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By Lloyd ChristmasGot a little monkey and she wonÂ’t say no Got a little monkey and sheÂ’s ready to go Took my monkey to the Dollar Store Taught my monkey two and two is four Told my monkey not to be so sad SheÂ’s the best damn monkey that I ever had Feed the monkey 
Put my monkey on a TV show Told my monkey not to be so slow Bought my monkey a bass guitar Now my monkeyÂ’s gonna be a star Kissed my monkey on a Saturday night Married that monkey on the Isle of Wight Feed the monkey Feed the monkey 

This month's hero has set an outstanding example for all those who know that speed limits and other laws of the road are only for the common folk and do not apply to those who were once married to someone who formerly wielded much power. That's right: This month, we're honoring the former wife of the former governor of the great state of Louisiana, Candy Edwards.

By Mr. E. BatesOf all of them I laid, And all of them I paid, With only one to ever say – “I love you.” 
She was willing and dove white, A young lady of the night, Who wanted me alone, Forever more. 
Yet being young and vain, I repaid love with pain, Rejecting the affection of a whore. 
I canÂ’t forget the wreck, Or her arms around my neck, With the deadly poison coursing through her veins. 

I was lucky enough to see an advanced screening of The Fantastic Four. I was really excited because I thought it was about two hos with nice racks. It was really about these five white people that went into space. Normally, this lack of black representation would make me mad. There is, however, a very good reason there were no brothers in space: Any brother with half a brain knows, if he goes to outer space with five white people and something goes wrong, heÂ’s the first one to die. 

IÂ’m sitting here, watching The Dukes of Hazzard on TV, and I canÂ’t believe we fell in love with this show. It had to be the corniest show in the world, but then I realized it started in the late seventies and blossomed in the early eighties. I mean, everyone loved it, from the Asian community to the high-class, house-on-the-hill folks.

I’ve always said this world is full of crazy people. You know what? I’m right! Authoring “Altar Call” provokes a constant stream of emails to my inbox. They’re usually chock full of assertions about how bad I “suck” or how I’m the “father” of their “child.” However, I was quite disturbed by a recent email from a young man who identifies himself only by his internet handle, “Esc8ped_Cult_69.” Be forewarned: his story, which I will encapsulate here, is not for the faint of heart, as it involves being raised in and then escaping from a cult.

The old folks always say, “Never judge a book by its cover.” I have been very judgmental of this brother. As I sit in his office, preparing myself to interview him, I see, hear, and smell a lot of African ancestry, from the jazz we’re listening to right now to the many, countless books that line his bookcase. Judging by the titles, all of them have significant meaning. The brother I’m referring to is Ed Buggs: journalist, entrepreneur, and radio and television talk-show host.

The similarities between LSU Men’s Basketball Coach John Brady and President George W. Bush are quite eerie. Each man succeeds a charismatic and highly controversial predecessor, only to become a charismatic and highly controversial figure himself. Each has two daughters, one of which has the initials B.B., whose first name is often misspelled by white trash, thanks to a silent-in-the-southern-dialect “A” (Brittany Brady, Barbara Bush). Each man is in his fifties.

In case you haven’t noticed, folks, we have a nickname for the BACS – Louisiana’s X Games. Why do we call it that? Well, just like the X Games participants, drunk drivers take the official sport of our fair state (drinking) and take it to the “extreme.” (In case you didn’t know, that’s where the “X” comes from.) These fine athletes risk physical injury for the sake of accomplishing feats that many say can’t, or shouldn’t, be done. They ignore the naysayers and follow their dream of, one day, hoisting the Judge Don Johnson Trophy.

Better Late Than NeverÂ…I Guess

Well, they finally did it. The East Baton Rouge Metro Council, after a seven-week stalemate and dozens of futile votes, finally elected a mayor pro tem on February 23. Four-term councilman Joe Greco got the nod, but only after the $1500 stipend for that position had been eliminated by the council just moments before the deciding votes were cast. That move allowed the pro tem candidates to vote for themselves by removing the much-discussed conflict-of-interest aspect of such a vote.