The National "No Help" List

Originally uploaded by deglinkta.

Recap: Sunday August 28th, late on the eve of Hurricane Katrina, my girlfriend, our two cats, Moe and Kasey, a two-legged rescue cat named Zebra, Marty the Bulldog and myself, crammed into our spacious Toyota Corolla and inched westward on I-10 towards Austin. We begrudgingly evacuated New Orleans just in the nick of time thanks to a barrage of prophetic phone calls from tearful and persistent relatives. I have to admit we were in total denial at first. Like many weathered New Orleanians, we’d grown immune to the annual hype. So, we picked up a few flicks, stocked our Lakeview bungalow with assorted munchies and the old lady iced down enough wine coolers for a week or so of cozy tropical lovemaking.

Reason struck like lightning at the last possible moment. I think it was when a local anchorwoman said– “There’s still time. If you haven’t left yet, get the hell out!” All the blood rushed out of my extremities, my wiener shriveled up, and our cavalier attitude transformed into one of utter panic and impending doom. I ran around in circles chastising myself, while my girlfriend methodically gathered all the animals, loaded us into the car and then we left.

I’m a big talk radio fan, but between New Orleans and Houston, the choices are pretty much limited to Jesus or neo-con jackasses. I was feeling a little abandoned by Jesus, so I opted for Clear Channels’ stable of braying Rush Limbaugh wannabees.

Unfortunately, all they could talk about was shouldering the burden of these foolhardy bumpkins who had been stupid enough to build their communities along the treacherous Gulf Coast, and especially New Orleans which flat spat in the face of common sense altogether. Add to that the occasional moony, with their “divine payback” theories – e.g. “the city that the damned call home” and so forth - and you have the makings of a disenheartening 17 hour retreat. Christ, the storm was yet to make ground fall and these a-holes were ready to give us back to the French, or the Devil - whichever was less expensive!

Listen, I’m no qualified political commentator or psychologist, but as a longtime waiter and bartender I know a thing or two about “fiscally conservative” which is really just PC for “cheap”. And I don’t mean that to be insulting. It’s a legitimate disorder, with a scientific name and everything. It’s called parsimony – “unusual or excessive frugality, extreme economy or stinginess”. That’s why I didn’t take it personal. But it made me think. Maybe they just need a way out.

Here’s an idea. Let’s take the high road and petition on their behalf. We’ll gather all their names, and have them politely excluded from American Society. I figure we can call it the National “No Help” List. Once complete, I’ll submit it to the powers that be, who can then work out the details and make it official. That way, when a killer twister touches down or a dam breaks, or the earth’s crust spits molten lava on their little black lawn jockeys, they won’t be sitting around waiting for a check or bottled water. Of course they’ll be ineligible for a seat on the Mothership or a national bomb shelter lottery in the event of nuclear fallout. I guess they’ll just have to mutate, but at least they'll have their precious tax dollars.

You’ll have to help me out. I signed up a few well-known peckerwoods to get the ball rolling.

Nat’l “No Help” List -

1. Sean Hannity
2. Neil Cavuto
3. Bill O’Reilly
4.