Imagine

I was walking with my Precious Daughter to Bayou Boogaloo yesterday when we came upon this sign on Ursulines and North Rendon.

It was a beautiful day for music by the bayou. This year's Boogaloo expanded to the south with a second stage. The result was twice the music and more room for the throngs to spread out to enjoy it.

I immediately liked Billy Iuso & the Restless Natives--and not just because they covered a Talking Heads song. They put out a powerful blues-rock-funk groove through a light-hearted set of infectious joy. At one point, the band celebrated moving into a new house in the 9th Ward Musician's Village by belting out a rocked out version of "Moving On Up," the popular theme of "The Jeffersons" television show.

We also checked out the Charmaine Neville Band, and even Precious Daughter confessed to liking her version of "Papa was a Rolling Stone." Charmaine sang the refrain true to the original style of The Temptations' recording, while her son filled in the verses with new and scorching rap.

The catch of the day, however, was Groovesect, a band I confess I had not even heard of until Saturday. Groovesect charmed the eclectic crowd with intricate rhythms and skillful musicianship. The songs were tight and entertaining, and succeeded in spreading groove to all. I will be watching the local listing to catch Groovesect again.

Bayou Boogaloo has earned a reputation for being the mini-Jazz Fest for the locals. This year's event, bigger than ever, did not disappoint. As we walked home at dusk, I wondered what it would be like if everyone in America could have a day of boogaloo.

Imagine, indeed!

I saw Bonerama at Jazz Fest and I wrote this Haiku

Music washes down
Over a sea of faces
Mixing sweat and tears

Sometimes New Orleans is a complicated place.

How can you explain to someone outside of New Orleans why we laugh at tourists who cannot pronounce "beignets" and then revel in the way we knowingly and obstinately mispronounce "Calliope" Street?

Is it the desire to keep close hold on membership to our special club? Or simply our way of keeping close the history of this almost 300-year-old city? Is it an overt gesture of bohemian style which we think sets us grandly apart from the rest of the US? Or is it a stubborn embrace of the bad habits handed down by our uneducated fathers and mothers?

Yes, it's complicated.

But sometimes New Orleans is simple, forthright, and blindingly obvious.

Like Jazz Fest.

You go, you hear music, and you have a beer--with about a hundred thousand other people.

You sweat, you smile, and you commune with humanity.

Change the odds

A new report from the National Academy of Sciences generated sensational headlines recently. Unfortunately those attention-grabbing headlines and the ill-informed commenters that responded all seem to have missed the major point.

The report, The New Orleans Hurricane Protection System: Assessing Pre-Katrina Vulnerability and Improving Mitigation and Preparedness, was most widely quoted as declaring that New Orleans can never be made safe. The most popular quote appears to be this one: “Levees and floodwalls surrounding New Orleans -- no matter how large or sturdy -- cannot provide absolute protection against overtopping or failure in extreme events.”

Many seemed to have stopped reading right there and joined one of two opposing camps: those who say it’s hopeless and we should quit wasting time and money trying to do the impossible in New Orleans, and, those who say scientists, engineers and politicians who would surrender the city to nature are either idiots or cowards.

They're both wrong.

A more careful reading of the report, available online, reveals that the true intent of the engineer and scientist authors is to fully alert the public to the stark reality of residual risks. That is to say, no matter what science concocts or what government provides, it is neither possible nor realistic to expect all danger to be removed.

Is this surrender to the whims of nature? No. It is a plainly stated view of reality. The world is dangerous. We can do many things to reduce danger, but there’s always a risk. There’s always a risk.

Is this a cry of hopelessness? Again, no. Scientists and engineers accept the challenge head-on. Humans are naturally proud, stubborn and intelligent enough to figure things out. Some may crumble and compare the struggle for survival to the punishment of Sisyphus, but most of us are stout-hearted and bold with resolve.

And here’s what the NAS report recommends: don’t rely entirely on levees and floodwalls. Build smart. Choose wisely. Be proactive.

A levee is no guarantee. New Orleanians have had water in their homes many times when there was not a hurricane in sight. One example is May 3, 1978, a date many of us remember. Torrential rain filled the streets and flooded cars and houses in Orleans, Jefferson and St. Bernard Parishes.

A floodwall is no guarantee. Even if the new floodwalls are rock solid and bulletproof, there is always the possibility of a storm surge taller than the wall. The current goal is to build a system to stop a 1% per year chance exceedence flood. But as I've blogged before and as the NAS report points out, that so-called 100-year level of protection is really pretty small when you think about it.

The odds might be 1 in 100 if you live here for 1 year, but each successive year the odds get worse and worse. If you live a full 72 years in New Orleans, there’s a 52% chance you will experience that big flood that will overtop the floodwalls.

The major point the NAS wanted to make is that levees and floodwalls are just part of the answer. The rest is up to us.

So what can we do?

First, understand that the levees and floodwalls form the perimeter defense. Once water overtops or falls as rain inside the system, water is going to pool in the lowest parts of the city. Even when the pumps are going full bore—and we have the best pumping system in the world—we know we can still be flooded. If at all possible, we should build on naturally high ground.

After Katrina, I lived for a while in the “Sliver by the River.” That part of the city remained dry not because of better floodwalls or pumps—it was purely natural elevation that spared the homes and businesses there.

Secondly, we have to elevate our homes. Slab-on-grade houses are modern, less expensive and dangerous. I speak from experience here. My Gentilly home was just too darn low. Houses like that are just tempting fate. Every foot above the ground adds safety from flooding.

Thirdly, we have to build above the inadequate and dangerous 100-year level of protection. Not just levees and floodwalls—I’m talking about houses here. When the city issues a building permit, they will give the 100-year elevation required to qualify for the National Flood Insurance Program. That’s the MINIMUM elevation for construction. Why stop there? Add a foot. Add two or three.

Remember that the 1% per year exceedence flood will occur sooner or later. There’s a 26% chance it will happen in 30 years, and a 39% chance in 50 years. Those are not good odds.

We can change the odds by building higher.

Finally, buy insurance. All of the things I discuss above can and will reduce your exposure to the risk of flooding, but nothing is going to totally eliminate the danger. If all else fails, your final safety net is flood insurance to lessen the financial blow.

Just as seatbelts, airbags, and all the safety systems of a modern highway will not guarantee survival in the event of a car accident, the NAS wants everyone to understand that levees and floodwalls, no matter how high or sturdy, cannot guarantee safety from flooding. There is always some residual risk. And just as safe driving habits will bring us safely home, smart building and planning will go a long way to keeping our homes safe.

Waiting for evidence

An engineer dies in a car accident and finds himself in Heaven where he is greeted by the full host of angels and a heavenly chorus. “This is fabulous,” the engineer says to Saint Peter. “Do you greet all new arrivals this way?” “Oh, no!” St. Peter says. “This is all to welcome you--the longest living human since the days of Adam.” Confused, the engineer tells the venerable gatekeeper that he was only 35 years old at the time of his death. St. Peter looks through a huge stack of papers and several books resembling accounting ledgers. “Well, according to all of these hours on your time sheets,” St. Peter says, “We figured you were at least 169!”

Unlike lawyer and doctor jokes, engineer jokes are few and far between. This one is an often-told joke that both honors engineers for our long hours of work and skewers us for the sometimes incredible amount of work for which we bill our clients.

I recalled this silly tale today as I read the news account of the ongoing trial against the government regarding the influence of the Mississippi River-Gulf Outlet on Hurricane Katrina’s storm surge. According to the Associated Press, witness for plaintiffs Bob Bea said he had spent “about 10,000 hours studying the levee failures during Katrina.”

Ten thousand hours? Really?

Katrina struck on Monday, August 29, 2005, and the subject testimony was given Friday, April 24, 2009. That’s a span of 1,334 days. And 10,000 hours divided by 1, 334 days gives us an average of almost 7.5 hours per day. That’s every day—seven days as week, 52 weeks a year. If the plaintiff’s witness had dedicated his full and undivided attention to the subject—40 hours a week with no holidays—the total hours would add up to less than 7,700 hours. And even that’s a stretch.

Not quite as ridiculous as the engineer in the joke, but still a tally that raises an eyebrow.

This same witness against the government compared levee building in Louisiana to the task of Sisyphus, the hopeless soul from Greek mythology. In this, California professor Bea joined a chorus of critics who have said rebuilding New Orleans would be a waste of money and effort. They say New Orleans is doomed and that nature will wash away our city no matter what we do.

It's unfortunate that an engineer, a person supposedly dedicated to using science and technology for the public good, takes such a defeatist view of our city. New Orleans has been here almost 300 years and it seems fickle and cowardly to declare the battle lost now when the resources to protect and preserve the city are more abundant than ever before.

But I suppose his testimony is no worse than the testimony of litigant Norman Robinson. According to news reports, Mr. Robinson took the stand earlier in the trial to detail the pain and suffering he experienced following Katrina. Depression, alcoholism, anger and thoughts of suicide all took their toll on the television newsman.

It certainly must have been gripping testimony. I’m just not sure what any of it has to do with the alleged malfeasance and errors of engineering. Mr. Robinson is neither a scientist nor an engineer and it would appear all he had to offer was his sad story and dramatic telling of it. If plaintiffs are relying so heavily on emotional appeal, it betrays their lack of confidence in proving their case based on science and factual evidence.

Of course, all we have is news accounts, which we know leave most of what is going on in the courtroom untold. It just seems to me that if there was some compelling science, some “smoking gun” evidence, we’d be reading about that rather than the emotional state of plaintiffs and the incredible number of hours their witness spent working on the case.

Perhaps they do have scientific and factual evidence which they will reveal before the trial ends.

Or, perhaps the next witness will tell us the story of the lawyer and the engineer who meet on a fishing trip in the Caribbean. The lawyer tells the engineer, “I'm here because my house burned down. The insurance company paid off well enough for me to take this vacation.”

“That's quite a coincidence,” says the engineer. “I’m also using insurance money for this trip. Except in my case, my house was flooded.”

“Amazing,” says the lawyer. A few moments later, the lawyer says, “So tell me, how do you start a flood?”

A crack in my own voice

We were shopping a few days ago and ended up at Cane's for lunch--a favorite of our Precious Daughter's. In the next booth a group of adults were talking about everyday things.

"Oh she has a nice place on the North shore," one lady said.

"But her sister is still in Houston?" another said.

"Yeah, still in Houston. They're not coming back."

A man chirped in with, "Well there you go--we know people in New Orleans, Mandeville and Houston, so no matter where the next hurricane hits we have a place to go."

Everyone laughed in agreement.

Another day, at the office, someone is remembering businesses that "Ain't dere no more." She mentions Wembley ties.

One of my colleagues says, "I have several of their ties. I bet you do, too."

"Not any more," I say. "I lost all that in Katrina."

We exchange empathetic smiles.

A story in the local newspaper about an over-zealous anti-graffiti crusader prompts much online discussion. Someone points out that if anyone feels a compelling need to paint buildings, why not paint over the search-and-rescue X marks that still mar the fronts of many houses in Gentilly and Lakeview.

Like those X's, and the high-water line stain that still lingers on far too many buildings, the residue of 2005 sticks to New Orleans, it clings to us like an ugly, unwanted tattoo.

Of course it remains a part of us. Hurricane Katrina is indelibly a part of the collective experience of New Orleans, so much so that we can chat lightly about future storms and resulting evacuations. So much so, that we a lot of what we do on a day-to-day basis comes from or still alludes to that sad event.

Going on four years, of course we have learned to live with it. We cope. We adapt. We move forward.

And yet.

Just this week, a new hire, an engineer from out of state joins us. I am telling him about 2005. I am telling him about the huge storm, the parts of the system that were overwhelmed, the parts that were tested beyond their design but stood, and the parts that failed miserably and fell over even before experiencing their full design loads. I am telling him how the US Coast Guard proved how "always ready" they are. I am telling him how surreal it was to come back to the city that never sleeps and find it dark and quiet after sunset. I am telling him what it was like when I returned to my Vista Park home, the street still covered in mud and the lawns all brown and dead. I am telling him about finding my driveway coated with a half-inch, cracked clay blanket, and how I found a crab, a small, dead crab right there in my driveway...

And I have to stop. I have to stop because I can feel tears. I can feel tears in my eyes and a crack beginning to develop in my own voice that tells me something I did not know. I did not know I am still sad about this. I am still sad that the life we once knew is gone. Dead and gone and buried in the dirt and silt of a flooded house, and a mud-caked neighborhood.

I change the subject and keep talking so that I think perhaps he won't notice. Perhaps he did not see that near-eruption of pitiful emotion.

Later I wonder, what was that all about? Am I still in mourning for the life I lost? Am I still grieving for the deceased and the shocking inability of engineering to protect our city from the forces of nature?

Or is it the news reports from Fargo and other places in North Dakota, pictures of houses engulfed in brown water, stories of people wrenched from their homes and businesses by cruel and indifferent nature that have reopened this wound? I have heard that sometimes people who have lost a limb say they can still feel pain from extremities that long ago ceased to be. They heal, yes, but the healing is never complete.

I am one of the luckiest people I know. Although much was lost, no one in my immediate family died as a result of Hurricane Katrina. And even after losing so much stuff, my family is secure and comfortable in a new home with new furnishings. We can't legitimately claim to be in need of anything.

And yet.

Mea culpa

I'm sorry.

I made a huge mistake, a terrible miscalculation of character, an embarrassingly poor choice a little more than a year ago.

Regular readers of this blog may recall my support for Malcolm Suber in his bid for New Orleans City Council at Large. Having met him and heard of his work, I thought highly of him--highly enough to donate money to his campaign and work for his election.

Well, we haven’t heard much of Mr. Suber for more than a year. Until now.

I was horrified to read this account of Mr. Suber’s recent comments in The Times-Picayune. According to James Gill, Mr. Suber attacked Council member Stacy Head for being white.

And that is unacceptable, according to Malcolm Suber, who is leading a campaign to recall her. This is "a majority black district, and we think it should have black representation," he said.

These are not the words of a person of character and vision. The words attributed to Mr. Suber here are indicative of the worst kind of demagogue, the kind of politician who cruelly manipulates the public for pure personal gain.

I thought about posting an apology when I first read the story yesterday, but I was prompted this evening by Oyster to follow through. Was he thinking of me when he wrote about the escape from accountability of losing candidates and their supporters? I do not know and it does not matter. He's right and I was wrong.

I apologize for my error and ask all of you to forgive my poor judgment.

Its rightful place for New Orleans

Tucked into the rich folds of his inaugural speech, it was almost too easy to miss what in the long run may be the most significant and far-reaching change in policy made by President Barack Obama.

To be sure, his acknowledgement of “when the levees break” was encouraging to those of us who have already suffered such woes. It reveals the import of such events in the new president’s mind--in great contrast to his predecessor who made no mention of such issues in successive State of the Union addresses.

But what could have far greater impact on us in the recovering city of New Orleans, and all of America for that matter, is the president’s plan to rededicate our efforts to the most successful investigatory tool ever devised.

In the heart of his inaugural address, the president outlined his vision for America including his goals of reviving a struggling economy, building infrastructure, bolstering public education and harnessing alternative energy.

And that’s where he also said: “We’ll restore science to its rightful place.”

I am not the only person to seize upon those words and all the promise that promise incurs. Cynthia Tucker writes in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, “Obama’s embrace of science is cause for hope.” She recalls how not so long ago the US was the leader in scientific study and accomplishment which certainly accounts in great part for the high standard of living and abundance of wealth we enjoy compared to most of the world.

But Tucker joins me in sadly observing the current wave of anti-science. With George W. Bush as “the chief cheerleader for a rejection of reason,” Tucker notes that Americans have become “a nation of superstitious ignoramuses.”

And who could disagree? On a regular basis we are reminded that the United States lags in basic education compared with other modern nations. Religious belief remains strong and popular support for Creationism and “Intelligent Design” persists in spite of a total lack of evidence and universal scientific rejection. These are just some more commonly known examples; the list is as long as the string of letters representing human DNA.

You may wonder how reaffirming America’s support for and confidence in science could possibly be more important than significant hurricane protection. It’s nice to have science, but as far as New Orleanians are concerned, nothing trumps good levees, right?

Wrong. The two are inextricably connected. We cannot expect to have a robust hurricane protection system unless we pursue it with good science. We cannot expect to be safe without serious and studious observation and application of lessons learned.

But there are indications that superstitious citizens will not yield. Despite several studies and repeated explanations, the average citizen still clings to the false impression that the Mississippi River-Gulf Outlet caused devastating flooding of New Orleans in 2005. Following Hurricane Katrina, pundits and politicians alike nicknamed the shipping channel “the hurricane super highway.” With no science to support the claim and ample evidence against it, the popular notion survives undaunted. Even the junior senator from Louisiana, a person one would hope we could look to for leadership and vision, suffers from belief in this irrational myth.

In another highly visible example, National Geographic posted the Internet story “A City's Faulty Armor” in April 2007. The story features the criticism of engineering professor Bob Bea, who boldly declares the new floodwall constructed to protect the Lower Ninth Ward will not stand against future storms.

Dr. Bea offers no scientific basis for his condemnation of the new wall. There is no mention of soil testing, laboratory analysis, model tests or calculations of any kind.

The only evidence offered by Dr. Bea, according to National Geographic, was a taste test.

Yes--a taste test. Bob Bea, who also happens to be an expert witness in litigation against the government, saw puddle water in the road near the wall and speculated it could be seepage coming from the Industrial Canal on the other side of the wall. To test his hypothesis, he tasted the gutter water and declared it “tasted salty.”

If there is any doubt in the foolishness of Dr. Bea’s methods and conclusions, we only need to remember Hurricane Gustav’s assault on September 1, 2008. Water filled the Industrial Canal almost to the top of the walls and waves splashed over for several hours. Despite dire predictions, the walls did not budge. Gustav killed 43 people in Louisiana but could not breach a single floodwall in New Orleans.

It is an embarrassment to the engineering profession that any engineer practicing in the 21st century would actually form an opinion on the stability of a concrete floodwall based on a taste test of gutter water. And it is testimony to how far this nation’s esteem for science has fallen when a national magazine dedicated to scientific study can publish such blatant quackery as serious inquiry.

Now that President Obama has staked out a position in support of science, I have great hope that the United States will change its path. I have great hope that science, and engineering as well, will find its rightful place in the rebuilding of America and especially in the fortification of New Orleans against future storms.

Democracy demands it

A lot has been said about The Current Occupant, soon to be former-president, George W. Bush. Many have said he was ineffectual if not destructive. While everyone has someone who loves them--even disgraced and convicted Edwin Edwards has fans--it is clear the majority of America is more than happy to see him go.

Count me in the majority.

And even though our president pledged in a major speech in front of Jackson Square in New Orleans that, "We will stay as long as it takes to help citizens rebuild their communities and their lives," I am glad that Mr. Bush is personally reneging on that promise. Based on past performance, I don't really want him to stay any longer.

We get a new president this week, a new face and a new voice to represent the people and the government of the United States of America.

As with all newly-elected politicians, there were promises of change inspiring great hope in the people. We know that no one is perfect and that no one person can do it all alone, but I will try to remain optimistic in the months ahead. And cautious, too, because effective democracy demands the constant attention of citizens.

The job is just beginning--for Barack Obama and for us.

Not on the agenda

Another meeting today with another design team. Technical issues. Schedules. Cost estimates. Coordination with local agencies. Testing. The meetings are incessant, coming like a rolling rhythm on a snare drum leading up to some great finale, a cymbal crash that will signal we've accomplished our goal, a goal that we know rushes toward us but always seems so far off, until...

About 20 minutes after the start of the meeting, John appeared at the door. Shyly, but wearing an impish grin, he slid along the wall and came up behind his mother. She was talking at the time, explaining the finer details of a particular design decision. John, who may have been 7 years old, wrapped his arms around her neck, but she did not miss a beat. She continued to outline her vision of the work at hand.

A good civil engineer knows that you have to get your point across, you have to explain yourself clearly and succinctly, because you may only get one chance. Gone are the days when engineers could toil quietly away for days on a calculation without interruption. In the fast-paced environment of a multi-billion dollar program, we meet and debate the merits of alternative plans, we quiz each other on the pros and cons of each other's designs, and we challenge each other to do it better, stronger, faster and cheaper.

John, however, was not on the agenda. His attendance at today's meeting was completely unplanned. Earlier, John had been involved in some sort of playground mishap. His school--perhaps being judiciously cautious, or perhaps in yet another demonstration of the pervasive fear of litigation that grips America today--had called his mother to recommend taking him to the emergency room. Just to be sure.

Luckily for him, nothing was broken or out of joint. Unluckily for him, his mom is a key engineer on an important project and she had to return to work--with him in tow.

As the discussion moved from one topic to the next, I couldn't help but keep an eye on John. He wandered in and out of the room a few times, at one point finding a bag a chips to munch. After a while he sat next to someone on the other side of the room. It looked like they were playing some sort of drawing game, each taking a turn and then showing it to the other.

The meeting continued, of course. We all understood the importance of our jobs, just as that mom engineer understood the importance of her dual jobs this afternoon. Under different circumstances, she almost certainly would not have returned to work after bringing her son to the emergency room. But as we all know, Hurricane Katrina changed the circumstances. We spend long days designing the best structures we can to keep this city viable for the next 50 years, and an uneventful visit to see the doctor is no excuse to delay that mission.

Nobody said it, and likely no one needed to, but John had every right to be at that meeting today. After all, we were discussing plans to build the life-safety system essential to the future of New Orleans.

Who better to represent the future of the city than John?

New Year's 2009: Not yet time

We spent the last hours of 2008 in Algiers Point at a friend’s house on the west bank of New Orleans. It was a breezy, crisp night and I think my Darling Wife and Precious Daughter did not wear enough layers. But neither did I.

A few minutes before midnight, we walked to the river levee. Hundreds of people were gathered along the crown of the levee. Some brought chairs and ice chests with drinks. Some were shooting fireworks and making a small show on the bank of the Mississippi River.

We were surrounded by the sound of crackling fireworks popping rapidly like bubble wrap that is twisted like a dishrag. Intermittent whistles followed the fiery trail of rockets into the sky which ended with a pop and few sparks.

And then, near the French Quarter across that mighty river, the real fireworks show started. Tubes thumped like mortars as the professional pyrotechnics began to light up the sky. Large, colorful blooms burst suddenly over our city, the sparkling reflected in the windows of the tallest downtown buildings. Low booms followed each new fire blossom, always just a couple of seconds late it seemed.

At midnight, we cheered and kissed. It was a happy crowd, a moment of joy for what is certainly a tired citizenry.

On the way to the levee I joked with some that we should see if we could blow it up with our fireworks. “I’ve heard about people blowing up levees,” I said. “I want to see if you can really do that.”

“Oh no,” one lady told me, “These are good levees. They ain’t going nowhere.”

Truthfully, she had no idea. She only knew that in 80 years, longer than most could remember in their lifetimes, the Mississippi River had not flooded the city. Those levees worked, uniformly and consistently. That was all she needed to know.

Who designed them, who built them, what were they made of, how high they were, who maintains them, who inspects them, who pays for all of the above—she neither knew nor cared to know.

And that’s typical.

We don’t worry about things like levees until they don’t work.

Reading recent letters and editorials in The Times-Picayune, that reality is thrown in my face over and over. People generally don’t have a clue about levees, but they have very strong opinions nonetheless. They know this city and its surrounding communities got flooded badly in 2005. They know the levees didn’t work then, and lacking any understanding of how or why, they remain wary.

I thought perhaps our experience with Hurricanes Gustav and Ike would have helped. I thought—having seen how the new and reinforced floodwalls stood strong, how the outfall canal gates and pumps worked flawlessly, how the levees facing Lakes Borgne and Pontchartrain had performed brilliantly—that the average person would know that improvements are being made to our levees. And that these improvements work.

But I guess it’s not yet time.

I smoked my customary New Year’s Eve cigar and watched the fireworks show over the city. We huddled together to stay warm and block some of the wind. I’ve developed a pretty thick skin these past few years, but I still feel the chill from time to time.

Remember what's good

This story filled me with admiration, pride and sorrow all at the same time.

Lest We Forget, published online by GovExec.com, reminds us that there are at least 180,000 soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines away from home this holiday season--many in harm's way. Read it and remember.

I do not agree with the political policies behind our incursions in Iraq and Afghanistan, and I strongly question the Constitutionality of the use our military there. But I salute those who live up to the Army Value of Selfless Service.

This time of year--the darkest and coldest days in the Northern hemisphere--is the time commonly chosen to remember what's good in this world and to dream about how it can be made better in the coming year. Let's remember the outstanding individuals of our volunteer armed forces.

Wishing everyone everywhere Peace and Happy Holidays,

Tim

Made in China

The other night I showed my Precious Daughter what grown-ups do for Christmas. Well, grown-ups who are also NOLA Bloggers, that is. If you didn't know, they engage in a Christmas video war dubbed the "Hostilidays."

The idea is to post the most silly, annoying and offensive videos. So far, a whole slew of bloggers have joined in battle including Oyster, Maitri, Varg, Greg, Leigh, Loki, Adrastos, Mark, and Howie.

I had not participated in this ugly annual exchange--until now.

It just so happens that my Precious Daughter has started to learn Chinese in school. She came home today eager to tell me about how they were learning "Jingle Bells" in Chinese, and that they had seen a truly awful video of it as part of the lesson. She suggested it would be appropriate for Hostilidays and I agreed.

So here it is, "Ding Ding Dang" and all! Enjoy it (if you can).