November 1, 2012
I’m writing this as the great catastrophic hurricane claws its way up the coast, with my home state squarely in its path. Just in case, I’d better get this column finished fast. Maybe by the time you read it, everything will be all right. Or maybe it won’t.
My aunt is in the hospital. Their bright idea today was to discharge her in the middle of the hurricane. She requires a lot of care, including a steady supply of oxygen. Are the master-minds at the hospital trying to get her home just in time for a power failure? Or are they just afraid she might miss out on the excitement of a tree falling into her living room? Is no one there capable of looking out the window and seeing that we’ve got a problem here? “We just want everybody to be safe,” they tell us. So wait until the freakin’ storm is over before you kick out the patient! Or is that much common sense simply unavailable to doctors and administrators?
While I still have electric power, I pay a short visit to the internet. Voila! This enormous killer storm is caused by… [trumpet fanfare] Global Warming! And how do we know that? Why, Bette Midler says so! I’ll bet Global Warming has caused her arms to get flabby, too. But not to worry—as long as we submit to a big, fat carbon tax, and allow those wise and noble people in the government to tell us where to live, what to drive, what to eat, what not to eat, when to turn our lights out, when to turn them on, and how many sheets of toilet paper we can use per visit to the john, they’ll fix it so we don’t have any more hurricanes.
Meanwhile, the newest conspiracy theory is that Sandy was a man-made storm, cooked up by “the government” as some kind of experiment. This was the work of the same all-powerful, all-knowing globalist puppet-masters who micromanage human history. Now they have acquired the power to call up storms at will and sic them on the poor defenseless masses. Why? Search me—I couldn’t bring myself to read that far. Maybe because it’s fun.
In one of those old disaster movies from the 1970s, there was a line, “Earthquakes bring out the worst in people.” It seems hurricanes do, too.
A lot of the folks on the barrier islands, for instance, didn’t want to evacuate. They were afraid their homes and shops would be looted before they could return. And there was the usual contingent of idiots who saw in the disaster an occasion for merriment: break out the surfboards and the video-cams, this is gonna be great!
The governor and umpteen dozen local mayors hit the airwaves to plead with people not to use the roads until the storm was over. Unless you’ve got a medical emergency, they said, stay home! Roads will be flooded, trees and phone poles will be down, and fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars will need the use of those roads unobstructed by ninnies who went out for a joy-ride and crashed or got stuck somewhere.
Do you think that kept people off the roads? Think again! What the heck—if you want a sack of donuts or a really nice latte, don’t let a little thing like an official State of Emergency cramp your style. Don’t those fire and police chiefs know who you are? Well, they’ll find out soon enough, if you end up wrapped around a utility pole.
This just in: gangs in the New York area are using Twitter to organize looting expeditions. Better living through technology!
But what scares me most is this.
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In our folly, we have in our minds separated God from His creation. We think “nature” is autonomous. It runs itself, it does what it does, while God dozes like an idle bellhop waiting to be paged to carry someone’s suitcase.
Because we no longer believe that the earth is the Lord’s, we cannot see, we cannot hear. If the next storm were to be ten times as terrible as this one, still we would be deaf to God’s voice. We only hear “scientific explanations” of the storm—those of us who aren’t captivated by the man-made hurricane theory.
But a scientific explanation, while true, only describes what a hurricane does. It doesn’t tell us what a hurricane is.
We grope our way into the future, blind and deaf and with our hearts closed to understanding.
We can hear Bette Midler, but we can’t hear God.
© 2012 Lee Duigon - All Rights Reserved
Lee Duigon, a contributing editor with the Chalcedon Foundation, is a former newspaper reporter and editor, small businessman, teacher, and horror novelist. He has been married to his wife, Patricia, for 34 years. See his new fantasy/adventure novels, Bell Mountain and The Cellar Beneath the Cellar, available on www.amazon.com