Last night, and for the second time in the last two weeks, the Sunshine State of Florida got smacked by a major hurricane. High winds and storm surge did the expected damage and took the usual lives.
I don’t mean to minimize the toll in property or souls. It’s just that this isn’t surprising — hurricanes are a known risk in the Gulf region, and no amount of preparation or buttressing will prevent deaths and damage.
“Tropicana Field (commonly known as ‘the Trop’) is a multi-purpose, formerly domed and now open-air stadium located in St. Petersburg, Florida, United States.”
the Wikipedia entry for Tropicana Field, already updated this morning to reflect that hurricane-force winds ripped the roof off the joint last night. The tongue-in-cheek edit was removed before I could get a screenshot.
What could be considered unexpected was an unprecedented outbreak of tornadoes ahead of the hurricane’s landfall. Inland areas — ironically, places to which residents of the state’s west coast fled to escape the hurricane — and even the Atlantic coast were hammered for hours by twisters, 27 in all.
These weren’t your typical Florida tornadoes, either. They were big wedges, the kind we’re accustomed to seeing in the Midwest and on the Great Plains.
Cleanup and recovery have begun (or resumed, really). For a variety of reasons — topography, infrastructure, population density, socioeconomics and other factors — that process will bear little resemblance to what’s unfolding now in southern Appalachia.
I’ll lay odds that the scalped baseball stadium in St. Pete will have a new roof — or a brand-new stadium will be constructed — before I-40 is reopened at the Tennessee-North Carolina line. Change my mind.
As I write this, the death toll from the September 26th hurricane stands at 232. At least 285 people still are missing. And even now, the federal government continues to actively thwart relief efforts.
I want to address a peculiar trend I’ve noticed the last couple of weeks — namely, the contention that the Permanent State created these hurricanes and steered them toward states and regions that could swing next month’s presidential election.
Let’s start with a fundamental question: Does technology exist that allows government (or anyone else) to control weather?
Yes. Disregarding (for the moment) a now-viral list of US patents being offered as “proof” that government is manipulating weather — an embarrassing, intellectually bankrupt tactic that “proves” nothing — we know that the State is in possession of ways to affect and direct weather systems. We know this because they’ve told us so, publicly and recently.
Ostensibly, such technology would be reserved for military use against a foreign adversary. Our government would never employ it to control the People, or for domestic political purposes… would it?
Of course it would. To deny that prospect ignores the lessons of WuFlu, of cities allowed to burn, of gerrymandering schemes, of the daily torrent of propaganda and unconstitutional executive orders. And it’s blind to what’s being demonstrated in Appalachia today.
So government has the means. It’s shown us what it’s willing to do. Taken together, that forms a solid basis for suspicion and further investigation.
But it doesn’t prove a damned thing.
My friends, if you jump straight from suspicion to certainty, I won’t take you seriously. No one should take you seriously. I need to see facts and evidence bridging that gap.
Now if, on the other hand, you’re inclined to dismiss folks who suspect that the state would tweak the weather and use it against the People, labeling them conspiracy nuts or unhinged kooks, you’re an ignorant, irredeemable, governable ass.
I believe that the State is engaged primarily in efforts to control the People. Government is neither a friend nor an ally. I know that it can punish us and I’m confident that it would, given the opportunity.
Finally, a bit of post-disaster advice.
Every hurricane and major flooding event affects a public water supply. Officials may shut it down temporarily, and when it’s restored, the announcement always is accompanied by a “boil order.”
The point of boiling questionable water, of course, is to kill any pathogens introduced by runoff and mingling with sewage.
We’re always advised to “bring it to a rolling boil for one minute.” That’ll get the job done, but the “one minute” instruction is overkill — once the water reaches 212°F, all of the bugs are dead.
That might be important to you if you’re conserving fuel.
What I really want to get across here is that water contaminated by runoff can be fouled by more than just organic matter. It could (and it probably does) carry chemical toxins that aren’t neutralized or removed by boiling.
To deal with toxins, you’ll need to filter your drinking water.
Invest in a Berkey or similar countertop system. Even a small filter designed for backpacking will get you through the first few days following an emergency.
Personally, Deb and I wouldn’t drink water from any public supply without first filtering it through our Berkey. We did that the entire time we were on the road.
We don’t have the same concerns these days, now that we’re on a very deep well that isn’t officially poisoned or subject to contaminated runoff. If you draw your water from a public tap, you have different decisions to make.
Just realize that if you’re under a boil order after a flood or a hurricane, you should do more to make your water safe(r) to drink.
Miss Smudge turns two years old today.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB