Southern Comfort

It's pretty freakin' clear that the weather gods are: A) New Yorkers B) Have a strong sense of humor C) And an excellent sense of timing.

Rather than HISTORIC HURRICANE IRENE, which had some alliteration going for it, as well as a catchy, if modified theme song "Come on, Irene," the Gulf South is staring down "Slow Moving Tropical Depression 13." Which is about as catchy as an ABC sit com title. Also, appropriate for this region--slow, depressed, and unlucky.

Apparently, despite the bland name, SMTD13 has already shut down drilling operations in the Gulf. That's important if you drive a car, as this means gas prices will probably go up. See? We're influential too, down here. This also means that if you plan to swim anywhere near the coast in the next 10 days, the water's gonna be foul. Don't do that. This also means that cable is probably going to be all screwed up for college football kickoff weekend. It also probably means there's no toilet paper or canned goods on the shelf at the grocery.

Accuweather.com, in an effort to maintain readership after the post-Irene falloff, is touting SMTD13 as the next BILLION DOLLAR NATURAL DISASTER. I'm interested, in how, exactly, a storm can cause a billion dollars worth of damage down here. Is someone in New Orleans hiding a billion dollars under a rock? Nice timing, by the way, as the Army Corps of Engineers gave New Orleans' levee system a failing grade. Wouldn't it cost less to improve the system than to watch New Orleans sink every five years? Glenn Beck probably thinks this is God's message not to build below sea level.

I guess, actually, New Yorkers and my fellow Mobilians are going to get the last laugh on me. I don't have one of those giant trucks or vee-hicles as people down here call them. My economical little station wagon might not be able to ford the streetrivers of our poorly-infrastructured town.  I mean there are probably backwater towns in India that have way more advanced drainage than our modest hamlet.  So, I will be trapped between the worlds of the true southerner and the die hard northerner. Serves me right for mocking the center of the Western World. I'll have to go out and beg some redneck to get me a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread to keep my kin from starving. He'll be making an armed grocery run for some Bud Light in his Ford 850 with 27" of ground clearance while I bail out the backyard.

New Yorkers will be sittin' back with cigars in big, oxblood leather club chairs holding snifters of brandy, "who's laughin' at the rain now, woman?"

I have it coming. The worst part, of course, is not the billion dollars in flooding. Or the sinking of New Orleans (charming city, that, but it would be freaking awesome as Atlantis.) Or really any of the natural disaster part. The worst part is going to be that I have to spend a three day weekend inside with the kids. Screw the toilet paper and loaf of bread. I'm going to buy some booze.