The long post about this past weekend is dead. D-E-D, dead, gone, teats up. Damn you, Cox, I hope your passage through hell occurs at the same speed with which my email now downloads – slowly and painfully. Let’s test my short-term memory, shall we?

Dog poop. I should had had some idea of how my yesterday would go after loading the car with tools, supplies, and the dolly, and detecting the smell of dog poop emanating from the front passenger-side floor. Thanks, Loki, for tracking canine feces (Westbank-ian in origin at that) into my car first and then onto your floors. Luckily for the gentleman, we celebrated the 40th anniversary of his birth the night before (the first bout of the Rollergirls season was a hoot – season tickets, here I come!), so all is forgiven. Nothing rolling down the windows, a whole can of Febreze, and a trip to Uptown Carwash cannot solve.

Speaking of crap, congratulations to Dambala for having his 2-month-old story on Greg Meffert’s stinky IT deal published on the front page of yesterday’s T-P. The city’s tech funding was picking guitar and filling fruit jar on the Silicon Bayou, among other nefarious things.

Since Katrina, I’ve seen and cleared out many flooded homes, but one that really depressed me was Morwen‘s. Was it the personal nature of the mission, imagining the antediluvian charm of this home or watching the mementos of two lives together so unceremoniously thrown out? Morwen was philosophical and summed it up in two words, “That’s life.” Having just wheeled out a pile of interesting yet mold-ravaged books and art, I was incensed for her, “It’s not life, Morwen. It’s criminal. Had the Corps done their job and built strong levees, your house would not be in this condition.” Ce n’est pas la vie. C’est levee.

How many such houses still stand? How many lives are so changed by this ghastly and ongoing experience? How long will this go on until we really rebuild? Life is in moving onwards and upwards one house at a time. It’s good for the soul. No group embodies this spirit better than the Arabi Wrecking Krewe, with their cheerful countenance, sense of humor, strength, inclusiveness, and impressive music collection. Kudos to Ray for introducing us to this wonderful gang. Other things that made me happy were knowing all of the helpers – Morwen, Betts, Ray, Oyster, Schroeder, Karen, Dave, and Cade – and using the items in my toolbox. Nothing gives me more pleasure than whipping out my igneous rock hammer to shatter big blocks of plaster and wood.

The flood was the best thing to happen to roaches, which are ubiquitous and happily reproducing in Soggyville. A burning question I have had was answered yesterday: Why are dead roaches found on their backs rather than their fronts? The answer: Like a turtle (or me carrying a >40-lb. backpack), a roach carries much of its exoskeleton on its dorsal side, i.e. its back. When aging or disoriented, the roach teeters, falls on its side and, in an attempt to right itself, flops over onto its back. The roach then grasps at air in search of anything to hang onto, which when it grabs, rights itself. All is then well in little roach world. If its legs find no purchase, however, the roach simply dies on its back. What a way to go. Yesterday, I observed a giant grandpa roach go through these motions successfully thanks to a nearby piece of cardboard, following which a giant piece of plaster fell from the ceiling right above the roach, flattening everything below. The roach died on its front. That’s life.

This reminds me of the Packers’ agonizing loss to the Saints at Lambeau last afternoon. Ashley et al., I stand so aghast that I’ve promised to wear a green-and-gold-decorated paper bag over my head to Fahy’s next Sunday. After the game, someone asked me why I’m still a Packers fan. That is a most stupid question, especially out of the mouth of a New Orleanian. Let me ask you why you’re Saints fans after all of those swoon years. It’s called team loyalty. Just as we dedicate ourselves to the New Orleans Saints team and its resurgence, I will cheer my team on until they come back – one first-round draft pick at a time.

On days like this, I summon the wisdom and courage of the late, great John “Bluto” Blutarsky: “Over? Did you say over? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!” Green and gold forever.

The geek dinner with Earthlink’s corporate blogger, Dave Coustan, could not have come at a better time. What started as “upgrades” on Tuesday has left my house with a dwindling internet connection. My blogposts and email are now dispatched via the equivalent of a choppy 56K connection, creating a huge backlog of unposted pictures and work-related spreadsheets. For the record, I hate Cox – all the way from the cable TV fiasco of two months ago (“let’s take away the popular cable channels and charge extra for them”) to this dance with no-speed internet. [Update: Pictures now upload at the rate of one every 30 minutes]

Alan, Becky, Sarah, and Schroeder got to talk with Dave more than I did, by the dual virtues of their proximity to him at the dinner table and the interesting conversation generated by Dave’s friend, Jessica, who attended Tulane and is a writer for the CDC in Atlanta now.

When we did chat, Dave informed me that a 20-mile, city-wide wireless has already been set in motion. Note that city-wide does not include wet neighborhoods including MidCity and Gentilly. Earthlink is paying for the entire service and setup, and is not inclined to provide wi-fi access in areas that have not proven population viability. Schroeder and I argued that it’s another one of those services that will attract people to return; Dave took it into consideration. Of course, Bart and Michael Homan have a lot more to say about wireless in MidCity, where the need is indeed greater.

Or is it? Consider me in the high and dry Lower Garden District, for example, and my current struggle with Cox. With city-wide wireless, I wouldn’t have to wrestle my way through the tech-support armpit of Cox hell to get my work out on time. Earthlink could be serious competition in these here parts.

Pictures of the dinner (all three of them) coming when my router talks to the cable modem and the cable modem finally calls home. Attendees: Oyster, Ray, Alan, Becky, Sarah, Schroeder, Dave C., Jessica, and me.

September 14, 2006 – Day 100 + … whatever. “Plans are only good intentions unless they immediately degenerate into hard work,” said Peter Drucker. It’s been 381 days since Katrina; we shouldn’t have to wait another four months to witness the implementation of the resuscitated BNOB plan, which was drafted soon after Katrina. Let’s get going now. The mayor has our help if he but asks. Don’t make people want to leave, Ray, don’t do this to New Orleans.

As mentioned earlier this week, Earthlink’s earthling, Dave Coustan, is in town. Alan and I invite you to welcome him and chat about city-wide wireless, other communication technology suitable for New Orleans and whatever else comes up. So, we proposed an Impromptu Geek Dinner.

Where: Rocky’s Pizza on Magazine St. [map]
When: 6:30pm

So far, I have Positives from Alan, Karen, Loki and Deirdre Oyster with Maybes from Morwen, Schroeder and Chris Johnston. Let me know if you can make it.