Houston Texans prove me wrong

I'd like to think that I admit it when I'm wrong. I don't, but I'd like to think so. My standard excuse is, "If I was wrong, it was because key information was withheld."

Here, though, that's not the case.

I stated last month that if the Houston Texans could manage to host a home game this season, we could discuss the comparative rebuilding prowess of Texas and Louisiana. Well, they did.

But they cheated.

Officials expect that all eight of Houston's home games this season will be played with the roof open.

I realize I was not specific when I threw out my challenge.

Hell, when you manage to host a home football game before the end of the season, we can talk about who's better in a crisis.

They managed to do that and I will admit that they dealt with their football problem better than we did. One can only imagine what the Saints 05-06 season would have been like if Superdome officials had been as forward thinking as the folks at Reliant Park. "Fuck it," they would have said. "We'll just play with the son-of-a-bitch broken."

Texas: If it ain't fixed, leave it broke.

Though the Texans played well, they blew a 17 point lead in the last four minutes.

They choked, because that's what happens to dirty, sneaky cheaters.

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How to fix a natural disaster

16 die in attack on U.S. Embassy in Yemen

I bet Bush wishes he had thought of that 3 years ago.

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Quick thought on Ike

More to come later, but I saw this on MSNBC today and just couldn't believe it.

Officials from Texas pressed for equal treatment from federal aid agencies. "I have asked the president and the administration to just treat us as fairly as they treated Louisiana back during Katrina," said Texas Gov. Rick Perry. "Texans will take care of the rest."

Mr Perry, you really might want to rethink that statement. I hope you haven't put it in writing. If you did, you just fucked the citizens of Galveston and Houston.

If you want help that is a day late and a dollar short, then ask to be treated like Louisiana. If you want an enormous, unreasonable bill from FEMA for a percentage of the money they wasted through ridiculous red tape and bureaucracy, ask to be treated like Louisiana. If you want your citizens to receive help that will endanger their health and welfare, brought to them through no-bid contracts with barely regulated out-of-state contractors, then ask to be treated like Louisiana.

If you want, "Heckuva job, Brownie!" then ask to be treated like Louisiana.

I could go on.

And on.

And on.

Mr. Perry, set your sights a bit higher, like maybe Mississippi. You have ruined casinos, right? Better build some, quick.

Oh, and FUCK YOU VERY MUCH for the insinuation that Texans are somehow able to help themselves better than Louisianians. We've already started to see the same bitching and carrying on from your superior, self sufficient and, may I add, incredibly wealthy citizenry. When you get Galveston up and running in less than a year, get back to me. When Houston is back to pre-storm population in less than two, give me a call. Hell, when you manage to host a home football game before the end of the season, we can talk about who's better in a crisis.

Until then:

Don't mess with Texas. You don't know where it's been.

*I don't need any irate Texans leaving nasty comments. I'm mad at your governor, not you. I hope someone in charge over there has been paying attention. It's not going to be easy.

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This is kind of important LA SPCA annoucement

Emphasis mine

From the Louisiana SPCA:

The Louisiana SPCA is currently handling animal emergency and animal rescue calls ONLY. To report an animal emergency or an animal needing rescue please contact the Louisiana SPCA at 504-368-5191 ext. 100 or contact the Louisiana SPCA by email at info@la-spca.org. Because the shelter is located in Algiers, which is still impacted by power outages, the Louisiana SPCA is currently not open to the public but we will resume our regular operations as soon as possible.

The LA/SPCA is also alerting New Orleans residents that several unauthorized animal groups have entered New Orleans to go onto citizens’ properties to remove animals, presenting themselves as animal rescuers. Please be aware that the Louisiana SPCA is the only organization in Orleans Parish authorized to respond to animal rescue calls and to respond to animal emergencies.

If you see anyone entering your or your neighbor’s property that is not with the Louisiana SPCA and are attempting to remove an animal from its property it should be immediately reported to the police. Please check the LA/SPCA website at www.la-spca.org for continual updates.

Props to Best of New Orleans Blog (aka Gambit) for the heads-up.

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Everything is fine

For me, anyway. Still trying to get everything up and running. Probably just in time to take it all down again for Ike. Fuck me.

This is the price one pays for living in the most interesting city in the nation.

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Happy Anniversary

They buried the last of the bodies today. One day maybe we can dispel the ghosts, as well.

I can't really say it any better than Michael.

3 Years Later, 85 Saints Go Marching In

Please raise your glass tonight to the most wonderful city in the world. 3 years down, eternity to go.

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Monday, August 29th, 2005 4:30 AM Please.

This post is the ninth part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.

I don't know when I fell asleep, but something woke me up. Probably a cat. I can't get back to sleep, the reason for which you'll see in a minute, so I'm back here, trying to make sense of all of this or at least put it down so I can make sense of it later. I just don't know.

I walked out to the kitchen to get some water or juice or something and my mother was in the living room sitting on a chair, not the couches, but a dining room chair. It took me a minute to register what was going on. She had her pajamas on and was parked not two feet from my aunt's giant television. I could see her face in its glow and she was quietly sobbing, her shoulders shaking. The ice in her glass tinkled with every shudder. I walked around behind her, put mu cheek on the top of her head and my arms around her shoulders. "Momma. What are you doing out here?" She didn't answer me.

I looked up at the TV and and there she was in all her glory, the beautiful and terrible Katrina. The volume was muted. We just watched her, this picture from another universe, an impossible picture, as she swept silently toward Louisiana and consumed the coastline, the entire state. And then back out, rolling in again with those beautiful bands and her perfect eye. Creeping in, jumping back out. Over and over again. I have no idea how long we stayed that way. I put my cheek on hers and realized I had started crying, too. "Don't worry, Momma. It will turn. It will. They always do."... "No, baby, I don't think so. Not this time."

After a while, I got up and left her there.

It has to turn. It HAS to. I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't.

Please God, if you're there, if you were ever there, please make it turn away. Please. I'm sorry. Please just forgive me and MAKE IT TURN!

please

fuck

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Sunday, August 28, 2005, 10PM The suspense is killing me

This post is the eighth part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.

Some changes... The no names thing is too confusing, so I went back here and added names for clarity.

Such a surreal day. I don't remember much of it except in flashes here and there.

Todd and Nikki rolled in around 10AM. Said there was no traffic at all. Fuckers. I guess we were with all the suckers who left on time. Their dog immediately started humping Charlene's dog and there was a brief bit of drama. They brought our friend Annabelle and her dog, as well, so now the tally is 12 people, 9 dogs, 2 cats.

My parents arrived after noon. There was a brief flurry of emotion when my mother came in. She had apparently been crying the whole way. Tory and I avoided that little squall by going to unload all the stuff my parents had brought with them. Office computers, boxes upon boxes of files, just about everything in my mother's house that was irreplaceable. And the dogs, cages and accoutrement.

I remember the forced way that everyone moved and spoke. No one has been forcing themselves or pretending to be happy. We are all genuinely happy to be here with each other, but every word is coated with dread and fear is in every exhalation, until the the fumes from it all are choking. And I couldn't sneak away for a smoke.

The little bit of levity was provided by Mr. Jack Daniels and the good folks at the Abita brewery. We drank almost all day. Not like Mardi Gras, more like a funeral. With the Weather Channel in the background.

I spent a great part of the day lying in Matthew's bed with the same thoughts running through my head on an endless loop.

Are we missing anything important?...Did I do everything I needed to do?...Is the house secure enough?...I wish the dogs would shut the fuck up...Jasper! Leave that alone...Wow this kid has a lot of crap...When can I get a fucking cigarette?...When are they going to come on TV and tell us everything is OK?...I wish Nash Roberts would wake up and say something...Jesus, she packed a lot of clothes...Get off me, Stella... (Poor baby Stella. Not even a year old and on her way to becoming a world traveler.)I'm sorry, come here...I need another drink...

I've tried to stay away from the TV, but it's just hypnotic. The waiting and the waiting and the waiting. The reporters on the ground seem to be just as impatient and anxious as we are. "Just hurry the fuck up, already, you stupid bitch!!!" The same information over and over and over, nothing new, no change, steady course.

I'd get in bed, but I won't be able to sleep. There's no escape from the horror of anticipation.

I'm going outside to smoke. And I need another drink.

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Sunday, August 28, 2005 7:30 AM What the fuck?

This post is the seventh part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.

My father just called and asked me if there was anything in our house that we wanted to save or absolutely needed to keep. I didn't know what to tell him. Even if I could think straight in the face of that question, I wouldn't in a million years be able to tell him where anything is.

My mother is hysterical.

Apparently, what was just a possibility last night is suddenly a done deal.

This can't be happening.

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Saturday, August 27, 2005 Guess what I did today.

This post is the sixth part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.

I'm totally exhausted from this horrible day, but I'm still (with two drinks in me) wired from driving, so what the hell - might as well blog.

So we moved the office. Forever. As I predicted, it took a lot longer than it should have. It wasn't helped by the several phone calls from my wife. She was worried, to say the least. I had her packing up to evacuate, but she managed to finish before I thought she would. I got a little angrier with her than I should have, I guess. She kept asking me, "Why do you have to this today?" I finally yelled raised my voice, "Because when this thing turns, I have to be at work on Monday!" That's probably not the case at this point.

Then my father and I boarded up his house. Then he helped me board up our house. I packed my wife, all of our stuff and the cats into the car, drove over to mom and dad's, parked our cars in their garage, transferred our stuff to mom's Explorer, and took off.

It only took us 5 hours this time. So either the State Police learned from their mistakes last year or not as many people are leaving as we thought.

We got to my aunt's around 10, kicked my cousin out of his room and I got the cats and my wife settled. I didn't realize until I was unpacking how much my wife packed. It looks like we're staying for two weeks. My aunt made a remark when I was bringing everything in. "Did you bring the whole house?" she said. Almost.

So here's the tally of evacuees at my aunt and uncle's house. I've added the familial relationships so I don't have to explain too much about our interactions. See if you can keep up.

So far:
Me
My wife
Our two cats (Jasper and Stella, for those who haven't kept up)
My great aunt, Carrie (my mother's father's sister)
Her three dogs (2 toy poodles and a mid-sized mutt)

Coming tomorrow will be:
My mother
My father
Their two dogs (Standard poodles)
My (second) cousin, Todd (my mother's father's sister's (not Carrie) son)
His girlfriend, Nikki
Their dog (Doberman puppy)

Add to that the regular inhabitants:
My aunt, Charlene (my mother's sister)
My uncle, Mark
My two cousins - Kathy, girl, 18 and Michael, boy , 15
Their two dogs (1 expensive rat thing and a "labradoodle", which I call a mutt)

For a total of:
11 people
8 dogs
2 cats

And maybe more on the way.

This is going to be fun.

Tomorrow I'm going to install City of Heroes and the Villains beta to my cousins' computer and pray that it works. If I don't have some respite from all of this family time, I'll probably explode.

Now I'm going to sneak out for a cigarette and go to bed.

*sigh*

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Continuing...

Since the latest advisory has Mr. Gustav taking a little jog to the SW and his winds dipping down to 45mph, I've decided to continue.

I have a feeling that this one isn't for us.

I hope that doesn't haunt me like so many things I said three years ago.

And that doesn't mean I haven't started packing, at least mentally.

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Wouldn't it be great if Al Qaeda blew up a major American city this week?

That would absolutely ruin the Democratic Convention, wouldn't it? I mean, I'm not wishing that anybody get hurt, but wouldn't the timing be incredible?

What
a
Bunch
of
ASSHOLES!

From Will Bunch of the Philadelphia Daily News (second link):

I hope for the sake of the beleaguered Gulf Coast that this doesn't come to pass -- but from a realpolitik point of view, there is a potential nightmare for the Republican Party swirling around the warm Caribbean waters right now.

His name is Gustav.

You are so right, Will. And I really hope a terrorist attack on Philadelphia doesn't come to pass -- but from a realpolitik point of view, that would absolutely kill the Democrats.

The person who earns my "Jackass of the Year" award is Alex With an E at Daily Kos. He is one particularly giant, gaping, goatse of an asshole (third link):

Let me put it this way...

...I understand all about the "I hope this doesn't happen to New Orleans."

But, it's got to hit somewhere, and I hope it does hit New Orleans.
--------
And just like surgeons always cut a little more than they have to when removing a tumor, then yes, God, please, let a hurricane hit New Orleans. Let there be a moment of such absolute, perfect irony that the Republicans simply cannot, ever, live it down.

Pissed off, yet? Then just wait, there's more from this cocksucker.

If it hits New Orleans -- and it doesn't have to be a Cat 5, I'm not sitting here working the worry beads hoping for total destruction [gee, thanks shithead - b] -- it puts the Republicans in the position of having to have a fucking party in the middle of a grotesque recreation of one of the country's worst natural disasters.
-------
I'm sorry people are upset about the notion of New Orleans, a city on the Gulf Coast being hit by a hurricane, but the Democratic Party has to stop being so Holier Than Thou. Progressive does not mean that someone can't be tough or ruthless. And the touchy-feely indignations are NOT going to win the election. A water-logged Waco will NOT be of any use in the election. And yes, this is a crucial election.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

If anyone knows how to get a hold of Alex With an E, please direct him here and to Loki at Humid City. There are a lot of us who would like to have a word with him.

Personally, I'd rather beat him unconscious with a baseball bat. But that's just me.

Oh, and GernBlantzen: Fuck you, too.

props to Loki and Gutterboy

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Friday, August 26, 2005 - 5:30 PM Packing and other annoyances

This post is the fourth part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.

So after driving all day in the rain yesterday, today I got to pack up the whole office to move it tomorrow. Movers are coming tomorrow, but it's still a pain in the ass.

Background:
My parents have been running the business out of the second floor of their house, which is just one big room. My brother and I used to share it. For a year, it was just the three of us and the girl down the street who comes in occasionally. Now we have two more employees and six people won't fit in that room comfortably, if at all. So we're moving. Growth is good, right? Like my dad says, too much work is a problem we want to have all the time.

Right now, however, it's a pain in the ass. :)

And then tomorrow (Saturday!) I get to go unpack everything and set it up. Which shouldn't take more than a few hours, but will actually take all day, just like today.

The NHC keeps shifting Katrina's track westward, which is mildly disconcerting. It's a little storm and I really don't want to have to evacuate. My wife is already worried, though, and I guess we'll be making a trip to Baton Rouge (my aunt's house and designated family hurricane retreat). All I can think about is that dreadful Ivan evacuation. It took us almost 10 hours to get to BR. 90 miles in 10 hours. That's an average of 9 mph, for the arithmetically challenged. Incidentally, that's about as fast as the hurricane is moving. :) Katrina, however, is not in a car with an angry cat (not to mention a tired and cranky wife, sorry baby :) ). This year we have two cats, one just 10 months old. I can't fucking WAIT!

I'm sure it's nothing. If they keep moving it west it will end up in Texas or Mexico. That's what usually happens. My dad went through Betsy and he's not that concerned. Good enough for me.

Between this move tomorrow and dealing with my wife's storm anxiety, this weekend is really going to suck.

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Interlude - Gustav approaches

Wouldn't it be funny if I was interrupted in my recollection of three years ago by another hurricane?

Maybe God is trying to take out the gays again.

He better hurry it up, though. Southern Decadence is over Monday

It would be pretty fucking funny if he missed them again.

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Thursday, August 25, 2005 It's like it's never rained before

This post is the third part in a series. To start at the beginning, please click here.

I really love to drive. I've developed a system on the Interstates that serves me pretty well. I set the cruise control at 79 and just cruise. 79 is really the perfect speed. Fast enough to glide past the slow pokes and stay out of the way of the speedsters, yet slow enough that the cops ignore you. It also keeps you from catching up too quickly to those pockets of traffic that form around trucks.

Traffic, though, especially traffic caused by one inconsiderate jackass, really drives me up the fucking wall. Being a weekday and after the start of school, I figured we wouldn't have a lot of traffic. I was right, but driving for ten hours gives you plenty of opportunity to find inconsiderate and/or just stupid drivers, especially in Florida, which seems to be permanently under construction.

A few observations:

If you can't drive 40 mph, then get off the fucking Interstate. Driving with your hazards on does NOT make it ok to endanger everyone on the road. You want to kill yourself, that's fine with me. I understand that unforunate circumstances sometimes require less than optimal conditions. That's still not an excuse to drive farther than the next fucking exit and call a tow truck.

While on the subject of hazard lights: Do NOT drive with the damn hazard lights blinking. It's distracting. If your hazards are also your taillights, I can't tell when you are braking. If they are orange, I have to drive with orange spots in my eyes for as long as I'm stuck behind you. If you are so concerned with visibility conditions that you feel other drivers may not see you, then it's too dangerous for you to be driving. Get off at the next exit. Pussy.

On being a pussy: If the DoT wanted the lane closed RIGHT HERE then they would have closed it RIGHT HERE and not half a mile further up. Don't get mad at ME because you merged half a mile ago and have been sitting still, while I drove up to the merge in the perfectly open and legal lane to your right. Traffic moves faster when all lanes are being used and drivers are considerate enough to alternate into the merged lane. It's not my fault that you are a too scared to merge. Oh, and if anyone out there drives a semi and gets it into their head that they're going to BLOCK the soon-to-be-closed lane, understand full well, that I am just going to drive around you, as I would any obstacle in the road. Once I do that, as so many of you found out today, the cars behind me will overcome their fear of your big bad truck. Fuck you and stay out of the way.

Please, please, please, please, PLEASE, people, learn how to maintain speed on hills. Slowing down on the incline and speeding up on the downslope because you're too stupid to regulate the pressure on your gas pedal is REALLY annoying. If you are driving a heavy vehicle that simply cannot make it's way up a hill without slowing down and cannot be controlled down the hill without burning up the brakes, then get in the RIGHT FUCKING LANE.

On the right lane: The sign reads, "Slower traffic keep right." I understand that you may feel that you are not driving slowly. You may very well actually be driving fast enough. You are, however, still going slower than me. So move over. If you can't, I understand. As soon as you are able, however, get out of the fucking way.

On the same point: If I move to the right to allow you to pass, then FUCKING PASS! Don't meander past me and get me stuck behind slow traffic. I cannot stress this enough.

That's the end of the driving lessons. :)

The beach was great, but I am fucking exhausted. And tomorrow we get to start packing up to move to the new office. It's not going to be a good weekend.

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Katrina Anniversary Number Three - An Exercisorcism

I didn't have a blog in August 2005. For the next several days I'm going to pretend I did. Aside from a few emails and comments around the web, I haven't really written much about the Thing. The Storm. That Bitch. The Flood. Hurricane Katrina.

You know, I was living in NYC on September 11, 2001. I was a temp at the time, so I could have been working anywhere that day. As it turns out, I was in mid-town and had been for a week or so doing an on-again off-again thing for Cablevision. Before that, though, I was in some fly-by-night "communications" company that sold over-priced international phone cards to immigrants. I don't remember the name of the place. I remember it was just two blocks from the WTC. And I had lunch and went to the bookstore at the WTC all week.

I was terrified that day. And everyday after that for a long time. The first day I woke up, looked out the window and saw that the fire was finally out, I instantly felt better. Still scared, but better.

It took a long time for me to shake that off. Went through all the stages. I didn't go anywhere NEAR Lower Manhattan for over a year. Then, one day, it was gone. I felt fine.

I guess it's different when your it's your home.

Some notes, caveats and liberties:

I promise this isn't just emotional masturbation.

Obviously I won't remember everything exactly. This is especially true of the days preceding the storm. My memory, like most others around here, is now in two separate pieces: Pre-Katrina memory and Post-Katrina memory. Pre-Katrina memory is mixed up to a ridiculous degree. I haven't said it in a while, but I've said quite often in the past that if it happened before August 29, 2005, then I do not remember. It's more important to me to express how crazy and mixed up everything was. If I get some things out of sequence, I'm not going to be too worried about it.

I'm not sure how the timing is going to work, either, so posts may be erratic as I haven't decided yet when and how to actually publish them. Just bear with me.

Comments will be turned off for some entries so I won't be influenced by them while I'm trying to recount all of this.

*Sigh* Three years. I have to get out from under this thing. I have no idea if I'm ready to do this, but I feel like I have to try.

Happy fucking anniversary. A few days early.

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At last, someone who understands

Thanks, as always, to xkcd

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