I was struck in the coverage of Hurricane Gustav this weekend by how poorly CNN and their ilk hid their disappointment that the storm gave New Orleans a pass. All the reporters and federal aid workers and disaster planners standing out in the pissing rain, pouting. You could see they really wanted an ginourmous, Katrina-style cataclysm so they could show their stuff. As Gustav wobbled from a category 5 down to a 4 and then wound up making landfall as a Categotry 2 their digust was palpable. I would have felt sorry for them if they weren’t so despicable.
And can I just say this about “Gustav?” What a lame ass name for a hurricane. I grew up in cyclone territory, on a little peninsula sticking out into Galveston Bay and the storms of my youth (all girl names, this was before the decline in civilization that allowed boy names equal access) were sassy bitches that sounded like trouble. Carla and Betsy and Wilma and Bonnie; it was like they picked them from of a line-up of checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly. All these recent ones like Katrina and Ivan and Gustav reek of striving and you know how I hate that.