I can tell I’m more upset about the hurricane disaster than I first thought. Edginess. Stess eating. A bit of weepiness when an official interviewed on NPR — which I haven’t tuned in to hear in months — identified himself as a Coast Guard Chief Petty Officer. (As was my father, now retired, who was stationed in New Orleans twice after I was born; that’s why I lived there about six years.) I’m making red beans for dinner.
I’m annoyed with a lot of people. Bloggers on the left — friends included — trying to make hay about the racial identification of looters. An assortment of Christian and Muslim idiots who judge the hurricane to be divine wrath. Our guitar-strumming, terrier-carrying president who doesn’t have the gravitas of a Hallmark card.
Let’s hear it for some grief, a lament. A day of prayer, of mourning? Has anyone in authority announced such an occasion because if anyone would I’d comply.