Anodyne
Friday, September 02, 2005
 

New Orleans, 2 September 2005.

I spent an hour with the NYT this morning, the photographs like stills from a film co-written by Jack Womack and J.G. Ballard. Two in particular stick with me. A nondescript stretch of outlying highway under grey sky, buses lined up along it, the subdued crowds pressing up to board. A thick residue of debris along the median: broken lawn chairs, shattered styrofoam coolers, cast-off clothing and torn green trash bags. Meanwhile, downtown, a white policeman, flanked by two other white men with semiautomatic rifles, speaks through a megaphone to an obviously furious non-white crowd held back by hastily-deployed riot barricades.

Q: How far in advance was the hurricane known?

A: Five days.

Q: Where was the National Guard?

A: In Iraq.

Q: Where were the funds for levee reinforcement, or for buses to transport those poor residents living directly in the flood's path who didn't own cars, couldn't afford a $50 tank of gas, or couldn't chance leaving all of their possessions behind?

A: Enjoy your tax cut!


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