~Mark Schleifstein
~If you thought domination of the world's software market was cool, get a load of Bill Gates' next technological vision: giant ocean-going tubs that fight hurricanes by draining warm water from the surface to the depths, through a long tube.
A second tube could simultaneously suck cool water from the depths to the surface.
Levee authorities to host public forum on flood protection
White House Begins Rewriting Army Corps' Project Guidelines
~Taryn Luntz
Pentair Wins $65 Million Contract for Pumps for the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway West Closure Complex
New Orleans inspector general delays selection of police monitor~David Hammer
General Honore Slams Decision To Close Charity Hospital
N.O. insurance costs spur complaints~Will Sentell
Slabbed, Stuck like a dope with a thing called hope -or- Who has the Balls? Behavioral Econ explains the Scheme
256th Infantry Brigade gets deployment orders
~Bruce Brown
New Orleans recycling startup to begin service by month's end ~Emilie Bahr
Gentilly's recovery from Corps Flooding is finally gaining momentum~Kate Moran
Road work: Local cook serves up home-style meals wherever needed~David Dinsmore
Michael P. Smith exhibit a "must-see"~Nicole Dufour
Roundtable: Haitian Music,
Part 2: “What Does Revolution Sound Like?”~Sasha Frere-Jones
~Special Thanks FMJ @'da JOT
Hart McNee,New Orleans flutist, saxophonist,
dies at 66
~Katy Reckdahl
~My friend, Hart McNee, raspy-voiced bass flutist and baritone saxophonist who played with innumerable musical legends and made more than 40 appearances at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, died Tuesday morning.
~A memorial will be held Saturday at 5 p.m. at the Sound Cafe.
Here is Hart with some guys named Mo.
Matassa recalls engineering
the sound of New Orleans
~Edna Gundersen
~Editilla wanna toll'ya~ We again want to thank everyone for their condolences on the loss of my father.
I went down into the Delta to lay again in that nuptial bed of love and grief, drink copious amounts Bourbon and tears like Hard Rock Candy, not even look at a computer ha, burn the Funeral Planter in Tenuous Stolidity… and watch something as simple as land turn complicated dark rows of fetid hill-bred patrogyny as his progeny perchance take root.
We had hung da’ladda every day since Nov 11 ‘07, 627 posts,
until July 11th '09, when the Old Man passed home.
My first funeral since losing so many to The Flood, for the first man I ever laid eyes on, simply left Editilla speechless.
Sometimes that can be such a good thing.
I wrote this song for my father 25 years ago:
Tracks Passing at Armslength
My coffee's cold now I'm going
wide into this flat highway morning.
Pop's in the sunshine towing
blue-sky glances, going railroad chances and tracks
passing an armslength of Lonely and Warm Love.
There was a first time for everything,
--long time for everything,
lost reliance, no where to wind up in the city.
Then that old train starts leaving
to come home, come home... tracks
passing an armslength of Lonely and Warm Love.
I hear your voice with each passing breeze,
find your face in each car I meet,
down this highway.
Sleep light in boxcars, write your name
on these night walls.... tracks
passing an armslength of Lonely and Warm Love.
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