Hurricane Irene Post-Game Wrap Up

People keep asking, so I’ll keep telling: Yes, I survived Hurricane Irene.

A lot of folks are snarking the hurricane, saying stuff like, “Oh, what a bitch-ass storm that was, it barely did anything.” My knee-jerk reaction to that is, “Hey, forty-some odd people died in that bitch-ass storm, show some respect.” Then, of course, I look at the death reports and see most of those people were out during the worst of Irene engaging in activities that openly taunted the Grim Reaper. It’s healthy to question authority, but you can probably put the canoeing off another day if they’re already evacuating lower Manhattan. My heart does of course go out to the select few who were killed in their own homes after this shapeless monster decided to start tossing tree branches and electrical lines around at ungodly speeds.

My heart also goes out to the millions of powerless and partially submerged East Coast residents who would probably love to switch places with anyone in Tucson right now. I feel lucky that my neighborhood only experienced a slight sogginess mixed with winds that failed to send even pebbles against my windows. Honestly, the stress of the situation was worse than any physical damage. I lived in Florida for twelve years, so I know firsthand that weather situations what appear innocent can often kick up quite a fuss when you least expect it. I refused to evacuate for Hurricane Charley in 2005, something I regretted mere hours later when it looked like my front door was going to fly off its hinges and crush me against the back wall.

If any good came of Hurricane Irene, it’s that the storm seems to have washed away Lady Gaga’s career. The stage is now free for an El DeBarge comeback. We’re waiting, Eldra.

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