One Lucky Dog. Chapter 653.

John Kennedy Toole wrote Confederacy of Dunces. I have never read it but I know a lot of people who praise it. This is New Orleans. It makes perfect sense.

Have you ever had a Lucky Dog?

Lucky Dogs taste metallic. The carts are icons, things of beauty. Imagine a swan landing on a city street corner, without a tree or a lake in city, thick in the urban environment.

You are just walking along, feeling a bit peckish, especially after having imbibed two hand grenades at Tropical Isle, then, some froze daiquiri action along Bourbon Street (who can resist?), then, you get a Lucky Dog from that bright shiny cart manned by a scraggly man or woman or whatnot.

A person does need a college degree to man a Lucky Dog cart. It only takes about an hour of on-the-job vocational training.

Selling Lucky dogs is like printing money. Anybody can do it.

Aim high. Dream big.

The moon is a balloon in New Orleans.

Now, am going to move to the topic at hand. You should become a paid subscriber. I don’t mind saying it for the umpteenth time. I speak truth to power.