I’ve been thinking a lot about hurricanes lately, for obvious reasons. We’re deep in the bowels of hurricane season, and even though I now live two thousand miles away from the Danger Zone, I still follow the storms with stalkerish obsession. Dean. Erin. Flossie. I watch their behavior closely to see if I can predict who is going to screw me over this year.
It’s been almost two years since I evacuated from New Orleans for Katrina, and I still can’t hear that name without wanting to throttle, maim or give a strongly-worded lecture to whoever owns it (all you Katrinas out there, I suggest you go by Kat or Katie or even Trina).
Maybe that sounds silly to you, but let me explain. You know how you hate the name Mandy because of that bitch in junior high who watched “The Craft” too many times and spread the rumor that you were a witch and were trying to spike the basketball team’s Gatorade with a potion to fall in love with you? Yeah, since then, you’ve hated every Mandy you’ve met. Well, imagine she also flooded your city, destroyed your friends’ childhood homes and closed your favorite red beans and rice and fried chicken restaurant. Now who’s being silly?
It sucks because I used to kinda like the name Katrina. Except for that Katrina and the Waves “Walking on Sunshine” fiasco, it had never done anything to me. But now, it’s ruined for life, and I have to cross it off the list of my future children’s names.
To avoid this situation in the future, I propose we name all future storms after people we already hate (“we” meaning me, of course). I’ll start us off; if it were up to me to name the 2007 roster of storms, they would be:
1. Ann. She told a disabled Vietnam vet, “People like you caused us to lose that war.” She has no soul. She’d probably go off course and hit California just to destroy all the liberals.
2. Bill. Most of the time, he’s just so ridiculous, he’s kind of entertaining. Then he comes out with something really insane, like recommending that al Qaeda blow up San Francisco, and it gets personal.
3. Carmen. What exactly does she do, except hook up with formerly cool rock stars and take her clothes off? She’d probably wreak havoc just for the publicity.
4. Dick. I think the name says it all. I hold him responsible for the mess we’re in. And he shot a dude in the face.
5. Eminem. So much anger. Such a nasal voice. I don’t care if you’re the real Slim Shady, and I don’t care if you’re back.
6. Fergie. OK, I’ll admit it: I liked “London Bridge.” It’s catchy; don’t judge me. But “My Humps”? “You love my lady lumps?” That is unforgivable.
7. George. Oh, George, where do I begin? You know what you did. Let’s not make this uglier than it has to be.
8. Hannity. He’s Faux News’ other golden boy, after “Papa Bear” Bill O’Reilly, of course. He’d destroy every blue state in his path because we hate freedom and America.
9. Imus. It’s not his fault he looks like Skeletor, but it is his choice to chug that Haterade every day.
10. Jerry. Yes, I know he’s dead, and maybe this is in poor taste, but the man said AIDS is God’s punishment for homosexuality. He’s not exactly up for sainthood.
11. Karl/K-Fed. It’s a toss-up. The former is often referred to as “Bush’s Brain,” which is both frightening and oxymoronic. The latter subjected us to “PopoZao” and allowed Britney to procreate. You be the judge.
I’ll stop at “K” because I hope to God we don’t need more than that. Pray for November 30 to come quickly.