Product Placement.
This is a long one. I have a lot of time to kill while waiting on a date with Fate. Anticipation is making me wait. Today has been peeling, both like an onion and a church bell, in Mid-City today.
I was telling a physicist that reading about my day is like talking to me—I am preoccupied and full of stray facts. People who know me in person can hear me in their heads when they read these letters. It is nice to see you.
I just had a conversation about sharks. I do not know much about sharks but I do know that their buoyancy relies on their large fatty livers, versus a swim bladder like almost every other fish I can think of. I am not an ichthyologist and the guy I was talking to is some kind of physicist. I couldn’t really make out what kind, exactly, besides teacher.
This guy I were talking about how shark liver oil used to be sold as the active ingredient in Preparation H. Yeast and shark liver oil. It is rare that I meet people who share interests similar to mine, so it was nice to chat with him and his wife. They live in Lakeview, not the part by II Tony’s. Too bad.
I am not a connoisseur of hemorrhoid remedies, but, right after I talked to this guy about shark liver oil, I talked to a pharmacist about the very same thing. Life in New Orleans is full of odd coincidences, or are they all part of a pattern? I did not raise the subject. King’s honor.
You cannot invent a better mousetrap than Victor Mousetraps. This is not a paid endorsement, only an observation. Victor Mousetraps hit the spot.
I had been laying out traps baited with gummy bears, the good German kind, Haribo, but the mouse refused to take that bait. Then, thinking about Alabama, I thought of using a piece of Moon Pie. Somebody had given me four Moon Pies last week. It is a long story we do not have time for.
Mission accomplished. I found myself with a dead mouse on my hands thanks to the powerful attraction of Moon Pies. I should have thought of it sooner. Everybody knows that mice love Moon Pies. This is only an observation, not a paid endorsement.
I have never tasted a Moon Pie. I am a man not a mouse.
Speaking of dead animals, there was a freshly dead cat on Wisner Boulevard, today. It was really fresh. There were hardly any flies.
I am not a forensic veterinarian, but, I am guessing that the cat was hit by a car this morning. The corpse was that fresh. I first spotted it headed lakeside, at 11:00AM.
On my way here, to Liuzza’s-by-the-Track, after lunch with Mrs. King at an undisclosed location, I bivouacked back to inspect the scene. I took a photo in case documentary evidence was needed. One never knows.
I just had to scan the room to see if anyone I know is here. They are not. It is just you and me.
There is no product placement or paid endorsements in this part of the story unless you want to purchase the book Zen Flesh, Zen Bones by Paul Reps. It is an old book. I am sure you can get a copy at Beckham’s Bookshop in the French Quarter. They sell used books. They live around the corner from me. I could ask for you.
If you want to go see for yourself, this dead cat I am talking about is about 200 yards uptown of Harrison Avenue, on the side of the abandoned golf course in City Park, way before the bridge. I saw it at 11:00AM and then again at around noon. If you go now, it should be there, if you want it.
That part of Wisner is like a race track. I am sure that is how this dead cat met its maker. I do not care about that part. I just want the skull, but, I do not want to clean it myself. Let nature do it.
Some stray bicyclist who wants to hot dog it on Wisner instead of using the bike path along Bayou St. John, I am afraid that person is going to see the picked-clean cat skull before I do. Then that hot dog will take it home, probably in one of those water bottle pockets that they have on their backs.
I happen to know that a clean cat skull fetches $35.00 on the black market. Now you know why this dead cat caught my eye.
I am not going to check every day. I have things to do. I am not a crazy person, but, I would not mind padding my pocket with $35.00.
What will be, will be. Everything in New Orleans, like the decay of a dead cat on the side of Wisner Boulevard, happens in slow motion.
Alright, all of that is the boring part of my day. I gotta put the paywall up to get to the real juicy, slice of life, New Orleans stuff. I am going to talk about two local commercial vans I came across on my rounds today.
Wonders never cease in New Orleans.