A jeremaiad, which came to me as I was waking

Woe betide them who help not those in need
Who leave the helpless to be harried by wolves
and plucked at by ravens

For I have seen their inequities
and measured their ingratitude

Their perfidy shall be seen by the nations
and their cowardice is known


I've not the sustained anger of Jeremiah, and this moved me too much to lose in my reverie, so I rose to write it, before it was lost.

Plans for rebuilding

I saw extracts of this a couple of days ago, but I am not a paid subscriber to the Wall Street Journal, so I let it go by; for lack of context in the original. Two layers of filtering could make for some serious deviation from the author's real writings.

But Pittsburgh Post Gazette has seen fit to pick it up.

Old-line families plot the future

The green expanse of Audubon Park, in the city's Uptown area, has doubled in recent days as a heliport for the city's rich -- and a terminus for the small armies of private security guards who have been dispatched to keep the homes there safe and habitable. Mr. O'Dwyer has cellphone service and ice cubes to cool off his highballs in the evening. By Wednesday, the city water service even sprang to life, making the daily trips to his neighbor's pool unnecessary. A pair of oil-company engineers, dispatched by his son-in-law, delivered four cases of water, a box of delicacies including herring with mustard sauce and 15 gallons of generator gasoline.

Despite the disaster that has overwhelmed New Orleans, the city's monied, mostly white elite is hanging on and maneuvering to play a role in the recovery when the floodwaters of Katrina are gone. "New Orleans is ready to be rebuilt. Let's start right here," says Mr. O'Dwyer, standing in his expansive kitchen, next to a counter covered with a jumble of weaponry and electric wires....


A few blocks from Mr. O'Dwyer, in an exclusive gated community known as Audubon Place, is the home of James Reiss, descendent of an old-line Uptown family. He fled Hurricane Katrina just before the storm and returned soon afterward by private helicopter. Mr. Reiss became wealthy as a supplier of electronic systems to shipbuilders, and he serves in Mayor Nagin's administration as chairman of the city's Regional Transit Authority. When New Orleans descended into a spiral of looting and anarchy, Mr. Reiss helicoptered in an Israeli security company to guard his Audubon Place house and those of his neighbors.

He says he has been in contact with about 40 other New Orleans business leaders since the storm. Tomorrow, he says, he and some of those leaders plan to be in Dallas, meeting with Mr. Nagin to begin mapping out a future for the city.

The power elite of New Orleans -- whether they are still in the city or have moved temporarily to enclaves such as Destin, Fla., and Vail, Colo. -- insist the remade city won't simply restore the old order. New Orleans before the flood was burdened by a teeming underclass, substandard schools and a high crime rate. The city has few corporate headquarters.

The new city must be something very different, Mr. Reiss says, with better services and fewer poor people. "Those who want to see this city rebuilt want to see it done in a completely different way: demographically, geographically and politically," he says. "I'm not just speaking for myself here. The way we've been living is not going to happen again, or we're out...."



Calvin Fayard, a wealthy white plaintiffs' lawyer who lives near Mr. O'Dwyer, says the mass evacuation could turn a Democratic stronghold into a Republican one. Mr. Fayard, a prominent Democratic fund-raiser, says tampering with the city's demographics means tampering with its unique culture and shouldn't be done. "People can't survive a year temporarily -- they'll go somewhere, get a job and never come back," he says.

Mr. Reiss acknowledges that shrinking parts of the city occupied by hardscrabble neighborhoods would inevitably result in fewer poor and African-American residents. But he says the electoral balance of the city wouldn't change significantly and that the business elite isn't trying to reverse the last 30 years of black political control. "We understand that African Americans have had a great deal of influence on the history of New Orleans," he says.

Black politicians have controlled City Hall here since the late 1970s, but the wealthy white families of New Orleans have never been fully eclipsed. Stuffing campaign coffers with donations, these families dominate the city's professional and executive classes, including the white-shoe law firms, engineering offices, and local shipping companies. White voters often act as a swing bloc, propelling blacks or Creoles into the city's top political jobs. That was the case with Mr. Nagin, who defeated another African American to win the mayoral election in 2002.

Creoles, as many mixed-race residents of New Orleans call themselves, dominate the city's white-collar and government ranks and tend to ally themselves with white voters on issues such as crime and education, while sharing many of the same social concerns as African-American voters. Though the flooding took a toll on many Creole neighborhoods, it's likely that Creoles will return to the city in fairly large numbers, since many of them have the means to do so.

There you have it, a plan for rebuilding is taking shape among those who have the money, and perhaps the political pull to make it happen.

Housekeeping

It occurs to me, as I have been getting more traffic lately, that few people go to the info/splash page to see who, or what, I am.

Which means they don't know the rules.

So, for the hell of it, I'll post them, in brief.

1: This is Liberty Hall, where you can spit on the mat and call the cat a bastard.

Which is to say I have, for purposes of debate, no sacred cows. It has happened, in the past, that some see my picture, or read that I'm in the Army, and assume things about my worldview. The same happens when they read a single piece of my writing. That way lies madness, for no man is all of a piece.

2: If you want to hang out and enjoy my railleries, listen to the side-chatter and say nothing, feel free. You don't need to ask to friend me.

3: Be polite to my guests.

This is my place. I let others in because 1: I like them (if they are on my f-list, it's because something about them struck me as worthy of some sort of regular attention), and 2:I am hospitable. Which means I am extending hospitality. They are my guests, and as such they get some protections (even when they don't really need me to save them).

4: If you want to post, you need to let me know, in some way, who you are. You don't need to make a formal introduction (and having an Lj counts... I can find a little something about you from that). If you don't have an Lj, a name at the end of a comment will suffice.

I've been bending this rule since I made it (the most egregious case of bending being someone who insulted my honor. I can get prickly about that, see above, where no man is all of a piece), but the basic rule is: You want to be anonymous to the world, I can do that. But you don't get to come in here wearing a mask, shoot up my joint and ride out in a cloud of dust. You don't even get to come in and be polite, buy a drink and pay the tab that way. I can't shoot you dead at the saloon door, but I can refuse the right to enter. You want to be a mystery man to the world. Fine. I'll strip any identifying info, and repost for you (which will even hide your IP addy) but I won't let you not say hello to me. You can let me know (a deleted comment will work fine, I get it when you send it, and then you can delete it, heck, an anonymous comment will work, because they only get seen when I unscreen them), and we'll work out a way for you to let me know it's you, and the rest of the world will be none the wiser.

Yes, you can lie to me. You can give me a false e-mail, or a fake name, but that's the way the game goes. You could do the same in a real saloon. Keep showing up, the locals will recognise you. Piss me off (or cause me to feel you've violated my hospitality to my guests) and I'll refuse to serve you.

Those are pretty much all the rules.

Sit down a spell, put your feet up, take a load off.

The first round's on me.

Politics, abstract

libertango and akirlu are probably my oldest friends in the world.

When I was homeless, I took advantage of them, and if they knew that was what I was doing, they were kind enough to not mention it.

When he broke his leg, last year, I went to help them, it was the least I could do. They will be embarrased, they will blush, and they will pull a Dobie Gillis and dig their toes in the sand, but apart from making sure Maia and I don't fall apart, there is nothing in the world more important to me than they are.

When I was up in Seattle (which I love because they showed me nooks and crannies) last year, they introduced me to The West Wing.

If you haven't seen it, you're wrong.

I don't give a damn what your political persuasion is. I disagree with Aaron Sorkin on guns, and it doesn't matter.

I, because misery loves company, hooked Maia on it.

Two nights ago I told her she couldn't watch the last episode of the first season. It's a cliff-hanger, it leads to a two-part second season opener.

She elected to watch it.

Today I bought the second season.

The opener is the best explanation of what politics ought to be.

It's about hope. It's about trying to make things better for everyone.

Everyone.

I have been a servant. A servant serves. A public service serves the public. That's what politicians are supposed to do; to be, public servants.

For those who know the show, I'd love to be Bartlett. I'm not. I can deliver a speech. I have the passion, but not the drive. I am a Leo McGarrey. It's the story of my life. I make a great number-two. I can prod, nudge, and make tough decisions. I can support people, but I have some qualms when it comes to being the guy who makes the ultimate decisions. I can execute, but, unless I have to, I don't like to decide.

I'll make a great first-sergeant, or sergeant major, I am not the stuff of which generals are made.

Serving.

It's what didn't happen during Katrina.

From before, to the present, at every level, from the city, to the nation, the people who were supposed to be served, were; and are, being left to twist in the wind.

People say this isn't political. They say we ought not be pointing fingers, or assigning blame

Bullshit. It isn't blame. No, it is, and there is enough blame to go around.

When someone screws up, they ought to admit it. It's an old American tradition. Puritans believed in it.

Sin, everyone does it.

Be made aware of it.

Repent.

Confess, in public.

Be forgiven.

If one could do that, confess in public, all would be forgiven.

Accountabilty. This administration hasn't, by my lights had any. They talk but they don't walk.

A public servant serves the public.