Finally, some honesty... sort of

This New York Times article describes the US Army Corps of Engineer's plan to survey the New Orleans area and determine which neighborhoods and blocks are at the greatest risk of flooding in the future. They've admitted that New Orleans is still at a big risk of flooding and could suffer substantial hurricane damage even after the levees have been rebuilt.

Basically, the Corps of Engineers is tactfully saying: "We're doing the best we can, so don't come bitching to us if Mother Nature decides she doesn't want people living on the Louisiana coast." I've always felt kind of sorry for those guys, seeing as they're charged with building coastal protection against things that no human being could ever hope to fully defend against.

I don't blame residents of New Orleans for wanting to rebuild and continue living there; it's human nature to resist displacement. Although I question the wisdom of a city planner who places stuff below sea level right next to an unprotected coast, that's up to the people who live there.

The people who really irritate me are real estate developers. I've got nothing against building homes, but it's downright dishonest to encourage people to live in an area that will most likely be destroyed within 50 years. I see it as long-term profiteering. People like the idea of ocean front property, since 99% of the time it's beautiful and a great place to live, but a developer only gets paid to build up an area once. If a single company develops areas all along the coast, then they're pretty much guaranteed a new contract for the same area every few years. And the government (i.e. taxpayers) have to pay to make the areas seem safe to the people who actually live and work in the developed areas.

Basically, development along the Gulf Coast is a drain on taxpayers and ultimately results in catastrophe every time a big hurricane shows up (which will be all the more frequent with global warming). Has anyone considered growing mangrove forests along the coasts, and putting limits on how close towns and cities can be built to the shore in certain areas? Our generation probably won't get much thanks for it, but the next major hurricane will kill fewer people if we do.

Hopefully this risk-evaluation project by the Corps of Engineers will at least sow the seeds of caution.

In other news: I'm flying back to New York for the summer! Five whole weeks in the state (yes, New York is also a state) I adore above all others. Once a Yankee, always a Yankee, and I don't even like baseball. I love it because I've lived there for almost my entire life, I have relatives and friends there, and also because of my totally overinflated opinion of the place and its greatness. Money, the biggest state park in the entire USA, one of the greatest cities of all time, money, bagels, real pizza, what's not to love?

I Hate Cockroaches

So there I was, minding my own damn business at 10:56 PM (22:56 for people in smart countries), trying to put some milk into a glass to be put in the microwave oven so I could get to sleep, when my brother walks in and says: "Whoa, a cockroach!"

So there it was. A big, fat, hyperactive cockroach, as if on cue, buzzed off the table and under the fridge. "Great," thought I, "that's gross, but at least now I have an excuse to not go after it." What a fool I was. It crawled up the side of the fridge and promptly flew past my face onto the stove top, at which point I resolved that it was my manly duty to try and squish the thing with a paper towel and throw it in the trash, after which I would take a shower and wash myself with bleach out of disgust.

So there we were. Man and cockroach. Strength against speed. Paper towels matched against one of nature's most successfully adapted gross things.

The odds were not in my favor.

I made my first lunge, and my first mistake. In my haste, I must have blinked or looked away, because it scuttled off just inches away from where I had aimed. That was the blunder that ruined everything: now it knew that I was after it, and so it ran behind the jar of sugar, and waited. Damn. Now I had to reach out with my unarmed hand to pull the jar away so it would come out into the open again.

I pulled the jar towards me, and it scuttled out just as I knew it would. But then something disastrous happened, something that would show me just how badly I blundered by missing it the first chance I had.

It hid under a napkin, behind a cake stand.

I knew then that I was defeated, that the little fucker was beyond my power to destroy. But I had to try: using the back end of a flyswatter, I pulled the napkin away, prepared to remedy the mistake I had made by missing it thirty seconds before. All for naught; that six-legged piece of shit ran across the countertop, over the edge, and into an open drawer.

It's still there. Plotting, waving those creepy antennae around. I failed to destroy it, I've doomed us all. There's nothing left to do but fill the house with bug bombs and light it on fire. Then there'll be nothing left to do but get drunk.

Accursed fate, why dost thou torment me so?!

Reasons I don't like Texas, #236: If everything is bigger in Texas, then fuck that! I refuse to go anyplace where the cockroaches are any bigger than their already-intolerable size everywhere else.