Brilliant! Bravo!

If you love Mad Men -- and I love me some Mad Men -- you'll double love this.

More, please.

Radio as objet d'art

How do you wake up in the AM?

This how we rise and shine à la maison de Favog. It's a 1951 Stromberg-Carlson clock radio I found on eBay.

Once upon a time, beauty in the things we use every day wasn't unusual. Televisions and radios were pieces of furniture that commanded attention, things that stood out whether they were in use at the moment or not.

Now, unless you pay a premium for the privilege, not so much. A TV is little more than a screen; a radio -- You remember those, right? -- is a plastic box with a digital display.

A CLOCK RADIO is your smartphone . . . or one of those unadorned little thingies you stick your smartphone or iPod into. And the sound quality is such that your low-bit rate MP3 file sounds the same as a high-bit rate MP3 file that sounds like a low-bit rate MP3 file.

Yecch.

No, I am a proud anachronism. I love beautiful anachronisms, and I use them whenever I can. AM radio. Vacuum tubes. Analog clock dials. Young people still can tell time on analog clock dials, right?

If the power goes out, I can reset the clock in a snap on this thing. Try that on your digital clock radio -- assuming you have one of those and not a little box into which you shove a smartwhatever. When I was a little kid, my parents used this for a clock radio.

YOU BETTER damn believe everybody woke up. WLCS PLAAAAAAAYS the hits!

If only I could get the new-old clock radio to pull in the Big Win 910 all the way from Baton Rouge, circa 1967. Or 1971 -- I'm not picky. I'd settle for Omaha's Mighty 1290 KOIL from the same time.

Unfortunately, it's just a great old AM clock radio, not a great old AM clock radio time machine. So KHUB in Fremont, Neb., it is . . . the only station on that venerable old amplitude-modulated band that has both music and news hereabouts.

Sarah Palin's short-bus fascism

Every time Sarah Palin opens her mouth, I have to fight the urge to fire off an email to Vladimir Putin reminding him that Alaska was once part of Mother Russia.

Here's why. A United States with the former Alaska governor still in it -- and still commanding the attention of too many who are too dumb to know any better -- is a United States that loiters a few steps too close to deciding that vee haff veys uff dealink vith zem.

Or you.

Palin talked about "them" and "they" a lot Saturday at the National Rifle Association convention in Indianapolis -- just watch the whole video above if you can stand it. "They" are threats to you . . . unless, of course, you are one of "them." Then you're an enemy of baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and market capitalism. And Sarah Palin hass veys uff dealink vith you -- just like she does  any other "enemy," like jihadists:

Well, if I were in charge, they would know that waterboarding is how we baptize terrorists.

THUS the harebrained wonder from Wasilla revealed herself not only as a particularly pathetic specimen of Demagogus Americanus but as something of an antichrist as well.

No, she's not the Antichrist, but an antichrist, who in equating the sacrament of baptism with torture -- and gleefully so -- profanes and mocks a faith she allegedly professes.

Days later, she remained unrepentant:

According to a report by NBC, the backlash against Palin’s remarks, even within the religious community, have fallen on deaf ears.

"Would I make it again?” Palin told NBC News in response to the criticisms of her metaphor. “Why wouldn't I, yeah, absolutely. Terrorists who want to annihilate Americans, innocent Americans, our children — whatever it takes to stop them. If I were in charge, I'd be stoppin' em."

DEAR GOD. Joseph McCarthy may have cringed a little from the grave. 

The red-baiting U.S. senator from Wisconsin may have been evil, but he wasn't stupid. Palin is showing herself to be both -- yet we very nearly put this woman a heartbeat from the presidency in 2008.

It is a deadly serious thing to become an unserious people. Saturday, Sarah Palin (and the mob who loves her) gave us a glimpse into the abyss. How close we are to disappearing into it might be measured by exactly how radioactive those politicians who accept this malevolent nitwit's embrace become.

I'M REFERRING to you Pete Ricketts (candidate for Nebraska governor). And to you Ben Sasse (Nebraska candidate for U.S. Senate).


HAT TIP: Rod Dreher.

3 Chords & the Truth: The spectrum of sound

Way back when we started this podcasting enterprise, there was one basic truth that was the guiding light, to get all clichéd about it.

It went something like this. OK, it went exactly like this:

3 Chords & the Truth exists in many realms as Revolution 21's flagship program. We rock. We roll. We're blues in the night. We play with a twang . . . sometimes.

Listen to 3 Chords & the Truth enough and you'll discover that we like old-school punk rock. That we have an attitude. That we can be ornery -- and thoughtful, too.

You will discover that we like to put together oddball sets of all kinds of music that somehow, someway make thematic sense. You will discover that we can be artistic and cultural bomb-throwers, because we think our society is complacent and self-centered . . . and entirely too self-satisfied with the violent and vapid societal space Americans have created for ourselves. . . .

In short, here's what your host and potentate, the eccentric but benevolent Mighty Favog, is aiming for with 3 Chords & the Truth: A mix of thought-provoking, challenging and sometimes just plain fun music, both Christian and mainstream, covering a wide variety of genres -- rock, hip-hop, punk, techno, folk, blues . . . you name it. You can’t put it in a neat little niche.

Kind of like life, ain't it?

THAT'S IT. That's what we do on the Big Show.

Boy, do we do that hoo doo dat we do this week. This edition of 3 Chords & the Truth is pretty close to the epitome of the Big Show's creed -- that there's only two kinds of music, good and bad. And the bad, we don't mess with.

Let's just say we start out with the early-'60s incarnation of (swing and sway with) Sammy Kaye 's orchestra, and then we veer into some major lounge music . . . and then we end up somewhere far, far away from that. And it's all good.
Boy, is it good. (He says humbly.)

NOW, if you want to know how good, you have to listen to the program. That's how it works.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

Still there, nowhere.

Spring is here, and the abandoned homeless camp in the middle of Omaha isn't.

Abandoned anymore, that is. When we visited the site in February, it appeared that the person or persons using the primitive flop had wisely flown the (ramshackle) coop for the winter.


Nestled in the treeline between a park and the Keystone Trail -- and across the Little Papillion Creek from an apartment complex and supermarket -- the rough lean-to shows signs of life. And liquor.

Bicyclists ride by and joggers plod past the wooded flop without noticing what, and who, might be yards away. Ditto for the skate-park skateboarders and the softball players.

Because you don't notice a shelter that isn't much of one, however, does not mean it's not there. And because we long ago stopped noticing those among us who are cash poor but -- oftentimes -- flush with addiction, mental illness or both, it doesn't mean they're not lurking among the trees and brush of the urban greenscape. 

Or perhaps a downtown bus shelter.

Or a park bench.

Maybe beneath an overpass.

Or a van down by the river, for all you know.

We want "something done" about the problem when the homeless start to annoy us. 

When they don't, it's all good -- we go back to worrying about the zombie apocalypse . . . which doesn't actually exist. 

The spiders, after all, aren't in our clothes.

If you've seen one dead Rooney. . . .

"If a nation expects to be both ignorant and free, it expects what never was and never will be."

-- Thomas Jefferson

"We're doomed! We're doomed! We're all going to die!"

-- Kate Smith

HAT TIP: Romenesko.

India's Mr. Hanky apocalypse

NSFW. But your boss will understand, once he or she stops laughing.

Does a bear s*** in the woods?

No, if he's in India, he takes a big, fat dump on the street . . . and on the sidewalk . . . and in the gutter . . . and on the lawn, just like everyone else.

On one hand, this UNICEF video is screamingly hilarious. On the other hand, what can one say about a place where people have to be cajoled into not dropping trou and letting loose  . . . wherever. Oh, well.

Typhoid happens.

Especially in places where folks haven't figured out what even the ancients knew to some extent. (Toilets, even running-water toilets, go waaaaaaaay back.) From the Wall Street Journal story:

Mr. Poo stars in a techno-infused animated music video, “Poo Party.” He is also featured in a smartphone app, released last month, that encourages users to register human feces sightings, which are then overlaid on maps of Indian cities.

It is a calculated risk for the United Nations Children’s Fund, known for its more-earnest appeals. Joking about something so taboo— and, for many, a source of national embarrassment—could backfire.

Though the campaign has been widely praised on social media, some activists have said “Poo Party” doesn’t take its subject seriously enough. Pratima Joshi, executive director of Shelter Associates, a nonprofit that assists India’s urban poor, said it is simplistic and “demeans the poor.”

The video, posted on YouTube, is awfully funny.

In it, a goateed man wakes to find a menacing Mr. Poo waiting for him outside. He shuts his door, only to find Mr. Poo at his window, oversized, winking and jeering.

The accompanying song begins: “First thing in the morning, what do I see? A pile of s— staring at me.” After a dance-and-chase scene, the townspeople band together to build a giant, multicolored toilet and lure the poo inside. The toilet is flushed, to many cheers, and Mr. Poo is gone.

The campaign targets younger, urban, tech-savvy Indians who don’t relieve themselves outside but who don’t speak out against the practice. It exhorts Indians to sign a pledge denouncing what is known technically as “open defecation.”

Some 620 million people across India defecate outside, the largest number world-wide. About 70% of rural Indians don’t use toilets, and 28 million children have no toilet facilities in school, according to Unicef. It is common practice for India’s mothers to dispose of their children’s waste in the open.

Open defecation is a serious public-health problem. It can expose people to diseases such as polio, giardiasis, hepatitis A and infectious diarrhea. In 2012, nearly a quarter of all young children who died of diarrhea world-wide were Indian. Constant exposure to fecal germs can also lead to stunted growth, a condition afflicting some 61 million Indian children.

India has made progress: The percentage of Indians using toilets has increased substantially since 1990, when 75% of the population defecated in the open.

(snip)

Sue Coates, head of Unicef's water, sanitation and hygiene program in India, attributes the lag to India's population growth, which continues to outpace the building of new toilets. Then there's mismanagement and corruption. The latest national census showed that more than 50 million toilets were "missing"—appearing on state expenditure reports but not found in homes.

In addition, Ms. Coates said, India focused more on building toilets in people's homes than on encouraging people to use them. Access to toilets is crucial, she said, but equally important is undermining cultural preferences for defecating outside, an area in which Bangladesh has been particularly successful.

In rural areas, defecating outside has been the natural choice for centuries, said Vijayaraghavan Chariar, a sanitation expert at Delhi's Indian Institute of Technology. "There's a reason it's known as 'nature's call,' " he said. "Some feel suffocated by toilets, and don't see a connection between open defecation and poor health."

NO, WE MUST NOT demean the poor. It is far better to let them die stinky deaths instead.

And no, we must not be "suffocated" by bathrooms. It is far better to be suffocated by the stench when you walk out the front door.

I know, I know . . . people are dumb all over. People are ignorant all over. Sanitary waste disposal can be problematic all over. I get that. I've even seen that during the course of my Louisiana upbringing, where it wasn't uncommon, in the wilds of Livingston Parish, for one's poo to go straight from the loo into the river.

And, yes, I have used outhouses. More than once. And a "slop jar" (lots more than once) which we emptied, being that "camp" didn't have running water then, into a weed patch across the road where you only went to empty the slop jar. No, it wasn't a great public-health setup, but it wasn't a bunch of human turds lying all around the shack, either.

But at least there were outhouses and toilets (and chamber pots) -- even if you didn't want to play in a certain weed patch or go swimming in the river, and not because of the risk of water moccasins or alligators. Because even in the wilds of Livingston Parish, squatting in the yard and doing what came natural was a big faux pas. Especially if you just left it there.

Like I said, it ain't brain surgery. And God knows, back then you didn't find a lot of brain surgeons in Livingston Parish.

POO. LOO. Learn it, Love it. Live it.

And if that takes SWPL-hilarious videos that run the risk of "demeaning" the poor, so be it.



HAT TIP: Rod Dreher.

%*(#!^& brilliant!

OK, this isn't safe for work. Or your little kids.

But come to think of it, neither is life.

Anyway, watch the brilliant video that came out of a social experiment by the British poverty charity, The Pilion Trust, to see whether people really do care about the poor. Turns out they do. Which sets the charity up to deliver the advertising kill shot.

Just watch.

3 Chords & the Truth: Awaiting hope

We've all been crucified, and we all need a resurrection, don't we?

Outside, we want people to think we're Disneyland. Inside, we're an abandoned warehouse district. You probably don't want to know what's inside the warehouse now.

It's coming up on Holy Week, the most stark, dark, horrifying and awe-inspiring week on the Christian calendar. That's the context of this week's episode of 3 Chords & the Truth.

WE ALL get crucified. We're all as good as dead. We all need a resurrection. Or a Resurrection . . . which is where this week leads. And we're exploring the subject, in a manner of speaking, on the Big Show.

It's something to think about. Music to reflect by. Time to put on the brakes and consider the point of the journey.

Maybe this edition of 3 Chords & the Truth will succeed in that and still manage to be plenty entertaining. Maybe not . . . but my money's on entertaining. Trust me -- I once worked in Catholic radio. If nothing else, I've learned how not to do this stuff.

SO JOIN ME this week in stopping, listening and considering. And have a blessed Holy Week and a joyous Easter.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

Messin' with Ernie: The allegory

The Nebraska unicameral disrespected Sen. Ernie Chambers.

You know what happens when you disrespect people in the neighborhood? Nothing good. That the good senator, a north Omaha legend, is twice as smart as your average legislator and 47 times more cantankerous only adds to the s*** sandwich the body is having to eat now down in Lincoln.

Above, this is illustrated in a manner the SWPL crowd can understand.

Below, the particulars from the Omaha World-Herald about how some people never learn. That's why they go into politics.

After a legislative meltdown that concluded just before midnight, state lawmakers were admonished Tuesday morning to show respect for their colleagues over the final four days of the 2014 session.

State Sen. Greg Adams, the speaker of the Legislature, rose at the beginning of the session on Tuesday to urge senators to work together, after an acrimonious session Monday.

“We have to demonstrate respect and do our very best to maintain the credibility of this body,” Adams said.

On Monday, tempers rose on the floor of the Legislature as the minutes ticked away on what was the last day to advance bills from first-round debate.

That prompted a scramble by lawmakers to get their proposals attached to other bills.

But standing in the way was Omaha Sen. Ernie Chambers of Omaha who attempted, for a third time, to resurrect his vetoed proposal to ban mountain lion hunting in Nebraska.

That effort failed once again, but in the process a bill that carried three measures to expand insurance coverage to sick Nebraskans was blocked from advancing, and may be dead for the year.

“I'm not going to get what I wanted, but a lot of you are not going to get anything,” said Chambers, as the minutes clicked off to midnight, when the legislative day ends and the Legislature adjourns.

THE BELLUM UNICAMERENSIS began after the legislature failed to override Gov. Dave Heineman's veto of Chambers' cougar-hunting prohibition bill. The senator thought he had the votes to make the prohibition state law despite the veto, but he ended up convinced that he'd been double-crossed by some colleagues:

Chambers said he thought he had enough votes to give Heineman another defeat Thursday, but he was derailed by some of his fellow senators.

Sen. Russ Karpisek of Wilber offered Chambers an apology on the floor, saying he had pledged to be the 29th or 30th vote. At the last second, however, Karpisek said, he “blew it.”

“I don’t like the bill,” he said, “but I did give my word, and I broke it.”

Chambers said others defected, but he named only Sen. Tom Carlson of Holdrege. Carlson, however, denied that he had ever told Chambers he planned to support the override.

Carlson, chairman of the Natural Resources Committee and a Republican candidate for governor, voted to send the bill to the floor and approved it on final reading. But Carlson said he then heard from constituents who opposed the repeal, so he told Chambers before the first override vote that he was switching sides.

Chamber said he replied, “You’re running for governor and you’re getting a lot of pressure, and you can’t withstand the pressure.”

Later Wednesday, Chambers asked Carlson if he would reconsider before the second override attempt the following day. Carlson said he would.

Chambers said he took that to mean Carlson would vote for the second override attempt. Carlson said he meant that he would rethink his vote — which he did, though in the end he remained opposed to the override.

Carlson said he did not appreciate having his character questioned by Chambers, whom Carlson said he sincerely respects for his intelligence and legislative experience.

“I’ve offended him and he’s offended me, and I’m sorry,” Carlson said.

NOT HALF as sorry as he -- and the rest of the unicameral -- would be.

You may not like Ernie Chambers' word, but he's a man of it. He does not suffer those who aren't men, or women, of theirs. (Actually, the senator doesn't suffer a lot of people, but that's not important now.)



YOU'D THINK Nebraska politicians would have learned that by now, more than 43 years after he became the first African-American elected to the Nebraska Legislature. And just like the hammer-wielding doofus who screwed with the smart phone didn't count on that lithium-ion battery blowing a gasket, the unicameral's bill-wielding doofuses who screwed with Ernie Chambers never count on the good senator blowing his.

Which is kind of like being shocked that August is hot.

This year, the short bus departs Lincoln on April 17. My guess is that Ernie will shove a potato up the exhaust pipe just before it pulls away from the capitol, much to the amusement of Nebraska's mountain-lion community.

Spicoli lives!

Last anyone saw of Jeff Spicoli, the dude was on the beach in Southern California, enveloped in an intoxicating haze.

Until today.

He's in Omaha -- absolutely. Because of the tasty waves on Carter Lake, no doubt. (Don't laugh. As windy as it's been around these parts lately. . . .)

Anyway, I didn't actually have an official Spicoli sighting, but I did see his handiwork while walking on the Keystone Trail today.

Look.

 

Spicoli was here.

 

And here.

And here.

And, for killer bud's sake, here.

When I find Mr. Spicoli, I shall prevail upon him to run for mayor. That would be totally bitchin'.

Dude!

3 Chords & the Truth: Thinking of radio

We're chilling out again on the Big Show.

We're getting mellow. We're doing music best listened to in the still of the night.

Think of an old radio, vacuum tubes glowing in the dark. Think of a lone DJ in a studio across town . . . or halfway across the continent.

Think of a couple of turntables, a classic microphone and timeless music, carefully selected by the lone disc jockey.

Think of yourself in a darkened room, with the radio, the announcer and the records keeping you company through the long night.

Just think.

YOU THINKING about that? Well, then you're thinking about this episode of 3 Chords & the Truth.

And I'm thinking you're going to love it.

I'm also thinking it'll be good for your nerves and good for your soul.

I'm thinking this is how radio used to be -- when radio was still radio and people still cared about radio.

Some things ought not be forgotten or abandoned. This goes for radio, which is not lost but merely relocated. To the Internet.

ENJOY the Big Show. Enjoy radio once more -- radio done with a little class and a lot of love. That's what we do here in Omaha, by God, Nebraska.

It's 3 Chords & the Truth, y'all. Be there. Aloha.

Louisiana: What doesn't kill you. . . .

If you are really good at something and really want to test yourself, move to Louisiana.

Anybody can be good at something if they have the right tools and institutional support. But only the crème de la crème can be good at something in Louisiana, where you'll be looked upon with suspicion for your uppityness and be consigned to toil in decrepitude while officialdom spends taxpayer dollars on more important things than, say, education.

Like, say, graft.

Or, say, an archive in Franklinton dedicated to a former two-term Republican governor. Who happened to be the political mentor of the present two-term Republican governor, Bobby Brady Jindal.

I'm pretty sure of two things: First, that my home state has serious problems with priorities and, second, that the best ceramics artists in the universe are found at Louisiana State University. I know this about the LSU art school because its ceramics program is ranked ninth in the country, and the students and professors have managed to achieve that level of notoriety as they dodge falling concrete ceilings while fighting off rats, raccoons and fleas in the Studio Arts Building. That's no easy feat as you struggle not to inhale asbestos particles or ingest lead-paint chips.

And then there's the electrical wiring next to ceiling leaks.

And the broken windows, some of which won't lock.

And the flood-prone basement.

And the lack of climate control like, say, heating and air conditioning. Ever been to south Louisiana in  August and September? An art student fainted during class last fall -- the temperature inside was nearly 100 degrees, the (New Orleans) Times-Picayune reports:

Emily Seba/Facebook

Gleason said while she’s at the building she forces herself to take five-minute breaks outside. She spends about 26 hours a week there between class and work, and she worries the mold, asbestos and lead paint that LSU’s own facilities department confirmed is on most every surface might be harmful to her health. “It’s a concern,” she said.

When maintenance crews worked over the Christmas break to scrape asbestos off of steam pipes in the building, they removed some insulation, too. The steam got so hot, it ruined a student’s artwork nearby, Gleason said. These type of maintenance efforts occur regularly, costing a “couple hundred thousand dollars” a year, LSU Office of Facility Services Planning, Design and Construction Director Roger Husser estimated. His department, too, is eager to permanently solve the building’s problems rather than continue the Band-Aid method that’s driving up maintenance costs. But it’s not his call.

As the building’s conditions worsen, maintenance costs grow and students question their safety, renovation plans sit on the shelf, awaiting $15 million from the state needed for renovations. To show they won’t sit idly by as their needs get trumped by programs with big donors or lucrative ticket sales, students have planned protests on Thursday (April 3) at LSU’s campus and Tuesday (April 8) at the steps of the Capitol to ask for better working conditions and a safe environment.

But unless what’s sure to be creatively designed picket signs inspire a change in the political will of the Louisiana Legislature and Gov. Bobby Jindal’s administration -- their protests this week and next, according to one lawmaker, will be in vain.

Sen. Dan Claitor, R-Baton Rouge, a self-proclaimed cheerleader for the arts who toured conditions of the Studio Arts building last fall, said if it were up to him the project would get the needed funding, but “a handful of legislators are not going to be able to (get enough support) to fund it on their own.”

Without private funding matches, the arts building simply doesn’t rise to the priority level of other donor-backed projects, which tend to get bumped up the list much faster. Though Husser said the Studio Arts building has been in the capital outlay queue for “a very long time,” if the state sees an opportunity to take advantage of private match, it will usually take it. But that means projects without donor support will keep slipping down rungs of the ladder as privately aided ones climb up. “The pie is not unlimited,” Claitor said. “The budget is tapped out.”

I WOULDN'T say the budget is "tapped out," exactly. It's just that everything else in the budget -- from Medicaid to masking tape -- has been deemed more important than giving art students at Louisiana's flagship university facilities fit for human habitation . . . as opposed to that of rats, raccoons and fleas.

Still, LSU's School of Art is fielding nationally noted programs. It's rather like winning Olympic medals in the 100-meter dash while dragging a boat anchor.

For three straight Olympics.

Writes columnist Stephanie Riegel in the Baton Rouge Business Report:

Since the early 2000s, the building has been slated for renovation. Several times, the project was designated as Priority One in the state capital outlay bill, meaning it was at the top of the list to receive construction dollars. One spring, it appeared so imminent the faculty was told to pack up their offices.

But, as so often happens, other needs took priority. This year, the project—now estimated to cost $15.3 million—isn't even included in the capital outlay bill, much less specified as an item likely to see a single dime.

"It's depressing," says professor Kelli Scott Kelley, whose critically acclaimed paintings hang in galleries around the country. "It affects morale. It affects the ability to attract good faculty and good graduate students."

Which gets to the heart of why this matters beyond, of course, concern for the well-being of students and faculty. There is a connection between a thriving art school at the state's flagship university and the community in which that school is located.

Consider what the arts have done for the revitalization of downtown and the role the Shaw Center for the Arts has played in bringing about that renaissance.

Think, too, about the near-obsessive fixation in this community for all things purple and gold—about the glowing headlines that follow when graduation rates inch up to 69%, or about the time and energy the university spends trying to earn a spot in the top quadrant of U.S. News & World Report's rankings.

Do top-flight schools have chunks of concrete falling from the ceiling? Are students at Duke or Vanderbilt or even the University of Alabama forced to paint in sub-freezing studios? Do you attract the best and brightest students by building a lazy river at the rec center while ignoring critical capital needs?

THE ANSWERS to Riegel's questions are an obvious no, no and no. Yet. . . .

As I said at the outset, if you are really good at something and really want to test yourself, move to Louisiana. Compete against the best. Do it while dragging a boat anchor. Win anyway. Come home victorious to the non cheers of the non-existent hometown throng of non-existent well-wishers.

If it's acclaim you want in the Gret Stet, be an LSU football player. That or an 86-year-old, ex-con ex-governor with a granddaughterly trophy wife, a new baby and an ego overdue for its 2 o'clock feeding.

Baton Rouge High, 2007

Kelli Scott Kelley, the LSU art professor, was in my graduating class at Baton Rouge Magnet High. And where she finds herself now resembles, and eerily so,  our alma mater before the parish school board was left with just two choices: Tear down the whole school and rebuild it somewhere else . . . or tear down and rebuild most of the campus, renovate the main building and keep BRHS where it was.

Thankfully, the board chose the second option. Baton Rouge High, after 30-something years of abject neglect, now has facilities worthy of the world-class teachers and students within its rebuilt walls. Our old school has shed its boat anchor -- for now.

In Louisiana, sadly, there's always another boat anchor to weigh you down. In Louisiana, fortunately, some folks find a way to stay afloat regardless.

Unfortunately for the state that forgot to care, however, many of those survivors soon enough will weigh anchor one last time before setting sail for a distant shore.

Guess what. A state that cares so little for its children . . . for higher education . . . for the arts . . . for its future . . . deserves exactly what it's going to get. Or not get, as the case may be.

Ask not upon whom the anchor weighs.

Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!

Here's the story of a governor named Bobby, who says he's thinking about being more than that.

In an admission that surprised absolutely no one, Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal told a reporter for a Heritage Foundation "news service" that he might run for Barack Obama's job in 2016.

"It's something we're thinking about. It's something we'll pray about. But...we have to win the war of ideas first," Jindal said last week. "We've got to win the elections in 2014. And after we do that, we're certainly giving it some thought."

Insert GOP boilerplate about Obamacare here.

Insert Jindal boilerplate about his miracle-working in Louisiana here.

Now, with the possibility of a President Jindal come January 2017, I think it might be useful to explore the genesis of some of the governor's "reform agenda" in the Pelican State. Here it's important to explain how an Indian-American kid named Piyush became a Southern governor named Bobby.

IT ALL comes down to The Brady Bunch.

"Every day after school, I'd come home and I'd watch 'The Brady Bunch.'" Jindal told 60 Minutes' Morley Safer in 2009. "And I identified with Bobby, you know? He was about my age, and Bobby stuck."

Well, that explains a lot. It may even explain his Louisiana "reform" agenda, where wackiness has ensued much of the time. Indeed, if we closely examine one of the earliest and most profound influences on young Piyush/Bobby, we can see the genesis of key elements of his "miracle" on the bayou.

First, let's see whether we can unearth his inspiration for entering the political arena:



THAT DONE, it shouldn't be difficult to come up with the blueprint for his voucher-driven "education reform" program. It's all a matter of a) salesmanship and b) free customer service:



GROOVY! Now, I think I have an idea concerning the inspiration for Jindal's brilliant plan to bring transparency and more "effective" ethics enforcement to the notoriously corrupt Louisiana state government:



THAT'S RIGHT . . . behind every brilliant political scheme, there's a pop-culture inspiration. Yes, there is.

Now, let's move on to the genesis of Jindal's reform of Medicaid and the state's charity health-care system:



FINALLY, how in the world do you sell yourself as someone of presidential timbre when your entire body of work as governor of a poor, small and crooked Southern state has left it just as poor, just as small and just as crooked as you found it? And then there's the whole "I destroyed Louisiana higher education" thing.

But then you go back to the well one more time.  

What would the Bradys do?"



YEAH . . . that's the (2016) ticket.

Duuuude! DUUUUDE! Like, there's a winner, man!

The rock band 311 is the Nebraska-est of all Nebraskans. The Cornhuskerest of all Cornhusker State celebrities.

Bigger than Warren Buffett's billions. Dwarfing William Jennings Bryan, Willa Cather, Tom Osborne, Marlon Brando, Fred Astaire, Henry Fonda, Malcolm X and all the rest. So utterly huge and beloved that the Omaha World-Herald, in Sunday's paper, spent half of its final celebrity bracketology report explaining who -- and what -- 311 is.

To the uninitiated, 311 is made up of a group of guys who grew up in Omaha. After some short stays in Los Angeles, the guys came back home and fleshed out the band in the early ’90s. After establishing a local following, they headed to the West Coast again and eventually signed to Capricorn Records and released their first record, “Music.” Over the course their next several albums [sic] — “Grassroots,” “311” and “Transistor” — 311 became a huge success.

OVER THE COURSE the next few years -- as journalism fades into the memories of old folk befuddled by the new-media landscape of pictograms, biggest-boob newspaper contests and online vlogs consisting of random grunts, moans and clicks emitted by random hipsters -- me am planning to Anna Thesia-Eyes me by drinking hev-E over the course the day Evey daye.

Gloorp. Umnff. Ooh ooh ooh! Grock! Click. Ick-ick-ick-ick pfffffftuuuuuu. Bububububu. BRAAAAAAP!

Me kayn hav jobbe nau att nooz-Paypr?