In One Eye

Saturday, September 03, 2005
I apologize in advance for the long post ...

When some kind of freakish incident occurs, I often jokingly state that "I blame the Republicans." Molly Ivins lets me know that, at least in the case of Katrina's impact on New Orleans, I'm not wrong.

Speaking of same, it didn't take long for the theistic morons to come out from under their rocks:
As religious and political leaders offered prayers for the victims of Hurricane Katrina, some Christian fundamentalists suggested the storm was the work of an angry God bent on punishing a sinful nation.

In news releases and Internet chat rooms, some fundamentalists said the hurricane was sent to punish New Orleans, a city known for Mardi Gras and other raucous festivals.

Others said the disaster, which may have killed thousands in Louisiana and Mississippi, was revenge for the United States' support of the removal of Jewish settlers in the Gaza Strip ...

A Philadelphia group called Repent America said the hurricane was sent by God to prevent an annual gay-pride festival that was due to take place this weekend.
Of course, these ludicrous beliefs are echoed by some of the victims in New Orleans itself:
Watching the caravan [of three dozen camouflage-green troop vehicles and supply trucks arriving in the New Orleans Friday along with dozens of air-conditioned buses to take refugees out of the city], Leschia Radford sang the praises of a higher power ...

"Lord, I thank you for getting us out of here!" Radford shrieked.
There doesn't seem to be a reference in Ms. Radford's statement as to what got them there in the first place.

And finally, I can't help but notice a similarity from a scene in Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities with the actions of you-know-who.
With a wild rattle and clatter, and an inhuman abandonment of consideration not easy to be understood in these days, the carriage dashed through streets and swept round corners, with women screaming before it, and men clutching each other and clutching children out of its way. At last, swooping at a street corner by a fountain, one of its wheels came to a sickening little jolt, and there was a loud cry from a number of voices, and the horses reared and plunged.

But for the latter inconvenience, the carriage probably would not have stopped; carriages were often known to drive on, and leave their wounded behind, and why not? But the frightened valet had got down in a hurry, and there were twenty hands at the horses' bridles.

"What has gone wrong?" said Monsieur, calmly looking out.

A tall man in a nightcap had caught up a bundle from among the feet of the horses, and had laid it on the basement of the fountain, and was down in the mud and wet, howling over it like a wild animal.

"Pardon, Monsieur the Marquis!" said a ragged and submissive man, "it is a child."

"Why does he make that abominable noise? Is it his child?"

"Excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis--it is a pity--yes."

The fountain was a little removed; for the street opened, where it was, into a space some ten or twelve yards square. As the tall man suddenly got up from the ground, and came running at the carriage, Monsieur the Marquis clapped his hand for an instant on his sword-hilt.

"Killed!" shrieked the man, in wild desperation, extending both arms at their length above his head, and staring at him. "Dead!"

The people closed round, and looked at Monsieur the Marquis. There was nothing revealed by the many eyes that looked at him but watchfulness and eagerness; there was no visible menacing or anger. Neither did the people say anything; after the first cry, they had been silent, and they remained so. The voice of the submissive man who had spoken, was flat and tame in its extreme submission. Monsieur the Marquis ran his eyes over them all, as if they had been mere rats come out of their holes.

He took out his purse.

"It is extraordinary to me," said he, "that you people cannot take care of yourselves and your children. One or the other of you is for ever in the way. How do I know what injury you have done my horses. See! Give him that."

He threw out a gold coin for the valet to pick up, and all the heads craned forward that all the eyes might look down at it as it fell. The tall man called out again with a most unearthly cry, "Dead!"
Compare that grisly episode with Dear Leader's "tour" of New Orleans from the safety of a helicopter. What did he think he'd see that hasn't already been shown on television? No. This bypass was simply the head oligarch's attempt to show his brand of compasssion toward those who've been killed by his policies. It was nothing more than a coin thrown into the street of the slum.