More Ike Aftermath

You may know that I am a property manager for a preservation company.  You may even know that I am responsible for the preservation of roughly 800 bank owned houses.  What you may not know is that every single one of them is in the Houston area, with many on the battered Galveston Island.

I’m not looking for sympathy – this is my job, after all.  And I didn’t lose anything because of the hurricane.  In fact, it has been pretty silent for me at work lately because of many factors:  cell phone outages (FEMA actually took over the cell towers last weekend, and reception is still lukewarm at best), gasoline lines/shortages/price gouging, and my hardy crew of contractors attending to their own properties (as they should) despite the widespread lack of power and water.

I have had some crews working through all of this, getting things done that I certainly did not expect to get done as quickly as they have.  And I have had others call me pleading for patience with their assigned work, which I of course assured them.  They all want to work, but in some cases it is just not possible.  And I totally understand that.

And then this afternoon, it happened.  The phone at my desk started ringing.  Over and over and over.

Normalcy is beginning to return.  Listing agents are starting to tour their properties, calling me with laundry lists of problems that need to get rectified… NOW.  Again, I understand and bravely accept that challenge.

Wanna see the challenge?  Take a look at the pictures assembled here. One word comes to mind…

Wow.

Never doubt the resiliency of people, particularly Texans.  And that is why I am going to end this entry with a quote from one resident of the island who rode out Ike in a church.  This was his reply to a question regarding divine intervention, after explaining that he had not set foot in a church for 40 years:

I drink beer and chase women, gamble, cuss.  You can’t call that religion. I’m either too good, the devil won’t have me, or I’m so bad the Good Lord won’t take me. That’s a good toss-up.

Genius 8.0 (Another Ignored Music Post)

Where have you been all my MP3 life, Mr. iTunes 8.0 Genius Playlist?

One of the perils of possessing almost 7000 MP3s (besides the wife complaining that the music collection slows down YouTube versions of Charlie Bit Me remakes on the laptop) is that something is always left out when making a mix CD.  It is as inevitable as sticky sleeping bags at summer camp.

Well, thanks to the latest version of iTunes, all of that pressure is now alleviated – from me, at least.  You’ll have to make up your own mind.

Have a song stuck in your mind that is in your iTunes library?  Just right click on it and select the genius option.  Suddenly a playlist is created based on that one song.  You can choose the number of songs in the playlist (from 25 to 100, in increments of 25) and refresh the list based on any new settings.  (That is my one beef with this newfangled option, by the way.  Since I am not an iPod owner and I burn CDs to listen to, I’d like a little more freedom in choosing how many songs are selected.  Most home-burned CDs can hold 18-20 songs so I’d like the options to be in increments of, say, 18 or so.  But that’s just low-rent me…)

My first foray into the genius realm was at the behest of my current favorite song:  Missed The Boat by Modest Mouse.  (Tangent:  I did not realize that the very great Johnny Marr, the man who played the incredibly kick-ass riff on How Soon Is Now? when he was with the Smiths, and then went on to play hypnotic tunes with The The, is now with Modest Mouse.  How did I miss that?)

Anyway, the 25 song playlist compiled by iTunes based on that one song blew my mind.  It might just be the best playlist I have ever seen.  Songs from Spoon, The Killers, The Shins, The Violent Femmes, Wilco, and others.

However, I’ll bet that I will top it eventually.  For example, right now I am listening to a genius playlist based on Teenage Fanclub’s Mellow Doubt.  So far, I have been treated to songs from The Weakerthans, Echo and the Bunnymen, and The Wedding Present.  Still to come are The Pixies, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Eels, and Robyn Hitchcock.

And, yes, I am leaving a lot of bands out when I choose those few to highlight.

I think I am going to be up all night.

Shit.

On A Lighter Note…

Some of you may know that my wife works in the admissions department of an institute that just happens to cater to the arts.  This institute also has an audio production program and the running joke around her office when someone inquires about that degree is that the prospective student always has the same answer when asked what they hope to obtain from that degree:

I want to make beats!

Forget all the other career paths such a degree can open up, from NASA to cryptogrophy.  It’s all about the beats to some.

So I have gotten used to her coming home with CDs that her students have given her, most littered with as many cuss words as possible with the requisite use of the “n” word over and over.  Last week, she came home with a CD from a student who goes by the name Paul C.  And, before she subjected me to the “music”, I told her that I had a feeling that this one would be more intellectual, more brainy.  Wanna know why?

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Because that would make it a cerebral Paul C.

(Insert rim shot here.)

Also, I should mention that I actually liked this CD.  It kind of reminded me of Devo, black-style.  In that vein, I named a new genre of music:  Blevo.

Texas Justice: Ike Version

After a night of watching nothing but The Weather Channel, the wife and I retired to bed.  We were getting a nice breeze at our house just north of Austin, so we had all the windows open.  Our wooden blinds occasionally clattered against screens and panes, mimicking screams of pain, but we slept soundly, as we often do during times of “weather”.

That is, until the phone rang at 2am.

—–

The so-called castle doctrine was enacted as a state law in March of 2007.  Gone were the days of following this adage:  if you shoot someone breaking into your house, make sure he falls inside – not outside.  Also, the person protecting his own property no longer had to make an effort to flee before using deadly force.  This is why, in some circles, this bill is also known as the “make my day” law.

The law also provides “civil immunity for a person who lawfully uses deadly force” as long as that person meets all the criteria of the bill.  Basically, as long as the defender is not engaged in illegal activity at the time, and the “intruder” is not someone with a legal right to be there (i.e. law enforcement), then it is a justified killing.

—–

My wife heard the phone before I did.  She was already out the bedroom door before I started to get out of bed.  A phone call at 2am is never a good thing, especially when The Boy is out of town visiting his dad and other family members are hunkered down in Houston, playing the role of Tina Turner as Hurricane Ike delivered blow after blow.  I feared the worst.

“Just calm down” was repeated over and over into the phone.  Finally, hearing only her side of the conversation, I deduced what had happened and immediately Googled Texas law.  That is how I got indoctrinated to the doctrine.  Relief poured through me as I relayed the information I had found to her.  She then spoke the same over the phone.

The cops arrived at the Houston house at that time and the conversation ended.  All we knew was that the body was in the driveway and that our family member was being taken in for questioning.  I knew what I had read bode well for the family, but I would be lying if I said that I slept soundly after the call.

—–

The first time this law was really put to the test happened in Pasadena, an eastern suburb of Houston.  What made this case so extraordinary was that it was a neighbor, in his 70s, who shot burglars at the house next door – despite pleas from the 911 operator.

He was exonerated.

—–

It was close to 4am now.  I had slept fitfully, the rattling of the blinds no longer a memento of the cooling breeze but rather a Brinks security system placebo.  One particularly large gust startled me awake and left me wondering if our dog would even hear an intruder over all the noise that the wind was creating.

It was at that time that my wife woke up screaming.  She saw someone in the doorway to our room – but not really.  I calmed her, telling her everything was ok, knowing that she was just having the same dreams I was having.

And then the phone rang.

The family member was already home from his police station visit.  The man he shot in his living room was packing a gun, so it was a good thing that he followed him outside to finish the deal.  The deceased also had a “rap sheet” two pages long.  The officers said that the right thing was done, as looting was already going on in downtown Houston.

The thing that shocked me, however, was that they sent him home with his gun.  Their reasoning?

“You might need it again.”

From The Files Of…

… you would not believe me if I told you.

There will be a new post in the morning that details things I should not say, yet need to be said.  Because, dammit, this story is so blog-worthy.

I just need one more night to figure out how to write this without it being used as evidence if a trial were to ensue.  Interested?

Thought so.

Love to all, as usual.

Political Conundrum

Which one wouldja?

• Sarah Palin
• Cindy McCain
• Michelle Obama
• Larry Craig in a restroom

Discuss, as my answer is to be revealed later.

Holy Crap, You’re Reading

I guess that means the pressure is on.  It is time to be funny.  To “git witty wid it”.

Unfortunately, I have always been much funnier in person.  Take my last entry, for example.  The sole purpose for that one was to show an example of how quick with a rejoinder I can be.  And then my long lost UK brother Cliff – a true writer, comedy or otherwise – outdid my joke tenfold with his “Banana Republic” comment.

The bastard.

I’ll bet he even “gets” Steely Dan.

So I am left to wonder what I can possibly write to make you – yeah, YOU – laugh.

I could mention that Dawn got a Tarot card reading from a student today and how I told her that I have only messed with Tarot cards once:  it was the only available deck while playing poker with some friends.  I got a full house, and four people died.

But even that joke is stolen (from the great Steven Wright).

Rest assured, I am going to keep my mind nestled on you (three) readers.  Anything funny I say during the day, that does not compromise my job or my relationship with my wife, will be posted here.

Expect a few quiet days…

But check back often, because you never know.

Low Polo Blow

I am not threatened by homosexuals.

There.  I’ve said it.

I also do not overtly seek out the gays and befriend them, but there are times in my life that make such occasions hard to avoid, especially since I am married to a woman who finds “them” particularly entertaining.  This past week presented a prime example.

As we were speaking with her new “BFF” KC (she later accidentally referred to him as her “BFFF” which garnered a very tasteless butt fuck joke from me), he was regaling us with stories of the places he had worked in the past.  A large portion of this job history focused on his time at the Ralph Lauren store in the Domain in Austin.

He said that he spent $800 on clothes for this job because employees were encouraged (i.e. required) to wear the Ralph Lauren brand while at work.  However, he also said that he could never really pull of the look.  “It isn’t made for people like me,” he said.  “I got fired because they said I wasn’t Ralph Lauren material.”

I could bite my tongue no longer…  I had to jump in before the joke suffered a painful, left-in-the-throat demise.

“So you were a little too Lauren, not enough Ralph?”

(Insert rim shot here.)

For the record, KC’s boyfriend laughed his ass off at my joke.

Then KC picked it up and fucked it.

REPOST: A Bridge Over Trouble Waters

On September 1, 2005 – three years ago to the day – I posted the following entry on the first incarnation of “Goin’ To The John”, hosted by a different blog site.  With Hurricane Gustav making its ominous approach to the Gulf Coast, I thought it might be a good time to revisit the thoughts I had post-Katrina.

—–

I’m having flashbacks. Kind of.

After 9-11, I became a media hound. I was hurt, saddened, borderline depressed, and I felt like the world as I knew it was over. However, I could not get enough of the coverage. I scoured every website. I listened to The Ticket while the news on TV was muted. (For the record, The Ticket got a lot of rave reviews for their handling of 9-11. It was like listening to your buddies talk about the attack. More personal than national or local news. Plus, it allowed some of those radio guys – specifically Gordo – to showcase just how freaking smart they are.) I took solace in talking to everyone I knew about the hijackings. I followed up on every rumor that was floating around. And the Somesuch-Whatnot email group was very active, sharing links, fears, sadness and hope.

Then the feel-good stories started to come out. “Normal” people doing extraordinary things. “Everyday people” performing unlikely acts of heroism. “Average” people exhibiting above average courage.

I guess that is why Hurricane Katrina is so different for me.

It is an odd consolation, but at least after 9-11, we had someone to blame. A person and an organization. We had a place to vent our anger toward. Nevermind that said anger should have been directed at more than just the one target (and I don’t mean we should have invaded more countries). But we, as a nation, stood around the rallying pole and unified – if only briefly. And we felt good about ourselves for it.

But now… now this.

Total happenstance has potentially ruined a storied city, not to mention the surrounding areas and one of my favorite places that I’ve ever visited (Biloxi, MS).

What do you think of when you think of New York City? Probably the same stereotypes that cross my mind: Self-centered, rude, and violent.

And what do you think of when you think of New Orleans? Again, probably the same as me: Fun loving, laid back, but also kind of creepy.

So which city do you think would have the most looters?

Maybe it all goes back to what the force was that actually caused the destruction. New Yorkers may have seen 9-11 as a brazen attack by a cowardly enemy and not a reason to capitalize on misfortune. But certain residents of New Orleans seem to have taken Hurricane Katrina as a blessing in disguise. The governor of Louisianna called Katrina “our tsunami”, but many residents are acting as if it is their lottery.

I wonder, if the situations were reversed, if the reactions of the residents of these two cities would be the same?

If someone is looting food and water, or even legitimate medicine, that is one thing. But jeans? And jewelry? And tennis shoes?

Again, I realize that comparing 9-11 to Katrina is an apples/oranges argument. New York still had power. And water. Open lines of communication. Safe, or presumably so, places to go. New Orleans has none of that. Hell, they are even evacuating the “safe havens” set up for those too sick or without the means to leave town. And the Superdome has proven to be less that super.

But a natural disaster of this magnitude should not be treated as a means to upgrade the wardrobe. It should be a time when we start hearing about the heroic neighbor saving people and pets. Or a guy who saves a work of art from one of the downtown galleries – not for his own benefit, but for the benefit of future generations.

Sadly, this hurricane is the antithesis of 9-11. Instead of residents showing their humanistic compassion, we are left with images of opportunistic stragglers who probably ignored evacuation orders just for the potential to acquire new things that would be otherwise unattainable.

Hey, I know that many lacked the means to leave before the storm. And I know that many of those people have been forced to “loot” grocery and drug stores to get neccessities. I’m not targeting them. I’m talking about the ones who stayed just for free shit. They are akin to the woman at the grocery store who falls because she is a klutz in high heels, yet sues the grocery chain for an unsafe shopping environment.

I have no use for people like that.

I have now gotten to the point where I have a hard time looking at the video from New Orleans. Someone compared the scene there to the movie “Escape From New York”, and that (sadly) isn’t probably very far off the mark. Gangs of the “left behind” walking (or wading) the streets with guns. Shots fired at police for no reason. Shots fired at helicoptors evacuating patients from hospitals, thus scuttling their mission. Total mayhem.

And the safe haven of the Superdome? No air conditioning and broken toilets have led to massive unrest. There have also been several reports of rape in the dome. Unreal. Of course, I have never been in the situation these folks are in, but I am willing to bet that if I was, forced sex would be the absolute last thing on my mind.

Everyone in the Superdome is being bussed to Texas to stay in the Astrodome and a yet to be determined location in San Antonio. Texas Governor Rick Perry said that the “refugees” are welcome to stay in Texas as long as they want.

I know this is going to make me sound bad, but… screw it. I don’t want them here. Texas is a fucked up state as it is. The Dubya influence still lingers here, as legislators give themselves raises and lower the pension for retired school district employees. The last thing we need here are a bunch of people whose idea of survival consists of not helping their fellow man but taking advantage of them any way they can.

This “victim society” we live in drives me batshit. No one is to blame for anything. Everything is someone else’s fault. Personal accountability is as foreign in the States as the now defunct lira is in Italy.

The people I really feel for are the good ones that we are still not hearing or reading about. I know they are in that group of Superdome dwellers. I have a little faith still. And that poor single mother of three? She is grouped in with the gun-toting rapist thugs who are trying to capitalize on a natural disaster.

It is sad and sickening at the same time. New York gave us punk rock. Chicago gave us the blues. N’Orleans gave us jazz. New York showed us resolve after 9-11. Chicago, as much as I hated the city while there (sorry, Ali), overcame gang wars, a cow-started fire, and Steve Bartman.

New Orleans? It’s your turn now. Please don’t disappoint.

—–

Now, as for Gustav, it appears as if the city has gotten it right.  I love the tough talk from New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin, telling people who stay behind that there will be no “last chance” shelters, nor any leniency shown toward looters.

Happy Labor Day.