The Big Easy Is A Stoned M...
Who could have guessed that New Orleans was only a hurricane away from ruination? That anarchy could take this most carefree of towns and turn it into a "Thunderdome" of blood, shit and agony.
I paid $3.20 a gallon today. I filled the tank, which ran over 50 bucks and then it occurred to me that it might be nice to have a lock on my gas cap. I couldn't find one. And one was all I needed. If I had a gun and could point straight, I would shoot, on sight, any looters of my precious cargo. Damn if I don't go out late tonight to do my paper route and find some sucker has drained my tank dry. How close are any of us to anarchy?
And those really pitiful, wantful, wasting away people in Orleans, who remind one more of Somalia than a modern American city. Mamma's, children, desperados and others have after three days of incredible suffering been brought to the level of an American ward, hands always out, eyes always teared, and begging for the government to save them.
It is the begging that pricks my soul. Americans begging for their government to do SOMETHING; if something is only to get them the hell out of there. The government will get there. And eventually, although it will be a long time, most of these folks will resume life as they knew it. But with a big long hard scar.
From one night in the Big Easy.
Joe Postove
I paid $3.20 a gallon today. I filled the tank, which ran over 50 bucks and then it occurred to me that it might be nice to have a lock on my gas cap. I couldn't find one. And one was all I needed. If I had a gun and could point straight, I would shoot, on sight, any looters of my precious cargo. Damn if I don't go out late tonight to do my paper route and find some sucker has drained my tank dry. How close are any of us to anarchy?
And those really pitiful, wantful, wasting away people in Orleans, who remind one more of Somalia than a modern American city. Mamma's, children, desperados and others have after three days of incredible suffering been brought to the level of an American ward, hands always out, eyes always teared, and begging for the government to save them.
It is the begging that pricks my soul. Americans begging for their government to do SOMETHING; if something is only to get them the hell out of there. The government will get there. And eventually, although it will be a long time, most of these folks will resume life as they knew it. But with a big long hard scar.
From one night in the Big Easy.
Joe Postove
posted by Mr. Liberty at 11:52 AM
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