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Started By
Message
Only one contractor bids to remove New Orleans' confederate monuments, wants $600,000
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:23 pm
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:23 pm
LINK
quote:
Only one bidder has submitted a proposal to take down three Confederate monuments in New Orleans and is asking more than three times the amount the city has budgeted for the project.
Cuzan Services Limited submitted a $600,000 bid to remove statues of Confederate generals Robert E. Lee and P.G.T. Beauregard and Confederate President Jefferson Davis from public areas in New Orleans. The bid was opened Tuesday afternoon.
The requirements of the bid call for the statues to be removed by mid-May. Officials have said they will be stored in a city warehouse until a permanent location such as a park or museum can be found where they can be put in their "proper context."
36
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:23 pm to WPBTiger
I'll do it for half that.
ETA:
Wait do people actually give a shite about this?
ETA:
Wait do people actually give a shite about this?
This post was edited on 4/4/17 at 2:43 pm
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:25 pm to WPBTiger
Those offended should offer up the difference. The cost of not having hurt feelings should more than outweigh actual cost to remove these.
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:25 pm to WPBTiger
you would think there was a black owned company that would have a lower bid. Guessing the bid is so high because of potential backlash
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:26 pm to WPBTiger
Cuzan is a pain in the arse to deal with too. They'd probably frick up.
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:27 pm to WPBTiger
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:28 pm to WPBTiger
quote:
Officials have said they will be stored in a city warehouse until a permanent location such as a park or museum can be found where they can be put in their "proper context."
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:28 pm to WPBTiger
What are the odds the statues "get damaged"?
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:28 pm to WPBTiger
It sounds like they are just removing the statues and not the bases as well. This is going to look terrible with just the bases sitting there with nothing on top.
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:29 pm to WPBTiger
Built in cost of the owners Lambo that will inevitably get torched.
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:29 pm to WPBTiger
quote:
"proper context."
wtf does this mean
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:33 pm to WPBTiger
I have a feeling that Cuzan Services will be fielding many phone calls shortly with people expressing their opposition to the removal.
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:34 pm to WPBTiger
LolNO
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:34 pm to WPBTiger
And it the contract doesn't even cover the removal of the most offensive one, Liberty Monument.
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:35 pm to WPBTiger
Good for Mitch. His passion project he used to help get him elected is now going to cost the city triple what he planned for. Dude is so incompetent. Landrieus will continue to destroy Nola.
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:40 pm to WPBTiger
I think it's idiotic and short sighted to tear down the statues but $600k? I wonder how much this cost:
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:44 pm to WPBTiger
I wouldn't bid on it either. A lot of clients are probably conservatives and this would be bad for business.
I think the state should take it down personall
I think the state should take it down personall
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:44 pm to WPBTiger
It was a muggy August day in New Orleans, overly hot for the season, but not uncommon to the locals. The air hung heavy and damp as Skronquavious finished mugging his third tourist of the day. A fine haul of 43 dollars, an iPhone and some jewelry had been well worth beating the middle aged New York native about the face with his pistol. He left her whimpering in the alley as he grabbed the front of his sagging pants and walked away. He overheard the sounds of the local news through an open window. Apparently the city council had voted to remove the Confederate statues in the city, to a raucous applause from the assembled natives. Skronquavious mused on how the city was finally doing something to combat the terrible problems of New Orleans, and rounded the corner with a golden smile flashing across his lips.
He stood in the looming shadow. The sun no longer reflected across his grill. He raised his gaze slowly across the grey-green boots. The trunks of metal legs. The oxidized overcoat.
His brown eyes beheld a bronze beard a foot above his head. Metal eyes met his gaze, empty and unfeeling, silently judging him. His own grew wide with confusion and fear, followed by anger. His gun came up parallel to the sidewalk and his mouth formed into a sneer as he grabbed his crotch with one hand and fired his pistol into the obstacle in his path, each report accompanied by curse from his lips.
The bullets tore through the figure, punching neat holes through the first layer of metal skin and rattling around as they struck the other side, their velocity not enough to carry them through.
The mouth never moved. The eyes never blinked. Skronquavious's sneer turned to a trembling of lips as the golem swung its sword in a terrible arc. The blade made thick, wet sound as it sliced through his neck in a font of blood. His dreadlocks fanned out in all directions as his head rolled into the gutter, like dice in a back alley game.
The General stood sentinel straight, the red gore dripping fromI his saber. Seems he had his work cut out for him. But after all, it was they that had wanted him to come down...
He stooped down, metal joints creaky from a century of stillness, to wipe his blade upon the crumpled form of the former thug. And then, he began to walk. He had his work cut out for him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crowd protesting around the confederate monument was a hodgepodge of the most virulent strains of Social Justice Warrior. Women, or rather piles of fat and flesh with short, spiked, dyed hair screamed and cackled, their jiggling arms clutching signs denouncing nebulous "racism" and "patriarchy".
Hipsters with skinny jeans and ironic t-shirts also made up clumps, apathetically vaping, their dreads smelling of patchouli and neglect. Some of the darker denizens of the city endlessly chanted tired and uninspired slogans. A motley crew for certain, annoying passersby with accusations of privilege and racism.
Yet the din began to cease as, one by one, they turned to hear the source of a peculiar, unfamiliar sound coming from down the street.
CLANK
A morbidly obese woman with a green pixie cut craned her flabby neck...
CLANK
A woman in a headscarf lowered her black power fist and stopped yelling at a father and his child and turned around...
CLANK
A skinny white male reached his tattooed hand up to remove his false glasses, sure that his eyes were deceiving him...
CLANK
CLANK
CLANK
The noise stopped, and they stood, spellbound, as the figure that should not be towered over them. There was only silence from the crowd now. No chants, no shouts, just the sound of sirens in the distance and the constant hum of the interstate. The figure stared down at the ones who wished to bring him down from his lofty perch of ages. He frowned, perplexed at this curious assemblage of humanity. And then the silence broke, with a trigglypuff hurling her big gulp at him and screaming "frick YOU SHITLORD!"
The styrofoam cup exploded against his metal chest, sending streams of orange soda splashing to the ground.
He cricked his neck twice, back and forth, as the hambeast continued to scream at him. Then, in one swift motion, he plunged his sword into her gaping maw mid-shriek and silenced the horrid noise. His blade stuck out the back of her fat head, bits of blood and brain clinging to it. The crowd stared, slack jawed, paralyzed by the unreal scene that had played out before them. And then the grim, grisly work began.
He stood in the looming shadow. The sun no longer reflected across his grill. He raised his gaze slowly across the grey-green boots. The trunks of metal legs. The oxidized overcoat.
His brown eyes beheld a bronze beard a foot above his head. Metal eyes met his gaze, empty and unfeeling, silently judging him. His own grew wide with confusion and fear, followed by anger. His gun came up parallel to the sidewalk and his mouth formed into a sneer as he grabbed his crotch with one hand and fired his pistol into the obstacle in his path, each report accompanied by curse from his lips.
The bullets tore through the figure, punching neat holes through the first layer of metal skin and rattling around as they struck the other side, their velocity not enough to carry them through.
The mouth never moved. The eyes never blinked. Skronquavious's sneer turned to a trembling of lips as the golem swung its sword in a terrible arc. The blade made thick, wet sound as it sliced through his neck in a font of blood. His dreadlocks fanned out in all directions as his head rolled into the gutter, like dice in a back alley game.
The General stood sentinel straight, the red gore dripping fromI his saber. Seems he had his work cut out for him. But after all, it was they that had wanted him to come down...
He stooped down, metal joints creaky from a century of stillness, to wipe his blade upon the crumpled form of the former thug. And then, he began to walk. He had his work cut out for him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crowd protesting around the confederate monument was a hodgepodge of the most virulent strains of Social Justice Warrior. Women, or rather piles of fat and flesh with short, spiked, dyed hair screamed and cackled, their jiggling arms clutching signs denouncing nebulous "racism" and "patriarchy".
Hipsters with skinny jeans and ironic t-shirts also made up clumps, apathetically vaping, their dreads smelling of patchouli and neglect. Some of the darker denizens of the city endlessly chanted tired and uninspired slogans. A motley crew for certain, annoying passersby with accusations of privilege and racism.
Yet the din began to cease as, one by one, they turned to hear the source of a peculiar, unfamiliar sound coming from down the street.
CLANK
A morbidly obese woman with a green pixie cut craned her flabby neck...
CLANK
A woman in a headscarf lowered her black power fist and stopped yelling at a father and his child and turned around...
CLANK
A skinny white male reached his tattooed hand up to remove his false glasses, sure that his eyes were deceiving him...
CLANK
CLANK
CLANK
The noise stopped, and they stood, spellbound, as the figure that should not be towered over them. There was only silence from the crowd now. No chants, no shouts, just the sound of sirens in the distance and the constant hum of the interstate. The figure stared down at the ones who wished to bring him down from his lofty perch of ages. He frowned, perplexed at this curious assemblage of humanity. And then the silence broke, with a trigglypuff hurling her big gulp at him and screaming "frick YOU SHITLORD!"
The styrofoam cup exploded against his metal chest, sending streams of orange soda splashing to the ground.
He cricked his neck twice, back and forth, as the hambeast continued to scream at him. Then, in one swift motion, he plunged his sword into her gaping maw mid-shriek and silenced the horrid noise. His blade stuck out the back of her fat head, bits of blood and brain clinging to it. The crowd stared, slack jawed, paralyzed by the unreal scene that had played out before them. And then the grim, grisly work began.
This post was edited on 4/4/17 at 2:56 pm
Posted on 4/4/17 at 2:54 pm to WPBTiger
quote:
Only one bidder has submitted a proposal to take down three Confederate monuments in New Orleans and is asking more than three times the amount the city has budgeted for the project.
Welp.
Looks like General Lee ain't going anywhere for the time being.
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