…ten years ago today…
…Ivan was busy blowing through major dad’s office.
Hurricane Ivan. Some of my posts.
So, Right About Now ~ 9:15 P.M., 2004 ~ The Phone Rings
…and it’s the Mountain Man.
“So, what the fuck you gonna do?”
“What’re you talking about?”
“The hurricane! What the fuck you gonna do?”
“Oh, we’re okay. It’s going to Biloxi.”
“No, it’s not. It’s headed right towards you.”
“WHAT? Where’d you hear that?! Ebola! Change the channel to John Ed!”
Oh, well…shit. All those freakin’ calculations about how far Biloxi was (131 miles), how far out the Cat 4 winds extended, how far out the hurricane winds extended, wasted. And I hear about it from Seattle! The next phone call was Bingster and NJSue…saying “good-bye” as upbeatedly as they could. How did everybody know but me? Just my luck, but it probably saved me a couple hours worth of fruitless worrying that I could do nothing about.
What to do when the house was already as cold as a meatlocker (in anticipation of power loss coupled with a closed house ~ not comfortable after even an hour or two with three adults), all the “valuables” were tripled wrapped in Hefty garbage bags and stuffed into the dishwasher, oven (both of which then had their doors locked) and the dryer (door duck-taped). Paintings, etc. were up on the beds in case we flooded. Both tubs were filled to the brim and covered with shower curtains to preclude evaporation, while every pot and pitcher was filled with tap water, as well as both sides of the kitchen sink and the washing machine. I had a spot cleared in the back hallway and ebola’s mattress staged in case the roof went and we had to get major dad someplace safe. (I remembered the ‘mattress as head cover’ trick from someone’s description of Andrew)
That’s part of my peace with these things ~ anal retentive preparation.
And nothing to do but wait.
Gulf Power kept us lit until about 10:30 or so ~ pretty damn admirable, considering how biblical it was when the power finally did poop out. The hand helds we were using between the Squid Terrorist and us crackled through the night with voices from the apartments near us, some folks using the same channel. Comforting at first and we’d just switch around them. But as the wind started to rise and the rock ‘n rollin’ began in earnest, it got pretty disconcerting. Because they were scared. Really scared. The roof had started to drip or the door’d flew open. One fellow we heard tore our hearts out.
“Help me. Please help me. Is there anybody out there?”
There was and we were, but all we could do was offer encouraging words. And change up the channels again, because we needed to know we’d conserved the batteries as best we could in case WE needed to let the other household know we were in big trouble. Not that they could have done anything, either, but they’d come looking for us in the morning.
It’s freakin’ grim. The roof is flexing in ways I’d never imagined and rain is being driven in the roof vents, so that there’s a teeny little snake of damp spreading its way across the center of the cathedral ceiling. The noise is deafening. Indescribably evil.
All I can do is wander from one part of the house to the other ~ checking ceilings for leaks, God knows what I’m looking for. I’ve got a little circuit I’m repeating over and over, but I’m always drawn back into our bathroom. There, in all the cacophony of the heavens gone mad, right above the linen closet…is emanating the teeniest, tiniest, most terrifying, barely audible squeak of all time.
The rafters flexing and I fixated on it.
“Mom, will you sit DOWN?!” Ebola saved me with his crankiness. We settled in to listen to John Ed on the radio. You learn pretty cool things in a situation like that. For instance, someone called in (WHO still had a freakin’ operable phone?!?!) and asked about the old wisdom of “open a window to even the pressure”. No one had an answer that second, but, a couple minutes later, an engineer called in to insist one should NEVER EVER open that window. Apparently modern houses are built so “tight” that an opening ~ be it door, window, etc ~ allows all that pressure to flow into the house with no exit. Right up to where your roof blows like a giant Jiffy Pop bag.
By 1 a.m., 16 September, Ivan was roaring outside with everything he had. So I thought.
By 3 a.m., Ivan was making it abundantly clear that he’d just been warming up and I was pretty thankful the batteries were keeping the radio humming along, since we needed the distraction. You start thinking “couple more hours, couple more hours”, but you’re just faking yourself out, since no one really has a clue what the storm will do. It’s pretty much calling its own shots and you’re just there for the ride, if you’re foolish enough to be in the way.
Ebola and I had long ago shoved the 3 stacked coolers (with 60-80 lbs of ice per) against the front door, and were continually wringing out sodden beach towels from the wind driven seepage. You could call us “preoccupied” when the walkie talkie lit up, and it was the Squid Terrorist. It was mildly upsetting to hear the, um, “frantic” in his voice while the Furies shrieked and screamed overhead and all around.
He was in the process of hammering 2 X 4′s across his bowing front door, threatening to use the china cabinet when he ran out of that wood (“Not MY china cabinet, you don’t!” we heard in the background.). Because, he shouted:
“It sounds like the Devil’s trying to beat his way in!”
He was. He had certainly come to town.
…from today’s Washington Examiner Op-Ed…
Reality rains on President Obama’s foreign policy parade
…The relatively stable Iraq that Obama exited in haste during his re-election cycle is now being overrun by a well-funded and possibly self-sustaining terrorist army – arguably more powerful than anything America faced in al Qaeda. ISIS has amassed an increasingly advanced arsenal and is attracting thousands of new recruits through its successes, its pretensions to statehood, and even its widely broadcast atrocities. Osama bin Laden is dead, and ISIS is fulfilling his vision.
…dovetailed nicely with something I’d seen this morning that Megyn Kelly had posted.
Oh, GOSH. If ONLY someone had thought to tell Obama…
“Is there a douchebag in the house? Raise your hand!“
— US Mission to NATO (@USNATO) September 4, 2014
So I’m moving there IMMEDIATELY – with no job, mind you – to get to the bottom of this.
City mandates free medical marijuana for low-income residents
That’s what the Berkeley City Council in California has unanimously approved, ordering medical marijuana dispensaries to donate 2 percent of their stash to patients making less than $32,000 a year.
The new welfare program in the liberal-leaning city is set to launch in August 2015.
But Berkeley’s decision to effectively order weed redistribution is prompting a vocal backlash.
Bishop Ron Allen, a former addict and head of the International Faith Based Coalition, told Fox News he doesn’t understand why the California city would want to dump pot on the impoverished.
“It’s ludicrous, over-the-top madness,” Allen said.
“Why would Berkeley City Council want to keep their poverty-stricken under-served high, in poverty and lethargic?”
John Lovell, a lobbyist for the California Narcotic Officers’ Association, agrees.
“Instead of taking steps to help the most economically vulnerable residents get out of that state, the city has said, ‘Let’s just get everybody high,‘” Lovell told The New York Times.
Now THAT’S California Dreamin’!
Bengals Re-Sign Devon Still To Help Him Pay For Daughter’s Cancer Treatments
…The Bengals re-signed defensive tackle Devon Still to their practice squad to help him pay for his 4-year-old daughter’s cancer treatments. He was waived by the team on Saturday, Aug. 30.
…But when Still received the call this morning that he had been signed to the practice squad, and in turn would receive health insurance as well as a weekly salary of $6,300, he was incredibly grateful. The signing also means that Still will continue playing the game he loves — for the team that drafted him — without all of the traveling, meaning he can be closer to his daughter as she undergoes treatments.
TigerHeart. Bravo, Bengals. BRA-VO.
Get well SOON, Leah.
Even the chains do things diff’nt.
Like the BASTARDS don’t have a cargo plane they can put a cage or two on.
Jonah Goldberg: No military dog left behind
We’ve all heard the expression: “A man’s best friend is his equipment.”
You haven’t? Well you must not work for the Pentagon. There, military dogs are considered mere “equipment” and as such can be left behind when the troops come home.
…Legislation pushed by Rep. Walter Jones, R-N.C., that would require military dogs to be retired only upon return to the U.S. has been languishing in Congress for years. Politically, and morally, it’s understandable that the top priority must be given to providing human veterans with adequate care, particularly amid the horrific Veterans Affairs scandals plaguing the Obama administration. No politician wants to be accused of caring more about dogs than people. But that’s largely a false choice. The cost of finding room on military transports is negligible, according to many. Private organizations can handle the rest.
From Patrick at Popehat:
If you believe it’s wrong for the army to abandon its dogs in the wilds of Iraq and (coming soon) Afghanistan, why not call your congressional representatives to let them know you support Walter Jones’ bill prohibiting such practices, and may vote accordingly come November?
Like, not running out of toilet paper or accounting for ELEVEN missing Libyan jetliners or IRS hard drives.
As long as we’re cool and don’t lose our heads, we can unicorns and rainbows them into submission…or vapor.
…cracking on a what a civilian said right before animals sawed his head off, or what his mother said trying to save her boy.
STFU, dickweeds. It’s horrific.
…HAD read it in the morning papers. Or COULD have, if he could get his nose out of the comics.
— Lilly McKim (@lillymckim) September 2, 2014
…that when he attacked this granny in Publix, she brought it on herself.
And, of course, he knew how to defend himself against her White Privilege. NINE previous felony charges, including robbery with a weapon, kind of hone your survival skills. His runnin’ buddies are equally as accomplished…
…The video allegedly shows Cox and two other teenagers grab the purse and knock Dunaway to the ground. She suffered a head injury and broken bones.
…Investigators said that immediately after the crime they didn’t get as many tips as they expected, but they were able to trace where Cox and two other teens allegedly used Dunaway’s stolen credit cards. They said they were able to collect surveillance video of the teens using the credit cards.
“Those video images gave us car descriptions. Those cars came back as being stolen, and as part of where the cars were stolen and a couple other things the investigation led to, it’s these three kids,” said Lt. Mike Bryant with the Ocoee Police Department.
When police decided to charge Cox in the Publix incident, they learned that he and two other 14-year-olds they were seeking were already in the Juvenile Detention Center, accused of using stolen credit cards and having stolen cars.
Those other two teens had a combined 26 felonies, police said.
I’m sure it’s our fault in there somewhere. Let me search my soul.
Nope. Nothing yet.
…and then there aren’t.
You can title this one The ONGOING Study to Figure Out WHY Lesbians Are Disproportionately Fat.
I shit you not.
OR you could call it what the clever fellows who filed the research grants did:
SEXUAL ORIENTATION AND OBESITY: TEST OF A GENDERED BIOPSYCHOSOCIAL MODEL
…Women of minority sexual orientation are disproportionately affected by the obesity epidemic, with nearly three-quarters of lesbians overweight or obese, compared to half of heterosexual women…
WHILE they were SWEATING losing their ‘stipend’ due to sequestration, this year’s 2014 pay-out has survived to the tune of costing you $670+K, ON TOP of the $2,202,913 in funding they’ve received since it got cranking in 2011 (2011-$778,662/2012-$741,378/2013-$682,873).
Think back to some of the illustrious moments in this administration’s reign so far. They LOCKED WWII Vets OUT of their Memorial, wouldn’t allow Boy Scouts and OLD LADIES through the White House, THREATENED military retiree pay, BARRICADED the National Parks, wanted WOUNDED VETS to get their OWN insurance, gave EVERYBODY a WHOPPIN’ heart attack of EPIC PROPORTIONS…but kept the bucks flowing to the “how on EARTH did these wymmins get so ROTUND?” research committee.
Yeah. THE ‘no stra-tee-gery’ guys.
…and, if you need a hostage rescued, DON’T call Obama.
Senior Pentagon official just confirmed to me that "hesitation" by President Obama delayed July 4th #Foley hostage rescue mission
— Toby Harnden (@tobyharnden) August 29, 2014
Right after I wipe the drool off from the thought of him.
But don’t you be taking pictures of her Royal Highness. Don’t you dare. She’s “trying to have a private moment” doncha know.
How ’bout she takes her imperial derriere and power walks on her PRIVATE bazillion dollar vacay estate.
Or get a new job.
How about a little Common Core math to get things rolling?
— Nathan Wurtzel (D) (@NathanWurtzel) August 25, 2014
…is to post pictures from Abu Graib and go “OH, YEAH?!?!”
After all, they are exactly the same. Well, except the part where the guy on the leash has HIS head. Oh. And the three meals a day, visits from the Red Crescent, Amnesty, etc. But EXACTLY the same. Well. Except where the ugly chick laughing, the dog handler ~ pretty much everybody else, right on up to the harridan General running the unit was FORCED OUT OF THE ARMY/did some brig time.
But, other than that, EXACTLY the same.