corrente

From alert reader, "The Other Sarah," this response to quoted comments in this Riggsveda post found at the website of Jane Gault regarding the general unworthiness of those victims of "Katrina," who failed to evacuate New Orleans, by choice, as dictated by their bad race and worse culture, struck me as requiring wider circulation.

"The average poor person in America owns a car."

Not in New Orleans.
Bicycles can be hard to come by.
I've never seen a city quite like it.
The mass transit actually works, because people depend upon the system to get to their schools, their jobs, their homes, their groceries.

I weep for what I saw last summer in New Orleans -- and I never thought I would weep over New Orleans, because it wasn't a romantic place, a glamorous place, a lovely place, I saw there; it was a downtown in poor repair, its populace beleaguered by the heat and humidity of the banks of the Mississippi in the middle of summer.

I weep for the woman walking along behind her seeing-eye dog -- I bet they didn't get out.

I weep for the horses pulling the carriages along Jackson Square. I bet they didn't get out.

I weep for the white tigers at the Audubon Zoo, and the nudibranchs in the Aquarium of the Americas. I know they didn't get out.

I weep for the downtown library -- a haven for the homeless, walking distance away from Morrial Center (about halfway between there and the Superdome) surrounded by the loveliest of giant live oaks.

I weep for the riverbank wildlife drowned and displaced.

I weep for the children; the old, the sick, the broke, the strays, the pups and cats and livestock -- chickens, they used to have downtown -- far more than I ever could be moved to weep for the Hotel Intercontinental; the building I will miss is the National Park dedicated to jazz, with its living-room-size auditorium where a gentle genius played beguiling piano for two hours that stiflingly hot afternoon. I don't weep for Emeril's -- but for the little Mexican restaurant two blocks down, where I got the best fajitas of my life about eight hours after I busted my ankle last summer in New Orleans ... and now I wish I had stayed away, because then all I'd feel is the distant anguish that comes from watching TV.

The price we all pay for the narrow majority that elected this moron is beyond bearing now. The butcher's bill in New Orleans, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama will dwarf the numbers of dead Saddam gassed.

We haven't yet begun to imagine the toll -- depression, disease, displacement, dehydration, lack of medical care, lack of sanitation, lack of clean drinking water in the blistering hell of a tropical seaside disaster zone ...

and these morons celebrate.

May the God whose vengeance they're always chortling over other people meeting still be pissed when they die.
The Other Sarah | 09.02.05 - 9:39 pm | #

May all the Gods stay pissed; in any case, I intend to find comfort in my uncertain knowledge that such sentiments doom their holders to burn in hell for all eternity.

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EDITOR'S NOTE: If The Other Sarah is referring to THE oft-mentioned gassing of the Kurds, with a death toll of approximately 20,000, the Gods forbid, we may be looking at the horror of a death toll number which exceeds that total. However, Saddam's total murder rate must also include a huge purge carried out among the Shia as punishment for an attempt to unseat Saddam, and an additional 100,000 Shia, who answered GWBush's call to rise up against Saddam immediately after the first Gulf War.

On the other hand, the response of both the Reagan and the first Bush administration to Saddam's horrors is roughly equivalent to the response, thus far, of this Bush administration to the wrath of the intelligently designed hurricane known as "Katrina."