I'm sorry, New Orleans
Today marks the second anniversary of Hurricane Katrina’s landfall on the Gulf Coast, devastating Southeast Louisiana and Southern Mississippi. We all know what happened and what didn’t happen. The Lower Ninth Ward speaks for itself.
I’m sorry, New Orleans.
Even as politicians and presidential candidates continue their endless, redundant arguments about the war in Iraq, the areas hardest hit by Katrina are still recovering without the help of the liars we elect to represent us (not to mention the companies who fill their pockets). Most of us have turned our backs as well, cleverly steered away by congressmen who don’t want us reminded of how they failed to help when our fellow countrymen needed them most.
But what can I say? I haven’t done anything. I haven’t donated to charities helping New Orleans and the Gulf Coast get back on its feet. I’ve been a horrible American. I’ve just stood back and observed, watched the news reports fade from the spotlight until they weren’t important enough to make the evening broadcast, as I’ve always done. I feel very frustrated and confused about everything, and I’m not even sure what to do. For all I know the money I donate may go to the very type of person who I’d never give money to in first place: a politician.
I’m sorry, New Orleans.
Yes, I’m being a little more opinionated in this post, and especially ruthless to politicians. But they’re fucking slime bags. The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina brings out the very worst in the disillusionment I have for our elected leaders and the damage they’ve done to our democracy. A lot of people see Democrats and Republicans, but all I see are a bunch of pigs feeding at a corporate trough.
There’s a great documentary directed by Spike Lee about the hurricane and its aftermath, and I recommend it to everyone. “When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts” has been shown a lot on HBO recently (and exclusively, I think — sorry for all those who don’t get HBO). I’ve seen it a couple times, and it’s so powerful and well done it winds me into a fit of anger within two or three minutes of turning it on. It’s about a year old, but, given the ravishing done by politicians and their bedfellows on recovery efforts, I’m assuming not much has changed.
I’m sorry, New Orleans.
I’m sorry, New Orleans.
Even as politicians and presidential candidates continue their endless, redundant arguments about the war in Iraq, the areas hardest hit by Katrina are still recovering without the help of the liars we elect to represent us (not to mention the companies who fill their pockets). Most of us have turned our backs as well, cleverly steered away by congressmen who don’t want us reminded of how they failed to help when our fellow countrymen needed them most.
But what can I say? I haven’t done anything. I haven’t donated to charities helping New Orleans and the Gulf Coast get back on its feet. I’ve been a horrible American. I’ve just stood back and observed, watched the news reports fade from the spotlight until they weren’t important enough to make the evening broadcast, as I’ve always done. I feel very frustrated and confused about everything, and I’m not even sure what to do. For all I know the money I donate may go to the very type of person who I’d never give money to in first place: a politician.
I’m sorry, New Orleans.
Yes, I’m being a little more opinionated in this post, and especially ruthless to politicians. But they’re fucking slime bags. The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina brings out the very worst in the disillusionment I have for our elected leaders and the damage they’ve done to our democracy. A lot of people see Democrats and Republicans, but all I see are a bunch of pigs feeding at a corporate trough.
There’s a great documentary directed by Spike Lee about the hurricane and its aftermath, and I recommend it to everyone. “When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts” has been shown a lot on HBO recently (and exclusively, I think — sorry for all those who don’t get HBO). I’ve seen it a couple times, and it’s so powerful and well done it winds me into a fit of anger within two or three minutes of turning it on. It’s about a year old, but, given the ravishing done by politicians and their bedfellows on recovery efforts, I’m assuming not much has changed.
I’m sorry, New Orleans.
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