Irene is coming so it's time to quit all that charitable crap . . .

Because after all, it is all about survival of the fittest.

I like the way weather forecasters on radio and television have a wet dream of hyperbole when any tropical storm is upgraded to a hurricane.  The storm no longer has a "projected path" - no, as I heard today, the anthromorphizing begins and "Irene has put a target square on the Carolinas."  As if at sometime in the past, after Irene stole North Carolina's boyfriend, the two Carolinas got together and ambushed Irene as she was comin' out of Dollar Store and pulled that cheap weave right off of that bitch's head.

Of course, people are said to be preparing, which means for most a run on plywood, water, eggs, milk, and bread - because evidently in a hurricane, everyone seems to get a hankering for bread pudding and it's the only thing that will stave off famine.  Which means vegans are screwed but it is not like anyone cares about them anyway.

I wonder how my friend in North Carolina will use this as an excuse to stock up on her essentials - smokes and liquor.  Sure, she's about 200 miles inland from the coean but hell, as some Obama lackey once said, you can't let a good crisis go to waste.