One has to wonder how Rogan feels about the buffoon that Treme's Davis has become. Among the Treme viewers I know, it seems Davis is pretty universally reviled. As Aymar Jean Christian wrote on Racialicious, "Davis is self-important and self-righteous, so wrapped up in his own perception of authenticity—of community, music, politics—that he can't let people in."
But even Davis's devotion to the "real New Orleans" and his place in it is tenuous. In a bar following the Second Line parade, Davis oversteps his own boundaries, justifying his use of the word nigger to an angry black patron with the feeble, "It's OK man, I live in this neighborhood." Does this guy actually think he's black? Or that it doesn't matter if he isn't? The situation escalates to the point that Davis's drinking buddies are actually shhhhhh-ing him, but Davis won't back down, and takes a violent punch to the jaw. He wakes up on the sofa of those same gay neighbors he berated last week for their lack of authenticity, who found him passed out in the street. "You guys brought me in?" he asks incredulously.
The episode also gave us some movement on LaDonna and Toni's search for Daymo. An arresting dream sequence at the start underscored LaDonna's fears about Daymo's fate, and Toni is suing the city corrections office to acknowledge responsibility for Daymo's whereabouts. Later, she traces Daymo to Jeanette's restaurant, where he had worked as a dishwasher, but hasn't been seen since the storm.
The incompetence of the New Orleans law enforcement after the storm is fleshed out, but only barely. After Antoine discovers that the cops who beat him up sold his trombone to a pawn shop, Toni confronts the sergeant, who pleads that his force is tired, angry, and victimized. "No homes, no money, families out of town," he protests. And the Second Line shooting was a sign that things are going to get worse. The crime is coming back and we ain't ready, but you want to talk about a trombone?"
There is a sense of foreboding throughout the episode—as Creighton warns, the next hurricane season is only a few months away, but the federal government has done little to keep Bush's promises to rebuild. You were "lightly joking about the high times you spent in our city as youth while bodies floated in our streets," he accuses the president in another one of his YouTube rants. The feeling is most pronounced in the aftermath of the Second Line, when, after several minutes watching the utter release and joy of the dancers and musicians in "ReNew Orleans" shirts—the moment in which Davina sees and reunites wordlessly with a lost friend was among the most moving of the entire series thus far—we are jarred by the scene by shots and screams. It's brutal, and effective.
Briefly, here's what else happened. Antoine finds a benefactor in a wealthy Japanese jazz aficionado whose organization is providing musicians with money for new instruments. The Japanese man is one of the first sympathetic outsiders we've seen, but perhaps he is only redeemed because of his passion of the music. After the storm, "every time I listen to those records, I cry," he tells Antoine. Albert's trying to light a fire under City Hall to open up the projects so that more of his gang can come home. And Sonny and Annie play host to a bouncer friend that Sonny picked up in Houston, but after watching him spot Sonny cash for dope, Annie sends the visitor packing.