Ever since that storm, things in New Orleans ain't been what they used to be, and that's a damn shame. We ought to do something to keep the spirit of New Orleans going. Cook up a heap of Jambalaya. Listen to Louis Armstrong and my fellow son of Sicilia, Louis Prima. And ladies, you oughta help preserve the greatest New Orleans custom of all - flashing your jugs at Mardi Gras.

I don't have any beads to throw you, but for some good luck howsabout you hike up your shirt, then press your jahoobies against your TV and give a ghede a peek? Just imagine you're putting your left nipple in my left ear and your right nipple in my right ear so as I can be enjoying your company in stereo. It's sorta like rubbin' the Buddha's belly for luck. You're just rubbing a little lower is all.

(Sorry, fellas, I don't wanna see what you got. I'm a normal guy. I'm sure some florist ghede somewhere wants to see your private parts, but I ain't him so keep it in your pants).

Now that ol' Harv has made you lucky - and you made me lucky - why not send a little coin to some people what are trying to make the Big Easy big and easy again?