When Did Louisville Stop Being A Southern City?

The Doctor of Love is dead.

Long live The Plain Brown Rapper. 2.0.

In her wisdom, Mary Jean “Boss” Kirtley fired me, as all editors worth their snuff do from time to time. But for reasons equally bewildering, she wants my voice heard, so here ‘tis.

The Plain Brown Rapper 2.0 is reborn in this worthy publication. My last column, The Plain Brown Rapper #275 (“The Revolution Solution”), appeared in LEO on June 25, 2008, some 16 months ago. The out-of-town LEO potentates fired Cary Stemle, so I quit. ‘Nuff said.

Love advice is cheap and easy and I’m out of the business. When I meet and marry Mrs. Brown IV, maybe I’ll get back to you. I must heed the advice: “Doctor, heal thyself.”

Meanwhile, my own damn opinions about matters of societal, cultural and governmental matters have been raging within me like molten lava. Watching wordlessly, while vile and stupid men act accordingly, the clarion call to me came clear: “All it takes for evil men to rule is for the good to do nothing.” I wage war with words. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.

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Unlike others I intend to castigate and pillory in the future, Mayor Abramson is a personal friend and I respect many of his positions and actions. He is neither vile nor stupid – indeed, quite the contrary.

However, where does he get the idea that Louisville is a “mid-western” city?

Nonsense.

Jerry is old enough to remember the signs on expressways announcing Louisville as the “Gateway to the South,” smart enough to know “Dixie” Highway starts at Broadway, cuts through the heart of the South and ends up on Miami Beach. UK is in the Southeast Conference for a reason and the last I checked, we share the same state. Can there be a mid-western city in a southern state anymore than there can be a northern city on the west coast?

My take is that Louisville may have a Downtown-Hurstbourne tube that is Yankee-laden and prefers to defect, but the Confederate sympathizers in southern parts of Metro Louisville might disagree with being lumped with towns like Cincy, Indy and beyond.

In all respects, Jerry, when on the campaign trail, touting a “mid-west” city will drag the ticket. Just remember to say “y’all.”  A lot.

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I once wanted to write a story called “Chocolate Hill,” about the racial complexion of Phoenix Hill on Wednesday nights, when forever there has been offered cheap beer and the crowd is predominately African-American. Cool by me. Phoenix Hill plays the same music – Rock-n-Roll, ba--by, as usual. Lest the story be considered racist, it was killed in the crib like some baby with something to say.

Following a shooting at another bar, on Wednesday nights only, Phoenix Hill patrons are expertly body-frisked (I almost fell in love) and wanded for metal. Why?

Did the baby have something to say?

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I am saddened that our fine councilman, Tom Owen, declined to throw his hat into the ring for mayor. He stood a giant among the pygmy posers on the Metro Council. He deserves our gratitude for all he’s done and will do, and for having the good sense not to run for and serve as mayor! The community’s loss is our neighborhood’s gain. Live the good life and may you live forever.

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One need only ride past the pale white “Ghost Bike” in front of Lonnie’s Taste of Chicago across from Cahoot’s on Bardstown Road and reflect a few precious seconds on the untimely death of Jennifer Futrell on October 4 of last year to conclude with me that the ban on sidewalk biking on Bardstown Road, Baxter Avenue and Cherokee Road is utter idiocy.

This young woman was killed by a motorist, run down like prey.  Her only crime was obeying the law: riding her 40-pound bicycle in the street where two-ton cars – some whose drivers are in a hurry, some on cell phones, some drunk – cruise behind steering wheels of monstrous murder machines ...

I ride my bike past policepeople and have yet to be tasered; I ride my bike by pedestrians and there have been no fatalities, not even a bump.

Stupid laws were meant to be flaunted.  Otherwise, we cannot be free. ‘Nuff said.

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I advised in a Love Column, by way of prefatory remarks, that people should attend Highland Baptist Church (Grinstead and Cherokee – Sun., 9 a.m. and 11 a.m. services) or risk going to Hell. Smile. Some woman called my boss and objected to the use of the word "Hell." Carl to Woman: “Hell” is in the Bible, repeatedly. Checkmate.

P. S. Stay tuned for future political endorsements and venting of raw spleen. Gee, it’s good to be in the smashum, bashum column business again ...

Anyway, this is Carl Brown, Louisville’s Plain Brown Rapper 2.0, and that’s just my own damn potpourri of opinions.

If you don’t like it, sue me.

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