& Wind - Scrambled thinking
I went for an amble down to the local Safeway
this morning. (Well, I call it an amble. Some female detractors
think that a measured mince is closer to describing my amble). Anyhow,
my mission was prompted by my making of an enormous pot of soup
the other day – I am the soup king of Camberwell afterall
– and I’d run out of those handy plastic food containers
to preserve it in the fridge. I’ve already given a large container
to the long-suffering next-door neighbours, and I’m giving
some to Bill, but I’m still condemning myself to a solid week
or so of soup, and more soup on the menu.
Maybe I should send some over to New Orleans. Actually, that was
one of the issues that was swimming around my brain as I ambled
mincingly: where is the leadership in this crisis? Where is the
modern equivalent of Douglas MacArthur to stand up and take control?
With nothing more than plaintive rhetoric from Bush, what is plainly
needed is a retired general, or admiral, or anybody with a forceful
personality from the armed services.
My vote goes to Colin Powell. It seems the poor blacks (pick the
tautology) are copping the brunt of the disaster, and he might get
their attention at least. (Incidentally, I’ve always found
it curious that the accepted American pronounciation of Powell’s
first name is ‘colon’. I bet he was the butt of many
childish jokes when he was younger, this being another of them).
On my way to the supermarket I have to cross
two intersections controlled by traffic lights. I don’t know