Joe Bones gives 2005 one swift kick

Farewell, goodbye, although I'll cry
Ain't that a shame?
My tears fell like rain
Ain't that a shame?
You're the one to blame
--“Ain’t That a Shame,” Antoine “Fats” Domino & Dave Bartholomew

A day early, here’s my personal worst of 2005:

1) Onetime FEMA head Michael Brown, Louisiana Governor Kathleen Blanco, and New Orleans Mayor C. Ray Nagin take the top spot on my list for their shameful and incompetent handlings of the Hurricane Katrina mess. Right on down the line, each bobbled it from the outset, and then had the chutzpah to play pass the buck in the media. Meanwhile the MSM, in its predictable one-note fashion, blamed it all on Bush.

The way I see it, the whole vile affair exposed, under an unforgiving spotlight, not only corrupt politics in the deep South and the ridiculous nonqualifications of the president's FEMA appointee, but also how profoundly unaware the country is of the reality of climate change, and how unprepared it is to do anything about it.

There were so many hurricanes in 2005 that the National Weather Service ran out of names (21 in all) and had to start identifying them by letters of the Greek alphabet. Currently, brush fires ravage drought-stricken Oklahoma and Texas, and I’m receiving fax blasts from Wall Street speculators predicting that water will be the next hot commodity.

I remain unwavering in my support of President Bush when it comes to national defense and foreign policy in the war on terror. But he absolutely needs to first acknowledge and then start seriously addressing climate change. Taking the lead on this issue could also help constructively reengage disgruntled citizens and traditional allies. Mr. President, what say you? Acknowledge that global climate change is happening? Or keep your head buried in that oil well?

That’s all for my worst of 2005. (Gets down off soapbox.) No, really. Everything else—excluding, perhaps, avian flu—is small potatoes. NSA surveillance of international phone calls? A mere bag of shells. (Remember, you're reading the words of someone who lives one block from the New York Stock Exchange.)

OK, you want more? I rarely watch television because reality shows are real only in that they completely suck; I’ve lost interest in my favorite sport, major league baseball, because some of its biggest stars are chemically enhanced (shame on you, Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds, Jason Giambi, Rafael Palmeiro and God knows who else); “King Kong,” a film I really wanted to see, was so smitten with its cool digital effects that it took an hour longer than it needed to make its point; Ilsa the wonder dog came down with a stubborn skin infection that took a month of antibiotics and several adventurous baths to get rid of, and I probably overspent on equipment for my business by about 800 bucks.

See? Small potatoes.

So here’s to giving 2005 an easy but swift kick in the keester. And here's wishing everyone a happy and healthy 2006!

As is becoming tradition, I’ll greet the New Year without regret and with the Fabulous Faustones at Walker’s in trendy Tribeca. Fausto says, “We'll be doing a variety of swing, jazz, rock, blues, reggae, Cajun, you know, roots music.”

Real live music in your basic neighborood pub, even if the neighborhood happens to be Tribeca. Now we're talking.