In memoriam, c/o those speakers of Yat, those salts of the earth.
"There is going to be a piece of Big
Al everywhere we go forever. One of his restaurants' on every corner, his museum on the service road of causeway, his Christmas light display, and of course one of his boats riding down vets every Mardi Gras Day. This mans spirit will never die. I had the pleasure of working with this man on a daily basis and at times, it was tough. But it is something I will always remember, the good and the bad. His unusual taste in decor and his wild personality is what kept that man young at heart!! For all these wonderful people writing these ruthless post, you know that if you were out and you saw Big
Al walk in somewhere your head turned, whether you had a good experience with him or not. He came from the bottom and worked his way to the top. He did something every human being wishes they could do, and he lived the life we all dream about. It is pathetic how some of you can sit here and bash him for the way he lived. Some of you seem very bitter and very jealous. For all the others posting comments from the heart, keep 'em comin!"
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"Thanks for everything,
Al. It's because of you - we all realized you could be the Hollywood hotshot right here at home. You built it all yourself and took it to the top. As someone said earlier, you were a player.
Our bond was created when I was a child, sitting in WWL's studio eating your delicious chicken during a taping of Popeye & Pals. I remember being a kid going to Lakeside and I'd see some really hot car with a vanity plate - of course it was Al Copeland. Later in life, I was working at the movie theater there at Lakeside when this hot blonde with huge boobs comes up to the box office. She was like a barbie doll - of course she was 'a' Mrs. Copeland. You rocked hard, dude. From your big money boats and cars and houses and chicks and steakhouse dinners and hot restaurants and being rich and not leaving New Orleans and for driving Ferrari's over the potholed streets and for rockin' a pompadour well into the 2000's - you might very well be my famous fried hero. Rest in a 2 Piece Mr. Copeland. You're a frickin' legend."
R.I.P., Al. I was disheartened to hear that your funeral service did not follow your wishes. I, too, believe your body should've been shot out of a canon into Lake Pontchartrain as Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" blared.
