I recall that homo walking down bourbon street talking about how lucky NOLA was immediately after Katrina. Everyone, and I mean everyone knew that the storm wasn’t to issue—it was never the issue. It was the water.
And that fag is skipping in his ruby slippers, tip-tapping down canal street.
I despise that man.
Shep is crying because he can’t run over a female journalist with his car this time round.