I recently finished and posted the final piece of The Murder of the Times-Picayune, a gigantic series on the destruction of my community's daily newspaper.
It's easily the most ambitious piece of nonfiction writing I've ever undertaken; I'm proud of it and very gratified by the response it's received. While it certainly hasn't gone "viral" the way my satirical Summer 2012 Free Skool Schedule did a few months ago, it got a few thousand readers, far beyond what I expected from the narrow overlap of those interested in 1.) the Times Picayune 2.) anti-capitalist analysis 3.) works of text over 10,000 words.
Please note that most of what's on Nola Anarcha isn't by yours truly-- I'm just an occasional contributor.
There may be a (significantly shortened & modified) print version of the Times-Picayune series at some point in the future. Hell, it may even appear in a dead-tree print periodical! In the meantime, here's a useful index to the series from a Birmingham blogger named Wade Kwon.
Alabama got fucked over worse than we did, but of course they're more Southern. If you've got money, you can do anything you like down here in the South; we're your laboratory. We're your blank slate! In New Orleans, a whole host of post-flood profiteers are still jockeying to position themselves as spokespeople for the city, seeking to authoritatively explain it to outside media and taking credit wherever possible for actual grassroots community work that was years in the making. These parasites consider themselves essential; they are "saving" and "modernizing" and "revitalizing" us, only incidentally getting rich in the process-- only incidentally absorbing buckets of money that could go to local or grassroots efforts.
One of the more egregious examples of this phenomenon is an unholy amalgam of non-profit/for-profit fuckheads that variously call themselves "neighborland" and "st claude main street." Appallingly, this fresh-faced clique of upscale out-of-towners have chosen to attach themselves to the specific neighborhood where my partner and I live. In parts three & six of "The Murder of the Times-Picayune" I swat at them in passing, but I urge anyone who shares my bloodlust towards these kind of globetrotting venture-capitalist snakeoil-peddling carpetbaggers to get a rich red mouthful at "Neighborland is not a neighbor," Christine P Horn's comprehensive takedown of their whole terrible enterprise.