As of today, I'm proud to make a change to that countdown. Instead of counting down the remaining days in the Bush presidency, it now counts down the days to the inauguration of President-Elect Barack H. Obama of Illinois.

At about 2:23am GMT this morning, the call came over the wire that Senator Obama had carried the state of Ohio, making the historic election of this thoughtful, remarkable man a near-dead certainty. Superstitious as I am, I hesitated to accept it. But I allowed myself a brief moment to weep at the enormity of the moment.

As an expatriate American for the last 8 years, I have known the incredulity of the world at the ability of such a great country to elevate a man like George Bush to an office of such honour. But as I wake up tomorrow, I'll wake up for the first time in a long time proud of the political decisions of my countrymen (and women). I'll wake up ready to speak out that my country, capable of great selfishness and myopia, is still capable of great things, impossible achievements, and still has a few tricks up its sleeve.

Now that it's official (or at least officially projected) I sit here weeping, watching images of people around the world celebrating at this incredible moment. And there in my tears lives the one thing that started this journey for me, with this man, who I'll soon be able to call my president: Hope.

(via Talking Points Memo)

Glitterditch is written by the always talented (and occasionally sober) Sian Meades, formerly of londonist, and the newest exciting addition to MessyMedia's stable of talent.

Covering the ins and outs of London's seamy underbelly, Glitterditch will bring you London as you've always imagined it, dark and sleazy, full of engaging personalities from the A-list to the Z-list.

We invite you to give it a try and drop a line to let us know what you think. And remember... there's no 'b' in Glitterditch.

Westmonster's been going nearly a month now, and while it still has a way to go before it gets where it needs to be, the progress has been encouraging. If you haven't had a look yet, please do. And those of you looking in from overseas, if you were in the UK, you'd be seeing ads.

Today's post follows on from the previous one, because now that we've got a company... well it would only make sense if the company had a product.

The product came out today, and it's called Westmonster.

Westmonster is a website edited by Sadie Smith, and it focuses on the ins and outs of British politics, politicians, and political coverage.

Here at Westmonster we believe political life's too important to be taken seriously (as someone famous once said). We plan to give you a slightly sideways look at what's going on in the corridors of power and how our brethren in the meedja are reporting it. With the marketplace already crammed full of online news sites, blogging grandads, collectives of comrades, ascendant right-wing blogs, and outright tinfoil hattery in some cases - well, we figured we couldn't knacker the discourse any further. Right? Right?

In short, Westmonster aims to bring you what's going on in Westminster, from the insane to the mundane.

Go on over, have a look, and let us know what you think.

MessyMedia is a new digital publishing venture in the UK that I've founded with my former Yahoo colleague and now business partner Lloyd Shepherd.

Over the course of many years (and many beers) Lloyd and I had an ongoing roundtable discussion, mainly around the internet and politics. Right around the time I had firmly decided to move back to London, Lloyd was reaching the conclusion that he needed to move on from his work as well. We put our heads together, and Messy is what we came up with.

What is it then? I'll let you read the introductory post to our corporate blog to get a general sense. But the truth is that we both believe firmly that digital tools have lowered the bar to publishing, and that people are failing to take advantage of that -- particularly in the UK.

The established players here are worried about cannibalising their existing print businesses and lacking the focus necessary to adjust their models for the new publishing world. On the other hand, quite a lot of what's being published digitally by smaller publishers in the UK tends to either be hyper-nichey (like that?) or just prattle.

We see ourselves fitting somewhere in between the two. Focusing on quality, entertaining writing, and reaching for a wide, broad-based audience, we want to mess up the world of publishing in the UK.

Thus, MessyMedia.

We'll be launching our first title in the coming weeks, and more in the coming months. Keep your eyes open for it, and I certainly hope you like it.

Well the answer is generally no, with some sprinklings of yes around the city. But what truly grates is how unprepared the New Orleans' flood protection system would be if another, not-quite-perfect storm hit.

“If I got my risk reduced by five feet five inches, I’d feel pretty safe,” said Leah Pratcher, (of Gentilly) who along with her husband, Henry, warily returned home from Baton Rouge, La. “Six inches is not going to help us out.” Ms. Pratcher said she would continue to demand change — and to pray. “I do believe in God,” she said. “He’s the person I’m calling on now to help us, because man isn’t doing it.”

Apparently she's unaware that El Presidente is the only person God listens to.

I've been down here since Tuesday, and hadn't seen a bit of music. Nothing, nada. This is very unlike me, but a combination of jetlag and my brain probably not really believing it's fest conspired to keep my enthusiasm level low. On Thursday night, after picking up Mike, Joe, and Alex from the airport, we went to the Howlin' Wolf for a late show, only to wait for an hour until 2am and they still hadn't opened the doors. We went home.

Yesterday, I hit the fairgrounds, and I still wasn't feeling it. This is extremely unlike me. Usually, the minute my feet hit that sand around the racetrack, the butterflies go a-flapping. Yesterday, nothing. We had some food (Prejean's pheasant/quail/andouille gumbo, if you must know), and headed over to see some of Zachary Richard. Who was delayed by almost an hour. Seriously -- I'm thinking at this point that I might not ever get to see some music.

So we wander around over to the Acura stage, and finally -- FINALLY -- get to hear some music. It's George Porter, Jr., and it's good, but I'm still not feeling it. This is a really bad sign. If nothing else, George's enthusiasm is infectuous. So I go through the motions for a couple of numbers, and then... well then George plays his cheesiest song... and all of a sudden I'm feeling it. The butterflies kick in during the opening conga-line bars of George's "Happy Song." He screams, "Happy Jazzfest," and all of a sudden I'm here as much in mind as I am in body.

The rest of the day was a blast, a rapid-fire succession of great music (James Carter Trio was the highlight) and great food (it's going to be hard to beat the aforementioned gumbo in the food ratings).

On the way home, another stop at the airport to pick up Manolo and his cousin, and I'm really here. Then, exhausted, off to the Maple Leaf for Papa Grows Funk, where former Galactic frontman Theryl "Houseman" De Clouet sits in on a couple of numbers. The band leans in to the Meters' "Ain't No Use," and now I'm really here, feeling it. Feeling it all.

I'm feeling tired, but I don't care. I'm feeling a little bit sick, to be honest, but I don't care.

It's jazzfest, and I'm feeling the music. At last. And on that account, I care very much.

The first recipe is up there, and more tips, recipes, and food-gadget-porn will follow. Enjoy!

In those places today where executions are still permitted, they are largely carried out in private, with very few witnesses. That allows us, the effective executioners, to carry on with our lives without having to face the ugly reality of what we've permitted, what we've done, who we are to permit or tolerate such a practice. It affords us the distance to absolve ourselves of responsibility.

The video of Saddam Hussein's execution before an angry, bloodthirsty mob lays bare this barbaric custom, a relic of Hammurabi, the brutal expression of our collective lust for vengeance. In the instant this murderous dictator falls from the gallows, so too do we in that instant become him -- brutal murderers bent on our own twisted measure of justice.

Let me say this: if the price of "justice" is to become what we seek to punish, even for just a second, then I'll have no part of that.

Whichever side of the death penalty debate you stand on, I strongly urge you to watch this video of the execution of Saddam Hussein.