Styrophobia

Po Boy views

By

Phil LaMancusa

Ecologistics Dreams

Or

Styrophobia

            Okay, I know that there are few, if any people that get up in the morning and say “there’s nothing like the smell of a festering garbage dump; let’s see, what else I can do to f**k up the planet today!” And, I’m sure that nobody ever says “Boy, these cigarette butts take twelve years to biodegrade, I think I’ll just flip mine into the street where it can wash directly to the lake!”

            Let me just make a suggestion here, and I’ll remind you later on in the show: what if you put this piece of reading down right now and contacted the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Foundation offices and requested that no Styro or foam products be allowed at the Fest? Imagine, hundreds of thousands of pieces of polystyrene not taking fifty years to decompose in our land or in our waters; you may say I’m a dreamer. The EPA has estimated that 45% of landfill comes from food waste and packaging (NYT 1/1/20). Plastic bags and bottles, batteries, rubber shoe soles, glass and even aluminum cans take decades to biodegrade (ecoparts.com); in the state of the planet that we’re seeing, a sane person would ask “what are we thinking?” The answer is twofold 1. We’re not sane people 2. We’re not thinking.

            A carryout bag ordinance in New Orleans that would require .05 price per bag to use them instead of your own bags was brought up (and died) in City council in 2016, it was not heard and now considered ‘pending’ (wgno.com). When I questioned my council member about it she said that the Council was advised that it would negatively impact poor people to have five cents per plastic bag added to their shopping bills and from the way I see big grocery stores packing groceries (lookin’ like one item per plastic bag) I can see why. My question is: why do we think poor people cannot/will not/would not bring their own bags to shop? Are we assuming that poor people aren’t smart enough or care enough to bring their own bags to a market? Did we just classify poor people as stupid and obtuse? A place like Whole Foods Market GIVES YOU ten cents for every bag you bring in! Poor people would be making money! It’s not rocket surgery! But, then again, we’re not sane and we ain’t thinking; right? Of course a deposit on canned and bottled drink containers was never even entertained.

            Nationwide 91% of plastics are not being recycled (nationalgeographic.com 12/18) and we have a tendency to think that plastic is the main issue and it is, but it’s not. Clothing, electronics, metals, cardboard, compost.  Did you know that the city of New Orleans does not offer recycling to businesses? Think of bars, restaurants, hotels, small businesses, big businesses; if they don’t go through expense and inconvenience of hiring outside companies it all goes to the landfill. Is everything that can be recycled being recycled? No. The city estimates that less than 25% of households actually recycle and the fact is 100% of household are charged for that service.

What else can we do to f**k things up? How about factory farming, mass animal slaughter, the carbon footprint of convenience products (think strawberries in December from Chile or garlic from China),fossil fuel emissions and the day to day wasting of water, gasoline and utilities. Do you see those white streaks across the sky when a commercial plane passes? It’s jet fuel being dumped into the air we breathe. Do you see the rains that wash contaminated soils into our rivers? The runoff from factories being dumped into our drainage systems? How about that Yayhoo washing his cement laying tools into our storm drains? Algae blooms in the gulf? How about no safe drinking water in Flint, Mi? And most importantly, how about our agencies that are supposed to protect us from these occurrences (EPA) being gutted by an administration that’s based on greed and corruption? Are we thinking yet? Are we insane enough yet?

            So now I want you to put this down and call your children and/or your grandchildren and explain how inconvenient it was for you to save the planet that you’re leaving to them. Don’t have any offspring? Then call mine and tell them what schmucks we are and have been. If I’m preaching to the choir, then maybe it’s time for the choir to go out and do some preaching as well!

            You’re smart, you’re creative, you’re lazy; you know a hundred different ways to stop this madness. We have less than a dozen years to lower by 1.5% greenhouse gas emissions (IPPC) and then it’s curtains for the clowns. It doesn’t take some long hair from the 60”s to tell you that we’re on the eve of destruction; you can look around you and see that it’s already happening: fires, floods, volcanoes, melting ice caps and unprecedented severity and frequency of storms. Earthquakes. People and animals displaced and dying and it’s on our watch and on our heads. Little things, big things, we are capable of accomplishing anything if we get off our duffs. As Roger Miller says “all you gotta do is get right to it; knuckle down, buckle down, do it do it do it!”

            I know, I know I’m supposed to be writing something entertaining, funny, uplifting etc, etc; but there was a young girl who recently said “adults keep saying we owe it to the young people to give them hope, but I don’t want you to hope, I don’t want you to be hopeful, I want you to panic. I want you to feel the fear I feel every day, and then I want you to act; I want you to act as if you would in a crisis, I want you to act as if the house was on fire. Because it is.”

P.S. www.jazzandheritage.org/contact

           

76 year old virgin

Po Boy Views

By

Phil LaMancusa

Crawfish Blues

Or

76 Year Old Virgin

            So, 2020 is a new year for me, a new beginning, out with the old, in with the new; firstly, I’m going to forgo dead meat and eat only plant based (don’t say vegan!) food and secondly, I’ve quit my lucrative side job to hunt down a full time cooking position in a vegan (plant based) restaurant. Both are going to be more than challenging.

            First of all, as far as employment, my age works against me. Warning to all ‘mature’ applicants: be aware that you can have boatloads of experience with a resume up the wazoo and still be passed over for someone younger and probably better looking than you; you can bring passion and professionalism to the table and still they’ll hire the server’s sibling. Dress for success, interview well, have qualifications, and a young squirrel can/will pass you at the finish line. It happens, it’s factual ageism. Listen, I enjoy seeing what’s considered our ‘new day’ countenances, attitudes and energies as much as the next person, I really do; what I object to, is bright eyed and bushy tailed being a deciding factor in employment opportunities. I’m fully aware that I can’t sing, I ain’t pretty and my legs are thin; but I can work with a song in my heart, a smile on my face and I can glide around a kitchen like Fred Astaire.

            Going vegan, on the other hand, is almost a no brainer. My mate is a 98% vegan and I do all the cooking at home. Although I’m leaving a life where I profess that “I’d eat the paint off a chair”, feeding ourselves will be a cool runnin’. Also, I’ve been training for my next gig by cooking, sometimes for hours, more complicated plant based victuals at home: vegan cheeses, croissants, tempeh, seitan,  (did you know spell-check doesn’t know those words?), breakfast sausage, egg replacer, aquafaba (that one either), crème brulee (YES!).

            Being vegan comes with conditions and stipulations. Do you wear leather? What about honey? Chocolate?  I fall into the category of being a ‘non-militant vegan’ as opposed to a ‘zealot vegan’. What’s the diff? Non-militant Vegans will eat ‘meat and dairy substitutes’ and Zealot Vegans are more serious, eating (what do I know?) only birdseed and dandelions? However; I am a health conscious eating machine, meaning I try to eat right, but what about beer and potato chips? How about that Impossible Burger at the King? Can I just pick the pepperoni off the pizza? What about road kill?

            I find myself driving slower about town. I pass by my favorite fried chicken place; my EX-fried chicken place, I feel like I’m stalking a former lover. Same goes for that gumbo joint where I could be sure of anemic crab bodies and a chicken neck or two. Crescent City Steak House brings a tear to my eye. The oysters that I’ll never eat again, andouille sausage, boudin, muffulettas and tell me, what am I gonna do come crawfish season where C&J Seafood toss them in garlic, butter and ginger spicy hot?  I’ll miss mouth watering Po Boys at the Orange House and Parkway, but, you know, I’ve got to do this.

            First of all eating a plant based diet is good for the planet and your body; and, you’re not killing, slaughtering or taking the life of a fellow being, no factory farming is in question, no blood lust brutality and, really, there’s no good reason not to let life live. You’ll find that folks that hanker for smoked sausage and prime rib will take Fido to the vet for a splinter and would never consider fattening that sucker up for soup or stew. The same goes for Missy Kitten and a variety of birds from pigeons to parrots. In my former life I would say “where’s that line? If you’re gonna eat one animal why not eat ‘em all? What’s the difference between pork and a palomino except the size of the pan and how much garlic to use?”

            I know, I know it’s February and I should be concerned with Carnival, Valentine’s, and various festivals from foot races to fancy clothes; musical events from Broadway to Backstreet rhythms. I should be enjoying my life and time at this point at my age and not be trying to challenge myself to master new frontiers. You know what I did in my final days before veganism? I went to John and Mary’s and got a boiled turkey neck and a spicy pig’s foot to have for lunch, I drank a YooHoo chocolate beverage and ate cheesecake with gobs and gobs of cream that I whipped up myself. I had a tres leches at Norma’s. It was like that last encounter with a lover when you know the next morning you’re going to move on. Like leaving home and starting over in a new town as a virgin. Like a leap of faith.

            Why am I doing this? That’s a good question that I’ve asked myself that more than a few times. I realize that from a culinary standpoint I will be as lonely as a polecat in somebody’s front yard; that dining out will be near impossible unless I frequent ‘alternative’ cafes; that I will have to ask a lot of questions about my menu selections and by having to defend my choices. I’ll be that pain in the ass customer. But I feel good about this.

            And from an employment viewpoint, maybe I just want to prove to myself and the world that I am still a viable human being that has what it takes to contribute to a functioning enterprise with a mission statement that is goal and profit oriented. And besides that, I can cook. Wish me luck.