It was 1999 and I was reading Andrei Codrescu's latest book, Messiah. I was doing so at Tipitina's in New Orleans, the original location that has played home over so many years to the likes of Dr. John, The Meters and Allen Toussaint. Tipitina's was and remains a cradle for New Orleans music, slightly outside tourism's gaze.
A fellow diner sitting next to me at the bar leaned over and asked, "Why are you reading that crap?" I remember that his treatment of the word "crap" took such disdainful, scurrilous form splayed as it was in a thick, gravely Eastern European accent. I turned to this stranger and slowly realized that he was, indeed, author, editor and NPR commentator Andrei Codrescu. We spoke for 20 minutes on a variety of subjects including his NPR commentaries, to which he raised his voice and said -"screw NPR." He graciously signed my copy of his book. I later read his thoughtful inscription and it said - "screw NPR."
A fellow diner sitting next to me at the bar leaned over and asked, "Why are you reading that crap?" I remember that his treatment of the word "crap" took such disdainful, scurrilous form splayed as it was in a thick, gravely Eastern European accent. I turned to this stranger and slowly realized that he was, indeed, author, editor and NPR commentator Andrei Codrescu. We spoke for 20 minutes on a variety of subjects including his NPR commentaries, to which he raised his voice and said -"screw NPR." He graciously signed my copy of his book. I later read his thoughtful inscription and it said - "screw NPR."