Michael’s home city, Muffti’s party playground on Death Row.
I would like to take this moment to announce that I am staunchly anti-hurricane. Ever since Ivan chased me out of New Orleans last year to take refuge in the aptly titled Plano, Texas over Rosh Hashana, I have had a sneaking suspicion that hurricanes are not only destructive, not only terrifying, but indeed, anti-Semitic. First Ivan gives me a High Holidays in suburban Texas, and now Katrina is barreling in on New Orleans with Category 5 winds, primed to sink that shining city
on a hill an average of 6 feet below sea level into the Gulf.
I briefly considered making a stand, printing up bumper stickers, wearing a Star of David armband, refusing to make any sort of contingency plan because of my firm conviction that Hashem would avert the hurricane at the last moment, and calling Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin and Louisiana governer Kathleen Blanco “Nazis” until the hurricane stopped or I drowned, but then rationality won out and I cancelled my flight and stayed in my mom’s house safely in Yankeeland.
And to be perfectly honest, while I suppose in a way it’s stressful to have one’s home city about 12 hours from potential destruction, it’s not like I’m passionately in love with New Orleans or anything. All of my friends have been robbed at gunpoint at one time or another, and just yesterday, in another hurricane-related incident proving detrimental to the Jewish people, somebody stole a friend of mine’s car so that they could evacuate instead of her. She got out with someone else, minus her car. So, really, I’m not going to shed any huge number of tears if New Orleans (which is now almost entirely evacuated anyway), a city rife with crime and smelling mostly like puke, becomes part of the Gulf of Mexico aquatic ecosystem, if you catch my drift.
And if it so happens that events transpire to make my dear and wonderful institute of higher education accessible only by boat, well, Hebrew University, here I come.
So screw you, Katrina.