I was walking though the French Quarter seeking the satiation of a Po

Krew du KKK-Vieux
September 29, 2007

I was walking though the French Quarter seeking the satiation of a Po-Boy when a typical twisted wild eyed drunk approached me doing a Monty Python funny walk with a beer balanced on his head. He held out his shit caked dirty finger nailed hand for a shake and I quickly balled my fists and told him to stay away from me.

Anyone who has spent time in the Quarter knows that these drunks pose the greatest threat to the success of old town (well not really). Many of these uninspired have so little respect for themselves they resort to sorry schemes to keep their enslaved free spirits life style. The infamous, "I bet I can tell you were you got your shoes." is a NOLA legend. If you haven't been here yet, take the bet and answer with, "on the side walk." Beer doesn't make the nuts but the nuts sure can make the beer.

I became embarrassingly aware of the new New Orleans cop show, K-Ville, the day after I announced I was applying to NOPD. I felt quite silly after I downloaded the application and then my friend invited me to her house to watch the premier. I know what I would think about a person who told me they were going to be an astronaut when Apollo 13 was in the theaters. Lucky for me, I have a high tolerance for embarrassment and little consideration of others opinion of myself.

I watched the first episode with mixed emotion. Anytime I see my city on any screen I feel like a superstar. There's nothing quite like watching a professional production on the tube and knowing the mental layout of the place depicted. One is able to include peripheral subconscious elements from memory and incorporate them, real time, into the act. Unfortunately my rational mind was quite disturbed when I processed the fact that during the broadcast a few hundred thousand people were watching an Uzi blast the exact place were I sell my art. I don't mean the same neighborhood, I mean the exact spot! That can't be good for business, unless you've got a chocolate cable mayor brain. And what's wrong with educating America about New Orleans via fiction?

Today the K-Ville crew was taping on St. Peter street. I was able to catch a quick video and guard my art hanging on the fence. I watched for an hour as they set up and started recording. Several interested folks and I were watching and snapping photos. When the cameras were rolling a stage hand announced not to use flashes. From this I assumed we were allowed to record things, as long as we used our brains in doing so.

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ez9ic1HTum0&eurl=http://robertsutton.net/blog/2007/09/29/krew-de-ville]

Later a guy walked up to me and demanded that I put my cell video phone away. I've been around other productions and have seen volunteer extras morph into directors and that was my impression of this badge-less dick. He was dressed head to toe in red, was power trippin' and approached me in an aggressive manor. All the signs indicated this was a carbon copied beer balancing nut who believed he was an honorary member of the K-Ville security force. I don't take shit from just anyone and felt that what I was doing wasn't a violation of any law. I asked him who he was. He lifted up his shirt and showed me two cell phones. That was enough proof to assume he was a drug dealer but nothing more. I asked him for identification. He looked as though he was going to explode and pulled up the other side of his shirt were there was a bulge that looked as though it could have been a gun. I was pleased to discover that it was a walky talky which matched the walky talkies the rest of the krew displayed in plain sight.

I put my camera away and told the K-man that I had no way of telling he was on the krew. The city requires that I wear an identification badge when I sell my art and I do so faithfully. I informed him that many locals are used to dealing with crazies, that will ask you to do just about anything, just for the fun of watching you do it. He replied with, "I thought you didn't believe me because I'm colored". My paintings are colored, not people. As if New Orleans wasn't interesting enough we're infusing our culture with LA-LA heads. What a fuckin' superiority complexed Paranakkkoid production crew. Thank MC-God for the LosAngles - NewOrleans connection.