Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Erectio...uh...Election Coverage

...Our final installment of non-election/erection coverage by way of reader mail which, against my better judgement, includes personal responses from Eric Crowthers, from Philly. Enjoy.

    "I hope you two die a painful death."

From Eric:
As long as it happens soon, I'm down. I'm not sure how I'm going to come up with rent in two weeks.

    "You two are like Martin and Lewis" (clearly a senior citizen)

From Eric:
Jim is a rascal, I'm a curmudgeon. It seems only fitting that the only people who like us shit themselves.

    "Love the back and forth with Eric."

From Eric:
This person is clearly dull. That's why they have no back and forth of their own and have to live vicariously through ours.

    "How and why do I receive forwards of your articles???""

From Eric:
How?  There's this thing called the internet, mastermind. You used it to send this message.
Why? Because God hates you.

    "Is Eric single?"

From Eric:
April will mark the 10 year anniversary since my last relationship ended, but I don't do the sex anymore, slut bag, so dry off your nasty clam.

    "You two are crazy funny."

From Eric:
You have the vocabulary of a Kardashian, thus making your personality the physical manifestation of dry anal.

    "I think you and Eric should form a murder-suicide pact." *(my favorite)

From Eric:
Didn't Jim and I already do that?

    "Who are you guys voting for?"

From Eric:
Learn some fucking manners. Religion and politics should be kept private ... kinda like your uncle's favorite game that you played as a child.
PS - Whomever you're voting for, I'm voting for the other person.

   "I hate you two."

From Eric:
Get in line.

    "YOU GUYS ROCK!"

From Eric:
I'll bet you've been to every farewell tour KISS has performed in that little tampon box you call a town where you live, and still have a wardrobe that was purchased by Camel Cash in 1990.

    "I think Eric from Philly   should be dismembered and you should be beaten to death with his dismembered arm."

From Eric:
Again, I'm game as long as it's before the 1st of the month so I don't have to pay rent.

    "Are you two a same sex couple?"

From Eric:
Should you feel the need to take a break from licking the windows and drooling on your sweater, ask somebody to explain to you how geography works.

And, there you have it.  Our Pontchartrain Press series of non-Erection coverage concludes.  Join us for our new, lighthearted series titled:
 "The Apocalypse Can Be Fun."

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, October 2, 2016

A PRESspca Release

Pontchartrain Press
                 29 September 2016
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
PUBLISHING COMPANY ANNOUNCES MASSIVE FERRET OWNER REPARATION INITIATIVE & KEG PARTY

Santa Monica,CA-- It's been brought to the attention of Pontchartrain Press that one of our chatroom pranks (a ferret aficionado site) was ill received after it was shared by a few readers on a social media site. While we never in  a million years imagined to be writing the above statement-- this provides an excellent opportunity for us to drive the bus over Jim James Patrick.
    The article and prank in question was written and executed solely by James Patrick.
    We can't confirm that the following assertion is valid but his sole actions might also have caused a spike in inner city crime, a massive forrest fire, sparked Kim Kardashian to read a book and the devaluation of the Yen.
    This was never our intention. We, of course, do not want Kim to read a book.
    Rather than goofing on the ferret, we initially planned to pick on the Wildebeest but the crocodiles, lions and rich, murderous tourist poachers on the Serengeti plains beat us to the punch.
    Be that as it may, the Kardashians were too easy of a target so we chose the ferret.
    We're, for some reason, protecting the identities of the angry respondents so as not to alienate them more than they likely already do on their own accord.
    Since we're posting our apologies on several social media sites, it seemed appropriate to adopt a passive aggressive tone in our press release.
    Here's our promise--From this point forward a proactive policy has been activated at Pontchartrain Press so as to consciously conform to SERIOUS social media standards and issues which are deemed user-relevant by avoiding any form of comedic perspective.  We will provide and satisfy the high expectations which social media audiences have come to expect and appreciate...as follows:

-Incessantly send game invites

--mourning a gorilla such as many who also can't identify a single country on a blank African map

-Post 200-thousand pics of our dinner entrees

-A post or two here and there of a stupid vacation pic with a significant other so everyone can hit the lie...ooops...LIKE button

-A pic of the NEW significant other after the previous, doomed, relationship goes south

-a selfie of Jim in front of his Uncle Leonard's casket

A "Go Fund Me" link so that we might purchase a 72 inch television or a breast augmentation for Amanda Port

-An uninformed, drunken political rant at 1am
...and, an occasional "Click Amen and share to be blessed with wealth, become the royal leader of Zamindari or win the war on terror...whichever suits you best by clicking."
    While very few of us at Pontchartrain Press actually know Jim, we're fully prepared to describe him as "a quiet guy who kept to himself" should the authorities ever ask.
    In all seriousness, each Pontchartrain Press affiliate site exists to provide silliness...and solve crimes.
    We absolutely love all animals-- dogs, cats, the North American Wren, filet mignon, squirrels, whales, chicken (piccata), the endangered South American Peccary, Black Forest ham and, yes, the loveable ferret.
###
Additional press contact:
Noah

Copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved

View the article on Facebook...
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Sunday, September 25, 2016

My Johnson Feels The Bern

...And our final in the series of "Open Letters" to the candidates.
Dear Gary Johnson,
I like your slogan and can happily inform you that I did, indeed, feel the Johnson between 915a and 930am.  I allowed my friend, Leigh, to feel it from 11p and 1140pm in the interest of Reagan's supply side economics policy. The first time was rather anticlimactic as I suspect the Fox reboot of Lethal Weapon will be.
    Hey, did you hear anything about a poison bowl of Skittles going around?  I heard something about it from Donald Junior's Twitter page. 
    I'm amazed by how notable celebrity types can put their foot in the mouth at 140 or less characters.  It usually takes five or six-hundred words for me to accomplish such a feat.
    Anyway, on to my real question...Who ARE you?
    I saw your interview segment on 60 Minutes but I honestly thought it was a sketch from the Daily Show.
(I'll pause here for our readers to YouTube it)
    This is what people in my line of business call making the reader work for the joke punchline.  It's how we weed out the lazy people.
    Anyway, I hope that they reconsider and allow you to join the debates, mainly because I'd like to hear you tell Hill an Don to feel the Johnson. THAT'S reality TV.  Plus I've seen The Trump show (guest starring Hillary) program for over a year and it could be fun spicing it up like television network executives often do...as evidenced by bringing Jada Pinkett Smith back from the dead on Gotham.
    I also think it would be fun if they provided firearms to each candidate AND the moderator.  My money is on Lester Holt. Nothing against Anderson Cooper or anything.
   Good luck Gary.  By the way, could you just forward this to candidate Jill Stein?  I'm on a bit of a tight deadline.
Regards,
James Patrick

Copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved

Visit us on Facebook below:
https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10211090003472464&id=1427467876

Monday, September 19, 2016

Climbing The HILLary

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10211077194632251&id=1427467876
Cough on some babies, shake some hands and dig in for part two in our series of open letters to the candidates. 
    I saw a poll which indicated that if the election were held today, Donald Trump holds a slight lead over Hillary Clinton.  
    My extrapolation of these poll numbers is that if the election were held today it would be the first time in history that a presidential election has been held in September...plus or minus 3 points, of course.

Dear Hillary,
I'm writing to see if you dislike The Falcons as much as me. Understanding that you need Georgia, I know that you can't answer that question.                    
    Also, I'm checking to see if you need anything. Clearly you want my vote but I was thinking more along the lines of something from Walgreens-- where the savings NEVER end-- 
    This week's specials include: chicken soup, a neti pot, a new VP running mate, a "Basket of Deplorables" and Gummie Worms. I hear Bernie is still available by the way but, according to him, he's not for sale. 
    You might try CVS Health/Pharmacy-- they have an impressive corporate health care business model-- they'll still charge $8,000 for a prescription BUT, they no longer sell cigarettes.          
    They'll also sell a bag of Cheetos, beer, 9-thousand calorie snack cakes and a box of wine...But, a wine drenched night never hurt anyone...unless you were on a date with Ted Kennedy.  
    By the way, according to the corporate website, CVS Pharmacy is "...Fighting Opioid Abuse With Technology."
    I assume this means that they're using armed drones like Arnold Schwarzenegger from the future to kill the street dealers plying their trade three blocks from my house.
    I, as Bernie pointed out, am tired of hearing about the emails...primarily because the "Cloud" photo hack produced many more things of interest to me... such as nude photos of Jennifer Lawrence.
    I've enjoyed watching the political process in action throughout the summer since my favorite programs were airing reruns and, no matter how this thing turns out in November for either you or your opponent, I hold great, unwavering faith in our political process.
Regards,
James Patrick
Paraiso, Costa Rica

Copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Trumpilicious

Part One of our "open letters" to the candidates will hopefully open a thoughtful dialogue to enlighten, calm your nerves and...land me on some sort of FBI watch list.  First up...
P.O. Box Fabulous
Giant Gold Tower, Ny,Ny 
    Dear Mr. Trump
First of all, congratulations on your "...truly, excellent, amazingly phenomenal, Must See TV, make you want to blow up a country and then eat a steak, best ever recorded in the history of the world, make your head spin" health report. You must sleep in a bed made from kale and Emergen-C with a B-12 throw pillow.
    Actually, your doctor seems much cooler than mine; even though my health is good, my doc never misses an opportunity to lecture me on small items such as: Everything. 
    I’m at my ideal weight and live a fairly healthy lifestyle-- with the exception of drinking, smoking, walking through bad neighborhoods at 2am, girlfriend selections, eating fried chicken, running with scissors, insulting a 230lb drunk obnoxious guy and flirting with the doc's daughter (who happens to be the receptionist.) 
    I had a taco salad for lunch today however which, I feel, offsets any unhealthy choices. 
    I substitute lettuce with spinach...and a five pound lobster. Either way, they're all harvested by migrant workers.
    My doctor is Asian and she's worried about some of your proposals...specifically, all of them. I calmed her nerves by assuring that she and her daughter would likely be deported and/or executed.
    The doc DID inform that cialis was not right for me...which I took as a compliment.
    I like your commanding use of adjectives-- they add a level of excitement-- So I came up with a few of my own that you may feel free to use:
SpecTrumpular
Ivankalicious
Strategery (wait, that's taken)
MexiCant* 
**(oops, that's likely an upcoming immigration policy moniker so we'll toss that one into the noun classification.) And...you're gonna love lobbing this adjective...
"Shillary"
    It's a morph of shit and, well, you get the picture.
    I'm writing on behalf of myself and our staff of unbiased, Facebook worshipping, sexually promiscuous non-partisan, undecided voters who desire some clarification, such as confirming that the 2016 campaign isn't a Lorne Michaels/Robert Smigel SNL film short.     
    I'm hoping that this letter finds you phenomenally, extraordinarily well.
    By the way, I once dined at a restaurant in one of your casinos...
It was "Trumptious."
Regards,
James Patrick, et al

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, August 21, 2016

We Go Further, uh, Farther...uh, a Long Way

Always exciting to receive reader mail:
Dear Jim,
Help! A friend and I are debating the correct use of "further" vs. "farther."
Chandra, Nashville,TN.
From: James Patrick
Chandra,
That seems to be an action packed Thursday evening you have going there.
    Teachers often use clever tricks to assist via association with our language. I.e.
HOMES= the Great Lakes
Roy G. Biv= colors of the spectrum
"My very educated mother just served us nine pizzas"= Planets of the solar system
(even though Pluto is now considered the bastard stepchild of the solar system.) So, now we're left in the dark about what mother served nine of to the kids.
    Also, "educated" is not a word I'd associate with this mother. Child endangerment seems more appropriate.  But that doesn't fit the solar system rote memorization lesson I suppose.
    Likewise, who names their kid Roy G. Biv???
    The Mickey Mouse song is used to teach the correct spelling of Albuquerque...for those who stay up late night fretting over how to correctly spell Albuquerque. (answer: people who NEVER have sex.)
    Quite simply, further and farther are slowly becoming interchangeable in the English language...which makes it, in my opinion, bi-sexual.
   Back to your question, an old school method to settle your electrifying Thursday night debate:

Farther= physical distance...or the mileage that people plan to move from the U.S. after the election

Further= non-physical (I.e. my sex life)

example: "I desperately tried to further an evening of sexual relations with Monica but she kept moving farther down the bar."

    I feel strongly that I would've been a great elementary school teacher.
Regards,
Jim Patrick
Copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

OMG...A Selfish, uh, Selfie

I'm nothing if not a team player/employee. So, here's a feel-good, optimistic interlude for one of our markets titled:
 "I'm Being Forced To Write This...And, My Cat Died." 
  
    It's time to aim the white hot spotlight on those wacky people who camp out on the text and social media landscape-- specifically-- the folks who, helpfully, tell us who to vote for while sharing scrumptious dinner photographs.
    I've always held curious fascination toward those who snap photos of their food and post it to FaceSnatch; it's entertaining.  
    Leading psychologists (from top universities)  have a theory on this topic:
     Research suggests that (their words, not mine) "...photographing food and posting to social media indicates early stages of clinical insanity."  NOOOO WAY! Seriously?  These people are about to elect a new president...and other dangerous stuff like driving and procreating.  
    By the way, university scholars know a thing or two about insanity...It's called Beer Pong...and the student loan program.
    Let's take a look at what the foodie paparazzi have to say via actual social media survey participants:

"I do it to get people to join me for a meal."
"To make lasting memories."
"To know what I'm putting in my body."
"Because it's fun."
"People like to see it."
"Because I'm narcissistic"*
**not an actual survey response
    We'll just go ahead and score a win for team psychology/Sally Mae/Budweiser.
   My friends are astutely aware of my strong disinterest toward food pics in that, when I receive one, I politely send a text pic of a turd in my toilet bowl with a sprinkle of basil...and my dead cat-- I'm, of course, kidding-- I would never snap a pic of a dead cat.
    I've been fortunate enough in life to enjoy some of the best mac n cheese ever created, courtesy of my mom, grandmothers and even my dad, but I hold no desire to clog my in-box with pictures of it...I do something crazier with my food...I EAT it thus saving valuable folder space for pornhub pics.
    Another favorite--and I'm not being a word snob-- is the txt abbreviation:

    fml csffh hktwu.,&$@:":...  WTF? ttyl, fuk off... omw. LOL. (:

    At Pontchartrain Press we use complete words and sentences in our communication. 
    I also understand why text abbreviation is sometimes valid...such as clever tactics in throwing off a federal government sting operation. 
   Amanda Port, Leigh, Todd, Mike Klein (the editor) and I share the same account at the company...primarily, I suspect, facilitating their ability to change my password when they become nervous about my writing.
    My favorite is the online pronouncement of a romance in bloom which is splashed across the screen for all to view...

Kim: Bestessss bf in the world. xoxxoo @Chris who fixed the bestessss dinner ever, and re-shingled my house while giving CPR to an unconscious nun.
(Kim is in a relationship with Chris)

Chris: Fun nite with a perfect gurl...
(Chris is in a relationship with Kim)

Three months later...
Kim: I don't understand why some people are Douche bags! ugh.

Chris: I don't understand why some people are filthy whores! 
(Chris went from being in a relationship to Single)

Kim: (is single)

    In the words of the great Satchmo...What a virtual world!
    We're taking our summer break but plan to return in late September with open letters to the presidential candidates... and a fantastic eggplant parmesan recipe.

ed. note: No cats were harmed in the making of this article.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved
Link:
https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10210725986852276&id=1427467876

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Hooked On Kardashionics

Fun Facebook picture companion version...
https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10210701972371929&id=1427467876

A nice email experience with Mike Klein, the editor regarding my interaction with reader mail:

From: Mike
Seriously?  Please be nice in answering reader mail; This is a Loyola student in New Orleans.
    From: James Patrick
I try not to speak with people in general...especially aspiring lawyers. Btw, To which piece are u referring to? Notice that my previous sentence is riddled with grammatical imperfections. I'm willing to bet that you just had a stroke.
    Which mail dispatch was bad? I've lost interest...I meant count.

From: Mike Klein
THIS one:
reader mail From: Kristin
"Hey Jim.  Is there a writer who makes u laugh
and what are you doing Sunday night?"
From: Jim
"Judy Bloom makes me laugh.
As for Sunday night plans, I'm somewhat alarmed by that question but I'll likely prepare a roasted Turkey avocado wrap with jalapeno, watch a late night rerun of the hilarious Steve Harvey program and cry myself to sleep on my living room floor."

TO: Kristin
From: Jim Patrick
cc: Mike Klein
    Greetings, Kristin,
Sorry for, what might have seemed, a flippant response.  I, of course, do not watch the Steve Harvey show.
    To answer your question, my favorite writing and broadcast influences come from people who are much more talented than I could possibly possibly be in two lifetimes:
My father
The late Tom Snyder
Letterman
Aaron Sorkin
A brilliant Aussie/ viral internet genius, David Thorne

And...the inimitable works from Dave Barry at the Miami Herald.

I'm somewhat influenced by Kim Kardashian and Carson Daly...but I reserve that writing style exclusively for special pieces.

Regards,
Jim

Copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, August 6, 2016

Undatable

To get the full effect of this article, with a fun photo, visit our miserable Facebook page...
https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1081218581931418&id=124761937577092

Last in our series titled "We Swear These Are Real Dating Sites."
    We stumbled upon a site which is dedicated to guys whose loving moms tirelessly exhaust effort in finding Ms. Right for their sons.  We're not allowed to publish the site name, which likely saves these poor guys what little dignity remains...enjoy.
James Patrick has entered chat
Jim: Looking for someone to binge watch the Olympics with me... Anyone?

Ashley has entered:
I think ure on the wrong site. This is moms with single sons date site.
Jim:
Yeah, my mom is no longer with us...so I'm on my own without a "wing mom."
Ashley:
Sorry to hear that. How long since she passed?
Jim:
Oh, she didn't pass; She ran off with a guy named Lou.  He's in charge of the Big Door Factory...or something like that-- He got a job transfer-- perhaps to be in charge of a bigger door at the factory.
Ashley:
Wait, huh? Is this for real??
Jim: I don't completely understand it either, Ash. I figure that his company should install several smaller doors, thus creating more jobs in order to "Make America's Doors BIG Again."®  At any rate, mom seems happy, unlike me.
Ashley:
LOL. What are you unhappy about?
Jim: At the moment, my profile pic on this site.
Ashley:
It's a dark blank frame?
Jim:
It was supposed to be a pic of my penis but I couldn't figure out how to make my phone flash work.
Ashley: HA! u would've gotten booted btw.
Jim:
So, have YOU secured any dates with guys whose moms seem to be pimping them out?
Ashley:
No, I'm just sort of like a greeter & moderator.  Your profile info is pretty empty btw...you'll have better match ups with more info...You have any hobbies.
Jim: I study cause and effect of Oedipus complex which makes this a perfect dating site.
Ashley:
Very funny. Seriously...hobbies???
Jim:
I spend my downtime collecting bright blue bottles...and worshipping the Lord Jesus Christ.

Admin message+
Your trial membership has expired. Please visit the link below for exclusive member dating options.
 
    And, there you have it.  Still single until I successfully find a BIG door number three dating website.  Undatable.com seems not to exist...

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, July 31, 2016

Weekend At Bernie's

We loaded Chief Pontchartrain contributor/dietary disaster into an overhead bin and dispatched him 3-thousand miles from the Pacific Northwest to cover the Democratic National Convention. Who better to cover an historic exercise in apathy than Eric from Philly...What could possibly go wrong?
Enjoy his journal entries documenting what I suspect has already appeared on WikiLeaks. 

5:45pm From: Eric
    I just saw a girl use her fingers to add two to a number in the airport store. Do people REALLY think it matters who the next president is? Trust me, we're all doomed-- no matter who gets elected.

6:48pm From: Eric
    Checkin' tinder to see if anyone is trying to join the mile high club. 
6:50pm From: Eric
    No Tinder Hookups yet but I hope they serve snacks on the plane; I only grabbed $46,000 worth of Gummy Bears from the airport store...also loaded up on shitty airport food so I could make the person sitting next to the bathroom wish they were dead for the next 3,000 miles. 
7:04pm From: Eric
    About to take off.  What's the aeronautics equivalent of road head? This old blue hair sitting next to me is giving me a look that says she's willing to take out the dentures.
    From: Eric 7:08pm
Enjoy my last words in case the plane crashes.
    From: Eric
Finally landed in Philly.
My mid-flight poop was so bad that they threatened to pull the plane over and make me get out; Also made friends with the flight attendant...
    From: Jim
How so?
    From: Eric
I informed her that "I have a cock, you have a pit. Whaddya say?"
Her: *pepper spray*
    Editor Note:
(no contact from Eric for three days now)
    From: Jim Patrick
Um...any convention update? 
    From: Eric
I bought some bacon socks near the convention and I watched a middle-aged man playing Pokemon Go in the subway-- Then I realized he's registered to vote...  Heading back to Oregon.
    And there you have it. Thanks Eric for continually reminding me of why a hostage negotiator has to talk me into getting out of bed each day. 
     In a nutshell, the convention highlights unfolded as follows:

WikiLeaks, apparently, finds hidden items more efficiently on a computer than virus scan...with exception to my ex-wife.

Sarah Silverman apparently is still alive. 

Donald Trump stayed on topic in his positive counter message, assuring that he plans to begin dating Vladimir Putin.

From his balcony perch, Bernie Sanders wore a facial expression indicating that he was either being held hostage or wished for a rescue helicopter.

Michelle Obama likely could get the nomination if "do-overs" were allowed at the DNC.

Elizabeth Warren is still very angry about something.

The first half of Bill Clinton's speech sounded like the plotline of Pretty In Pink.

Obama delivered an electrifying oration and engaged in an awkward hug with Hillary-- prompting many at the Fox News set to run hysterically as Sean Hannity's head literally exploded.

...and, Hillary made history by being the first female to be a female AND become a major party presidential candidate while being a female.
    And then they did the giant plague of locusts balloon drop just before informing Scott Baio that he could only appear at ONE convention.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved.
ed. note: Our thanks to Micah Carper for his contribution to this story and our apologies to every airline employee who had contact with Eric Crowthers from Philly.

Sunday, July 24, 2016

Tossed Salad Dating Bleus

Twice each year when the highly skilled staff aren't failing at personal relationships they produce a list of website forums so that I might continue to disparage my family name. I then contemplate suicide after spending  a couple of weeks behaving like a sociopath online where I'm, ultimately, asked to leave the site...Then I go get quesadillas. 
   Enjoy the first of a two-part series as I spend time with (and we're not making this up) REAL dating websites...First up:
    SaladMatch.com
Here's their pitch...
    "We match couples based on their salad preferences:
    If you've ever been on a date with a potential partner and found yourself quickly losing interest after witnessing them order ranch over balsamic vinaigrette, you might be a candidate for Salad Match.       If you're interested in pursuing your *salad soulmate,* the site comes with a downloadable app to assist in your journey."

User Jim Patrick has entered:
User Jim: I've never considered embarking on a salad mate journey but, because SaladMatch has a downloadable app, who WOULDN'T be tempted?

Moderator: Welcome Jim!

User Jim: I'm so sick of amateur salad people.

Reply Nikki: I Like your profile pic. btw, what amateurs made u sick??

Jim: I hooked up with a girl who ordered a Gigi salad...with LETTUCE!

Reply Nikki: That's a bit picky don't u think?

Jim: We're on a salad match dating site...with a downloadable app. I'll give you a second to think about your question.

Reply Nikki: point taken.  What's your favorite salads?

Jim: I like to build my own.  Not at places like Golden Corral though...I'm afraid of Jeff Foxworthy-- and old people eating soft serve ice cream.

Reply Nikki: Ha! so where do you go??

Jim: I go to the grocery to build my own salad by the pound for the amazing low price of $27.00...the savings NEVER stop at the Winn Dixie! I also like Olive Garden because, as you know, there's the ENDLESS salad bowl...with bread sticks and families pretending to like one another on a Sunday afternoon while everyone else is doing fun stuff.

Reply Nikki: You like Olive Garden??

Jim: Only the parking lot at 3am. Long story from early 1997 with my friend Kassandra.

Reply Nikki: interesting. So, what's your favorite salad?

Jim: Probably potato...but, I'm curious about having my salad tossed actually...especially after looking it up on Urban Dictionary.

System Admin: User account temporarily suspended. Please contact us if you feel this action is in error.

    And so, I'm tossed from a site where I might have potentially met my roughage soulmate. I'm destined to a life of imitation bacon bits.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

To Do List..

From the "I wish that I were making this up" file: An email strand from a delightful guy at a content site to which we sometimes contribute--
To: Pontchartrain Press
From: Ken F.
You guys writing anything about the past week?
From: James Patrick
Ummm...no. 
From: Ken F.
why?
From: James Patrick
Because, Ken, we make fun of stupid, funny things-- for instance-- this email string is an exemplary testament to that crazy business model.
From: Ken F.
People might still like to read some quirky/funny rambles from you guys to recount the week...maybe a pros & cons end of week wacky but sensible list showing bright moments?
From: Jim Patrick
I believe a large swath of the social media user brain trust have already inserted enough commentary, minus the sensible part in many cases, but, here goes, Ken: An end of week, wacky, list...
Tuna steaks
Milk
Bread
Romaine lettuce
Cheerios
Extra Sharp Cheddar
Blue cheese crumbles
Boars Head Turkey
Condoms (bright moment)
Bananas (wacky)
Advil (sensible)
Fifth of Stoli (necessary)
    Ken, I believe my grocery list makes for an excellent weekly submission for a period of days which were, decidedly, not funny.
    To summarize, as the "pros" go, you'll notice that I eat fairly healthy AND for once (in a loooong time) condoms are on my list. Wish me luck, Ken.
    The cons (not listed in my wacky week in review story, per your suggestion) I believe are self explanatory.
    As for the "sensible" part-- it's my firm belief that we will all get through this crap, together, as one... eventually.
   Now that I think about it, Mission sun dried tomato flour wraps might have added a certain level of wackiness to my list. It was an impulse purchase. This is precisely why I'm a sub-par writer.
    In the meantime, we're taking a moment to breathe at Pontchartrain...and to hold quiet reverence.
Regards,
Jim

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

The Great Outdoors

"The Great Outdoors"
I've been invited to join a camping trip-- for those who know me-- I'll pause here for hysterical laughter. 
    I think quite highly of the great outdoors actually. Beautiful, rolling vistas, majestic trees, zika virus, etc.
    In my previous outings I've noticed a constant in bonding with the earth amongst a camping group...in that there's always some douche bag with a guitar. If campers employed "real-world" acumen they'd smear this guy with scalding marshmallow and toss his guitar into the campfire...and the guy now that I think about it.
    I'm also not overly opposed to sleeping on the ground-- I lived much of my late 20's/early 30's doing so when I returned home from the bar-- I don't mind eating outside either. Surrounded by a natural, serene soundscape, poisonous snakes, stifling heat and friends being eaten by a wild animal sounds like fun.  It's just like one of those meditation/sleep CDs, only with bloodletting screams.
    Honestly, I'm simply frightened by hillbilly woodsmen who look to sneak into my tent late at night with the sole intention of touching my butthole.
    I recently watched the TV program, "Naked And Afraid." It's a broadcast about being in a hotel suite after a hip-hop concert.
    Then there's VH-One's continued aim at airing anything BUT actual music videos..."Dating Naked."  This is called, in my time, a one night stand. Only on the TV program they can't go home until a location director tells them to do so.
    My writing companion, Amanda, invited me and our other writing colleague, Todd, over for a backyard camping night.  This sounds like a bad porn plotline.  
    I suppose nothing personifies "roughing it" like being 10 yards from your iPhone charger. Way to go Amanda.
    To be safe, I'm passing on all camping excursion invitations this summer-- opting to prepare a picnic lunch at home and release 2-thousand ants into my dining room. I'll probably put on Animal Planet for ambiance.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016..All Rights Reserved.

Thursday, June 23, 2016

If These Walls Could Talk

I get yelled at a lot, which troubles me. Even Samuel L. Jackson yells at me via deleted scenes from Pulp Fiction-- (Capital One commercials.) NOTHINGS IN MY WALLET...TAKE IT!
    Anyone who truly knows me can attest to three things-- I'm a highly reclusive person, I'm a huge Samuel L Jackson fan...and, I kind of liked that song "No one's to Blame" by Howard Jones. 
    It's not that I don't like people--I simply don't like going outside of my house because that's where people are located. 
    As I see it, Tom Hanks' character in Castaway took a luxury vacation-- except for performing emergency self-dentistry with an ice skate, being involved in a plane crash or losing Wilson, the ball.
    Having been kept in an 8x10 metal box when my parents were at work during my formative years might shed better light as to my aversion to  being sociable...or to anything shaped like a box. It also speaks volumes to unique parenting tactics in the late 70s/early 80s coupled with  lax child endangerment laws.
    People even seem angry when writing restroom graffiti...which should be FUN. It's my absolute favorite guilty reading pleasure.  Apparently:
"Tyson is a DICK." (of course he is; anyone named Tyson is a dick.)
"The joke (apparently) is in my hand"
    Future Hall of Famer, Tom Brady (uh, I'll censor) "gives oral sex and can go have sexual relations with his mother." And, it seems that, (I'm paraphrasing here), "Obama, Hillary and the gays (ed. redaction) are not well looked upon by customers at this particular establishment."
    On the lighter side of restroom graffiti wisdom: WHO KNEW that Jennifer gives good head? If I happen across her at the bar I’ll feel much better holding this valuable inside info-- thus I will put on my A-game in speaking with her.
   If she’s sitting with Robert, I’ll feel much better about my chances with her because, according to the men’s room wall, HE ALSO gives good head and is actively looking to do so on Tuesday night between 10pm and midnight in the back parking lot. I hope he finds what he’s looking for-- although I feel strongly that his self imposed 2-hour window is rather limiting but, perhaps he has a day job.  I saved the number anyway... Jennifer's number, that is.
    I'm not certain as to why people are so angry, or yell, but I'll bet it has something to do with Donald Trump...or some F**kng girl named Amanda Port.  According to the restroom wall.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Monday, June 13, 2016

A Small World After all...

The writing idiots at Pontchartrain Press have waited to share words...primarily because we couldn't find words. We write comedy.  Today, there's nothing funny--at all.
    There will be mourning which, understandably, will usher in anger but, then, determination. It's intrinsic human nature--ultimately igniting resilience-- known since the beginning of time. It WILL prove more powerful than any gun, intolerant beliefs or those who cowardly hide behind them.
   Simply put...We are, as you, sad.
   Love and thoughts are with the families and friends in Orlando and to a civilized world who mourns with them.

Love,
Mike Klein
James Patrick
Amanda Port
Leigh Beatty
Todd Henderson

Saturday, June 11, 2016

NEW And Disproved

I recently suffered from a rare bout of insomnia. I blame this on the fact that the city is executing a construction project near my house which stretches late into the night and, apparently, involves the use of nuclear weapons.
    I've gained useful insight in my sleepless nights via late night reruns-- which remind me why these programs were not as funny as we thought--  I.e. in reality, the castaways would have murdered Gilligan and eaten him to survive until the Navy dispatched a rescue mission; It should surprise no one that Screech developed an oxycodone habit in reality and that Cosby might not be father of the year after all.
    Then, there's the infomercials-- We've evolved, as a society, where the need for a "Miracle Juicer," equipped with a live migrant worker and Bluetooth capability is, apparently, necessary.
    Workout and "miracle diet" infomercials are my favorites.  
"LOSE UP TO 47pounds IN THREE MONTHS!"
    An exhausting Ab routine equal to Navy Seal training coupled with diet pills (equivalent to 3-thousand kilograms of cocaine?)  What could possibly go wrong?
    Logically, the only way one could lose 47 pounds that quickly is: 
Terminal illness
...Or, if the diet pill company sent a representative to the house to abduct your 7-year old child.
    Indeed, we're assailed from multiple directions by one pitch man or another...all pushing the latest, greatest miracle products. Example:

-The Hardee's-Carl's Jr. 9-pound bacon burger/ improvised explosive device
-The Total Gym (you will NEVER look like these actors, EVER) fitness contraption
-Donald Trump, etc.
    Now that the insomnia has passed, I'm preparing comfort food before watching some exciting presidential campaign coverage...
NEW and IMPROVED Kraft Mac n cheese...because it's often a good idea to tinker with things which have worked just fine for 250-years.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Sweet Maria


Pulling The Wings Off OKCupid...com
     One of my dear friends, Marie, who was a writer at Pontchartrain Press and a long time radio friend, had a little too much time on her hands. When she's not binge watching The Voice, she engages  in a little small-talk with dumb guys on a popular dating website.  She also does this in person which amazes me, in that it doesn't end like an episode of CSI/SVU.  And now...Here's Marie's attempt at online dating: 
    From Marie- I'm writing to test your "replies often" status. And, also, because the site told me to do so.  It's because I'm just a sheep that does whatever the Internets tells me to do...Oh, and because the site tells me that you rated me "4 or 5" stars. I didn't realize that my profile could be graded like a restaurant review; now I MUST know: was it 4 or 5? And, why is this site so vague about it? I mean it was EITHER 4 or 5. Why not tell me which?
    For the record, I'm sending this message before looking at the torso pic that you (proudly) mention in your profile. I'm putting off viewing your, admitted, douchery until I see if you really DO "reply often".

    SkinnyPaleGuy- yes, i really do reply often! i'll admit, sometimes i'm tempted to ignore a few messages just so i can get one of those snobby elitist "very selectively" tags. i bet there are actually women out there who won't date a guy if he doesn't have one of those. like, she thinks "i'm not dating a guy who 'replies often'" ya know? but i just can't bring myself to ignore someone.
as for the rating, i gave you five stars. what i do is, i just go to the "quickmatch" thingy and just keep hitting five stars over and over again without even looking at the pictures or reading anything. it's like casting out a huge dragnet of mass-market dating!

it's actually a pretty effective strategy. i've been fucking like three or four women per day on average

i bet you wonder if i'm kidding or serious lol

    From Marie- No, I feel very confident that you're kidding and that your capitalization button is broken. Back to your autobiography, If it were true, you wouldn't have time to "reply often".

SkinnyPaleGuy - well, your confidence is misplaced because i am totally serious lmfao!
and yes, time is my number one enemy. there never seems to be enough of it (or enough condoms
so... wanna have sex?

    From Marie - In general, or do you mean with you, specifically?

SkinnyPaleGuy - lmfao! perfect response :D
i like you

    From Marie - Thanks. And thanks for pulling your dick out of someone long enough to provide a timely response to an email.
    And, for the record, I have a post-slutty-phase philosophy to which I strictly adhere. I don't sleep with anyone I don't like, or who doesn't like me...Or who doesn't respond to emails in a timely fashion. So things are looking good for you.
    I'm not trying to be coy or hard-to-get...because I am neither of those things. I'm just wise. Oh, and I have a very complicated schedule-- one which requires thoughtful planning and may interfere with you fucking all of the women, or that one guy from that band you mentioned in your profile.

SkinnyPaleGuy - no pulling out was necessary. this is my "down time," hence why i'm on okcupid in the first place
i can work around a complicated schedule because there is no schedule more complicated than my own. i must warn you, my penis is habit forming

    From Marie - Yes, but your personality may be the first step in breaking the addiction. (See how I worked a "dick" reference in there? I'm good with the words if you notice)

SkinnyPaleGuy - what are you talking about? my personality is pure, distilled awesome sauce! i realize now that i should've ignored your message to earn my "very selectively" tag
now go check out my torso pic and see what you cheated yourself out of by being a mean jerk 

    Marie - I've been known to be a bit TOO snarky in my attempts at witty repartee. Please don't take it personally. I'm sure that you have a lovely penis. Probably the BEST penis of all time.
    The "More addictive than heroin, gonna have to get on meth, someone-pull me out of the crack-gutter cause' I'm hooked on his jock most habit forming penis of all time.
    Whew!!  Seriously. Congratulations on the nice genitals.
    Post Script 
From Jim Patrick:  BRAVO Marie!  This is why you're a friend, a extraordinary writer AND a woman with large breasts.  He should have seen YOUR torso pic.  His loss. 

Copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved

Saturday, June 4, 2016

Un-Friendliness

When I'm doing important things in New Orleans, like not being murdered, I get “Unfriended” a lot on Facebook-- which makes me sad-- Mainly because "Unfriended" and Facebook aren’t even REAL dictionary words. 
    This stirs memories of when the neighborhood association asked if I’d like to join their board.  It pretty much speaks to their lenient member acceptance policy and it might explain why our neighborhood association didn‘t accomplish much.
    Those meetings were incredibly boring.  They were attended by people who didn't seem to care to be at home but astutely curious about other people's business via griping about some guy who never mows his lawn or some redneck who erected a wagon wheel mailbox.
    I, personally, felt that Irish whiskey on the rocks made these meetings far more interesting-- They held a different opinion-- which, I think, makes them fairly closed minded. So…I took my whiskey and went home. 
    I always seem to cause trouble via the written form of social communication;  I’m especially bad at communicating via text messages. 
    My friend, Amanda, is a writer and an extraordinarily brilliant communicator.  She also has gigantic breasts.  I'm not sure how her breasts are relevant to this story...but it seemed right.
    Since I’ve known her, Amanda tends to take things personally and then finds herself feeling that people are angry with her.
    (If you ask me, I think that she was probably beaten with sticks by the other children when she was younger.)

Amanda Port: Hey…u watchin’ the game 2nite at the pub??

Jim Patrick: Yep.

Amanda: What’s wrong : ( Ru mad @me???

Jim Patrick: uh…no.

Amanda: U seemed short w/ur txt

Jim Patrick: Oh, sorry, was just answering your question but I foolishly overlooked the real question behind the question. I meant that I fully intend to watch the match between the Saints of New Orleans and the Patriots who hail from an area which can only be described as our nation’s cradle of liberty…the majestic land of New England. 
Of course, as history notes, some residents of early New England were sociopaths but they knew how to throw a tea party.
BTW, Today I found myself wishing that they‘d bring back burning people at the stake as a means of punishment.
    Anyway, I very much look forward to the game-- but not as much as I greatly anticipate seeing your radiant smile and crystal bright blue eyes-- Even the most beautiful Shakespearean sonnet pales by comparison to the magnificence which lights up a room simply by your very presence. 
    I'd text message my favorite sonnet but I don’t really want to send 14 txts since I’m almost over my limit and AT&T charges about $750.00 per txt after that. 
    I hope that we can hold each other tight throughout the entire game tonight-- as though we’re exchanging body heat to survive sub-zero temperatures on an Andean mountainside after a terrible plane crash-- We’ll only release our embrace long enough to take a sip of beer. 
    By the way, if we WERE stranded on an Andean mountainside, I promise that I would NEVER entertain the thought of killing you and eating your body in order to survive.
    It was quite negligent of me to answer your previous question with such a flippant and angry txt such as “yep.” What time do you plan to arrive at the pub?? And, will you be topless?  Xoxo

Amanda: 6pm...Smartass.

Me: R U mad at me?

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2010, 2016. All Rights Reserved

Monday, May 30, 2016

WAKE UP...

I had coffee with a friend today and a highly intelligent subject exploded out of thin air -- "What's the first word or words out of your mouth when you wake up in the morning?"
    For me it was simple-- It's either "SHIT!" or "Who are you??"
    My buddy Tony's first word is simple and efficient..."Fuck."
    Tony's take is that if you're in a committed relationship it might sound different with a spouse. I.e. "Good morning honey."  Because I'm an optimist, I corrected in adding "...good morning; just so you know, I'm still mad at you about last night."
    A Florida man who just woke from a coma (and we are not making this up) demanded: 

"I want Taco Bell."  
    
    This is expressly why I feel strongly that the United States Government should take sincere consideration as to giving Florida  (and Kanye West) to Puerto Rico as a Christmas gift.
    I never really think about words since many of my days are spent engaged in stimulating conversation...

From: Amanda Port
I like the latest writing proof... funny stuff.

From: Jim Patrick
Thank you...now I shall walk away from it and live to write another day, provided that I don’t find myself brutally murdered before such time.

Amanda
Is there a non-brutal way to be killed?

Jim
Depends on who you ask. For instance, if you're reading politically skewed statistics from government officials, brutal crimes are down.  Try telling that to the guy who just got beaten to death with a window washing squeegee in an altercation at the local gas station. Or, I suppose one could just die during a sexual encounter-- which is non brutal --depending on what your sexual partner is "into."

Amanda
How would someone be beaten to death with a squeegee @the gas station?

Jim
Weapon of convenience. What would YOU grab? A Slurpee Cup?

Amanda
I don't know why I even bother asking for your logic.  Are u watching baseball this afternoon?

Jim
Yep. 

Amanda
When you texted a minute ago, i was sitting in my gazebo with a book and a butterfly wistfully flitted around me. It was beautiful and peaceful.

Jim
Did you kill it??? I hope so; I hate bugs.

Amanda
nah, it was panicking, looking for a way out of the gazebo's netting. i just watched it frantically searching for an exit

Jim
Sounds like my life

Amanda
yes, the metaphor was not lost on me either.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Buffalo Wild Things...

I'm, oddly, fascinated that we "officially" designate national and state ANYTHING. i.e. flower, bird, tree, meth lab, etc.
    The Bison have recently earned their seat at the table courtesy of  those wacky people who brought us the national debt and nutritional labels on corn dogs which inform us that they're not healthy-- by decree of the U.S.Congress--the bison is now the "national mammal" of the United States. Personally, I would've chosen Jessica Alba but I'm not a member of Congress...I know how to engage in a sex scandal and ruin stuff on my own without a procedural committee vote.
    From time to time congress gets together to sit in large, comfortable chairs; they fight a lot, they meet for a soccer match and then scream about the War On Terror®.  When it's over, we pay approximately $750-billion dollars for something.  It's sort of like a divorce proceeding.
    None of this is important; The burning topic which haunts me when I'm doing important things, such as being poor, is...what about THE BUFFALO???
    What's the difference, you ask, between bison and buffalo? Buffalo only exist in Africa, Asia and on rugs at various flea market or roadside vendor stands. 
    It's a known fact that Noah ran out of room on the Mayflower (the original illegal immigration boat) prior to early government officials building a wall (which we made China pay for). Because the wall came in under budget, there were leftover funds to create a popular chicken wing chain named after the buffalo. A consolation prize of sorts.
    I'm not opposed to official designations...I've officially designated my neighbor, Pete, to be clinically insane, Thursdays are my designated day to get to-go tacos at Juan's Flying Burrito (ironically there is, in fact, a wall skirting the building.)  I've designated today punch your boss in the back of the head day and I've designated the national fashion attribute/annoyance...the iPhone...and the man-bun.
    Like it or not, the bison is our national mammal and, unless you're big enough to personally challenge a bison, you'll just have to accept it...
    Now, I'm focused on lobbying Congress to designate the national inert gas. Wish me luck.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Holiday Road Block

I met a friend for dinner today and she told me about a website that matches people with their ideal U.S. city destination by filling out a user friendly form which I liken to writing a masters degree thesis.  Simply hit "send" and, voila, you're perfectly matched with a Tinder Hookup. Eventually, I received a Chinese hacker, Hillary Clinton's lost email server...and then my ideal city destination list.  
    Actually the site featured several helpful items, such as 273-thousand pop-up ads and a computer virus which was so powerful that it infected my dog.
    Because I often have nothing particularly to do, I entered the required survey criteria which consisted of basic questions pertaining to lifestyle, age, hair color, blood type, Zodiac sign, anything I ate this year and an honest critique of Superman vs. Batman.
Here’s what they suggested for ME:
Savannah, GA.
Listed as one of the “Top 100 Places to Retire or participate in a civil war reenactment/lingerie show“, according to some magazine to which I‘d never subscribe. Savannah is beautiful and culturally drenched in magnificent things such as the letter "V" in its name. It hosts the 3rd largest St. Patrick's Day celebration which tells me that they have a very large jail facility.

Mobile, AL:
The first seat of colonial French Louisiana (where boobies for beads and corrupt local government were first introduced). It's also home to some weird guy named Eddie who swears that he invented the Ebola virus for the CIA in order to impress girls.  Next…

Tallahassee, FL:
If I visit Florida, I certainly would NOT pick a landlocked city. The city slogan is “Visit Tallahassee, where it all comes together”. Of course it does…it’s the center of a state where there are many cool things going on (minus Jeb Bush), just not there. This slogan translates to “We know you’re just passing through." Elsewhere in the rental car state...

Pensacola, FL:
I’m not opposed to the "Redneck Riviera." Visitors from Tennessee, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana converging upon one city can only equal one spectacular recipe...an entire television season of "Cops."  I'd simply enjoy telling people that I'd visited Escambia County, because I like the sound of Escambia. I'd say it with a thick Spanish accent to the point of irritating everyone around me until they bleed from the ears.  Which brings us to the enchanted land of...

Galveston, TX:
Sincere apologies to the citizens of Galveston, but…No.

EL Paso, TX:
I think El Paso is a fine city, even though Donald Trump plans to change the name because it sounds too Mexican.  I even make a point to purchase “Old El Paso” food products. El Paso is in the finals for the "All American City" award which will immediately prompt a nuclear strike by executive order in a Trump administration.

Dallas or Ft. Worth, TX:
No and NO. I’ve had many fine times there, one of which included a brief brush with the law for doing something foolish, like not being from Texas.
    I don’t trust a city with THAT many TGI Friday’s and an interstate system where east is west and south is northeast. Try driving there sometime; you'll understand.

Oklahoma City, OK:
I associate OKC with nothing particularly fun...especially the probability of being randomly sucked up and violently thrown to Arkansas by a massive tornado.

Nashville, TN:
A fantastic city, and my hometown.  It holds and preserves unparalleled culture, rich history and Kenny Rogers' actual PRE-facelift face.
    I wasted a lot of time with the destination app with no viable results-- sort of like waiting in a TSA line-- I DID snag a triple CHEESE pizza coupon from Papa John's.
    I think I'll just vacation at home this summer.
    Welcome to the column Lacrosse,WI you cheese heads!

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016 All Rights Reserved

Friday, May 13, 2016

UN-Social Studies

...Conclusion, part 3:
    I liken social media to that of a school reunion...in that being eaten by a shark sounds like a sensible alternative. Add political discussion to both platforms and you've got an experience which makes undergoing CIA waterboarding interrogation seem like a fun, new ride at Dick Cheney's CONFESSION World.
    In addition to the usual suspects, participants in reunions, political campaigns AND social media include the embarrassing guy, his crazy wife, someone's weird boyfriend and some random loud man who lives next door.
    Social media parallels real life if you look closely...only we're not provided an option to report these lunatics to the moderator in real life.
    I have a friend who I love dearly and (to protect her identity) we'll call her Kate-- primarily because her real name is Katie-- Kate is apparently equipped with a Defense Department grade Doppler 70000.6 Pinpoint Ex Girlfriend Radar which enables her to track North Korean troop movement and/or share fun tidbits which ensures that any level of happiness oozes from my body as though I'm undergoing a colonoscopy.
     She'll helpfully share happy items with me such as:
"Did you see online that your ex is pregnant?" or, "Hey, I know you haven't had sex in a while. That hot girl down the bar who just left was totally into you!
    I suppose some level of happiness exists in the social media world-- comedy certainly does-- especially within the realm of politics.  Case in point:
LudwigVonFartmonster73 starts a strand which proudly issues an important directive as though he's conducting a Capitol Hill press conference announcing:
"To all on Facebook, Bernie Sanders is the ONLY choice. Hillary and Trump will legalize the right to carry improvised explosive devices AND outlaw Taco Bell."
    Disturbingly, there are apparently 72 other Ludwig vonFartmonsters.
   
    I'm equally amused by the political "unfriend" posters"
Kassie:  "Unfriend me now if you're voting for Trump or Bernie. These two do NOT HAVE TRUE family values for the people!!!  Ugh. Btw I have an extra ticket for the Scorched Nipple Pussy Clamp concert tonight. Hit me up on PM."

    I believe that numerous valid cases might be argued to "unfriend", block and enter a witness protection program...in real life.  Sigh.

From: Kate--
Hey...your ex is getting married in two weeks.  Wow!

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016 All Rights Reserved

Saturday, May 7, 2016

The Baconator part 2 of 3

Editor's note: Our ongoing three-piece series (a.k.a. this won't end until a sniper delivers a fatal headshot to Jim Patrick) Enjoy part two.
   Let's take a peek at social media and how, according to Twitter users,  Hillary Clinton, Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders might be responsible for troubled chapters in American history such as the Kennedy assassination, Area 51and Kanye West.
    Some of our favorite social media denizens include:
The Attention Fishermen...
Shelley: Sigh. I'm totally over it.
Matt: What's wrong???
Shelley: Too much...don't wanna talk about it. Never mind. sigh.
Jessica: You okay girl??
Shelley: I will be...very soon. can't be here anymore.
Tony: Wait, WHAT??? Wtf is going on Shell???
Shelley: Nothing apparently important, I've been told. I don't wanna talk about it...giving up.
Kate: I'm coming to your house right now!!!!!!
Shelley: I'm not home...I'm totally over it all, this is it for me.
Tony: Where are you????
Shelley: TGI Fridays.

    Laugh freely, but you (sadly) know it's true...and we've all seen it play out right there on the screen.
    Next up...The social media "one upper."
Ken: OMG...I just met Kevin Bacon...really cool dude!
Chad: That's very cool. Me and Laura met Elton John two weeks ago. He invited us backstage AND gave us All Access passes, including use of his 3-thousand square foot bathroom. We hit it off so well that he invited us to dinner after the show.  The only sad part of the night was the homeless guy while we were waiting for our cab. I gave him all of my cash since me and Laura are leaving for a remote Indonesian village next week with the Peace Corps. All the kids have to eat there are sticks so we're gonna show them how to grow veggies and cure cancer.
Meeting Kevin Bacon is cool dude!  See you soon.

    Yep, it's an interesting world and we all have a front row seat-- thanks to Al Gore's Internet-- which brings us to our series conclusion.  Social media and politics.  Stay tuned...
copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved

Unsociable Media part 1 of 3

I'm fairly certain that social media is going to bring about another extinction level event, not witnessed since the Triassic era and/or the 2016 presidential campaign.  In the meantime, I can still enjoy fun items that I didn't ask for, such as:
473-billion playful cat video shares
The ability to exhibit behavior which would make an 8 year-old cringe
Click an "angry face," a "Like" icon or any number of passive aggressive emojis associated with a post pertaining to topics which are clearly a private matter
Or gain insight as to how some political candidate will, literally, eat your child if elected...
    It's all right there, at one's very brave fingertips.
    While it's a bizarre societal case study, I tend to "personally" interact on social media as I do in my real life. (ooops, IRL)  I don't...Then I stay in the house and cry uncontrollably-- weighing the pros and cons of moving to Antarctica--
    Stay tuned for a three part series...but first, the first of real samples:
    Online breakups hold equivalence to hell on earth for both parties...
   In the syrupy Facebook bliss of, say, an office relationship in full bloom, typical interaction between lovebirds might read like this:

Girl: You wanna meet for drinks after work?
Guy: I sure can sweetie…
Girl: I think you’ll find it well worth your while…don’t plan on getting much sleep tonight
    After the breakup, the public conversation devolves into this:

Girl: if you’re in over your head just say so.
Guy: Yeah, well I’ve been busy!!!  The earth doesn’t revolve around you...even though, if you keep eating the way you do, you’ll be as big as a planet soon enough.
Girl: Yeah?? Well at least I’m not latently homosexual.
Guy: You said you adored the fact that I was sensitive and wrote poems for you!
Girl: Yeah? I lied!
Guy: (Wanting to kill his friend who convinced him that leaving love notes and preparing French pastries was a nice touch) Oh yeah? Well you’re LOUSY in bed!!!
Girl: No I’m not…and Carlos, in accounting on the third floor, will tell you otherwise.
Guy: Oh YEAH????  At least I’m not a little BITCH!!
Girl: Yes you are.

    I’m reasonably certain that office breakups, and social media, violates some sort of OSHA safety guideline.
copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Monday, April 11, 2016

Birthday Blisssss

    I'm experiencing another stupid birthday and, as usual, I've learned many valuable lessons...all of which escape me at the moment.
    This year on my birthday I plan to do what many successful people in our society do...begin a 7 to 10 month sentence at a minimum security prison.
    On day 364, let's cut the cake, enjoy a lap dance from a vulnerable college stripper who's majoring in Art History and take a peek at a few "Things I've Learned."

1. I genuinely enjoy conversation, so long as I'm not involved in any way whatsoever.

2. I judge ANY guy who orders a shot of Fireball. (or drives a Miata)

3. Far too many people spend far too much time worrying about how to BE together rather than just being together.

4. If you want to enjoy unscripted entertainment, engage a 23-year old in conversation about Bernie Sanders.  It's important that you pose as a dedicated Trump supporter or WWE fan--  share a racist joke, buy them a shot of Fireball and ask them to explain what the 13th and 15th amendments to the constitution mean to them. (pause for 10 seconds so they can Google it.)

5. I get into trouble quite often for being honest.  Case in point-- One does not have to do anything that they do not wish to do.  (I live by this philosophy) The caveat being that you must be prepared to accept consequences and be labeled as difficult, or a Kardashian.  In rare cases it, oddly, might very well set you on a path to the presidency.

6. I'm no fashion expert but, skinny jeans and man buns??? Guys, please stop it!  I've inadvertently avoided getting laid for almost two years...yet, somehow, you continue to thrive. #douche

7. #hashtagscausecancer

8. People believe ANYTHING that they read online. If you don't believe it, log in to Facebook where you'll learn about current events-- then hit "like" and type "amen" to receive financial blessings.

9. Rice-a-Roni is NOT, in fact, the San Francisco treat.  A young woman named Amanda is.

10. I don't understand those who want to win the Power Ball.  I simply visit the corner store to feel much better about my OWN life, purchase a pack of smokes, beef jerky and  find comfort in how my life is much more simplistic-- as I wait for the dick in front of me treat a Powerball ticket transaction as though they're signing adoption papers.

11. I'm rather embarrassed that my shopping list this week includes croissants, a pineapple, Tide laundry detergent and shoelaces.

12. Everyone who I've ever met named "Chaz" is a complete asshole.

13. When did shingles become an epidemic?  And, why is Terry Bradshaw trying to scare the shit out of me with it?

14. I embrace invasive technology, just like the Unibomber...minus blowing stuff up, for now.

15. (deleted) Item fifteen, apparently, didn't sit well with the editor yet number fourteen made the cut.

16. Mike Klein, the editor, once again, still sucks the life from my soul.

17. If you use "lol" in a text, call me "boo" or your "bff", please lose all contact info for me.

17. I love my new phone...
Jim: "Hey, Siri, wanna have crazy animal sex?"
Siri: "I'm afraid I don't understand your question."
Jim: "Yeah, me neither.  Thanks Siri."

Another year has passed with the comfort as that of a kidney stone.  And so I anxiously anticipate a fun new year filled with fresh adventures, life lessons, a possible 3-way sexual encounter and a Hollywood reboot version of the hilarious, socially conscious, 80's sitcom, "Diff'rent Strokes."

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016 All Rights Reserved

Thursday, March 31, 2016

Check Yes Or...Maybe?

I developed my own 10 question template which is guaranteed to bring nothing of value to your life and may possibly cause cancer-- which is why we're offering it absolutely free:
    I'm so tired of being assaulted by political polls, questionnaires, options and Nickelback music. People over think everything...except Nickelback.
    If I could make all life decisions based on a fast food combo menu it would make my life so much easier...until I'm able to move to a sustainable outpost on Mars.
    I stumbled upon an ad boasting a surefire set of 10 questions to ask in order to save time in ascertaining whether or not someone is a good person to date.  What???
    This must be one powerful set of questions, as we've seen two-thousand presidential debates this year and, still,  the burning election year question that I believe all of us are asking is "What's up with Miley Cyrus joining The Voice?"
    Here's MY scientific survey-- get ready to swipe right ladies:

1. What's your favorite food?
2. How did question one affect your life?
3. Between question one and two, which did you like best?
4. If question one were a super hero, which one would it be?
5. Would you see the movie?
6. Do you like anal?  I'm kidding.  If question one were a person, do you think that it might like anal?
7. Of all presidential candidates and question one, who do you trust to bring sexy back?
8. Remind me of your answer to question one again...I forgot.
9. Question one just asked ME a question.  Weird.
10. So, how about dinner tonight?
   
    I really don't need a masterful, psychological grid of questions to determine a good dating match.  If I ask for a date and she says yes...I immediately question her judgment.

I'll take the number five combo, please?

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016 All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Vote For...An Excuse To Be Late To Work

I recently saw an interview on CNN with an expert psychologist who helpfully calmed voter nerves by diagnosing "Extreme voter anxiety syndrome" for every resident in America, the entire solar system and galaxies which have yet to be discovered-- with exception to fringe areas where KKK rallies still occur.  Most importantly, according to her theory, the earth will be destroyed by a giant meteor if ANY of the current presidential candidates are elected.  Let's weigh in...

From: William, Ringgold, GA
Hey Jim...wtf is up with these debates????
To: William
From: Jim Patrick
     Wtf is up in Ringgold, William? Barreling through the 2016 campaign trail, rest assured that I'm here to help sort it out...
    As the political bus of Tourette syndrome fervently racist, I mean, races, across the country, let's try to calm some nerves AND fix my bathroom toilet which won't stop running for reasons unknown to me or my landlord and his idiot plumbing expert.
     According to CNN, you suffer from voter anxiety-- which sounds like a made up word from the Oxford Dictionary. But, as we all know, the English love to make up their own words. (And pretend that soccer is more exciting than the NFL).
    Our world seems to have forgotten the abhorrent diatribes, borne of ghosts from campaigns' past...
          --A president's hardest task is not to do what is right, but to KNOW what is right. (LBJ)
          --We can't help everyone, but everyone can help someone. (Ronald Reagan)
          --Mankind must put an end to war or war will put an end to mankind. (JFK)
          --STRATEGERY. (George W. Bush)

    Now, let's fast forward to the 21st century in order to ease your jitters with a more civilized presidential tone...

"Schlonged"
"Did you wipe the hard drive?  What? with, like a cloth?"
"Doo doo head"
"Blood coming out of her, wherever"
"Anchor babies"
"He's not a hero; I like people who weren't captured" (in a war)
"I have two dead hookers in my trunk"
"You know what they say about guys with small hands..."

    Sadly, I only made up two of those quotes to paint a kinder, gentler canvas.
    It's quite likely that many people you see on television at the barrage of debates and rallies don't know who Kim Jong Il is, or his family: Kim Jong Un, Id, Aaack, Ugh, HO or, the distant cousin, Kim Jong Aeiou.  (He was the smart kid.)
    William, since I can barely remember if I'm legally allowed to vote, I don't have a clue but can offer a highly scientific recommendation for voter anxiety (still not a real term) and/or shingle treatment...in this order:
 
Treat these ailments as I do with a porn film...fast forward to the money shot.  Everything else is just really bad acting and/or Terry Bradshaw
    By the way, can you recommend a good plumber...or landlord?

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016 All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Yes, I Am Tired...

We temporarily disabled the email icon from our main blog before shooting it into outer space where I can now report that it destroyed a North Korean satellite.  USA!
    In the meantime, to form the final article of the season, we glanced through a pile of stupid mail for recreational purposes-- Sort of like a sexual encounter with an ex, only without awkward feelings of regret the following day-- enjoy...
     I'm, somehow, NEVER amazed by emails or social media site content that random readers feel strongly about sharing with us while we're doing important things, such as wanting to be left alone...and now, we share them with you...sort of like herpes.

From Susan, Louisville KY
    Hey, I learned Mandarin Chinese over the winter. Yaaaay for me Jim Patrick!
From: Jim Patrick
    Congrats!  I only know one Chinese phrase..."I'll take the number 15 dinner."  Godzirrra!  Wait, that's Japanese.
Pretty impressive though, huh?
    Elsewhere, apparently, if Donald Trump is elected, a large segment of the American populace plan on moving to Canada.  Not me-- I'm much too lazy to take such a drastic stand about anything, especially where packing tape is involved.  Plus I'm scared of moose and Celine Dion.
    At any rate, I'll just change my Facebook "currently lives in" status to Ottawa. Problem solved.

From Jason, Decatur, IL
celebrating my one year anniversary with the bestest girlfriend ever at Coldstone Creamery.
From Jim Patrick
I'm happy for you both and I just threw up a little bit in my mouth-- That's very hipster of you.  I'm actually trying to develop a cool "hipster" bar concept.  By the way, please lose my email address.

    From FACEBOOK
    Dear Jim, today is women's equality day!
    From Jim Patrick
Great!  Thank you Facebook for stirring social awareness, mixed with posts of someone's kid who was born without elbows and a photo or two from friends who cooked, what appears to be, a scrumptious dinner for their Tinder Hookup.  Who knew that anything other than purchasing condoms was associated with a Tinder Hookup?

    From Shauna, Ocracoke, NC
Dear Jim,
Do you feel the Bern???
    From Jim Patrick
Not since the amoxicillin kicked in.

    From Alex, Nashville, TN
Just took my kids to Chuck E. Cheese.  You should hang out there one afternoon.  You'd get tons of writing material.
    From Jim Patrick
Yes, I'd Love to look like a pedophile more so than I already do.  Actually, the founder of Chuck E. Cheese is brilliant for creating an environment where one might take their kids AND get a DUI on the way home.

    I thank the readers from our proprietary and social media sites.  We couldn't live without you. Thanks to Mike Klein, the editor, for promising to NEVER contact me during my time off.  A special thank you to the love of my life, Amanda Port, (not really) but I DO love  her boobies.  Also thanks to Todd and the biggest loser of all, Eric Crowthers from Philly (presently via the Pacific northwest) who is a brilliant comedy talent.  He also holds me when I cry, brushes my hair, talks me out of assisted suicide and, by evaluating his existence, reminds me that my life can always be much, much worse

Btw, the name of my new "hipster" bar--  The Downtrodden Scampi."

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016 All Rights Reserved
See ya soon.  xo

Thursday, March 3, 2016

Nodding Off

Awaiting the final edited column copy to be okayed by Mike Klein, Editor in Queef...In the meantime, reader mail:
From Charlie Kelly, New Orleans
Dear Jim,
    I've noticed that almost no one gives the return "head nod" greeting when I pass them on the street.  What's up with that?
From Jim Patrick
Judging by the abundance of personal injury attorney television commercials in New Orleans I can only speculate that everyone has life threatening neck injuries due to being hit by, what seems to be, a rash of big rig accidents.
    I personally conducted a highly scientific study by strolling through the French Quarter and found your concerns well merited.  Even though I was highly intoxicated and, somehow, ended up holding a partially consumed gyro and some drunk woman by the end of my research stroll, only three of ten people returned the subtle "nod" salutation.
    I called one of the 300 attorneys from the TV ads to substantiate our concern but they were unable to be reached due to an apparent heavy Mesothelioma and Xarelto caseload.
    I'll continue research on your behalf AND pledge to teach golf legend, Arnold Palmer, how to correctly pronounce Xarelto.

Regards,
Jim

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016 All Rights Reserved

Friday, January 29, 2016

Jesus Loves Samuel Jackson

Time to cleanse the dirty sins with some help from my newfound (on-line) evangelical friends.  Here's my (quiet) entry to the chatroom...
    User: Jim Patrick has logged in: Who wants to see a Dick pic?

Kimmi: What???

Jim: My dad's best friend, Dick (and, I'm not making his name up) Weisihinkle.  We took him for early dinner to Golden Corral.  He's old and, clearly, doesn't place any level of priority on food quality so long as it's served by 4pm.

Kimmi: LOL.

Matt Moderator: Is this for real?

Jim: Yep, Golden Corral is, oddly, real, according to Jeff Foxworthy.
   So is Dick-- he looks like a storybook character now that I think about it.  I believe that the proper German pronunciation of "W" in Weisihinkle is phonetically with a "V"  If it were me I'd just pronounce it Jones. I included Dick in the first book I ever wrote.

Kimmi: About what?

Jim: Applied Mathematics-- it's a southern home cooking recipe book.

Jared28: Lol...I'd like a copy.

Jim: Sure thing Jared28.  May I call you 28? I'm lazy and don't feel like lobbing a stale Subway/pedophile joke toward you.

Jared28: 28 is cool.

Jim: Since we all seem to be losing at life on a perfectly good Friday night while most people are engaged in normal activities such as drinking, smoking, using drugs, fornicating and general fun stuff, I'm on the Jesus chat room.

Matt Moderator: I wouldn't say most ppl.

Jim: You're correct, just the four of us; I'd be one of the fun majority if it weren't for this pesky head cold...except for the drug use. I don't want to anger Nancy Reagan.

Kimmi: Why are YOU here on a Friday night?

Jim: I'm assisting a young neighbor/friend with a paper and I figured an evangelical site might be of value in my research.

Matt Moderator: On what?

Jim: Connotations/evolution of English language dirty words vs Christian belief regarding their sinful designation.

Jared28: Which words?

Jim: I'll be as delicate as possible, specifically: fuck, cock, shit, cockhead, tittie, motherfucker, douche canoe, shitbag, cunt, tittie monster and, my personal favorite, eat a bowl of shit, you douche canoe cockhead tittie monster cock mother fucking fuck.  Sorry for not appropriately using hyphens. I also avoided using the C word twice because it generally causes women to hate me much more than they already do.

Kimmi: uh...

Matt Moderator: What is your neighbor majoring in???

Jim: By all evidence, sleeping and drinking Diet Coke.  She's in the 6th grade.

Jared28: WHAT???

Matt Moderator: Read the book of Ephesians.

Jim: The Bible scares me-- I'm a militant conservationist and often ponder how Noah returned polar bears back from central Turkey to the North Pole, etc.  That book of the bible seems incomplete-- much like the conclusion of each episode of The Blacklist.

Kimmi: Yur crazy, but that made me laugh.  The only thing mentioned in the bible is taking God's name in vain..that's a sin.

Jim: As I recall, Kimmi, my dad often violated the third commandment as it relates to my inexperience in properly holding a flashlight.

Jared28: any curse or negative voice toward man is sinful.

Jim Patrick: Samuel Jackson is definitely screwed.  The words I listed are all man made.

Matt Moderator: And God created man.

Jim Patrick: And man created the 72" plasma display television; perhaps if man does more good, (and, trust me, 72" tv's are great) it evens out or am I missing something here?

Kimmi: I think as long as you don't use those words in a hateful way it's all good.

Jim Patrick: Then I'm safe, I just use them recreationally.  Whew.

Jared28: We'll find out when Jesus returns.

Jim: When?

Matt Moderator: Amen Jared.  And no one knows when.

Jim: I believe that's because he was a carpenter...an independent contractor.  No one EVER knows when contractors will return.

Kimmi: HA

Jim: I think you meant HAllelujah.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016 All Rights Reserved

Thursday, January 7, 2016

Mardi Blah, Blah, Blah

For those outside of New Orleans, a brief reader mail which somehow makes Mike Klein, the editing machine, nervous...relax.
Dear Jim,
    I see a ton of Happy 12th Night posts. Why is it a big deal in New Orleans??
Melanie, Indianapolis
Greetings Melanie,
Legend has it that if Christmas Day is the first of the twelve days, then the North Koreans test a hydrogen bomb.
   Traditionally 12th Night, for one, marks the last day that we're subjected to the most annoying holiday song since "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer."
    It's a festival in some branches of Christianity marking the coming of the Epiphany. For me, personally, my Epiphany materialized when I accepted the fact that Craig, my neighbor, is clinically insane.
    For devout Christians it refers to the day when the nativity story tells us that the wise men visited the infant Jesus in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.  It turned out that they were not so wise after all as they over packed, directly resulting in enormous baggage fees from the airline.  So, they dropped off some luggage on their way to a Grateful Dead concert.
    The English call it Christmastide because they're NEVER satisfied unless THEY create a word. The variation extends even to the issue of how to count the days.
    In New Orleans it's easy, as no one knows what day it is since most of its citizenry are drunk until Mardi Gras day.
    Hopefully this information is helpful.  And, for those who might lob a blasphemy charge in my direction, I assure you that I'm likely going to Hell for numerous reasons, none of which are associated with this writing.
copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2016 All Rights Reserved
   

Friday, January 1, 2016

Another Year In The Can...

I rarely write about New Orleans in general. But, with the assault of sappy year-end retrospectives, I couldn't resist. I'm hoping that Anderson Cooper or Carson Daily might host the TV version. Here's a glance at 2015...
    In January a renegade councilwoman introduces a measure which she, unlike every single citizen in the city, feels will save lives-- a ban on smoking in all New Orleans bars. (Murder rate hits 14)
    February ushered in a hint that governor Bobby Jindal holds a great desire to destroy larger government budgets by becoming President of the United States and/or a neighborhood watch association.
(Murder rate climbs to 26)
    The winds of March blow in strong suspicions that I'm about to become single again.  We also learned that, newly appointed police superintendent, Michael Harris, has devised a plan for combating neighborhood violence.  He attends numerous community meetings wearing a deeply concerned facial expression while eating gumbo.  (Murder rate hits 45)
    April showered us with an epic family feud when multi-gazillionaire, Tom Benson's, family members characterize him to be mentally unfit to run the New Orleans Saints, Pelicans, brush his own teeth or operate a microwave oven.  Elsewhere, Saints fans declare the same with regard to Coach Sean Payton.  (Murder rate hits 57)
    May is quiet...with the exception that I'm, indeed, newly single.  The no smoking abatement goes into effect at all 279-million New Orleans bars (in time for my birthday).  Mayor announces aggressive environmental and crime prevention policies while attending a neighborhood association meeting, wearing a deeply concerned facial expression over a bowl of gumbo.  (Murder rate hits 73)
    June gloom sees numerous assaults and robberies as bar patrons are forced to smoke outside where they are immediately accosted.  Streets are littered with 100-million non biodegradable cigarette butts.  Mayor announces amendment to aggressive environmental and crime prevention policies.  (Murder rate hits 92)
    Americans celebrate July by wondering if France might have been a more effective governing presence for New Orleans.  Governor Jindal announces presidential campaign; Late night talk show hosts collectively have an orgasm as Louisianans make preparations for evacuation to Mississippi.  A new state of the art Orleans Parish Prison prepared to open as residents around the site abandon their homes as though they were on fire. (Murder rate hits 111)
    The dog days of August bring an uncomfortable heat as 52 new police cadets join the ranks of the NOPD...replacing the 200 officers who have quit in order to "pursue other interests" (staying alive.)  Governor Jindal returns to Baton Rouge for the first time since 2014 to announce that he's been elected mayor of Dubuque, Iowa.  New Orleans cab drivers fume about new competitor, Uber, by staging mass protests at City Hall while Uber drivers rake in massive amounts of cash while cab drivers skip work to protest.  (Murder rate hits 120)
    September bender. The entire City Council are mugged while on a smoke break, skipping a roll call vote on the mayor's aggressive environmental and crime prevention policy.   In light of a tragic shooting in South Carolina, New Orleans mayor announces that all civil war monuments be removed in order to allay racist tension.  The governor agrees by giving the entire northwestern portion of Louisiana to Texas.  (Murder rate climbs to 131)
    Tricks for treats...it's October!  Parking fees and hours for enforcement rise dramatically, prompting all service industry employees to poison every dish coming out of the kitchen.  Council woman who introduced no smoking ban accidentally burns house to the ground due to of an unattended cigarette.  Governor Jindal suspends presidential campaign, much to the relief of his family, and declares himself king of Baton Rouge.  (Murder rate hits 146)
    November leftovers anyone?  Toyota-thon is still, annoyingly, in progress as service industry employees further exhibit frustration with the local government by erecting civil war monuments on restaurant/bar properties, smoking inside and extinguishing cigarettes in patron's dinner orders.  Baton Rouge secedes from the United States.  
    HoHoHO!  According to Lexus it's a December to remember and the enforcement period for destroying any vehicle illegally parked in the city. NOPD hires 25 additional officers while the traffic division adds approximately 768 meter maids.  Bars begin ignoring smoking ban using the defense of "You're not the boss of me" and construction of King Jindal's castle begins.  Workers are pulled from the 300-year flood control construction project in Uptown.  (Murder rate hits 164)

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2015 All Rights Reserved