Skip to main content

Please Sign the Petition to Save Our Oyster Industry

This paternalism is going to put a lot of people out of business. 30 cases of vibrio vulnificus from raw oysters a year and of those half are fatal. Every oyster bar and restaurant in New Orleans has the warning about consuming raw shellfish. "Eat at your own risk" should be enough. The treated oysters taste horrible. Even cooked oysters would have to be treated during those seven months. Oysters are an important part of this culture. This enforcement would destroy much of the cuisine that identifies this city. Please don't punish the majority of healthy consumers because of a few at risk who could abstain of their own volition.

Please read: Louisiana blasts new FDA rule requiring oysters to be sterilized

Please sign: Save the Gulf Coast Oyster Industry


  1. Another example of our over careful societies restricting our experience of life by over reacting to dangers. Life without danger is not worth living. I don't eat oysters because I don't enjoy them but this sort of thing is annoying! Here in South Australia we have signs warning of not swim because the ocean is dangerous, do not walk here because there are cliffs, beware no railings. The age of litigation!


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

You Were Perfectly Fine by Dorothy Parker

"Martini" kristin fouquet

This is my favorite hangover story. A raise of the glass to the inimitable Dorothy Parker.

You Were Perfectly Fine


Dorothy Parker

The pale young man eased himself carefully into the low chair, and rolled his head to the side, so that the cool chintz comforted his cheek and temple.“Oh, dear,” he said.”Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear. Oh.”The clear-eyed girl, sitting light and erect on the couch, smiled brightly at him.“Not feeling so well today?” she said.“Oh, I’m great,” he said.”Corking, I am. Know what time I got up? Four o’clock this afternoon, sharp. I kept trying to make it, and every time I took my head off the pillow, it would roll under the bed. This isn’t my head I’ve got on now. I think this is something that used to belong to Walt Whitman. Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.”“Do you think maybe a drink would make you feel better?” she said.“The hair of the mastiff that bit me?” he said.”Oh, no, thank you. Please never speak of anything like…

Paintings by Dimitri Fouquet

"Rizzum & Blues"

"Ravi Shankar"

"Opium Dream"

"Marie Laveau"

"Baron Samedi"

Dimitri Fouquet


New Orleans artist

"Propped Up"

Propped Up
first published in Pindeldyboz

Christmas Muzak was piped through to every store in the shopping mall. Giant red velvet bows adorned reproduction Victorian gaslights. Yards of glittered cotton pretended to be snow. A Santa rang a brass bell.
“If you ask me, it ain’t natural,” Ted muttered.
Sunny was more optimistic. In her blissful eighteen years, she had not yet had an encounter with Father Cynicism. “It’s like a miracle.”
Before he could counter her statement, she flicked on the vacuum cleaner and got to work on the big carpeted cubes.
Ted yelled, “Passive aggressive,” but nobody heard. He adjusted his belt, then fogged the camera lens with his breath and wiped it.
When Sunny had finished with the prop cubes, she turned off the vacuum cleaner.
“Freakin’ fertility drugs,” he called out too soon, proving he had been saving it until the din subsided.
“She sounded so happy on the phone that we could take their picture.” Sunny pulled down the snowy pastoral scene backdrop. “She said sh…