They say one of the benefits of living in Louisiana is that you may see your dead relatives after a hurricane. That's right, the coffins pop out of the ground if the water table rises. During hurricane Rita, some coffins were sucked out the ground and found 3 miles away. This eerie sight caught my big ole eyes. Some coffins pushed out of the ground, another filled with water and one pushed 50 yards away.
These photos illustrate how high the water went over the fence, dragging debris with it.
3 comments:
Way back in 2007, and, to be precise, on Friday the 24th of August, you, while ruminating about the green movement, mention that Cameron Diaz turns off the water while she shaves. I did not know that. But, what I do know, which, as you know, can be put into a grain of sand, is that if you do have a green movement, there is something wrong and the first thing you should do is chug down a case of Coca Cola so you can plug yourself up. The downside is that if you do too good a job you face the very real possibility of being anally raped by yourself.
Later in that very same article, you go on to say that one of things that you in your conservation efforts do is line dry as much as possible. Another time you mentioned that you like to smell freshly laundered clothes that have been dried on a clothesline. So, there's a continuum of thought here, but words are words and actions demonstrate what words can not and could not. I may be wrong and I know that though the probability of being so is infitismally small I am mature enough to admit that there exists that possibility that I may be, but in Calgary I do believe that exterior clothesline are against the law. That not only could but should inspire another Arlo Guthrie song, but then maybe he couldn't handle the pressure of knowing two songs, but what is probable is that Woody would have been happy to know that his son knew two songs. So, I am very pleased, in fact, giddy with joy, to see that you have continued to practise what you preach, as is most clearly evidenced by the photo you posted when talking about Hurricane Ike's visit to the cemetery. But, I must temper my newly found joy with sadness, which came across me with a sudden fury, a sudden fury I tell ya, with the realization that though you are commendable in your conservation efforts by airing out your laundry, to do so on a five strand barb wire fence is sending out such as strong subliminal message about your crass wealth that I am, quite frankly, disgusted and ready to retch. Not only that, but one can only imagine the extent to which your land holdings extend, because the picture does not show any builings, just the edge of a vast forest of old growth hardwoods way off in the distant horizon. Then I realized that the coffin sitting near your fence could be there for one reason and one reason only. While everybody was scampering about in the evacuation, you took advantage of a lull in local security to visit a nearby cemetery so that you could recycle a coffin. Brilliant! I mean, some poor schlepp is long gone, so he sure as hell is hot ain't gonna miss it, or even be around to object. But, on the downside, he would not be able to laud you on your conservation efforts. I also like how you ingeniously disguise the fact that you have purloined the coffin by, firstly, inventing this incredulous cockamamie story about how some big bad rain storm, probably complete with scary lighting and noisy thunder, moved the coffins around and, secondly, disguising it with bits of straw and grass to make it look like it was. Brilliant! I may not have thought about the disguise part. It's also brilliant! that you uprooted so many other coffins to further disguise your conservation efforts. I'm sure it was a lot of work, but, as you well know, it don't come easy. You're not a glory seeker and I know you shun adulation and would prefer to skulk around, unnoticed, lurking in the background, but the world should know that YOU, Skitzo Leezra, not only talk the talk you walk the walk.
Way back in 2007, and, to be precise, on Friday the 24th of August, you, while ruminating about the green movement, mention that Cameron Diaz turns off the water while she shaves. I did not know that. But, what I do know, which, as you know, can be put into a grain of sand, is that if you do have a green movement, there is something wrong and the first thing you should do is chug down a case of Coca Cola so you can plug yourself up. The downside is that if you do too good a job you face the very real possibility of being anally raped by yourself.
Later in that very same article, you go on to say that one of things that you in your conservation efforts do is line dry as much as possible. Another time you mentioned that you like to smell freshly laundered clothes that have been dried on a clothesline. So, there's a continuum of thought here, but words are words and actions demonstrate what words can not and could not. I may be wrong and I know that though the probability of being so is infitismally small I am mature enough to admit that there exists that possibility that I may be, but in Calgary I do believe that exterior clothesline are against the law. That not only could but should inspire another Arlo Guthrie song, but then maybe he couldn't handle the pressure of knowing two songs, but what is probable is that Woody would have been happy to know that his son knew two songs. So, I am very pleased, in fact, giddy with joy, to see that you have continued to practise what you preach, as is most clearly evidenced by the photo you posted when talking about Hurricane Ike's visit to the cemetery. But, I must temper my newly found joy with sadness, which came across me with a sudden fury, a sudden fury I tell ya, with the realization that though you are commendable in your conservation efforts by airing out your laundry, to do so on a five strand barb wire fence is sending out such as strong subliminal message about your crass wealth that I am, quite frankly, disgusted and ready to retch. Not only that, but one can only imagine the extent to which your land holdings extend, because the picture does not show any builings, just the edge of a vast forest of old growth hardwoods way off in the distant horizon. Then I realized that the coffin sitting near your fence could be there for one reason and one reason only. While everybody was scampering about in the evacuation, you took advantage of a lull in local security to visit a nearby cemetery so that you could recycle a coffin. Brilliant! I mean, some poor schlepp is long gone, so he sure as hell is hot ain't gonna miss it, or even be around to object. But, on the downside, he would not be able to laud you on your conservation efforts. I also like how you ingeniously disguise the fact that you have purloined the coffin by, firstly, inventing this incredulous cockamamie story about how some big bad rain storm, probably complete with scary lighting and noisy thunder, moved the coffins around and, secondly, disguising it with bits of straw and grass to make it look like it was. Brilliant! I may not have thought about the disguise part. It's also brilliant! that you uprooted so many other coffins to further disguise your conservation efforts. I'm sure it was a lot of work, but, as you well know, it don't come easy. You're not a glory seeker and I know you shun adulation and would prefer to skulk around, unnoticed, lurking in the background, but the world should know that YOU, Skitzo Leezra, not only talk the talk you walk the walk.
Hey ya Kev,
What a stream of conciousness you got going there. Hell son, you should paid by the word. Good to hear from ya.
What you don't know about me is that am a junker. Pile of crap by the road? I slow down for a look. Those caskets, turned on the narrow end and fitted with shelves, would make for great multi-media storage. And I do love me some vintage fashion. Old jewelry is my favorite kind.
I have "liberated" a 300# slab of granite from a jobsite with the help of an unnamed maternal figure. But in my defense it was, as brother-in-law would say, "close to the road". The price I paid for lifting the heavy stone is barrenness (is that a word?).
And bemused that you mentioned the anal rape yet again but must clarify that was an "overheard" entry.
So, I admit to being a white female Fred Sanford, an opportunistic (sometime) thief, and an eavesdropper but you should not suppose that you could spy an unsightly clothesline from my street. No, my friend, I employ a rather genius retractable clothesline contraption.
As much as I love a wooden Chris Craft boat or an old antique armoire, I think it is a damn shame that folks spend big money to bury a nice new box. My desire is to be donated to science and the remainder of my parts should be placed in the BFI can for the next Wednesday's pick up.
Hoping to be fully recycled,
I am,
SkitzoLeezra
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