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MC Trachiotomy

This is my story of MC Trachiotomy and the summers end 2005. Just after most recently turning 80 years of age. They say the woist herracanne ever was gown hit Neworleans floods ever thang wind all'at. Nah look here, I aint' neva left fa no storm I was trew betsy I was trew Camille I been trew all at. Ma dawgs was wit me anyhow. I help load up H.F.S, w/Stella & Man~Ting, mz.Fis wit her Doris, and Chris freaky fryer Hair dyer. Cause they was headed for the hills ya undastand. I was in. Where was I gwanna go anyhow?

So may boy Danger Dan was moved up ova by his new house on the other side the canal by then. He had been woikin on it for the whole muntha August paintin it different shades of pink and such on the inside. Th' whole inside that house looked like a womb, birth canal and all up in there. So I went over, when the time come an tolt him, “I don’t care how cozy it look bruh, you and Animal Chin don’t wanna be stayin ove on dis side fu dah storm.” He didn’t have no phone see.

Ma boy Esophaugus Kalal, his new bride Raven and Sabrina, her sister who was visiting from Oakland (she was suposta be back at work the Monday Katrina hit) was gwanna go over by the hotel wit deh cats. Said we should too .go ova witem. Could I go ova wit em, see. I figured the Pearl would be cool, but what the hell we could ride it out cross town. We loaded up the thangs we thought we needed along wit the three dogs Animal Chin, Shinequa and Pablo, who just made fifteen in April.

On the way out I get a phone call from Manout Sundown. He’s in New Mexico stichin buttons or something tells me ta swing by his apartment ova by Brittany and Nathan she had put some frozen shrimp up on the fence, in a bag. So I loaded up the hot plate and a pot some spice an nat, swing by an grab dem shrimp, right. We get to this hight rise hotel. It already looks like a Euro train station with all the trains late or broke down. I'm talking people, ice chests, bar-B-que-grills, and luggages everywhere. No conductor either. 2 of the 3 elevators broke, and kids joyriddin the workin one. Up the stairs we go, three dogs, one crippled and all the stuff we brought, which was addin to th mayhem of the train depot scene. We get to the rooms drop the stuff and animals. Go check the fire escapes and extinguishers. Well here we are, still didn't know if the storm was gunna hit.

I fire up the hot plate to boil the water. It turns out the shrimp on the fence was 10 pounds of Royal Reds. MMMMMMmmmmmm. It' gunna be goooood. I’m waitin and waitin and waitin for the water tention is already up ya, undestand. I wasn't watchin the pot but it wasn't boilin either. Turns out we were cookin 3 to 5 shrimp at a time in a cooffee pot and soakin them in the spice pot. Them kind shrimp taste good with nuthin anyhow. I had brought some champagne too. We were sittin there, waitin for this storm, eatin shrimp, drinkin champagne, watchin Sunset Strip, 5 people, 3 dogs, two cats, and one of the matress' in the window slot, in case of breakin glass.
The power goes out about 3 maybe 4 in the morning. The fire
extinguishers had been stolen, or taken into private custody whichever. They was gone. The howling storm comes and goes by candlelight. The halls staircases and lobby of this hotel has been trashed. I'm talking 14' sheets of glass in the floor for he sake of the people not getting room service could obtain the things they failed to bring with them like liquor, chips,& snacks, money from the atm and cigarette machines, chandeliers, tvs, glassware etc. The floor of the lobby was like a shallow pond, littered with glass cigarette butts, mud, other trash and screaming drunken people of all ages. The fire department is down stairs smoke is billowing out of a 6th floor window. Still awake We haul ass - well as fast as we could. Turns out, the smoke is from a bar-B-que goin down in room 637. At this point we are completely loaded into the vehicles and the po-lice say we gotta go back inside. We say OK and drive toward the Pearl as soon as he round the cornda.

Systematically removing debris, tree limbs, animal bodies, cars etc from our paths we navigate this tretchrous route. Finally arriving, we find Strangebone diligently reattaching a shutter on my front porch. We also had found a 10'gate down, a wall or two blowd out, roofs blown away, glass and broken stuff everywhere, the wind had pushed the barn over. The living room full of water from the rain, these types of things. We begin to hunker down.

Gathering tools flash lights candles weapons supplies and a plan to get more organized. With things more squared away, we felt more comfortable we still had running water so we filled every ice chest, keg, bathtub we could until it ran out. We blocked all the holes we could with plywood and chain link fencing. Later on we went out, and around wading through waste deep water and looters to get the Kalal things, and secure any other friends places, which may have been exposed. Later that night we nipped a bit, sang a bit played piano and drums a bit, happy to be dry and together.

It's Tuesdy now. Stangebone swings by with his solid intensity, proclaiming, “The manager at Robert's had the national guard to force the doors opened allowing people to get supplies, just keep the peace and keep a riot from happening, let’s go.” It was utter mayhem at that store. Dark as pitch for one. People were still tring to navigate umungst the screaming, the glass, the wetness. (This is a recurring theme here.). Dolly load after dolly load of cheap ass beer soda pop and snacks were out the door. Kalal noted on the nut ailse how all of the almonds, cashews, and exotic nuts were there, but all of the peanuts was gone pecan’. I told him, looking at the glass, food, debris, and fluid covered floor, how it was reminiscent of them
Crash Worship days, shit was flung everywhere people bleeding.
Each day was a new and different expierence in the “Republica' de' Bi' Agua”, but totally the same at different spots. Checking on friends homes, this sort of thing, at least the ones we could get to, some areas were ‘nipple deep in corpses of all species. We cooked, fed the neighbors and watering them, too. Wednesday after food, we took to drinkin some lizard drink, supplied by Sir Rubberknee some years earlier. This turned to a twist. Inspired by the LA style “ghetto bird” fly overs, we went out into the blackened street and wound up in heavy conversating, drinking wine by ol’ Joe’s. He’s the elder over at the section 8. He had a bunch of folks in the parking lot. Some were from the block, others from the east. Everybody sorta camped out. They were waitin to be lifted to a shelter. Much was brought to light this night.

The next day, a flight for Sabrina had been found out of Houston, they were down the road. They took two extras too, Lorilie and Chris two cats, 2 Kalals and Sabrina. Looking from my window I see a city bus rolling it’s route. Strange I thought, maybe they are rescuing people with these?
Then I see the huge golden smile on the shirtless driver and realize the deal. Maddness. Later I saw a more familiar face behind the wheel of an RTA going the wrong direction laughing maniacally. He pulled over opened the doors. We shared some cold beer and some a/c for a while before continuing with our rutine. Over by Dangers newly painted womb, we came across an old lady. She had some stuff a plastic grocery bag and a 2'X3' painted photograph of her husband when he was in the army, WWII. She was lying prone on the top of the levee in the baking sun, with her hands all ripped open.

She said “I just had gotten here from my house which I had spent some days up to my waste in water, my hands is all cut. I had to get outta there. I opened a strawberry shortcake umbrella for her, gave her a water, broke out my first aid kit, and bandaged her hands. Danger got all he needed, I pulled a cat from underneath the BIG ASSED ONE's house. It was so swolled up, I thought it was a fat pitt. Her son had arrived in this time span. Trying to wave down helicopters, we headed off to get the wheelcair from my house so they could get to the dome. None of the helicopters would land in the huge field at the levee to pick her up either. I could see them looking at up through the binocs too. When we returned with the chair they was gone. I found a working pay phone at the French market. My pops was gonna arrange a helocopter for to get me out. I declined for the time being. I was helping in my neighborhood, food, water, music, moral. This was Thursdy.

About 4:30am I laid down to try and sleep. I was drifting off, and began dreaming about going to Japan’s Koto drummers concert that was going down in the park by the aquarium. The drums were going off an my house was rumblin. I slowly came to, ta hear my garage door and shutters being rattled and banged on. I thought maybe the police or the guard or somebody else trying to get in. Looking up I see flickering on my bedroom wall. “Oh, Shit my garage is on fire.” This was not the case either. From the window I could see a huge mushroom cloud rising in the sky, illuminated by bright white sparks and flashes of light. “Are we under attack?” NO! “Are doing a fireworks display at the moonwalk?” NO! “Did a fireworks warehouse catch fire?” NO! “Somethin was on fire and it was close. Flaming projectiles flying through the air, crackling sounds and explosions, let me know it was serious. I gathered my kit my papers and dogs, got Danger Dan up and readied for another evacuation, from fire this time. Luckily for us the wind was blowing west. Not so lucky for the whole wharf, which caught flame, and the people downtown forced to breathe the toxic air. The fire from the propane and chemical storage facility on Chartrese St. gushed poison smoke for days with 0 attention.

On Friday afternoon, a dear friend with a 3 month old pregnancy in progress said she need to get the f*#^! Would we be willing to facilitate. Danger has a truck you see, low on gas and nail filled tires. I needed time to think about this, due to circumstances. However, we agreed to take her to Baton Rouge Sat 5:00 we would be headed out. She needed to get her deadbeat baby daddy to collect some gasoline for the trip. I prepared for the exodus this night after watching 4 hours of this Led Zepplin DVD over by th BIG ASED ONE’s. I was zoned out. Back at the Pearl, I packed food and water for distributing umonst the neighbors I was bailing on. I packed what I thought I would need on the outside.

Saturday opens with a bright gleem. I dropped off food, water, arms, and bid farewell. The baby daddy was lazy and weak, as we knew, so, I got the gas, filled the truck, patched tires, and with Sir Rubberknees help filled them with air. He also stopped the leak in our water pump with dried oatmeal. Everyone should know a wizard. Last job was to try getting to the Barto home. I had aquired a request list from el Tonios. Papers, birth certificates, jewelry, the contents of a ceramic frog on the bureau, the flying V. I stashed my 12 gauge Mossburg in a guitar case, my granpa’s bayonet, a machete, a pocket knife and a flash light, headed towards the uncharted region only to discover the water still high, toxic and body filled.

Strangebone and I are back from that mission, virtually in my front yard, within an hour of leaving, and the malitia rolls up. They were unidentified by name or badge # only with stickers on their truck and some insignia on their shirts. They did not ask for identification. Instead, thrust the barrels of M 16s and shotguns in our faces. Shouting obsenities and threats. I tried to find out what?! Who?! Where?! The Grizzly Adams meets Tom of Finland looking “COP” proceeded to relieve us of all or the afore mention protection and tools. These “COPS” looked like the “B-TEAM”, without Mr. T. ya heard? A crew cut, M16 toting, sleeveless “LADYCOP” with herpes sores all over her masculine mouth ask me “if I wanted to die right fucking there?” The even more foul mouthed and obnoxious of the “COPS‰, with fat red-freckly arms oozing from his soiled wife beater T-shirt and the abosolute worstest tattoo of a skull with too long teeth smeered on his would be bi-cep, and a bandalero of shotgun shells draped across his gianormous beer gut, boasted of his “kills”. 6 helpers with tax dollars weapons, stole my means to protect myself and my home. Strangebone followed them when they drove off oogleing the booty they had scored, and took their picture. The ramora police that were bringing up the rear, in turn smashed him to the ground, split his head, blew his knee out and took the camera with barrels in his throat. We headed for Baton rogue as planned. 3 dogs, 1 cat, 5 people 1with a bun in the oven, and there stuff, in a limping at best, pick up truck. Strangebone was not with us.


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