A little Southern Comfort from Raines and Bragg

The destruction and tragedy of Katrina has of course inspired writers to remember New Orleans, a unique American city with, yes, a unique American nightlife (I did wonder how Joe Francis had taken the news). But is it just me, or is it a bit unseemly just yet to wax so effusively about the lost earthly delights of the city? While I of course appreciate the sentiments behind any heartfelt lament, I also feel it’s a little early to hear about how Rick Bragg mistily remembers getting laid in the quarter or Howell Raines will miss getting an eyeful in exchange for some beads – especially when rendered so purply:

Oh, wondrous city of music that floats from the horn and poems drowned in drink! Oh, cheesy clip-clop metropolis of phony coach-and-fours hauling drunken Dodge salesmen, of gaunt-eyed transvestite hookers, of Baptist girls suddenly inspired to show their breasts on...

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