The Aftermath

I posted only once yesterday. A feeling of heaviness has settled on me similar to the one I felt on 9/11. The extent of the disaster along the Gulf Coast is only now beginning to seep out, and I believe it’s a lot worse than what has been shown by the media so far.

Looting and armed violence seems to be on the increase. Stories are coming out of mobs trying to force their way into hospitals and nursing homes. For what? Water? Money? The thrill of terrorizing the helpless?

Is this what life will be like if the avian flu pandemic that experts fear wipes out our first responders?

Snatches of intel show up on the web here and there: A living center in Kenner abandoned by nurses, where residents waited for buses that never came; a thousand people stranded at a hotel just off the French Quarter with no food, water, or power since Friday; a man forced to choose between saving his wife and saving his children who watched in despair as she spared him the choice and disappeared into the darkness.

New Orleans legend Fats Domino and his wife opted to ride out the storm at their home, which is now underwater. Fats hasn’t been heard from since Monday, like thousands more from New Orleans to Mobile.

Lord help us.

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