Prurient Interests.
I saw the statue of Winston Churchill at the foot of Poydras Street last night.
The only people who ever see it are the people who visit the Hilton Riverside. The Hilton Riverside is a big hotel. It is featured in architecture textbooks.
The secret to happiness is knowing where you belong. I do not belong at the Hilton Riverside. That is not my beat.
I went to the casino, where I also do not belong. I only popped in to confirm my long-held belief that Wednesday night is the worst night to play roulette. I did not see any evidence to the contrary. I did not play, myself. There were only two tables open in the whole casino and they were crowded with suckers.
I have little truck with conventioneers. If I lived anywhere else, I would love the Hilton Riverside. I do not live anywhere else. I live somewhere very different from anywhere else. I live in Mid-City New Orleans, Louisiana, U.S.A. You can take a boy out of Mid-City but you cannot take Mid-City out of the man he becomes.
There are more invisible layers to New Orleans than there are in Schrödinger’s onion.
Now, I am going to pull the curtain. Betty and I have seem to have inadvertently uncovered a midget stripper ring. The home office is close to Vincent’s house. I cannot wait to see how this unfolds.
I wish I was making this stuff up, but, I am not. This is what it is like to live in New Orleans. All the news that is fit to print.