Of the Day

Save the planet? We don’t even know how to care for ourselves yet!

-         George Carlin

I remember quite clearly on a certain early September day, walking the mile or so home, thinking to myself that there was no bread in the house and that I must stop at the supermarket for if it is the end of the world, it wouldn’t do to not have bread in the house.

            I bought the bread and some milk, I think, then went home, checked on my grandmother, then went to my room, turned on the radio and lay down.

            I listened to the newscasters, barely holding back tears and struggling to hold on to their veneer of calm, control and poise as they described the scene of the World Trade Center.

            I wondered if there was going to be school the next day.

            I wondered if this meant that all those Post-Apocalyptic futures were finally coming true.

            I wondered where the hell I was gonna get some weapons.

One of my dearest friends lives in Florida. She doesn’t like hurricanes at all.

            Before I knew her, I cared only if a hurricane was blowing through Barbados, which is where I have tons of family. Other than that? Sorry, kiddies, but I’ve got paint to watch dry.

            I’ve been through minor hurricanes/tropical storms before when I spent summers in Barbados. I was scared, only because of what other people used to tell me, the sense of panic they had as they scrambled about and made preparations for the storm that was coming in.

            Then, there was the rain and howling wind and staying huddled in a part of the house that was deemed safe.

            And, that was that.

            It wasn’t until I got older that I realized just how lucky we were, all things considered, especially once you factored in the devastation to other Caribbean islands and the Gulf Coast during Hurricane Andrew.

            But, anyway.

            My friend in Florida doesn’t like hurricanes. At all.

            A few years back, when a particularly nasty one was heading her way, I spent as much time on the phone with her. Now, you know she’s special when you’re eating up your precious daytime minutes talking about geek stuff for hours on end, just to help keep her mind off of the storm for as long as possible.          

George Carlin once said that the only reason he watches the evening news is to watch human suffering, people under pressure. We laughed and laughed as he said that, but I wonder how many people realize that this man isn’t joking?

            This is by no means an attack on him; I’ve been a fan of Carlin since the first time I heard him and I was introduced to the most intelligent potty-mouth of his time, our time, and many an other time to come.

            But, just because we’re part of his audience doesn’t mean that we are exempt from his penetrating eye, his scathing tongue, his morbid sense of humor.

            When he talks about there being a racist and a bigot in every living room in America, he’s talking about us, folks.

            When he talks about how soft and fruity and neurotic the populace has become, he’s talking about us, folks.

            When he talks about watching the evening news to see how fucked up the world is and people suffering, validating his belief in entropic decay and its relationship to the socio-economic classes of the world…

            He’s talking about US, folks.

            I don’t watch the news much, so I didn’t realize the extent of the destruction that Katrina had inflicted upon New Orleans, and Mississippi, and Alabama and the rest of the Gulf Coast. The biggest thing that stuck out in my mind initially was that Oil production was down 75% and the price of gas and everything else was rising accordingly.

            I thought it was just another major disaster, and at most… about ten people killed, lots of property destroyed and we call that a day.

            I don’t trust the American news media for the most part. Journalistic integrity is, at best, thrown into question day in, day out. It isn’t just the political ideologies that are perpetuated, or the uber-Political Correctness, or the fact that when it boils down to it, it’s too much of a business to be taken at face-value.

            It’s the newscasters.

            It’s the falsehood of the emotions – the urgency, the levity, the sobriety, the recovery.

            It’s the fact that, after talking about a few people being killed in some “tragic” accident, they can bounce back so quickly, grinning with their pearly-white teeth, perfect smiles that barely reach their eyes.

            Natural disasters and human suffering in general are great fodder for newscasters to tap into their inner Drama Queen and make the horror of the situation all the more terrifying and visceral.

            This is why I didn’t follow up on Katrina, or pay much heed to people like my best friend saying to me, “Dude, that’s fucked up.”

            I finally decided to see how bad things were.

            Actually, no.

            I finally decided to see the death toll.

            It had been several days, and still nothing definite. That was my first clue that this was bad, bad news.

            The first thing that caught my eye was the statement of the mayor about the lack of help they were getting and the horrible conditions and he actually called out on the Bush Administration on their bullshit.

            The pictures were soon found.

            The anger and disgust soon followed.

            I could care less that this happened in America. I say this because… Mother Nature doesn’t give a rat’s ass.

            What I do care about is the amount of human suffering on display; the initial, deplorable response of the government agencies to immediately help out the citizens of New Orleans.

            What I do care about is the racism on display in the media; white people “find” things and black people “loot” merchandise. Gimme a break.

            What I do care about are the roving gangs killing and raping while everyone else is just trying to find clean water and food and a place to take a shit without being a general nuisance to everyone else; what I wouldn’t give to be a police sniper with several rounds of ammunition and some clear shots.

What I do care about is that I can do nothing.

            Except think.

            And rant.

            And, think some more.

            My mom was the one I was really worried about on that beautiful September afternoon when the world was ending. My dad worked out in Queens, and my sister went to school in uptown Manhattan. At the time I wasn’t sure if she was near the site of the World Trade Center, but I figured that more likely than not, she’d be ok.

            And, she was. Completely different borough.

            We all trickled home, one after the other. Traffic was hell, and the subway was beyond fucked up.

            I would find out later that my sister had been on the Brooklyn Bridge and saw the planes fly into the towers. She thought that another plane was coming for the bridge, and for her, and she had it fixed in her mind that she was going to die.

            We both were wondering if there was going to be any school the next day, anyway.

Katrina barely touched Florida, really. Well, at least it didn’t adversely affect my friend’s area.

            I was very happy about that, mostly because I knew she didn’t need a reason to freak out and run about like a headless chicken in her panic.

            Not that she would, mind, because that girl is hardcore and can control said panic.

            But, because she just doesn’t need the undue stress. Life provides enough without having to resort to Natural Disasters.

            Carlin may be a bitter old man, but he’s a damn wise old man. While I may not agree with everything he says, there is quite a bit of truth in what he says and said.

            He may get his thrills from watching the evening news, but I think part of it comes from and fuels his frustration with humanity.

            The world collapses around your ears, everything you’ve owned has been washed away, your family has barely survived – or hasn’t – and you need food and water and shelter.

            You’ve been poor all of your life, and this just made it even worse.

            What do you do?

            Get a gun, shoot at cops, and rape some bitches.

            Enjoy the really shitty punchline of the joke of our lives and our society.

I know that now, there’s plenty of money and help coming towards those people suffering through what some folks have called conditions worse than that in poor Third World villages.

            I know that now, people are seeing some hope; food and water and organization and order does that, sometimes.

            And, I know that now, the mayor of New Orleans is a much calmer, much nicer man considering the circumstances and that “talk” he had with our darling President.

            But, a ten billion dollar care package, signed off “almost immediately” does nothing for that family who has lost everything.

            But, it does nothing for the black eye the federal government has received for its snail’s pace in dealing with this tragedy and helping its own citizens in their time of need.

            But, it does nothing to make me feel particularly better about the human race as a whole.

            I hope the dispossessed live through their Apocalypse; it ain’t over yet.