I have family and friends in Harvey’s path and, as scary as it may be to face down the power of Mother Nature, there is history, procedure and experience that provide some comfort of expectation to safely endure even the most threatening event.  The thing about Nature’s wrath is that whether you subscribe to human contributory abuse or unscientifically embrace some other explanation for the deteriorating ecology of Planet Earth, the almost universal response to catastrophic natural disaster is a unified outpouring of humanitarian effort.  Federal and international rescue services jump into the fray with medical care, food, first responders to search and rescue and organized networks for coordinating contributions.  Unfortunately, however, our shared gene that triggers such immediate and caring response has a very short half-life and too often dissipates long before the suffering.

Then, there’s Donny Johnny, (thank you, Tina), a category 10 shit storm of unprecedented destruction.  Since assuming the position, (a boy can dream, can’t he?), of POTUS, he has cut a wide swath of devastation through the hearts of truth, justice, decency, morality and the most basic principles upon which the articles and intent of our Constitutional Democracy were built.  The potential body count and irreparable damage from this most unnatural disaster do not hold to the rules of the true order of things.  It is neither irresistible nor unstoppable.  It is not covert, but tauntingly tweeted in our faces with mind-numbing regularity.  It is an unexaggerated existential threat to us all.  Yet, where is the relief from this immeasurable seismic disruption and blow-hard rhetoric of more lethal velocity than the deadliest cyclone?  Who will be the first responders to come to our rescue and heroically neutralize this monster?