It's around 8:15, and I'm on a sugar high from eating an almond roca brownie, so my mind is spinning in all sorts of directions, sort of like...Hurricane Ophelia.
Someone had better phone the White House and let Smirky McFlightsuit, Darth Cheney, Chertoff, and Captain Duct Tape know that Hurricane Ophelia is headed for the Carolina coast. Seems no one there has a radio, a TV, a newspaper, a carrier pigeon, or access to the Internets. They might want to start preparing now instead of next week.
But what if...what if the hurricane veers northerly and hits the coast of Virginia? Smirky hasn't been watching the news; he's been playing his new guitar for Dick and the boys. No one gets on the horn and let's D.C. know a hurricane is knocking on the door. The storm hits, and a storm surge the size of Rush Limbaugh's ass roars up the Potomac, turning elite Foggy Bottom into Soggy Bottom?
I'd like to see the Georgetown/Soggy Bottom crowd herded into the Capital rotundra for a week with nothing to eat, no lights, no bathroom, and no maid service. Betcha some of them would sneak out and loot, I mean find stuff at Nordstoms. I'd like to see them perching on the roofs of their Mercedes, waiting for the military to airlift them out.
And would the Jesus jumpers in Kansas say "Hallelujah, God has sent a storm to cleanse Washington of its sinners" like they said of New Orleans?
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