Danger Blond: mendicancy on the mississippi

This blogger highlight comes from one of the NOLA bloggers. Just read it, and you will know why I gave a highlight to this post. Anyone else that remembers, thinks of my Grandmother with this one? Grandma is right up there with the lady mentioned in this one! Give it up for Dangerblond! She’s some kind of woman. I met her at the crime rally, and she is all that and a bag of chips.

There is a lot about working in a law office that sucks. I know some lawyers who hate their jobs. I also know some who love it, like people who specialize in adoptions or sales. Those are the kinds of legal situations where it’s possible for everyone to be happy with the outcome. In litigation, however, people don’t go to lawyers because everything is just hunky dory. It’s all about controversy, and sometimes it does feel like you are being pecked to death by a flock of chickens. But, let’s face it, what doesn’t? I love to make things out of Mardi Gras beads, but if I did it for a living, I would cry over my cracked, bleeding fingertips every night. I love gardening, but if I did it for a living, I would either have a broken back or hire people and break their backs.

I think it’s inevitable that I will hate my job some day, but I hope I have learned from Don how to move on when that happens. Until then, I think it’s sometimes very interesting. Yesterday, I screwed something up and had a rotten day trying not to screw up anything else. Today, I spent almost an hour on the phone with a woman who is almost 90 years old. I looked at her file before I called her, so I knew her age. I was anticipating an old frail woman on the other end, hard to talk to. Perhaps I would have to talk to her daughter.

Well, excuse me, missy, but nothing doing. This lady was telling me the dates of everything and how much it cost. She knows exactly what needs to be done to repair her property, and she wants her damned money so she can do it. I frequently hear the stories of people who evacuated, came home to a mess, and eventually wound up suing their insurance company for various reasons, which is why they are talking to me. This was the first time, however, that I was told by someone that they rented an apartment during the evacuation, as this lady did with her daughter, and then got kicked out when someone offered more money. This happened in Baton Rouge, and it has nothing to do with her case. It just really pisses me off that someone would do that at all, let alone to a 90-year-old lady. There are some real assholes out there, and money brings it to the fore every time.

I can’t quote her, but some of the things she said on the phone had me laughing out loud. She reminded me of my grandmother. She has had a terrible time of it, but has an outsized sense of humor about it. I have been taught by old people that the inability to laugh at life will kill you. The funniest part was when she relished the thought of how God was going to eventually take care of all the people who screwed others over and made money off this tragedy. Hah! Love it, babe. Call me any time you want to talk.

Speaking of people who are making money off this tragedy, I see that Ed Blakely has been saying whatever thought happens to cross his mind and the media have been transcribing it. When I hear the word “buffoon,” synonymous with “clown,” all I can think of is Ray Nagin. I can’t imagine that Blakely was talking about Sugar Ray’s buffoonery, though, because Ray hired him, and people don’t usually bite the hand that feeds so early in the game. Perhaps Oyster has it right when he says that Blakely has connections with Nancy Pelosi, and that is what we are paying him for. If that’s true, then let’s see some action. I don’t appreciate Blakely’s idiotic remarks about New Orleans. I have never seen such seriousness on the faces of New Orleanians as I see now. We have a sense of humor, but what we face here is not one bit funny.

Some bloggers are saying that Blakely is the Emperor’s New Clothes of Recovery Czars. His statements sound like he’s repeating cocktail party chatter. If he lived here, he’d know that 90% of New Orleans cocktail party chatter is Bourbon-fueled tall tales. Honestly, I thought it was that way every where. He certainly has the air of those academics who blather on and accomplish very little. We’ll see.

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