Am in New York City today on bidness, stealing a moment from what bids fair to be a remarkably tedious day. On the shuttle on the way up, an item in the morning Post was more than a trifle horrifying. A body found at the Chartres Street Wharf has been identified as that of Barry Cowsill, of the '60s bubblegum group The Cowsills. He'd been missing since Katrina.
This is depressing on two counts. First, well, hell, it's the bass player for The Cowsills. I mean, come on, the "real" Danny Partridge.
But much more importantly, they're still finding bodies. Four-months-plus, and they haven't even found all the dead. Not to crow -- absolutely not to crow -- but the utterly unforgiveable delay in the cleanup of NOLA and the dreadful surprises still coming to light were foreseeable even in late August. The Rude Pundit's been doing first-person photo-reporting from New Orleans that absolutely must not be missed:
Oddly, you don't see many photos like The Rude One's in the Washington Post. If Chevy Chase looked like the Ninth Ward, I imagine you might.
Oh, and the discovery of Cowsill's body is on page C3 in the Style section. Below the Nude Chefs Calendar and Doonesbury. Yeah, we've got our priorities straight.