in a heap of burning wreakage. We know the vapogas whispy plastic smokestack fume heralds the overwhelming desire of the republic to erase itself the 1 and the Zero must be worshipped at all costs.

No, no, no, that is all wrong. You do not wish to leave on such a hopless despondent air. I need to tell you a heartening fairy tale where loneliness is broken and the spell of magic markers does not bother to whiff up your high. But our nature is not playing the same cycle of rebirth under the setting sun that you hoped for sustaining the wars of loving old. You must feign the romance for the unbeleivers. It is too late for any other course of action. Built the masterpiece song, find the dance and sex. Love will either be able to conquer or it will not, we are here to force the balance off and the polar must be releaved in the massive impossible extreme. Consult the dream of death and the dream of life now! We need to solve this or break the question fast because the other outcome is Zero and fanatics wish for that perfection now govern our lives through art music storytelling politics, food distribution mobility education... the word.

11.9.05

Nihil New Orleans

BEGIN THEDATE



[New Orleans Indypendant Media Centre]

pictures: http://www.nola-intel.org/pictures/

wow, This description seems to have quite an obvious bias. Everything has a bias, it just needs to be recognised. Nevertheless, from many many other reports I've read, well this seems like a very bad combination of a lot of things but not out of character from many other authoritarian responses that were reported.

Another widely reported case was of FEMA cutting power to the rescue workers radio station which was hooked up again by a local sheriff who then posted armed guards to protect the radio centre from FEMA.

we are strong in one another,
rusl
---------------
NEW ORLEANS--Heavily armed paramilitary mercenaries from the Blackwater private security firm, infamous for their work in Iraq, are openly patrolling the streets of New Orleans. Some of the mercenaries say they have been "deputized" by the Louisiana governor; indeed some are wearing gold Louisiana state law enforcement badges on their chests and Blackwater photo identification cards on their arms. They say they are on contract with the Department of Homeland Security and have been given the authority to use lethal force. Several mercenaries we spoke with said they had served in Iraq on the personal security details of the former head of the US occupation, L. Paul Bremer and the former US ambassador to Iraq, John Negroponte.
http://nyc.indymedia.org/or/2005/09/56851.html
---------------
Michael Brown, had hesitated for five hours after the storm hit before acting.

He then sent off a memo to his boss, Michael Chertoff, the head of the homeland security department, suggesting that 1,000 Fema workers should be sent in after another 48-hour wait, apparently for training purposes. One of their tasks, Mr Brown wrote, would be to "convey a positive image" about the government's response to the disaster.
FROM: http://www.guardian.co.uk/katrina/story/0,16441,1564976,00.html
---------------
The Red Cross’ official website explains “The state Homeland Security
Department had requested--and continues to request--that the American
Red Cross not come back into New Orleans following the hurricane. Our
presence would keep people from evacuating and encourage others to come
into the city.”
http://www.redcross.org/faq/0,1096,0_682_4524,00.html#4524 The Red
Cross is very calmly stating a horrific fact - Homeland Security would
rather starve and/or drown people than allow them to remain in their own
city.

---------------
Original article is at: http://neworleans.indymedia.org/news/2005/09/4683.php


'Get Off The Fucking Freeway': The Sinking State Loots its Own Survivors
Larry Bradshaw and Lorrie Beth SlonskyWednesday, Sep. 07, 2005 at 3:13 AM

Two paramedics stranded in New Orleans in the wake of hurricane Katrina give their account of self-organisation and abandonment in the disaster zone

Two days after Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, the Walgreen's store at the corner of Royal and Iberville streets remained locked. The dairy display case was clearly visible through the widows. It was now 48 hours without electricity, running water, plumbing. The milk, yogurt, and cheeses were beginning to spoil in the 90-degree heat. The owners and managers had locked up the food, water, pampers, and prescriptions and fled the City.

Outside Walgreen's windows, residents and tourists grew increasingly thirsty and hungry.

The much-promised federal, state and local aid never materialized and the windows at Walgreen's gave way to the looters. There was an alternative. The cops could have broken one small window and distributed the nuts, fruit juices, and bottle water in an organized and systematic manner. But they did not. Instead they spent hours playing cat and mouse, temporarily chasing away the looters.

We were finally airlifted out of New Orleans two days ago and arrived home yesterday (Saturday). We have yet to see any of the TV coverage or look at a newspaper. We are willing to guess that there were no video images or front-page pictures of European or affluent white tourists looting the Walgreen's in the French Quarter.

We also suspect the media will have been inundated with "hero" images of the National Guard, the troops and the police struggling to help the "victims" of the Hurricane. What you will not see, but what we witnessed,were the real heroes and sheroes of the hurricane relief effort: the working class of New Orleans. The maintenance workers who used a fork lift to carry the sick and disabled. The engineers, who rigged, nurtured and kept the generators running. The electricians who improvised thick extension cords stretching over blocks to share the little electricity we had in order to free cars stuck on rooftop parking lots. Nurses who took over for mechanical ventilators and spent many hours on end manually forcing air into the lungs of unconscious patients to keep them alive. Doormen who rescued folks stuck in elevators. Refinery workers who broke into boat yards, "stealing" boats to rescue their neighbors clinging to their roofs in flood waters.
Mechanics who helped hot-wire any car that could be found to ferry people out of the City. And the food service workers who scoured the commercial kitchens improvising communal meals for hundreds of those stranded.

Most of these workers had lost their homes, and had not heard from members of their families, yet they stayed and provided the only infrastructure for the 20% of New Orleans that was not under water.

On Day 2, there were approximately 500 of us left in the hotels in the French Quarter. We were a mix of foreign tourists, conference attendees like ourselves, and locals who had checked into hotels for safety and shelter from Katrina. Some of us had cell phone contact with family and friends outside of New Orleans. We were repeatedly told that all sorts of resources including the National Guard and scores of buses were pouring in to the City. The buses and the other resources must have been invisible because none of us had seen them.

We decided we had to save ourselves. So we pooled our money and came up with $25,000 to have ten buses come and take us out of the City. Those who did not have the requisite $45.00 for a ticket were subsidized by those who did have extra money. We waited for 48 hours for the buses, spending the last 12 hours standing outside, sharing the limited water, food, and clothes we had.

We created a priority boarding area for the sick, elderly and new born babies. We waited late into the night for the "imminent" arrival of the buses. The buses never arrived. We later learned that the minute the arrived to the City limits, they were commandeered by the military.

By day 4 our hotels had run out of fuel and water. Sanitation was dangerously abysmal. As the desperation and despair increased, street crime as well as water levels began to rise. The hotels turned us out and locked their doors, telling us that the "officials" told us to report to the convention center to wait for more buses. As we entered the center of the City, we finally encountered the National Guard.

The Guards told us we would not be allowed into the Superdome as the City's primary shelter had been descended into a humanitarian and health hellhole. The guards further told us that the City's only other shelter, the Convention Center, was also descending into chaos and squalor and that the police were not allowing anyone else in. Quite naturally, we asked, "If we can't go to the only 2 shelters in the City, what was our alternative?" The guards told us that that was our problem, and no they did not have extra water to give to us. This would be the start of our numerous encounters with callous and hostile "law enforcement".

We walked to the police command center at Harrah's on Canal Street and were told the same thing, that we were on our own, and no they did not have water to give us. We now numbered several hundred. We held a mass meeting to decide a course of action. We agreed to camp outside the police command post. We would be plainly visible to the media and would constitute a highly visible embarrassment to the City officials. The police told us that we could not stay. Regardless, we began to settle in and set up camp. In short order, the police commander came across the street to address our group. He told us he had a solution: we should walk to the Pontchartrain Expressway and cross the greater New Orleans Bridge where the police had buses lined up to take us out of the City. The crowed cheered and began to move. We called everyone back and explained to the commander that there had been lots of misinformation and wrong information and was he sure that there were buses waiting for us. T
he commander turned to the crowd and stated emphatically, "I swear to you that the buses are there."

We organized ourselves and the 200 of us set off for the bridge with great excitement and hope. As we marched pasted the convention center, many locals saw our determined and optimistic group and asked where we were headed. We told them about the great news. Families immediately grabbed their few belongings and quickly our numbers doubled and then doubled again. Babies in strollers now joined us, people using crutches, elderly clasping walkers and others people in wheelchairs. We marched the 2-3 miles to the freeway and up the steep incline to the Bridge. It now began to pour down rain, but it did not dampen our enthusiasm.

As we approached the bridge, armed Gretna sheriffs formed a line across the foot of the bridge. Before we were close enough to speak, they began firing their weapons over our heads. This sent the crowd fleeing in various directions. As the crowd scattered and dissipated, a few of us inched forward and managed to engage some of the sheriffs in conversation. We told them of our conversation with the police commander and of the commander's assurances. The sheriffs informed us there were no buses waiting. The commander had lied to us to get us to move.

We questioned why we couldn't cross the bridge anyway, especially as there
was little traffic on the 6-lane highway. They responded that the West Bank was not going to become New Orleans and there would be no Superdomes in their City. These were code words for if you are poor and black, you are not crossing the Mississippi River and you were not getting out of New Orleans.

Our small group retreated back down Highway 90 to seek shelter from the rain under an overpass. We debated our options and in the end decided to build an encampment in the middle of the Ponchartrain Expressway on the center divide, between the O'Keefe and Tchoupitoulas exits. We reasoned we would be visible to everyone, we would have some security being on an elevated freeway and we could wait and watch for the arrival of the yet to be seen buses.

All day long, we saw other families, individuals and groups make the same trip up the incline in an attempt to cross the bridge, only to be turned away. Some chased away with gunfire, others simply told no, others to be verbally berated and humiliated. Thousands of New Orleaners were prevented and prohibited from self-evacuating the City on foot. Meanwhile, the only two City shelters sank further into squalor and disrepair. The only way across the bridge was by vehicle. We saw workers stealing trucks, buses, moving vans, semi-trucks and any car that could be hotwired. All were packed with people trying to escape the misery New Orleans had become.

Our little encampment began to blossom. Someone stole a water delivery truck and brought it up to us. Let's hear it for looting! A mile or so down the freeway, an army truck lost a couple of pallets of C-rations on a tight turn. We ferried the food back to our camp in shopping carts. Now secure with the two necessities, food and water; cooperation, community, and creativity flowered. We organized a clean up and hung garbage bags from the rebar poles. We made beds from wood pallets and cardboard. We designated a storm drain as the bathroom and the kids built an elaborate enclosure for privacy out of plastic, broken umbrellas, and other scraps. We even organized a food recycling system where individuals could swap out parts of C-rations (applesauce for babies and candies for kids!).

This was a process we saw repeatedly in the aftermath of Katrina. When individuals had to fight to find food or water, it meant looking out for yourself only. You had to do whatever it took to find water for your kids or food for your parents. When these basic needs were met, people began to look out for each other, working together and constructing a community.

If the relief organizations had saturated the City with food and water in the first 2 or 3 days, the desperation, the frustration and the ugliness would not have set in.

Flush with the necessities, we offered food and water to passing families and individuals. Many decided to stay and join us. Our encampment grew to 80 or 90 people.

From a woman with a battery powered radio we learned that the media was talking about us. Up in full view on the freeway, every relief and news organizations saw us on their way into the City. Officials were being asked what they were going to do about all those families living up on the freeway? The officials responded they were going to take care of us. Some of us got a sinking feeling. "Taking care of us" had an ominous tone to it.

Unfortunately, our sinking feeling (along with the sinking City) was correct.

Just as dusk set in, a Gretna Sheriff showed up, jumped out of his patrol vehicle, aimed his gun at our faces, screaming, "Get off the fucking freeway". A helicopter arrived and used the wind from its blades to blow away our flimsy structures. As we retreated, the sheriff loaded up his truck with our food and water.

Once again, at gunpoint, we were forced off the freeway. All the law enforcement agencies appeared threatened when we congregated or congealed into groups of 20 or more. In every congregation of "victims" they saw "mob" or "riot". We felt safety in numbers. Our "we must stay together" was impossible because the agencies would force us into small atomized groups.

In the pandemonium of having our camp raided and destroyed, we scattered
once again. Reduced to a small group of 8 people, in the dark, we sought refuge in an abandoned school bus, under the freeway on Cilo Street. We were hiding from possible criminal elements but equally and definitely, we were hiding from the police and sheriffs with their martial law, curfew and shoot-to-kill policies.

The next days, our group of 8 walked most of the day, made contact with New Orleans Fire Department and were eventually airlifted out by an urban search and rescue team. We were dropped off near the airport and managed to catch a ride with the National Guard. The two young guardsmen apologized for the limited response of the Louisiana guards. They explained that a large section of their unit was in Iraq and that meant they were shorthanded and were unable to complete all the tasks they were assigned.

We arrived at the airport on the day a massive airlift had begun. The airport had become another Superdome. We 8 were caught in a press of humanity as flights were delayed for several hours while George Bush landed briefly at the airport for a photo op. After being evacuated on a coast guard cargo plane, we arrived in San Antonio, Texas.

There the humiliation and dehumanization of the official relief effort continued. We were placed on buses and driven to a large field where we were forced to sit for hours and hours. Some of the buses did not have air-conditioners.

In the dark, hundreds if us were forced to share two filthy overflowing porta-potties. Those who managed to make it out with any possessions (often a few belongings in tattered plastic bags) we were subjected to two different dog-sniffing searches.

Most of us had not eaten all day because our C-rations had been confiscated at the airport because the rations set off the metal detectors. Yet, no food had been provided to the men, women, children, elderly, disabled as they sat for hours waiting to be "medically screened" to make sure we were not carrying any communicable diseases.

This official treatment was in sharp contrast to the warm, heart-felt reception given to us by the ordinary Texans. We saw one airline worker give her shoes to someone who was barefoot. Strangers on the street offered us money and toiletries with words of welcome.

Throughout, the official relief effort was callous, inept, and racist. There was more suffering than need be. Lives were lost that did not need to be lost.



Links

Jamie King 'The Real War of the Worlds'
[http://linkme2.net/5f] (URL: http://jamie.com/archives/20)

http://www.metamute.com/look/article.tpl?IdLanguage=1&IdPublication=1&NrIssue=24&NrSection=5&NrArticle=1523

------------------------------------
New Orleans Independent Media Center

Original article is at http://neworleans.indymedia.org/news/2005/09/4845.php Print comments.

Katrina and the State
by Kate Thursday, Sep. 08, 2005 at 3:29 PM
Kate_EP@hotmail.com

An autonomous take on the state's response to Katrina, including overviews of the Looting, Police, Jails, the Superdome and Evacuation from personal accounts, independent media and relevant news sources.

Today is Wednesday, Sept. 7th, 2005, exactly one week after the intense
flooding of New Orleans began. Like the toxic waters, the horrific
pictures of tragedy in New Orleans have begun to subside, being replaced
with ’reassuring’ images of police in control and displaced residents
finding temporary homes in sports arenas across the land. The eyes of
the nation are being managed away from what those of us from New Orleans
cannot ignore - the state of our city. That state is now a police
state. While I am safe, nourished and extremely fortunate in Arizona, I
am heartbroken and horrified by what is happening to my city and
neighbors.

Independent media and first-hand accounts are very important to my
understanding of world events. Every day, it seems more and more like
the state is attempting to evacuate the city and spread its residents
across the country for long enough to set up new lives. Many poor and
black folks were given free rides OUT of New Orleans after Katrina, but
how many will be given rides back in? How will their city be rebuilt?

Who will be awarded contracts to rebuild it? Who will do the awarding?
What kind of rebuilding will happen? What will be the character of
the neighborhoods after it is rebuilt? Who will populate this new
metropolis? These questions and many more need to be continually asked
of the government and of ourselves because New Orleans without the
people is a body without a soul. Dead.

I have compiled what I believe are some excellent personal stories,
personal emails and important information about the aftermath of
Hurricane Katrina. At the end, I offer a few suggestions about
local organizing that people where conscious people can contribute their
support. I welcome feedback at Kate_EP@hotmail.com

RESCUE FROM HOUSES

Far from being the ‘anarchy’ described by the mainstream media, New
Orleans’ biggest problems began when the city stopped auto and boating
traffic from coming into the city. There are many first-hand reports of
various relief organizations being refused entry into the city by bus
and boat. In fact, there are so many that they are being collected at a
website, http://amsam.org/2005/09/refused-help-why.html

The Red Cross’ official website explains “The state Homeland Security
Department had requested--and continues to request--that the American
Red Cross not come back into New Orleans following the hurricane. Our
presence would keep people from evacuating and encourage others to come
into the city.”
http://www.redcross.org/faq/0,1096,0_682_4524,00.html#4524 The Red
Cross is very calmly stating a horrific fact - Homeland Security would
rather starve and/or drown people than allow them to remain in their own
city.

Sensational reports of gunfire directed at rescue helicopters have been
a stock feature of media coverage. I don't intend to trivialize
violence, but come on - gunfire is a daily fact of life in any city -
and New Orleans is the murder capital of the nation. Due to this
gunfire, the state continued to try and disallow voluntary rescuers. If
you read the personal accounts of displaced residents, you will find at
least as many as were rescued from homes by volunteer efforts as by
state officials, probably more. Despite all of the state’s attempts,
regular, everyday folk persisted and illegally entered the city and
helped save thousands of people.

Carmaine Neville, local jazz and funk singer, described her experience
of evacuating her 9th Ward home, rescuing neighbors to a school in a
flatboat, finding food and feeding people, seeing many, many dead bodies,
boating people to the Quarter and eventually ’stealing’ a bus to drive
these folks out of town. In reference to the helicopters, she says, “A
lot of those young men lost their minds because the helicopters would
fly over us and they wouldn’t stop. We’d do SOS on the flashlight and
everything. We kept seeing ‘em, but they never would stop and help. It
came to a point. It really did come to a point where these young men
were so frustrated that they did start shooting. They weren’t trying to
hit the helicopters, but they figured they weren’t seeing. Maybe if
they hear the gunfire, they will stop then, but that didn’t help us.”
Video of this important first-hand account can be found at
http://www.wafb.com/ under “Charmaine Neville: New Orleans Evacuee.”

The Washington Post reported that “More than 50 countries and a number
of international organizations have offered aid and technical assistance.
In Washington, the State Department has not accepted the help, but said
it was analyzing needs. Some nations have made contributions directly
to the American Red Cross.”
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/09/03/AR2005090301433.html?sub=new


But even as of today, WEDNESDAY, SEPT 7th, there are still many posts
listing missing persons at
http://www.nola.com/weblogs/nola/index.ssf?/mtlogs/nola_nolaview/archives/2005_09.html
While the people of New Orleans and the rest of the country
desperately tried to organize and save New Orleans residents from
drowning, the government stepped in to force order on the situation.
Absolute control of the situation, an impossibility, was more important
to the state than the lives and misery of thousands of stranded New
Orleans residents.

TRANSPORTATION

The government could have evacuated thousands of people by rail or with
commercially chartered, municipal or school busses from within the
region. Major rail lines services the Port of New Orleans. I can hear
their screeching brakes from my home on any evening. None of these rail
lines were used to provide a safe exit for a population that relies on
mass transportation every day.

Charmaine Neville didn’t commandeer the only bus in New Orleans -
eighteen-year-old Jabbor Gibson "jumped aboard the bus as it sat
abandoned on a street in New Orleans and took control.” stated Houston
NewsChannel 5, “The teen packed it full of complete strangers and drove
to Houston.” The young man declared “"I dont care if I get blamed for
it, as long as I saved my people."
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1476351/posts

The Port of New Orleans is the centerpiece of the world‘s busiest port
complex - the lower Mississippi River. According to the Port of New
Orleans, it is the only deepwater port in the US served by six class one
railroads. “This gives port users direct and economical rail service
to or from anywhere in the country.” http://www.portno.com/facts.htmI
used to watch gigantic cruise ships and even larger barges full of train
cars float in and out of the port on an hourly basis. Satellite
photographs of the bridges of the Industrial Canal show them as up.
These bridges link the Lower 9th Ward, the area now twenty feet under
water, to the rest of the city and higher ground. With the future of
electricity and power uncertain, were these left up so that industry
could continue? Satellite photographs at located at
http://www.spaceimaging.com/gallery/hurricanes2005/katrina/default.htm
The Port of New Orleans announced today that it is set to resume
commercial operations to load and unload vessels as early as Friday.
http://today.reuters.com/investing/financeArticle.aspx?type=bondsNews&storyID=2005-09-07T204405Z_01_N07166197_RTRIDST_0_FOOD-KATRINA-PORT-UPDATE-2.XML

Not only did the government refuse to use all of these methods of
transport themselves, they refused those who independently tried to
evacuate the city. In their personal account, locals Larry Bradshaw and
Lorrie Beth Slonsky describe Grenta police shooting at them as they
tried to walk across the Crescent City Connection, from New Orleans to
Gretna, and later, at dusk, “a Gretna Sheriff showed up, jumped out of
his patrol vehicle, aimed his gun at our faces, screaming, ‘Get off the
fucking freeway‘.”
http://neworleans.indymedia.org/news/2005/09/4683.php Superdome
evacuees were also prevented from crossing this same bridge, according
to Fox news, as described below.

THE SUPERDOME
The Superdome, the well-publicized location where remaining residents
could weather the storm in safety, failed on almost every count. First,
the ceiling broke open, sun streaming in, as Hurricane winds tore off
the roof. Then, sufficient water and food were also lacking.
Eventually, even toilets were unusable. According to Malik Rahim, “People
were told to go to the Superdome, but they have no food, no water there.
And before they could get in, people had to stand in line for 4-5 hours
in the rain because everybody was being searched one by one at the
entrance.” http://neworleans.indymedia.org/news/2005/09/4209.php My
friends,
Jordan and Christina wrote a diary of their stay after the hurricane and
went to a refugee camp. “Everyone has a story to tell, of a home
destroyed, of swimming across town, of bodies and fights and gunshots
and looting and fear. The worst stories come from the Superdome.”
http://neworleans.indymedia.org/news/2005/09/4559.php

The arena was not a safe shelter, but a new city jail. People were
seduced with promises of food and water and shelter at the Superdome,
but when they
arrived, they were treated to the most miserable of conditions. Even
Shepard Smith and Geraldo Rivera went on FOX News, reporting live from
the Superdome, simply asking the government to allow the residents of
New Orleans OUT of the Superdome, to walk to water and food across the
bridge in Gretna. You can view the video here
http://www.crooksandliars.com/2005/09/02.html#a4763

Local organizer Curtis Mohhamad described the Superdome situation on
Democracy Now: “the Mayor at one point goes into the Superdome and goes
into the Convention Center, and says, ‘Just go walk. Don't wait for help.
Just get on the highway and walk out of here.’ That actually happened.
And they stopped them. They set up checkpoints and would not let the
people leave the city for fear they were going to loot the dry towns,
white towns, Kenner, Metairie up the road. And they started locking
these shelters at night so people could not sneak away. And no help was
still coming.”
http://www.democracynow.org/article.pl?sid=05/09/07/1415225

Directnic.com is a large domain registration provider located in the
Central Business District of New Orleans. They have managed to stay
high and dry throughout the storm, never having lost connection once.
These folks have posted hundreds of photographs on their website since
the Hurricane. They posted pictures of two men who’d left the Superdome
to escape to New Orleans. http://www.nola-intel.org/pictures3/ Both
men were very unhappy enough with the conditions there that they escaped
to try their luck in a flooded city.

WATER AND FIRE

Governor Blanco shut off the water on Wednesday. This was due not to a
health problem, but because of a potential contamination. New Orleans
resident Claudia Copeland wrote, “They have shut off the tap water. They
want to stem disease from drinking contaminated water, but at least if
they gave us contaminated water, we could boil it.” Tap water in New
Orleans comes from the Mississippi River, not any more polluted than it
normally is. One poster on Indymedia wrote that while the water was shut
off in the city, the natural gas was still functioning as of Thursday
evening. Shutting off the water also contributed to one of the most
obvious and immediate problems in the city - the lack of toilets and the
over-flowing sewage.

Directnic.com posted a photograph of the first water distribution they’d
seen on Canal Street (a major road) at
http://www.nola-intel.org/pictures3/Picture074.jpg They wrote “People
were happy to see water available,” that “Ironically the water is
labeled “Nirvana’” and that “Everyone I asked said that this was the
first time they noticed water dropped off.”
http://www.nola-intel.org/pictures3/

Fires now ravage the city because the Fire Department cannot get water
pressure to put out the fires. One fire at the Governor Nichols' Wharf,
raging near my home, was extinguished only because it was next to
the river and fireboats put it out with river water.
http://www.nola.com/cgi-bin/prxy/photogalleries/nph-cache.cgi/cache=3000;/nola/images/3804/07_Fireworld1.jpg

POLICE

The 1,600-member New Orleans Police Department has fallen to about 1,000
by Tuesday, said Warren J. Riley, NOPD assistant superintendent.
http://2theadvocate.com/stories/090605/new_holdouts001.shtml There is
widespread distrust of the police department in New Orleans with good
reason. Not only is it well-known for its long history of corruption,
but it maintained miserable policies and behavior through the recent
years, as well. There have been ten killings of residents by police
officers so far in 2005, including not one, but two separate indictments
of police raping women while in uniform this year. Since moving to New
Orleans in late 2004, my partner and I were frequently harassed by the
cops and let's face it - we're white and have a place to sleep/food to
eat. Not the biggest targets. We have been screamed at and threatened
with arrest - once for sitting on a street curb during Mardi Gras and
another time for sitting next to Lake Pontchartrain, having a quiet date
eating biscuits and corn.

The NOPD dropped its veneer as a neutral law-enforcement organization
and is revealed in all its renegade posse racist glory as this disaster
struck. Police officers are now riding high in pick-up trucks, guns
held high with a newly-designed NOPD/Pirate logo, complete with skull
and cross-bones.
http://www.nola.com/cgi-bin/prxy/photogalleries/nph-cache.cgi/cache=3000;/nola/images/3775/05_NOPD.jpg
While the National Guard jokes with white French Quarter residents,
http://www.nola.com/cgi-bin/prxy/photogalleries/nph-cache.cgi/cache=3000;/nola/images/3788/2088123.jpg
, SWAT teams are invading black homes - “Leonard Thomas, 23, cries
after a SWAT team burst into the flooded home he and his family were
living in on Monday, Sept. 5, 2005”
http://www.nola.com/cgi-bin/prxy/photogalleries/nph-cache.cgi/cache=3000;/nola/images/3785/08.jpg
and shooting and arresting blacks.

In a striking show of the difference between New Orleans residents and
government associates, the New Zealand Herald reported at 9:30am that “New
Orleans police shot and killed four men and wounded one other after
looters fired on officers.” Just half an hour later, the Herald Sun
reported that “Associated Press reports that at least five people shot
dead by police as they walked across a New Orleans bridge yesterday were
contractors working for the US Defense department.”
http://neworleans.indymedia.org/news/2005/09/4459.php Residents have
just as much right, if not more right, to walk on their bridges. This
city does not belong to the government. It belongs to its residents.

JAILS

One of the most horrifying possibilities is the very strong chance that
imprisoned people have drowned in their cells while in jail. I received
an email from a personal friend detailing one man’s escape - “do you
know that (name omitted) and many others had to break themselves free
from the prison cells, he said that hundreds in there did not make it,
that they were left there to die. I hope to be going there myself next
week, and (name omitted) will be coming back here with me and our son.”
In one news report, News Day reported that New Orleans correction
officer Shantia Barnes believes that many inmates may have drowned,
including inmates housed on the first floor of the Templeman 3 building,
where in the chaos, some inmates may have remained locked inside.
http://www.newsday.com/news/local/longisland/ny-lioff05,0,4856723.story?coll=ny-linews-headlines


I also received an email from Xochitl Bervera of Families and Friends of
Louisiana's Incarcerated Children who has contacted two separate
grandmothers who lost their 16 year old grandsons as they were
evacuating. After sitting on the causeway or in the convention center
for 4 or 5 days, buses came. As they were boarding the buses, these
youth were pulled out by cops for "pushing" and handcuffed there. That
was the last time their grandmothers saw them. The lines between unruly
and criminal are becoming increasing blurred, as politicians call for “zero
tolerance” on looting in a resource-scarce area.

Lisa Kung of the Southern Center for Human Rights emailed information
today stating that “FFLIC has not confirmed that all youths have been
accounted for,” and “The NYTimes today reports that Sheriff Gusman
claims the prisoners have all been moved outside the city. As of this
morning, however, it seems the OPP computer system was still down, so it
is hard to fathom how the Sheriff could credibly make such a claim. We
have heard disturbing accounts of the evacuation of OPP. If you have any
first or second person accounts, please send/forward here to my email
lkung@schr.org and/or xochit@mediajumpstart.org.”
http://neworleans.indymedia.org/news/2005/09/4761.php

One glance at the makeshift Bus Station Jail shows that the New Orleans
Injustice System is continuing arrest and lock-up folks with the same
racist, unjust methods as before Katrina. Pictures show almost all
black folks arrested, while every jailer is white. The color line is
the same one I saw while sitting in a New Orleans court this summer -
almost every prisoner was black, while the judge, lawyers and court
clerks were white. It would take a several heaping spoonfuls of color-blindness
to ignore this situation. It is not pretty, but this is unacceptable.
From the rescue efforts to the racist prison system, this must stop
now.

ON LOOTING

In the minds of the locals I’ve spoken with since departing New Orleans,
looting had become a necessary evil in a city with little to no
incoming distribution of resources like food and water. If you speak
with locals, you will find out that the majority of the looting was done
to share resources.

‘But what about the shoes and diapers?’ Well, if you can’t figure out
the necessity of shoes and diapers in a situation like this, then I can’t
help you here. ‘But a plasma TV?’ One must understand that New
Orleans residents just had all of their belongings soaked by a flood.
In a situation where there has been very little distributed food and
water and no reliable information on how to get out of the city,
illegal bargaining and plasma TVs can be very important for getting your
family a bus ride. Resident Claudia Copeland, wrote an account of her
departure from the city. She and her friends were driven out on a
pirated bus which demanded $50.00 a ride, but the driver bargained down
to get everyone out. This may sound callous, but this bus driver was
helping people through the night when the government and relief agencies
would not or could not.
http://neworleans.indymedia.org/news/2005/09/4048.php

Instead of focusing on the vast need for transportation and food,
Governor Kathleen Blanco sent in 300 National Guard troops who landed in
New Orleans fresh from duty in Iraq, stating "They have M-16s and they're
locked and loaded. These troops know how to shoot and kill, and they
are more than willing to do so, and I expect they will.“ As with the
Kent State massacre and Tien'amin Square, she hoped to send in troops
from afar when the local troops just won’t shoot their fellow residents.
Thus far, it seems that the National Guard has done less killing than
the local SWATs, but this situation still needs attention.

In an illustration of just how rampant illegal resource-gathering became,
even the New Orleans Police Department were ‘caught’ on videotape while
looting a Wal-Mart.
http://www.zippyvideos.com/8911023771013466/countdown-looting-in-walmart/
The Arizona Republic reported that its local sheriffs “watched New
Orleans police officers loading their patrol cars with items taken from
various businesses, including a Wal-Mart, a couple of pharmacies, a
hardware store, an auto-parts store and a grocery store.” This was
quickly explained away by their chief, who said "The worst thing we
could do is judge what happened. They were besieged."
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/0907katrina-looting07.html If
looting is explainable and acceptable for police, who have all the state’s
support, it is certainly acceptable for New Orleans residents to meet
their desperate needs during the crisis.

HOSPITALS

One might think that hospitals would be at the top of the list to be
evacuated. I received two separate emails illustrating that this is not
the case in New Orleans. One nurse writes “I was working at Charity
Sun. Aug. 28 to Fri. Sept. 2 during the storm. It was a nightmare. We,
all staff and patients were evacuated from the roof of
Charity on Friday. . . The truth of this whole thing must see the day of
light!” Another email was a frantic plea for help on Thursday, Sept.
1st from a friend of Kim Keene, in charge of Touro Infirmary. “Yesterday
they had 4 hours of generator time left, were stranded on the 2nd floor
and above, and had 1200 people (patients and staff). Looters were
banging at the door and they only had a handful of security guards. She
is trying to find a way to get the people out as they had no water,
limited supplies and with no electricity there is no life support and
people will start dying. Trouro, an independent Jewish hospital in the
garden district, has been completely ignored- it has not been put on the
emergency evacuation plan and no news stations or papers have covered
what is happening there. She called desperate to get someone to notice
them.”

In a third story about another hospital, the Raw Story interviewed Bill
Quigley, who was volunteering at Memorial Hospital, where his wife,
Debbie, works as a doctor. They write, “The power went out early Monday.
The sickest patients, roughly seventy or so, were evacuated by
helicopter Sunday. Not until Wednesday morning did more helicopters
appear. Quigley and other volunteers tried to get the attention of the
numerous helicopters they could see hovering over the city.”
Furthermore, “As the hours and days wore on and no help came,
floodwaters continued to rise. Medication and supplies ran out. Quigley
says he saw no National Guard, local or state police or security forces
of any kind. Around midday on Thursday, air boats operated by private
volunteers began arriving and taking four or five persons at a time. The
remaining hospital patients and staff – approximately 2000 people --
were evacuated by citizen volunteers.”
http://rawstory.com/news/2005/Lethal_chaos_Law_professor_describes_scene_at_New_Orleans_ho_0905.html

These are three different personal stories from three different
hospitals indicating, yet once again, the massive failure of the
government to help those most needy during Hurricane Katrina.


PHOTO OPS

Even the state senator, Mary Landrieu, said “But perhaps the greatest
disappointment stands at the breached 17th Street levee. Touring this
critical site yesterday with the President, I saw what I believed to be
a real and significant effort to get a handle on a major cause of this
catastrophe. Flying over this critical spot again this morning, less
than 24 hours later, it became apparent that yesterday we witnessed a
hastily prepared stage set for a Presidential photo opportunity; and the
desperately needed resources we saw were this morning reduced to a
single, lonely piece of equipment. The good and decent people of
southeast Louisiana and the Gulf Coast - black and white, rich and poor,
young and old - deserve far better from their national government.”
http://www.fromtheroots.org/story/2005/9/3/19542/97952

U.S. Rep. Charlie Melancon’s chief of staff, Casey O’Shea told the Times-Picayune
that three tons of food ready for delivery by air to refugees in St.
Bernard Parish and on Algiers Point sat on the Crescent City Connection
bridge Friday afternoon as air traffic was halted because of President
Bush’s visit to New Orleans. “We had arrangements to airlift food by
helicopter to these folks, and now the food is sitting in trucks because
they won’t let helicopters fly,” O’Shea said Friday afternoon. It was
not reported whether the supplies ever actually made it to those who
most needed it.
http://www.nola.com/weblogs/print.ssf?/mtlogs/nola_Times-Picayune/archives/print076556.html


Across the Atlantic, two German news stations were aghast at the level
of grandstanding by the President. ZDF News’ correspondent Claudia
Rueggeberg stated, “Along his [Bush] travel route aid units removed
debris and recovered corpses. Then Bush left and along with him, all aid
troops left too. The situation in Biloxi remains unchanged, nothing has
arrived, everything is still needed."
http://www.warandpiece.com/blogdirs/002504.html Then, Christine
Adelhardt, of ARD Video, said “But what has happened in Biloxi all day
long is truly unbelievable. Suddenly recovery units appeared, suddenly
bulldozers were there, those hadn't been seen here all the days before,
and this in an area, in which it really wouldn't be necessary to do a
big clean up, because far and wide nobody lives here anymore, the people
are more inland in the city. The President travels with a press baggage
[big crew]. This press baggage got very beautiful pictures which are
supposed to say, that the President was here and help is on the way, too.
The extent of the natural disaster shocked me, but the extent of the
staging is shocking me at least the same way.”
http://www.dailykos.com/comments/2005/9/3/22494/85287/77#77

What was the president doing here, other than bolstering his position in
the polls? For any presidential visit to any city at the best of times,
large areas of the city along the president's route are blockaded and
air traffic over certain areas is halted for security reasons. Unless
the President dares to walk the streets unguarded, something this man
apparently knows not to risk, he should be devoting his time and efforts
to delivering support to the region. These stories speak for
themselves. The mission is, apparently, not accomplished. New Orleans
and other affected by the storm need real, on the ground support. We
expect more when it comes to rebuilding the city.

CATASTROPHE

The disaster will definitely go down in history as one of the worst in
this country. It brings Pompeii to mind. Atlantis is frequently
mentioned. I would much prefer the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake or the
1871 The Great Fire in Chicago, IL or even Dresden, Germany. These
cities rebuilt. The government is attempting to evacuate this city,
quite possibly in order to drown it or burn it for good. Pundits from
the US and other nations suggest that it should be allowed to die.
However, this was one of the strongest cities in the nation. No other
city matches New Orleans for the culture and music and resistance and
community that I heard from regular, everyday folks in that city.

This hurricane and flood are much much worse than Sept. 11th. As a
volunteer EMT wrote, “I was in New York during September 11 and the
weeks that followed and I say the following with complete certainty:
this disaster is so much worse than September 11 that they are not even
comparable.” http://neworleans.indymedia.org/news/2005/09/4046.php
The death toll will be much higher and those affected will not be stock-brokers
- it will be the black and poor. For those who lose a loved one, it is
not just one person dead, but entire families and communities who lose
their loved ones, then their houses, then their jobs and finally their
entire community and city. The first two days of this disaster was a
natural disaster - the days since have been purely man-made.

RETURNING

The first thing on many New Orleans’ residents minds is when we can
return. Some outsiders characterize this as naive and foolish. I
wonder, how would they react if someone told them to simply walk away
from their entire lives? New Orleans is our home and even days away,
many of us already miss our community and neighborhoods. While the
mayor has called for complete evacuation of the city, the feds have
refused to evacuate people from their homes. This contradiction in
authority and chain of command has left many still in the city. The
biggest concern for myself right now is the contamination levels in the
city from nearby petrochemical plants and the flooded city. Again, the
only thing to do is wait.

While the National Guard and New Orleans Police Department keep New
Orleans’ residents from their homes, people from other areas of the
Gulf South, including nearby Jefferson Parish, are allowed to return to
collect belongings and board up homes.
http://www.nola.com/cgi-bin/prxy/photogalleries/nph-cache.cgi/cache=3000;/nola/images/3792/9.jpg
One might think that this is due to flooding or some electricity, but
many areas of Jefferson Parish are still flooded and without electricity.
This, again, is an issue of class and race and control.

The Mayor declared a mandatory, forced evacuation yesterday,
http://www.nola.com/cityofno/ but active-military troops said they had
no plans to use force, according to this story at the Arizona Republic.
http://www.azcentral.com/news/articles/0907KatrinaNewOrleans07-ON.html
However, as his troops prepared for a massive citywide security mission
on Friday, Brig. Gen. Gary Jones told the Army Times “This place is
going to look like Little Somalia. We’re going to go out and take this
city back. This will be a combat operation to get this city under
control.” http://www.armytimes.com/story.php?f=1-292925-1077495.php

These contradictions in bureaucracy are allowing some New Orleans
residents to remain in the city. Their presence there is vital to the
city’s survival - if they leave, then those who believe New Orleans
should go the way of Atlantis have a far greater chance of succeeding.
Personal stories and information will not go in and out of the city.
Consciously or not, they act as both witnesses and obstructions to
government oppression. Wherever non-governmental New Orleans residents
reside, the government will not succeed in a complete police state.

SUPPORTING

There are several very real ways that you can begin to support displaced
New Orleans residents. We are not refugees. We are displaced
residents. Our city may be underwater, but the community is the heart
of the New Orleans. The community is the reason I moved there and the
key to rebuilding a flourishing city, not a sanitized Theme Park.

New Orleans residents open our city to thousands of visitors each year,
but there is much much more to the city than Bourbon Street and Café du
Monde. There are the neighborhoods, which provide the basis for the
community. One of the first things a new resident must learn upon
moving to New Orleans are all the different neighborhoods - “the Treme (the
first free black neighborhood in the entire US), Uptown, Mid-city, the
Marigny, Central City, the 9th Ward, the Lower 9th Ward, Gentilly, to
name just a few. The flavor and heart of each neighborhood are its
people.

There are the people. Some of these people now lie underwater and their
lives must be remembered and cherished as much as their deaths. These
people are not statistics - they are sons and daughters, parents and
grandparents. They are community.

Some of these people remain in the city, acting as eyes and ears to the
rest of the nation about the real story of Katrina. They are the
resilient community. Continuing independent operations to distribute
food and water to New Orleans residents appears as necessary now as over
the past week.

The remaining displaced New Orleans residents have been spread across
the country. In the words of my friend, Glenn, “I feel like I am not
going to see any of my friends again for a really long time, like all
the crazy stuff that randomly went into people being in New Orleans has
unraveled and we are all spread across the country. I am pretty sad
about the whole thing. I'm at least 5th generation New Orleanian, so I
want to go back no matter what. I fear for the future, when everything
gets torn down and property speculators come in and buy it all up. What
a fucking mess.“ Jobs for rebuilding New Orleans and help with homes
should go first to New Orleans residents, especially those who need it
most. We deserve and will need a chance to participate in fixing our
city.

If you would like to financially or personally support some local, class-
and race-conscious organizers to do on the ground support for displaced
New Orleans residents, I recommend the three following organizations.
I do not work for any of these groups, although I have supported them in
the past, because they did good work in New Orleans prior to Katrina
and they are continuing this after she left.

Friends and Families of Louisiana Incarcerated Children has called for
volunteers to help them with getting families in touch with their
imprisoned or arrested children. You can also donate money to “FFLIC
Hurricane Relief Fund” at 920 Platt Street, Sulphur, Louisiana, 70663.
You can contact them by writing xochit@@@mediajumpstart.org or visiting
http://www.fflic.org

Community Labor United, a coalition of the progressive organizations
throughout New Orleans, has brought community members together for eight
years to discuss socio-economic issues. They have set up a People's
Hurricane Fund that will be directed and administered by New Orleanian
evacuees and you can find more info about donating at
http://www.qecr.org/index.html

Critical Resistance is a national prison abolition organization that has
a chapter in New Orleans. They are also organizing to provide local
support in to help folks recover and rebuild. You can donate to them at
http://www.criticalresistance.org/index.php?name=Support-CR

New Orleans Indymedia needs help with original stories and coverage. It
is one of the best resources for local, personal accounts of the
hurricane. http://nola.indymedia.org Especially in times of crisis
like that currently raging, we need current coverage and New Orleans
residents’ stories.

For copyright and privacy policy refer to: http://neworleans.indymedia.org/process/disclaimer.php - http://neworleans.indymedia.org/process/privacy.php

17.8.05

Telefonay

BEGIN THEDATE4.18aug17, 2335


You ain't gettin NO PUSSY. Cause you ain't got no money!
Take your crappy ass home bitch!
Eat this Pussy!
Suck my cock and I'll eat your pussy!
Is it less filling? No, it tastes great!
Women: Less filling, Men: Tastes Great!
Do that shit. Jesus would have. Jesus would have had an orgy for you because he loves EVERYBODY! Jesus was for real and he made love to you for real. There is cumm dripping down the walls in heaven. When you land you stroke like you just don't care.

I love 18 women all at once and I know each and every one intimately and deeply. I spend all of my time making love with my brain and/or my body. Democracy is coming but we must prevent it. Each of those women each have 36 husbands each and my goodness are they ever busy and clever ladies. They each have no time for wickedness or anything else. Only the mighty fuck. All of us each have about 10 lovers of the same gender that we tenderly embrace when the opposite sex has us frustrated and tired we stay with our own. It's a lot of work but it beats being the son of a bad man. The transgendered among us are not uniformly distributed either but they are more evenly sexed. All 7000 of us fuck and suck daily as a sort of meditative exercise. We are kind of like a new kind of larger organism made up of 7000 cells and each individual gives herself fully to the collective but is also intimately and tenderly cared for.

Aeons and Aeons ago we were skipping rope together in the cement school yard and were forced to avert our eyes if the table skirt revealed the ankle of the leggy tables too much.

THAT IS THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FACE
ON MY BASS MACHINE


Woah.
2335
7 3 3 t
When I was alone and had nothing, I asked for a friend to help ease the pain when all I saw was pain when I'm asked who I give my unconditional love too, cept god.

You know it.

I want to say that work is the best thing to be doing when the rapture comes. I want to tell you that the sun is burning hot and the moon has stopped the earth from spinning more than once. I want to tell you that my lips are numb from kissing so freely. I want to tell you that freedom is a meaningless term of endearment to the stupid. I want you to know how I feel so there is no confusion. I want you to know that I am reading this here softly to your ears and I with nothing but love flowing into them sweetly. I with that your butterfly busom would be there to embrace me fragrantly like vanilla. I wish you would hurry up and go to do the laundry naked with your penis handing out dipped into the bleach and then rolled in laundry detergent so that the powdered flakes coat the skin like sanitary breaded chicken. Dinky skin looks like chicken skin anyways. Did you know all of that already?

I am going to pee into the dishwasher. After I poo in the sink, I will turn on the garberator cut up thing go go go.

I am so devoted to you girl in the wendy house. I am so ready to burn your hair down and build a treehouse of singed rope. I have been swimming in the leaves for too long and the monster jam on my bread is thick with maggots.

The breaded veal cutlets were just scrumptious!



9.8.05

BEGIN THELastApohcohlhypseh for h'once







"We will keep farting a long long time,
You can't cover up that smell, not with deodourant."

"Na na na na na nee nah nah, ne ne nee whooo ga chyang ne noo,."
We will sing the praises to the great robot for he has made us so. We will buy the plastic wrapped egg salad sandwitch for 6 dollars and eat it in the safeway parking lot.

Tell me a story. Give meaning to my life. Paint a scene of tragedy, beauty or comedy for mine eyes and don't forget the flourish at the end. Remind me of a trick that was once played that almost made it all seem... Worthwhile.

Well,
I don't think so young lad.

The rumourmill is empty now. Filled to capacity and then drained, the contents beaten into a grey mush pulp and the left out to dry in large chunky turds of patience that will never be fruitful. We will keep waiting a long, long time for the right moment to come but until then we will avert our precious sorry eyeball starings, until then. But we will always die of old age first.

The tablecloth was finely woven, the most finest type of material that Japanese money could buy there in Ireland. The sushi was superb and the place settings minimal and elegant. The fire tore through that resaurant and left no survivors but at least we can say that probably they died happy; and with a full belly.


;

So, when the fruit was all picked we went up to the top of the hill and ate it. That was the last of the fruit left to ripen on the last of the trees. Tommorrow we would chop them down for firewood and only have our photographs and this one last meal to remind us of the natural sweet bountiful harvest that was once an annual right of passage on this now darkening earth.

We tried to send out a press release about the end of fruit trees forever and the usual moralising about eco destruction and humanities dire need to change before it was too late. But of course by now we all had known for years, since the beginning of our last great fruit tree revival project, that it was already too late. There were no news cameras of course, I don't think Steve Kisby ever really even bothered to send out the media press release since it was more trouble than it was worth, unimaginable to have it get broadcast into the media and the now empty symbolism of trying to communicate with the outside world always attracted more problems from the policeBots than was really worth the symbolic effort.

However, the cops showed up anyways to the final picnic, probably alerted to our scent by the detectors. The detectors were pretty poor of course and would have never been able to pick us out a decade ago when there were still lots of others dying, but now the air was mostly sterile so it was easy to find a group of 6 people gathered and having an unauthorised public collaberation. We ducked the fire quickly but Orlando was hit in the shoulder and was out cold in seconds. Emma didn't have time to activate his automemory self destruct before the arrests but what would it matter anyway. What secrets of the resistance remained for us to hide at this point anyway? The others were scattered and useless and there was no remaining sanctuary for the bots to find out then stamp out/.

Interestingly after only 5 minutes of flying and the usual quick probing for DNA ID, we were actually dropped off at our final hideout and even given an emergency package of food staples as well. They did not destroy any of our equipment and nobody was tagged. They left as quickly as they had came and were almost helpful once they sanitised and removed all of the fruit tree bearing genetic material remaining on our persons. Why suddenly the goodwill? Were we being used. Did they want to watch us. They knew we were the last and we had no contacts for them to wait for us to expose so what was the purpose in their leniancy?

This was answered 2 days later when a strange truck pulled up. It appeared from the outside to be run down but it worked excellent and was obviously somehow approved of by the DemocraticFreepublic, the dirt looked almost painted on. Two indistict looking delivery bots had some cargo for Fradja and though she would not fingerprint the delivery manifest the bots made out all friendly as if she had and dropped a large black box right on our doorstep. As they were leaving one of them said, "You kids are lucky, open it soon and don't look a gift horse in the mouth." The package bore the logo of the now defunct Grappa Syndicate, it was aboviously forged to look like a secretive gift from the once powerful rebel publishers. Grappa had been totally eradicated over 6 years ago and many of us still remembered the sting of lost loved ones. Lately we'd been hearing rumours from really bizarre sources about grappa reforming, but it was all heroics like some kind of agent-provocateur bit with bearing arms and all that. When we opened the package and saw the real live genetic fruit bearing plum tree in the box we knew how we were now to be used. We were to plant this tree and make like the resistance was still alive and kicking just to give some credibility to the neverending war on resistance industries that were of course always struggling now to invent new enemies in order to maintain the Freepublics sharade.

It was all very bady done as a set up and would have been easy to disprove even to the most alcoholic public, however of course now the individual mind was a kind of fictional thing in most productive citizen units and so it was more than enough to satisfy whatever curiousity there might have been if anyone even could think to investigate.

War with out end. Fire to ashes, Life into dust.