Bunches of things I’ve been wanting to say, but I have nothing to say that is very politically correct. Hence, I’ve held my tongue.

Jen and I were in New Orleans from August 24th to 26th. We left in the early morning of the 26th; if it hadn’t been for my stupid near-panic-attacks we’d have stayed through Friday as well.

I love New Orleans. For about two days, that is. It’s a great place to drive through, spend the night, do the touristy things, and leave. We walked and walked through the French Quarter, we ate at wonderful seafood restaurants (at least Jen said the seafood was wonderful - I’m not a fan), we took a tour through the Garden District and saw Trent Reznor’s ex-house (and lots of other beautiful ones as well). We crept into St. Louis Cathedral, took pictures in Jackson Square. We ate beignets at Cafe du Monde, spent too much money at Lush, snitched pralines from sample trays at Aunt Sally’s, and had dinner and Hurricanes at Pat O’Brien’s.

In my opinion, once you’ve done that, you can leave New Orleans and feel you’ve seen it all.

The heat in New Orleans is like nothing you’ve ever felt. If you’ve heard the phrase, “it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity” you are on the right track. St. Louis is hot, don’t get me wrong. The St. Louis heat can be disgusting at times. Upper nineties, 80% humidity in July and August. Yuck. But New Orleans? I swear, by the time we’d walked two blocks toward Bourbon Street from our neighboring hotel, sweat was burning my eyes. We walked around for maybe an hour, and my hair had collapsed into a flat, sweaty heap on my head. My shirt was soaking wet. It was deplorable.

By Friday morning, the weather folks were discussing Katrina as if it were thousands of miles away. The VIPIR computerized hurricane modeling thingy on one television station envisioned the hurricane cutting west across southern Florida, then north a bit and east over Florida again. “It’s never been wrong,” the weatherman said, “but I don’t know.”

People are forgetting the hurricane didn’t do this to New Orleans. The levees breaking ruined New Orleans. The levees were apparently designed to withstand Category 3 waters. This was a Cat 4. Typical crap.

More typical crap is the racist bullshit being screamed about by the nonevacuees in New Orleans. I’m just sure President Bush sat down to breakfast on Tuesday morning commenting to Laura that they could have a leisurely day because only black people were being harmed by the flood waters. Could you just give me a break?

The black people made it about black people. The white people bit their tongues. Kayne whatever makes a comment on a telethon and it’s shown over and over again on CNN like it was the most amazing thing anyone’s ever said. “President Bush doesn’t like black people.” Of course! That’s it. I’ll bet he actually plotted with Mother Nature to make sure that New Orleans flooded after 95% of the white people got out.

This makes me so mad.

Then we have the looting. And I’m not talking about looting the local Walmart so people had food and clean water and socks and underwear and various other essentials for living. I’m talking about people looting jewelry stores and gun stores and walking down the street in three feet of flood water with their new 27″ television. Hey, grab one for me, would ya? I haven’t had a new tv since ‘95.

Then of course, when help arrives, let’s shoot at them with our brand-new guns we stole from the shops we broke into. Once we’ve finished raping random women on the streets, that is. It’s animal mentality, I swear. If her new Gucci bag and diamond tennis bracelet are for survival purposes, just shoot me now. I’ll never have either.

I suppose it’s easy to rely on the government to take care of you when there’s a disaster. It’s funny, that wouldn’t be my first thought if this happened to me. I guess it wouldn’t have happened to me, though, because I’d have evacuated the city when I was ordered to! But maybe, just maybe, if I’d been caught in the city unawares, and was now just trying to survive, I’d pray for help, but keep in mind that if it was that difficult to get out (which it is) it might be that difficult to get help in. Call me crazy.

I don’t know. It’s heart-breaking to see a very exciting, historical city collapse like this. It’s hard to see the number of people who had to leave their homes, and will come “home” to piles of lumber where their most precious personal possessions once were. My heart cries for the babies who were separated from their mothers, for the little ones and the infirm who didn’t have a choice as to whether to stay or leave, and for those who’ve lost family and friends to this disaster.

I guess my whole point is, can we please focus on what’s important here? Not politics, not race. Survival, cleaning up, and reestablishing hope for ALL of the survivors, young or old, black or white. And perhaps cleaning up a dirty, violent city and restoring it to its former glory.

Earning my hate-mail,
michelle