The Pain in Maine Falls Mainly on the Gay'uns

Marriage to someone of the same gender? You can't get they-uh, from he-uh.

I got a nasty email message after playing this one on the radio this morning.

Sun and moon and stars

Creepy Joe™ creeps again

Simultaneously shameless and shameful, Creepy Joe™ Lieberman, who thumbed his nose at Connecticut Democrats, and all Democrats, including candidate Barack Obama, and who was saved from ignominy by President Barack Obama, has taken the thumb from his nose and jammed it in our collective eyes.

Lieberman has stated that he will join with Republicans in filibustering against the public option.

Which health insurance company's water is he carrying now?

I know your material

Comedian Richard Lewis (Curb Your Enthusiasm) was a guest on Keith Olbermann's Countdown last night and delivered a priceless, and hilariously scathing, anecdote about his only encounter with our Senator, Creepy Joe™ Lieberman. Be patient while viewing as Olbermann spends some time skewering Michele Bachman before he gets to Lewis.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

The trouble with radio

Is that there's precious little of what counts - individuality, creativity, insight, personality.

Yesterday when I was raising money at WWUH, I thought about how great the radio I grew up with was, and how sad that it doesn't exist anymore.

Thanks to everyone who called and helped me surpass my goal for the show. Here's a song I know you'll understand.

H/T (for many reasons) to Susan Forbes Hansen.

Allons a Lafayette

I'm just back from being out of town for a few days doing some film production in Mobile, Alabama and Natchez, Mississippi. I found Mobile less charming than expected, and on the contrary, despite the ghosts of slavery which loom over Natchez, it's a beautiful little town on a broad stretch of the Mississippi River crammed full of interesting architecture, most of which are stately antebellum structures.

I took the opportunity for a side trip of a couple of days to a place that inexplicably feels like a second home to me, Louisiana.

Never fully jettisoning its status as a French territory (and Spanish before that), it's the only place in the world where the Napoleonic code is still the basis for law. It's also one of the most exotic places in the United States.

It's a bundle of contradictions. Deeply embedded racism, and some of the deepest racial harmony I've ever witnessed. Flag-waving patriotism living elbow-to-elbow with a proud French culture which fairly spits the word "americaine" as the curse which rained down highways and McDonalds and nearly ravaged a culture where neighborliness and home cooked food are almost a religion. Broad fertile prairies bump up against dank foreboding swamplands. Nature perseveres with a vengeance on wide acres where oil derricks pump endlessly into the night.

New Orleans is a part of this, but that's another story altogether.

I wanted to visit several of my friends who live in the Acadian - Cajun- and Creole corridor that runs from Henderson Swamp to Eunice and beyond.

I stay in Breaux Bridge, an old farming town bisected by the Bayou Teche. There are half a dozen lovely bed and breakfast accommodations in a town which is now a magnet for artists, musicians and antique merchants.

On my first night in, I stopped at Nunu's in Arnaudville where fiddler David Greely assembled a congress of fellow fiddlers, many of them young, who played ancient music filtered through young fingers. Nunu's is a cafe/concert hall/arts space/educational facility which attempts to present a few concerts each month featuring the traditional music of the area, rooted undeniably in the predominant French culture of the Acadians (from Britanny and other parts of France, via Nova Scotia), and the Creoles who are influenced by African, Caribbean and Spanish roots.

After a restful night, despite a wicked head cold, at the lovely Isabelle Inn, I headed to New Iberia to walk the streets made famous by detective novelist James Lee Burke and his rogue detective Dave Robichaux. New Iberia was abuzz with preparation for a gumbo cook-off which would feature music, local food, and of course, a gumbo-cooking contest. I didn't make it back to sample the gumbo, but I had my share at other stops on the trip.

A quick stop in Lafayette to hear a bit of music by zydeco artist Corey Ledet, and young Cajun band Feufollet to kick off the weekend Festivale Acadien in Lafayette, then it was back to Breaux Bridge for lunch with Susan and Carl, both of who are from Louisiana, but who have called Connecticut home, and now have adopted Breaux Bridge. We ate at Cafe des Amis (I had catfish and machoux). They introduced me to the owner of the Cafe, Dickie Breaux, who among other things, spent his life in Louisiana politics and kept me fascinated with tales of institutionalized corruption, and the difficulties of being a very liberal Democrat in a deeply conservative Southern state.

That evening I made my way to the Blue Moon Saloon and guesthouse where Cedric Watson and his band Bijou Creole were to play. I sat next to Ken Doucet who complete my day with more tales of Louisiana politics, the role of the Mafia in the state, and sordid tales of cousins, and uncles and women. By his telling, his uncle contributed to the death of Huey Long after he was shot in the state Capitol building in Baton Rouge. Ken's uncle was a trusted general practitioner to Long, and Long insisted that he perform surgery to remove the bullets from his gut. The uncle was not a practiced surgeon, and, well, the Huey Long shooting is now called an assassination.

Cedric Watson filled the dance floor with a sweaty, enthusiastic crowd, and though I swore to leave in time to hear Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys play a rare gig at La Poussiere in Breaux Bridge, I couldn't tear myself away, and spent the rest of the evening at the Blue Moon.

The next morning I rose early to get a good spot for the Zydeco breakfast at Cafe des Amis. When I got to the cafe on Bridge Street at 7:20, there was already a line of thirty ahead of me. When the doors opened, I found a place at the bar and ordered a coffee, while many in the tiny restaurant pulled on strong Bloody Mary's as they downed cheese grits and boudin balls. The crowd filtered in as Corey Ledet and his band arrived and set up, and by 8:30 AM on a Saturday morning the dance floor was filled with bobbing bodies swinging to Ledet's throbbing Zydeco beat. As I left, the line to get in ran halfway down the block.

I made an early retreat to visit Marc Savoy's Music Store in Eunice, northwest of Lafayette, where a regular Saturday morning jam session draws wizened veterans grasping delicate fiddles in muscular paws, mixed with up-and-comers hoping to steal a lick from the oldtimers. I stopped on the way to pick up a typical Saturday morning visiting treat on the prairie - hot boudin and crackers - at Ray's Boudin and Cracklins shop in Opelousas. I bought a small bag of cracklins for the short drive to Eunice. Cracklins are knows as a perfect food. Pig fat cooked to a hardy crispness in, pig fat, and then seasoned with salt and a variety of peppers. Boudin is pork and rice sausage which is cooked twice. The mix is cooked before being stuffed in sausage casings, then cooked again in broth or in oil.

As Marc Savoy said as he pulled took a bite of the spicy sausage, "Yum."

I caught up with Marc and Ann Savoy, and then headed back down to Lafayette for the already-underway Festivale Acadien. One of the most popular regional music festivals, Festival Acadien is completely free, and features music of the local French culture, very reasonably-priced delicacies from a variety of the local restaurants, and crafts from around the region.

A night of rain left Girard Park, located adjacent to the University of Louisiana, a soup of mud puddles and slick bogs. The locals wore colorful rubber boots that did not impair dancing a wit. And on whatever of the four stages featured music, there was dancing. In fact, at one point I walked past four different acts, on four different stages and the dance floor (the muddy patch in front of the stage) was filled at each one.

I scouted the food booths before deciding what to try. It was a difficult decision considering the choices, jambalya, gumbo, etouffe (spelled, frequently "A-2-fay"), fricasse, pistollettes, boudin, po boys, tasso, catfish in many incarnations, crab, crawfish, shrimp, red beans & rice, and a variety of mouth-watering pastries, bread puddings and cobblers.

Throughout the day I had some jambalaya, boudin, catfish, etouffe and some crawfish enchiladas. My eyes longed for more, but alas.

As for the music, it would be difficult to say what I enjoyed most - Jesse Lege (who lives part time in Connecticut and makes his living as a carpenter here) transformed at home by an all-star band with members of several local combo providing him the kind of backup he could never find in the Nutmeg State, Balfa Toujours (who recently peformed in Middletown) calling the amazing Horace Trahan in to substitute on accordion for the absent Dirk Powell, the Pine Leaf Boys roaring across the stage as the light faded from the sky, or Feufollet bringing the legendary Zachary Richard onstage to sing the classic "J'ete Au Bal."

As the last notes filtered through the branches of the live oaks in Girard Park, I had to decide whether to spend another evening at the Blue Moon Saloon with the Pine Leaf Boys, or make the prudent escape to my B&B for a very early morning trip to the airport. I chose the prudent Yankee route.

Had I know my flight was going to be canceled, and that I would sit for four hours in the Lafayette Airport, I might have made the decision to swallow a few more Abitas and sway a few more hours with my Acadian friends.

The respite in the airport allowed me to write this, and to reflect on a culture which many thought would disappear in Louisiana. But despite attempts to drive the French Culture out, the resulting counter-attack to preserve it, has created a culture that is as diverse as it is united, and as spectacular as it is homespun.

Any culture that can weave eating, playing music, taking a sip, telling stories and hanging out with neighbors, is likely to survive as long as we love doing all those things.

Eight miles high

Certainly not the first to do it, but the idea of using wifi on an airflight is impressive. Right now we're somewhere over Jersey, and it's a bit turbulent. But, here's what's out my window.

Amy Farris, RIP

Any of us who saw Dave Alvin touring this summer with his Guilty Women tour were likely as impressed by the band as we were by Dave.

Sad news today, then, that fiddler, songwriter and wonderful musician Amy Farris has died. I met her in Los Angeles at a gig with I See Hawks In LA, and she was as charming and nice as she was musically talented.

Here's what her family posted on FB:

AMY FARRIS (violin, viola and harmony vocals for Dave Alvin & The Guilty
Women) passed away Saturday, Sept 26th after battling a long illness. A native
of Austin, Texas, Amy started playing violin at age ten. She is a vet of the
Austin music scene, playing with artists such as Ray Price, Alejandro
Escovedo, Kelly Willis, Bruce Robison and Ray Wylie Hubbard. Amy moved to
Los Angeles when Dave offered to produce her first solo CD Anyway, released
by Yep Roc in 2004. Along with Dave Alvin and Kelly Willis, Miss Farris has
also performed and/or recorded with Brian Wilson, John Doe, Exene Cervenka,
Stan Ridgway, Greg Dulli, Peter Case, and many others.

In leui of flowers, the family encourages you to send a donation in her
honor to Hungry For Music, Inc, a nonprofit effort to provide free musical
instruments to underprivileged children with a hunger to play.

www.hungryformusic.org

Or send checks to:
Hungry for Music
6 Grant Ave. Suite 3
Takoma Park, MD 20912

Tweaking the laws for the sake of the bottom line

I found this essay by Russell Mokhiber via Susan Campbell's website at about the same time I finished reading Nick Reding's amazing book Methland, which describes how the crank epidemic has ravaged the country.

Mokhiber asks why a non-profit organization like ACORN is being punished for the wrongdoing of a few bad employees, and why major corporations with legions of rogue employees are left unharmed.

Interestingly, filmaker James O'Keefe who made the now infamous ACORN pimp/whore videos, has apparently lied about his "investigation."

Reding posits that America's meth epidemic was abetted by huge agricultural companies which bought small meatpacking and agricultural firms, cut wages drastically, and knowingly employed illegal aliens, and large pharmaceutical companies which fought the DEA to salvage the production of ephedrine and pseudoephedrine, the main component of meth.

In both cases the power of corporate money, and the need to make a profit, twisted the laws for its own, bottom line, purposes.

The golden rule, rules. He who has the gold makes the rules.

Good thing she's not a country singer

Sarah Palin went to a Hong Kong and bashed the president. When the Dixie Chicks did this to W, they got death threats and were blacklisted from radio stations and concert venues. The wingnut bloviators went ballistic (How dare she criticize the commander-in-chief at at time of war?) Don't hold your breath waiting for the right-wing commenters to slam their very own centerfold.