And it's in the New York Times:
But to my country I want to say this: During this crisis you failed us. You looked down on us; you dismissed our victims; you dismissed us. You want our Jazz Fest, you want our Mardi Gras, you want our cooking and our music. Then when you saw us in real trouble, when you saw a tiny minority preying on the weak among us, you called us "Sin City," and turned your backs.
Well, we are a lot more than all that. And though we may seem the most exotic, the most atmospheric and, at times, the most downtrodden part of this land, we are still part of it. We are Americans. We are you.
Pretty much says it all to me. Those that are standing on the rooftops in order to shout condemnation, hellfire, and brimstone: may someone do unto you what you have done unto others. Those that are allowing politics to get in the way of relief efforts: may you no longer have a political career. Those that aren't doing whatever they can to help out: may you some day be in the position of the Big Easy.
I'm going down to the Red Cross again tomorrow. It's my day off, so I don't have to worry about getting drained of energy after giving blood. Just because you don't have any money laying around is not an excuse for sitting around and doing nothing.
(NOTE: I REALLY HATE NEEDLES!)