Hurricanes Seriously Blow

I don’t mean to be cruel or heartless, but Hurricane blah, blah, blah. Sure, my heart goes out to those immediately affected by Katrina, those who are injured, even more poor or faithless as a direct result of her indiscreet strike. What a bitch move! But forgive me or don't when I point out that it's all the same story whether we’re talking about Katrina, Ivan, Hugo, Andrew or Snuffalupagus.

First, why are all hurricanes given non-threatening names? What a sucky concept. Katrina isn't foreboding. Katrina does scare shit out of me. It’s suggests cute weather, like light winds and mist, watered grass and children playing in puddles. Hurricane Courtney Love or Hurricane Dennis Rodman, now those are effective hurricane names. The badness may be unpredictable but you know something bad is coming. Courtney or Dennis may not directly hit you, but you're goonna go ahead and steer clear b/c if you get in it's motha fucking way, you'll be washed up, drug addicted and inexplicably crazy by association. Appropriately named hurricanes carry the following warning: consistently careless, ominous, destructive, wild as untamed horses or the new Tara Reid show on E!. (Side note: There is a Hurricane Tara Reid. It’s primarily comprised of silicone. Her reputation at the National Hurricane Center has spread like herpes. She’s reportedly the whore of natural disasters. Hurricane Tara will fuck up any town any time.) Consider if you will Hurricane Whitney and Bobby. It's embarrassing by any standard of measure. When the storm duo first rolls in, the forecast looks promising, a real talented storm, maybe a record-breaker. But then it arrives and all expectations are shot to shit. Pathetic and sloppy, circus comes town, Jerry Springer shit. You feel dirty, but you have to watch as it destroys your every hope for a better life. Imagine if, fifty years ago, Hurricane Liz Taylor hit the Gulf scene. Her signature? She'd fill entire counties with majestic, deep blue skies sprinkled with stars on her path of destruction. These days, when Liz revisits, her beautiy of oblivion has vanished. She's completely out of control and it's sad to witness the last gasps of a legendary hurricane. Not a star in sight, only wailing winds. Her victims want to feel bad for her, they really do. But they can’t because she's still a fucking hurricane. She spins round and round and ruins everything, Gladiator! style. I’m sending these ideas to HBO's Real Time w/ Bill Mahr. Look for my “No More Hurricanes With Pussy Names” during this week’s ‘New Rules’ segment.

The television news coverage sucks, too. It’s so predictable. Been there, blew that. Ninety pound anchors do remote reports attempting to stand still in the wind with no success. Then they cut to stock footage of people in boats paddling by the roofs of their mobile homes. The video is from the previous hurricane or maybe the one before that. Why shoot new tape if the old stuff’ll do? Same tragedy, different day. Inevitably, the mic held by the blowing reporter short circuits, and their sound fades in and out. The commentary is unintelligible, so awful in fact, that the talking heads in the studio swiftly interrupt and say, “OK, well it seems like we’re having some sound difficulties. Sure is a powerful storm. We’ll return to Benita Yakimoto Jackson-Bergenberg as soon as we can. We sure hope she doesn’t blow to Oz in the meantime!”

Newspapers aren’t any better. They print the same tired old crap, but they’re responsible journalists, so they have to change the state, city and town names keep it authentic. The typical sotry goes a little something like this:

HURRICANE RIPS THROUGH ________ (RED STATE)

(BACKWARD STATE) recorded a storm surge of more than 20 feet in , where windows of a major hospital were blown out, utility poles dangled in the wind, and billboards were ripped to shreds. In some areas, authorities pulled stranded homeowners from roofs or rescued them from attics. In (BACKWARD TOWN), exploding transformers lit up the early morning sky as power outages spread. Some mistakenly celebrated, thinking that the storm was over and the fireworks were a sign of relief. “Well, shucks,” Marty Lee Dixon remarked, “I’d a wished it was fireworks. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so bad about leaving 5 of my kids in the basement while I went to git help. I wonder if they're treading water, wondering if I'm comin' back for 'em.”

"Let me tell you something folks. I've been out there. It's complete devastation. Folks are devastated. Their houses and cars and live bait shops are devastated. I’m devastated talking about the devastation," said Gulfport, Miss., Fire Chief Pat ‘Fire Man’ Sullivan, who ventured into the hurricane to check threatened areas. “God all-fuckin-mighty! In my whole entire life up to now, I’ve never seen such devastating devastruction.”

There were no immediate reports of deaths or serious injuries as of midday, but emergency officials had not been able to reach some of the hardest-hit areas. Gov. Haley Barbour of (BACKWARD RED STATE) said he feared deaths among those who chose to ignore evacuation orders.

Those are my favorite hurricane characters, the anti-evacuationers, the ones who stay to protect their shit. The news media portrays them as stubborn heroes, unwilling to give up on keeping their stuff. It’s the American dream played out with a trailer home and a guy lugging sandbags, wearing fly fishing pants while his wife stands expressionless in the background. All the devoted background wives, the Brenda’s or Tammy’s or Jo-Lyene’s, always stick by their man and tough it out till they’re separated from their jelly shoes in a tidal wave. And it’s the dumbest choice they made since they married the loser. Haven’t the evacuationers seen the evacuationers before them on TV? What part of “Get out of Dodge” is so hard to grasp? There isn’t enough plastic on anyone’s couch to withstand Hurricane (PUSSY NAME).

It wouldn’t be a catastrophe without the government’s involvement, all those feeble emergency service teams and ‘disaster area’ designations. On occasion, a spokesperson for the Red Cross has a grip on the situation, but that’s it. The recon tours are my favorite. Traveling down to the (BACKWARD RED STATE) the governor and President exploit the electorate to take advantage of an opportunity to shake the hands and pretend to empathize with all the soggy red staters who’ll love them no matter what. After all, high ranking political officials can totally relate to a family of 9 sleeping on the floor in the high school’s gym. Like when a fuse breaks in the Oval Office, G.W. has to hide under his Presidential desk until the lights come on again. Once a tree fell on the ranch in Crawford, TX and caused a leak. The pot catching the water filled up twice! For more than 3 minutes, Laura and the girls thought all was lost until a Secret Service dude stuck his finger in the hole until help arrived. They were one much bigger and heavier tree away from getting really, really, really wet.

Next, I’ll concede that I haven’t got a solid monetary figure for this, but I would put the cost of refurbishing the ravaged lands in the ballpark of 20-30 million dollars. The manpower, the materials, the planning and the time that it takes to rebuild is extraordinary. And the process isn’t easy. But I think it’s a real sign of fortitude to put the new shit on the same exact flood-lines as the old shit. That’s resiliency for ya. No matter how many times your life drowns under flood water, don’t ever give up. If at sixth you don’t succeed, try, try again. My only advice to the great people of (BACKWARD RED STATE) is to keep asking God and Mother Nature not to piss on you ever again. Sooner or later, they’ll get the message.