Antebellum fucko fever

I've been researching Yellow Fever a bit this summer, and have come across many an example of the New Orleans fucko continuum. The following item from the Picayune detailing the summer funk of 1837 seems to have particular resonance today. From 172 years later, I feel ya:

The levee is dull, dreary and lifeless at this time. No business doing, and the few ships in port are losing money for want of cargoes. Steamboats arrive but seldom, and bring neither news, money or goods. Every person feels like sleeping or running away for the next three weeks and a half - but most of those now in the city are bound to stay, to fulfill engagements, live or die. We make out to bury our dead, drink juleps, or brandy toddies, talk to each other and read letters and the news of the day...