A Trip to Angelo Brocato. Chapter 496.
Boy George said, “I hear you charge $80 a year for your blog, Mr. King. That’s rather expensive.”
“You see me hard at work every time you see me,” I replied. “I do this almost every day. I am on Chapter 496. As someone who lives off tips, I am sure you realize that my tab does not pay itself.”
The money earned from paid subscriptions goes to keeping the local New Orleans economy humming. Thank you to our paid subscribers. I am not the only one who thanks you. Every New Orleanian thanks you. I am spreading your wealth as best as I can. Shop locally. New Orleans needs me to have more paid subscribers. Tell your friends.
If we get a new subscriber today, I will go to Melba’s at 3:00AM and tell you what I find. I have never been inside Melba’s, not being one for po’ boys, fried chicken, frozen daiquiris, or coin-operated clothes washers, but, I will do it. It will give us something to talk about. Your man-in-New Orleans is ever on patrol. Wherever there is sin, there must I go.
This blog is as much a business as it is a labor of love. This is why I do not mind being shameless.
I saw Jefferson Davis today, the living one not the dead one. He told me about a redfish he bought at Dorignac’s in Old Metairie. He said, “I’ve recently been on a redfish kick so I went to Dorigniac’s last week because I had to buy a card at the Hallmark store. My friend was sick. He’s better now. After I bought the card, I went next door to Dorignac’s. Dorignac’s always has good fish.”
Dorignac’s really does always have good fish. Everyone says so.
Jefferson Davis spent $50.00 on a whole redfish that was bigger than my newspaper. That was one big red fish. Jeff Davis said that if he had bought another, it would have been a bluefish.
“I do not like green eggs and ham,” Jeff Davis said. “Just the redfish alone was too much for me. I ended up feeding most of it to the cats in the alley,”
“He gave some to me. It was really good fish,” Julie chimed in.
Julie has the prettiest red lips. They are painted on but she smiles like she was born with them. She was born to have them.
I wonder how Python Lady is doing. She is on a remote vacation just outside Birmingham, Alabama. She is birdwatching, not fishing. If I was in Birmingham with Python Lady, I would take her to Vulcan statue. That was tops. I spent ten days there this past August, or was it July? Those were ten days I will never forget. Check the archives.
Birmingham is no New Orleans, but Birmingham is pretty nifty in its own way. Hoover, Alabama, is a fast-growing suburb just outside of Birmingham. Hoover’s population is approaching Birmingham’s. Hoover is a city of its own. Its trajectory is independent of Birmingham’s. Hoover is a city named after an insurance salesman.
I was tempted to visit Hoover, once. Then, my plans changed for the better.
Do you ever wonder if someone will name a city after you? I do not flatter myself by thinking this is possible. Can you name the only other national capitol besides Washington, D.C that is named after a U.S. President?
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