Jazz Fest 2012 Mental Floss

Po Boy Views By Phil LaMancusa Jazz Fest Mental Floss or Doo Wacka Doo Wacka Doo. Well, here it is again Jazz Fest time and, as the world falls apart around us on so many levels, we can indulge in a few days of musical and culinary amnesia; for, as we know, the ‘real world’ still waits out there with all the trials, tribulations and digestive gases that make up our lives and existences. It’s nice to take a break, idnit? However, in these troubled times it does a mind and body good to contemplate the human condition for at least a few moments from time to time. Is it not true that all New Orleanians (when sober) are natural philosophers? And given a couple of drinks… are we not all friggin’ prophets? And as sages will do, we tend to gather in preferential spaces to commiserate in time well spent vocalizing theories and examining the world as we perceive it. A certain posse I know collects regularly at Liuzza’s By The Track and the group that assembles there, partaking in adult beverages and expounding viewpoints, makes Cheers look like a Cub Scout meeting. Wit and witticisms fly without safety net or laugh track. Luckily for us the kitchen closes at seven and the bar winds us down and home by eight or so. The other night Bobby, after reading the newspaper, comes up to Girlfriend and says: “what is this with vaginal ultrasounds and abortions?” he’s a little red in the face “I can’t believe that the streets aren’t flooded with women protesting, marching and carrying banners saying that they will refuse to have sex with men until they stop treating them as second class citizens!” This, I think, is the start of a great conversation; so I chime in: “Bobby, when women take to the streets, I’m gonna be right there with them”. “So will I, so will I!!” Bobby rejoins, getting a trifle louder (I check to make sure that there are no children about). “First” he continues “men tell women not to have abortions and then they tell them not to take birth controls! I mean, what’s the point?” I hear that train (of thought) a comin’. “I’ll tell you what the point is(!) he says: “the point is to keep women home-- having babies-- and not interfering with men’s bidnesses! See…(?) if women stop having kids (or have them when they want to), they might turn around and say “whoa, I got me an MBA and I’m gonna go get me some of that money too!”; ya see what I’m saying?” he continues, “and I for one don’t understand why women ain’t running for office and getting in there and changing stuff? I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY THERE AIN’T BLOOD IN THE STREETS!” More and similar ideas and “yeah, you rights!” fly and about that time it’s time for us to trundle home (after a couple of drinks, I tend to trundle). On my way home and well into the next couple of hours I ponder (pondering is another of my drinking attributes). I have daughters and my youngest has three beautiful little girls; and for the life of me I can’t see her being oppressed by her husband. My other daughter who has no babies is also not oppressed. But Bobby has a point; it’s just that the point sounds better when he says it, so the point is kinda wooly at this point, if you know what I mean. Then the light comes on. My daughters are not in that category to which Bobby refers because their men are looking out for them and have their best interests at heart and if these guys who run things had women’s best interests at heart they would leave them the !@#$%^&* alone and let them make their own decisions the way that men make all their own decisions for themselves about themselves. I mean who knows better? Well, after the Jazz Fest dust settles at Liuzza’s (By The Track) and the next time I see Bobby, I’ve got one for him. In the New York Times this week, and I’m saving the article, eventually it will all be a moot point because men are going extinct. That’s right, “for a long while”, the article read, the Y chromosome which is responsible for connecting with the X chromosome to make boy babies has been getting weaker and the double X combination that make girl babies has been staying stronger so that eventually women will have to find alternative ways to get babies and as such they will be in charge of their own lives because men won’t be around in sufficient quantities to mess with them. Maybe if more of the men in charge (until the women take over) realize that they are an endangered gender they’ll cease and desist trashing the plant in the pursuit of the almighty dollar and stop sending their sons off to wars to fight and die for the unreal ideal of King and country. What do you think the chances are? Be that as it may; Jazz Fest is a particular and singular experience into an alternative and parallel universe. Whichever way you look at it, you leave the world behind when you enter and try to ignore it when you come out. Wish as we may, the world that we live in will never be the one that we leave at the track. As you sip your pre-Fest Bloody Mary or post-Fest Abita at Liuzza’s By The Track, as per your usual Jazz Fest ritual, you’ll ponder these and other things because, I believe, the joint’s built on ‘grey cell hallowed ground’ and you just might not be able to help it. Happy Fest!