When I shut down on Friday night, all forecasts predicted the world would end on Saturday thanks to hurricane Irene. Thankfully they were wrong.
Last night my eyes were glued to the weather channel and the “french doors” that led outside from my family room in anticipation of the coming apocalypse. At least I was told it would be an apocalypse, after all president Obama cut his trip short for this. This is the man who refused to cut his trip short to show some leadership, an area begging for a leader, but he came home for Irene which seemed to be handled well without him, by governors, FEMA and of course Michael Bloomberg, Mayor of NY. Heck this is the kind of operation where Bloomberg thrives, he just loves to control every aspect of people’s lives, so ordering an evacuation of low lying areas give him almost as much joy as when he tells people what they can or cannot eat. There is even a rumor that when using the restroom in a NYC facility, there is a recording of the Mayor reminding people to flush and wash their hands (some even say it’s not a recording, but Bloomberg making live announcements).
But not Obama, he likes other people to do his dirty work. He hates soiling his Presidential fingers. For the President to come home for Irene, there must be something the media wasn’t telling us, something severe like giant salt shakers, super-sized burgers or some other unhealthy food hiding somewhere in the storm clouds, there was no other reason why the President would come home for a hurricane while he ignored our ongoing economic crisis.
Just around midnight the wind began to whip up and what had been a light rain became a downpour. I began to ignore the TV to concentrate on what was happening outside. The trees seemed to be doing a synchronized dance, bending and moving their arm-like branches in unison.
The wind began to make fierce noises as it pushed around the trees. My dog ran out of the room and into the kitchen, as if she was trying to get away from any window. Just about then we lost power. Both the inside and outside became pitch dark and I pressed my face against the windows of the “french doors,” looking for whatever that hidden calamity which drew the president home early from vacation to arrive.
I must have passed out around 1 am, but since the power was out I couldn’t really tell. At 8 am, I woke from my deep slumber and looked out the window. The backyard was covered with tree branches, the pool was overflowing with water and leaves, the rain was coming down hard but not as hard as it had been, and the wind was whipping through the trees.
Within the hour the eye of the hurricane passed over Far Rockaway, a part of Queens NY about 30 miles west of my house. What I never saw was the giant salt shaker, hamburger, other unhealthy food or any other reason why the President would come home for this hurricane which was under control, while he ignored the economy which is spinning out of control.
The Weather Channel is declaring that all danger to Long Island has largely passed. Irene, now a tropical storm is doing damage to northern NY State and Connecticut. But I don’t believe them. There must be something else coming from Irene. Why else would Obama come back from vacation?