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Friday, September 02, 2005


Home from work, I read the papers. Now try to sleep, but I can't. Instead I cry. Too much horror, too close to home. Too much sadness, death and loss. Too much worry for the future...of the economy, that city, those people.

And Doug was right.

It is clear that FEMA has been screwed for years, that no one paid attention to the warnings. That no one who signed the checks gave a damn.

It is clear that the rich fled while the poor, the black, were left to God's mercy.

It is clear that aid has been slow to come. Slower, by my memory, than in other disasters. But which other disasters? What, in our land, in our time, have we had that even compares to this? 9/11? No, that was relatively confined and did not leave so many desperate hordes. This is worse. Hundreds of thousands of people homeless. An entire city, not just city blocks, destroyed. Vast portions of our energy infrastructure lost or severely damaged. One of our largest ports useless.

The looters and armed gangs? Ok, people are trying to provide for themselves and their families. But fuck you. Not like this. Where is the national guard? Screw that, where is the enlisted army and the insurrection act? Send them in, retake control of the city so that helicopters can land to drop off supplies, instead of pushing the packages out from 50', and so hospital patients can be evacuated without sniper fire. Do you blame those police for turning in their badges? They aren't trained to handle complete chaos.

I am sorry. Sorry that this happened. Sorry that we've put to power those who could have preeempted some of this but didn't. Sorry that our society doesn't seem to give a damn about anything but the effect on gas prices, despite all that I've told myself. Sorry that I can't give more. Sorry that I can't be there in the breech, on my hands and knees in the mud, helping all that I can.

-Ben  09:08 EST | |

About us:

This weblog is an ongoing, if periodic, effort by several friends to stay in touch, in reading material, and in ideas.

Lucky Luciano is a former Italian Stallion real estate hustler and Benedict Arnold CEO turned shady lawyer-to-be. He lives in Denver.

Ben is a Paramedic and would-be philantropist who lives in Denver. He knows everything about nothing.

Fuzzy Dunlop lives in Manhattan. He is more than capable of standing up to the stresses of a high crime urban environment.

Jess is a teacher. But have YOU given her an apple? No, you haven't. You should be ashamed of yourself. This crazy feminist currently rests her copy of Awakening in Jersey City.

Matt is a pariah, iconoclast, and professor of gambling living in Oakland.

Miguel Sanchez is not Lionel Hutz.

Daddy Brooklyn lives in Brooklyn. He hates Republicans, though he wouldn't mind being ensconced in the landed elite of New York City.

Paul just smoked my eyelids and punched my cigarette.

Ziggy Stardust has no past.

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