Le Sequoit

Glubya, Glubya

Sunday it was apparent that there were not even enough resources or planning to load people into the Superdome, and I wondered how in the world we would be able to respond to the type of emergency that was possible―that had been in fact predicted fairly correctly―in New Orleans.

I heard the Governor of Louisiana state that 4000 National Guard were mobilized in Natchez. At this point the possibility of this outcome had been steadily increasing for at least four or five days. I looked up the response to Andrew, a disaster of much less scope than this. 22,000 troops and 7,000 National Guard.

And now the worst case scenario is reality. As the waters rush in through levees the engineers have no resources to address, people who chose to stay, had no place to go or had no means to escape huddle at the cesspool that is the Superdome, cling to roofs or drown in petrochemical waste in the streets or in their attics.

Thousands more bake on the concrete pavement of Interstate 10, on a highway that has remained accessible from the west throughout. The Governor, Homeland Security and the Mayor have no idea where they would evacuate the people to even if they had the means to do it. Before long it will occur to the mobs that the only provisions left are located at the hotels in which reporters, valiant employees and stranded tourists sit and wonder if evacuation will come on time.

And there are no images of trucks rolling into town, no swarms of helicopters dropping supplies and addressing the dikes, no details of plans to deal with any of this. How can this be? How can people in America die of the elements on an interstate highway?

There is news as I write that overnight, on this 7th day since this hurricane was predicted to intensify before landing on the gulf coast, on this fifth day since the greatest likelihood was that Katrina would strike New Orleans as at least a Cat 4 or 5, there is word that some military response is being organized. We are sending the Navy, by slow boat.

As the survivors baked yesterday in high 90° temps and hung their asses over the rail of the Superdome to take a dump, where was our leader? In California, giving a war speech and pluckin' strings with some country singer. His words?

Our teams and equipment are in place and we're beginning to move in the help
that people need.

Really! Where is that place? It's not on Interstate 10. Fear not, though, for in Norfolk the freaking Navy is almost on the way.

posted by sequoit @ 8:04 AM