• F–k you very much, Mr. Hastert

    Speaker of the House, Dennis Hastert (R-Illinois), and a conservative columnist from Connecticut, suggested today that New Orleans was not worth rebuilding, suggesting: “,if the people of New Orleans and other low-lying areas insist on living in harm’s way, they ought to accept responsibility for what happens to them and their property.”

    Better yet, why stop there.

    Shame on the folks in the northeast for living in an area prone to winter storms. NO disaster assistance for you! Shame on the folks in the plains states for living in an area prone to tornados. NO disaster assistance for you! Shame on the folks in the world’s large cities for living in an area attractive to terrorists. NO disaster assistance for you! While we’re at it, screw all you people in need. We’re pretty sure you had it coming to you for some reason.

    Maybe our elected officials should spend more time thinking about how they could have responded better – or hell, responded at all, instead of trying to pin all of this on the victims. It’s awfully easy to blame someone who can’t fight back at the moment, isn’t it?

  • No comment

    I’ve had nothing to say for a week now. Considering the circumstances, my kind of input seems completely inappropriate. If you’ve been watching the news these last few days, you know what we’ve been thinking about.

    That about sums it up.

  • It has to start somewhere

    Peer pressure strikes again. If you felt reality shift around you this morning, it may be my fault. You see, for the first time in my adult life I have gambled away some of my hard earned money. A group of my coworkers did what three days in Sin City could not, they convinced me to put some money where the odd’s aren’t. I put some money towards Florida’s voluntary tax, a.k.a.: “The Florida Lottery.”

    Boy do I feel silly.

    The next thing you know, I’ll be on a show on ESPN2 that comes on after 3 a.m. It’ll be a reality show about a group of gambling neophytes who get schooled at poker by smug “Pro’s.” I’ll get my ass handed to me by a guy with a toupee and an un-tucked, suspended Oxford twisting in the breeze.

    Yeah, that’s just how it will happen.