We had some fairly apocalyptic weather this weekend — apocalyptic for around here, at least. OK, maybe just “bad” would be less hysterical. What it did was rain buckets and buckets all day Saturday. Then we had a little bit of a break, and then the remnants of the hurricane arrived and it rained more buckets Sunday. In between, we had a little dinner party.
I spent much of Saturday afternoon cooking, and it was nice, with the windows open enough for a breeze and the rain pitter-pattering outside. And then everyone arrived and the kitchen seemed to burst into flames, it was so hot, and I wondered, is this some change-of-life thing? but everyone else seemed hot as hell too, and of course if you turn on the A/C it takes two hours, minimum, to cool everything down, so basically we just suffered. You can’t control everything, I guess, especially hot air masses pushed by monster storms. But there was something about the heat and the shortening days and the buckets of rain and the dinner conversation and “This American Life” on Saturday that made me think, man, we are all screwed. The second chapter of TAL was about the do-nothing Securities and Exchange Commission, and how they’ve sat around on their confused asses for the last couple of years, while Wall Street has waltzed the economy to the edge of a cliff, and I reflected that the campaign has become whether a mean photographer made John McCain look like a monster or if Barack Obama wants to teach your kindergartener how to put on a condom. I said a while back that if Obama could put the Wall Street message in simple language in a 10-minute stump speech with lots of pullout quotes, he might could maybe win this thing.
Of course, at this rate, it might be too late for that.
The dinner party was nice, in case you were wondering. Beef tenderloin, fresh green beans and corn, new potatoes, a little gazpacho to start. Blueberry-peach pie. Very WASPy, very basic. Oh, and since I walk past it in our container garden all summer and daily say, “You know, I need to do more with that tarragon,” a sauce bearnaise for the beef.
Beef tenderloin and bearnaise sauce during a financial meltdown is known as whistling past the graveyard.
This seems a good point to segue into the bloggage, since it falls under the classification A Few More People I Don’t Feel Sorry For: Remember all those people in Galveston who, when told to evacuate, yelled, “Hell no, we won’t go!” while all their friends lifted a glass and gave them a rousing hell yeah? Do you have some sympathy to spare now? Ahem:
With no water or power, no working toilets, no food or phones, people faced growing public health concerns here on Sunday. More than 2,000 residents who had defied an evacuation order were taken off the island, and state officials tried to ensure that no one could return.
“The storm was easy,” said Brenda Shinette, 51, who rode out the hurricane in her home but went to a shelter Sunday hoping to be taken to the mainland. “It’s what came after that was terrible.”
“We have no showers, and the food is spoiled,” Ms. Shinette added. “I feel like I want to pass out, but I can’t tell if it is from too much heat or too little food.”
She said the lack of toilets had become so bad in her neighborhood that she had been avoiding eating so she would not have to use the bathroom.
No? I didn’t think so.
Eminem has a new album coming this fall, and with any luck, an end to his Graceland period. It’s not doing anyone any good.
I should get to work. Just got a Facebook friend request from a guy I knew in Fort Wayne, since moved on. He was just laid off when his paper folded unexpectedly. And here I am making a no-budget zombie flick. Talk about fiddling, etc.
Enjoy financial Armageddon!
Oh, and a quick update, in keeping with our Armageddon theme today: The News’ sports page screams AS BAD AS IT GETS in Armageddon-size type, and they’re not talking about Wall Street, but rather the Lions, and once again Wojo speaks for us all:
DETROIT — This can’t keep happening. It’s cruel and unusual and flat-out absurd. And yet, for the Lions and Jon Kitna, it happens again and again, until fans scream to keep from crying. Every time there’s a glimmer, it’s gone. Almost every time there’s a game to be won, it’s lost.
The Lions are wandering in a bizarre world of their own making, with no clue how to get out. They tossed away another one Sunday, rallying from a 21-0 deficit to take the lead, then collapsing and losing to Green Bay 48-25.