Thursday, September 02, 2004

Frances can kiss my ass.

Frances is coming, and I’m right in it’s path. It’s predicted to make landfall about 10 miles north of my apartment. Everyone in town is running around like a bunch of idiots spending money on “hurricane supplies” like it’s Christmas or something. It’s like an event brought to you by The Home Depot.

With all of the hysteria, I started thinking. I started wondering, where are all the environmentalists? People are buying plywood by the truck load, should they be out to bitch about all the dead trees? I wonder what an environmentalist would use to protect his or her house?

They can’t use plywood, because that involves cutting something down. I guess they could use metal, but how do they think metal comes into being? Metal doesn’t just come out of the ground in convenient flat sheets. It has to be mined, and processed, and refined, and molded, and whatever else they do to make metal storm shutters. That process requires a lot of energy, and I’m sure it causes some sort of pollution.

Anyway, I don’t give a shit about the environment, but I didn’t buy any plywood. Why not? Because Frances can kiss my ass, that’s why not. I live in an apartment that was built post-Hurricane Andrew, and my sliding glass doors weigh about 10 thousand lbs. The building is solid concrete, and the management even told us that we didn’t need to bother with putting up shutters.

So Frances can kiss my ass. I just hope my cable doesn’t go out. That would be a disaster.


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