"When I was a kid you could only use that as a hurtful word. You wouldn't call your friends that at all. You wouldn't call anyone that. [If you said] “That person is a fuckin' oogle” those were fighting words. And now, you just throw it out there. It's almost like “faggot” or something. It's still a bad word but for a lot of people it's lost its meaning and it's just another word. I think it's just lost its power. And because of LATFO[LookAtThisFuckingOogle, NSFW] it's everywhere now. I mean, at first that stood for “Look At This Person Who Obviously Sucks” but now it's friends, family...everybody's on there. It's a joke now, pretty much."In Defense Of Oogles
While we are talking about social realities, I’d like to point out to all you hardcore oogle haters that oogles have not had anything to do with the worst things that have happened to New Orleans. Oogles did not defund the levee system to fund a war in Iraq or bungle the effort to evacuate scores of people from the Superdome. Oogles did not embezzle countless millions of dollars slated to help rebuild the city. Nor did oogles shoot innocent people attempting to cross a bridge then burn their bodies to cover up their wrong doing. Oogles did not refuse to rebuild Charity Hospital and instead opt to demolish the historic Lower Mid-City Neighborhood to make way for a hospital then run out of money nor did they demolish part of the historic Treme neighborhood to make way for a park nobody uses. Oogles didn’t demolish ancient live oaks along Claiborne to build I-10 which lead to the degradation of a historic African American neighborhood. Oogles are not attempting to raise rents in traditionally working class neighborhoods in an effort to make tons of money on real estate.Why Can't I Sell This Story?
As her mother, I believed she was rejecting me and the middle class aspirations I’d held out for her: the college life, the career, the husband and then the children. She assured me that I wasn’t much of a factor in this. She was going toward something that was much bigger than that, even if she couldn’t describe it. I was terrified for her safety until she returned eighteen months later, unharmed. She’s living nearby, and I see her as much as possible and talk to her often. Yet I know at any moment she could chuck it all and be on the rails again. While she was on the road, I struggled with trying to find a way to write about her and the thousands of other kids who are doing the same. After she returned home, we found a way to talk about this when a terrible thing happened to her friends in New Orleans.
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