Skipping days

Gaahh. All this disaster information, the personal accounts drifting in via alternative sources, since BushCo. is working on censoring the MSM, is starting to swirl around in my head like toxic water, clogged with rotting bodies of people and other animals. Most toxic of all have been the accounts of the Gretna, LA police blocking flood victims from getting over the river to their affluent white enclaves. And the way Missisippi's damage and casualties are being hidden in an attempt to salvage the Republicans in charge of our country, evil fuckers I would prefer to be swirling in the polluted waters left in Katrina's wake.
So I missed a day yesterday - part of it was being upset by my mother having another "spell" while we were sitting on our neighbor's little wall, her favorite resting spot before heading up the gentle incline of what she calls "the final pitch." She didn't completely lose consciousness this time, nor lose control of her bodily functions, but it was seizure-like for a few seconds until I could get her on her back with her feet up. It's so clear to see how old people by themselves can have these episodes and fall to their injury or doom. I've been with her for most of these events. It takes little or no imagination to picture helpless, unattended old people's suffering in the wake of a disaster.
Standing at my kitchen sink, watching dirty soapy water slowly drain, I thought about New Orleans slowly slowly draining. And about a piece in this week's The Stranger, which pointed out that many of the low income folks in the city were not a bunch of welfare cheats, but working poor. And I wondered, apropo of all the rich white folks down there who've expressed delight at the idea of re-building NO sans the underclasses, if they've thought about who's going to be left to do all that servant-like service work. All they coloreds and nigrahs'll be gawn.