Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

After work yesterday, I went down to Rose's Turn to hang out with roadnotes. They were having a benefit/fundraiser to help transgendered people who have lost their homes in New Orleans. Rainie, the bartender, has a lot of friends down there. She was taking checks, made out to a suitable charitable organization and tax-deductible. But, of course, cash is always welcome, so I gave her some (another aspect of the spending money impulse). After being surprised that I wasn't ordering ginger ale [given how seldom I've been in of late, I was impressed that she remembered] she mixed me a whiskey sour and gave it to me on the house.

The fundraiser was just people hanging out, some recorded music, and red beans and rice and other food on a table in the back. Fine with me: while it's a good cause, my main goal was to be with Roadnotes, who was fretting over some bad news (not mine to post, at least not yet) and wanted hugs and such other reassurance as we could provide. So we hugged, and talked, and I ate excellent red beans and rice, and some fruit that Cubbie brought with her. I caught Roadnotes up on most of what's going on in my life, and got her news, and then I gave a summary to a couple of other people--friends of hers who I know more casually--who showed up later.

I got home around 9:30, while cattitude was doing laundry. Eventually, I made him a cheese omelet for supper, and nibbled bits of it myself. What with one thing and another, we didn't get to bed until 11:30. This is not a good pattern: there have mostly been reasons for being up late, but reason or no reason, it means less sleep.

Both my shoulders are sore, which is oddly reassuring: I'm guessing that I overdid things on the new machine I tried at the gym Tuesday, and didn't actually mess up my rotator cuff again, though one of my standard stretches, the one where I reach behind my back, grasp my wrist, and push out and up, is much harder than it had been, and I can feel I'm not reaching as far, even aside from it hurting.

Addendum: And now I'm wondering why alcohol seemed like a good idea. It's not that I overdid things, and I drank water and club soda and such so I'm not dehydrated. But I didn't need it for mood reasons--I'm not sure I noticed it on that level--and given the ongoing sleep shortage, chemical depressants seem like a dubious choice. (I suspect this means I won't be opening the cider I asked Cattitude to pick up for a few days yet.)

Addendum to the addendum: Last night, I did the rotator cuff exercises with the elastic, which I'd skipped the night before because when I tried the first one it hurt. Sneakily, I did the one that's usually first--pulling the elastic backwards toward my body--last, just in case. But it didn't hurt, except the usual "I've had enough" of the muscles, after slightly fewer reps than usual. But I'm still with the green elastic.

For those who were questioning whether the delays in getting people out of New Orleans were deliberate: DoD is not only admitting it, they're calling it a job well done.

The excuse is that there were dangerous people in the Superdome. So they responded by making everyone else stay there longer, with no food, no water, and "gang members" threatening them. Also, they claim that they needed to search people for guns and weapons on the way out--remember that everyone who came in was searched, and had to stand in line for hours because of this.

To reiterate: The germane fact is not that [the president of Jefferson Parish] breaks down crying on Meet The Press, but that he breaks down crying after describing how FEMA refused his stranded community water and fuel, and then, in an astonishingly chilling flourish, cut their emergency communication lines. [The italics were quoting pnh quoting China Miéville (thanks for the correction, Patrick).]

I don't know details of Louisiana law, but in New York, that's not just vandalism, it's depraved indifference to human life, and murder charges against the people who did it, and whoever gave the orders to do so, if anyone died of hunger or thirst in that parish after that point.

I believe the New Orleans district attorney should be preparing indictments against the heads of FEMA and Homeland Security on charges of at least criminally negligent homicide--the image of them trying to bargain it down to manslaughter is darkly amusing--and possibly depraved indifference. They withheld food and water from hungry, thirsty refugees. They knew, or should have known, the effects of that.

There are witnesses--many of them relatives and neighbors--who can testify to those deaths, to the identities of those who died, and to when they died.

No wonder Bush doesn't want us seeing the bodies: they're evidence of crimes by his cronies.

Bush has said "The response was unacceptable." From me, or certainly from anyone in or of New Orleans, that would be a reasonable and even calm statement.

From the man to whom FEMA, the Army, and the National Guard report, the man who told the Canadian relief team not to come south, it should be "Our response was unacceptable," or "My response was unacceptable."

Furthermore, several people recently have observed that they miss Richard Nixon. It's time for Bush to emulate Nixon, and write a letter, addressed to Condoleeza Rice. That letter should read "I resign the office of President of the United States, effective immediately."

Yes, Cheney is on vacation, or maybe in a hospital. Yes, Dennis Hastert might be a bad president. Nonetheless, Bush should take responsibility, resign, and get out of the way so there's some chance of a competent person taking over.

No, I don't believe he'll do it. If he were the sort of man to do that, he wouldn't have wasted time while the waters rose in New Orleans. He wouldn't have appointed an incompetent to run FEMA: if you know you need to delegate--and no president, however competent, can run everything--you delegate to people who can do the job.