Guest Commentary
What to eat after hurricane
Mack Hall

August is a good time for not adding dead organic matter to the freezer. We are approaching hurricane hot times, and in addition to dangerous wind turbulence from the speed of Mayor Ray Nagin of New Orleans fleeing to his Dallas home, and the risk of being bludgeoned into poisoned FEMA trailers by Voldemort's secret police ("No, no, officer! Not that! Not a new travel trailer! Nooooooooo...!"), a lengthy power failure means that last winter's Bambi becomes this summer's sodden, decaying mess.

By the way, if someone gives you a brandnew travel trailer and you think it stinks, open the window. Or take a bath. Or give the trailer to me.

An annual freezer clean-out is a good idea, and this is the perfect time to sort and eat from it while stocking up on water, canned foods, a camp stove, flashlights, radios, batteries, books, chessboard, a little extra gasoline (far away from the house), medicines, first-aid bag, and other necessities for fleeing inland or for making do in a non-whiny fashion in case of a breakdown of the utility, transportation, and communications infrastructures due to hurricanes, terrorism, or an invasion from Mars.

Let us all resolve not to be like those professional victims always yapping to the world that someone else - the federal government, the state government, the Pope, the governor - should have been prepared for disruptions in the usually unnoticed delivery of services.

Look at it this way: young men and women are fighting and dying in 110-degree temps in Iraq in order to keep us safe. Would they think us worth their pain if they heard us belly-ache because we can't get air-conditioning and cable tv for a couple of weeks?

Okay, after Rita (the hurricane that never was) I did whine about the lack of air-conditioning, but that's because I'm a wuss.

If we do suffer another Rita-it-wasn't-really a-hurricane, and the news folks descend from on high and stick microphones and cameras in our faces, let's not whine. Let's just look 'em straight in the glass eye and tell 'em we're doing fine, thank you, and would y'all like some supper and sun-tea?

Don't go by St. Michael's rectory for food in any case; the saintly Irish priest who subs for Fr. Ron occasionally assures us that there is nothing in the refrigerator fit for human consumption!

Mack Hall is a resident of Kirbyville