Outside of the fact that I’m convinced that there’s a price to pay for this somewhere down the line — strings of some sort attached — this is great news for the Katrina victims.

$2,000 debit cards for Katrina victims – MSNBC.com: “The federal government plans to begin doling out debit cards worth $2,000 each to adult victims of Hurricane Katrina, The Associated Press has learned.”

God Outdoes Terrorists Yet Again

Yeah, it’s insensitive and politically incorrect. And a much needed laugh. Don’t read it if you can’t handle it.

If you’re going to bitch incessantly about something, don’t bother coming to me and expecting an open ear unless you’ve bothered trying to do something about it. In fact, tried repeatedly, with every resource in your arsenal.

After that, I’ll listen. As long as it doesn’t place me squarely in the middle of a tug’o’war. I’m not a fucking rope.

Whee.

Worlds only collide when you insist on slamming them together repeatedly. And yeah, eventually, one of them cracks.

Wow.

My mom just emailed me and reminded me that my kid sister and I experienced two heavy hurricanes as children — the second of which, Frederic, hurried the birth of my brother James in September of 1979. I don’t remember being that traumatized by either; there are memories of being at a neighbor’s house while my parents drove from Dothan, where we lived (in the far southeastern corner of Alabama), to the hospital in Enterprise where my mom’s doctors were. I remember heavy, heavy rain, winds, storms, and a strange house that wasn’t mine.

Do I remember trying to comfort my kid sister? Was she more scared than I was? Not sure (my memories prior to age 14 or so are scattershot and random).

And since then, I’ve experienced tornadoes close up, blizzards, ice storms, and the distant edges of hurricanes (Birmingham’s far enough away that we get, at worst, bad winds and rains — especially from Katrina, Dennis, and Ivan last year). But nothing like what the people in New Orleans are surviving.

And it saddens me to hear of the death, the injured and the sick, the homeless, the devastation and loss, the environmental catastrophes, the total loss of material possessions that so many are facing. I can feel it, having lived so close to the edge of poverty myself for so long. It hurts, and it sickens me to hear of so many wealthy people offering prayers and not much more.

What I’m finding nearly impossible to cope with, though, is the decline of humanity on display. It’s no secret that I have a low view of my fellow man — I think most people are stupid, lacking in common sense and too needy and selfish for their own good. But I wanted to believe that, in a time of disaster and loss, people would pull together, helping each other survive, perhaps even thrive.

That belief is just misplaced. And it breaks my heart to pieces.

Fuck rebuilding, fuck the repairs and the history and the culture. Just get everyone out of there. If you believe in a god, send your prayers that way. If you have money to spare, send it to the Red Cross. Spare clothes or games or books, donate it.

It could be any of us in the pit with the animals next time.

Then there are those who were injured by the hurricane and its aftermath. I spoke to a man who was beaten up at the Superdome. His jaw was broken and he had a friend with him who had a concussion and was basically unconscious.

The man with the broken jaw said that he had another friend who was beaten to death at the Superdome. He said that they had no choice but to leave his body there.

One woman was just put down on the tarmac and left. She was there on the tarmac and clearly had no idea where she was.

I ran over and grabbed her hand and whispered in her ear, �You are OK. You are with people who will help you.� She reached up and kissed me which made me just shudder inside. She was just so frightened, as are so many of these people who are brought in here. They don�t know where they are and are just confused.”

Stop fucking shooting pictures. Put down your cameras and your microphones. Start using your helicopters and vans and all the other resources at your disposal to get people to safety, to dry land, away from the death and the carnage and the anarchy.

I can live without my voyeur-of-utter-destruction for a day, if you can help some of these people live for one more day.