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Annie Get Your Gun; Noah Get Your Ark


Here's a new take on a flood!

Yesterday, it rained anywhere from six to nine inches in Massachusetts and lower New Hampshire.  People are dying.  Bodies everywhere.  Not really, but outside of Boston (where damage was limited to crippled umbrellas and delayed Green Line trains) people are sloshin’ the suburbs.  The Boston Globe hailed it as a “deluge of misery.” Ebert and Roker give it two thumbs up.  Blah, blah, rain pun, blah.  Abandoned cars littered parking lots and dotted streets, entire above-ground pools are submerged.  I’m just glad I bought this Ivory Tower to prepare for Y2k, otherwise I’d be flat out bloated by now.

What bothers me most is not the destruction or loss, but rather the local media’s collective hard-on for this type of nonsense.  I am not blowing the whistle or pulling back the curtain for I know the criticism is a tired one.  Tough not be a little bit angry when I see Ed Harding in my old home town, bucket hat a’ drippin’, marveling at how the house behind him is being ruined as we speak!  Cut back to bobble head anchor, feigning concern, giving good noddy, hoping their 10,000 square feet are okay in Weston.

Katrina this isn’t.  I understand that.  But when does the coverage go from campy to concerned?  Like Patrick Kennedy on the Congress floor concerned.  People aren’t really losing their lives, but there is considerable loss.  When I lived in the outskirts, like most people, I kept my shit in the attic or the basement.  Now your basement is a fish tank.  Hope you enjoyed your old Christmas decorations and family photos.  Time to make some new memories.  Hey 80 year-old-guy, sopping wet in your pool of a driveway, what say you: “I’m wet, and I’m tired.”  That was an actual quote.  Do me a favor news, don’t bother my grandfather.  This flood is enough to kill him without the excitement of being a t.v. star.

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