I don’t even get to sit on my porch now. I sip on North Jetty’s Spirit Fingers hazy IPA in my home. It’s not bad, for the style. It’s a little heavy on the grapefruit for my liking, but not too much bitterness, so I find it reasonably drinkable. Which is good, because I didn’t know it was a hazy and have been trying to avoid those beers. But, I made a choice and this one I can at least live with.
For five days running, the air outside is so full of smoke it is rated ‘hazardous’. So instead of getting to at least enjoy my porch and the neighborhood, I cannot even do that. They don’t know when things will clear up-the hope is that rain will come on Tuesday or Wednesday and give some relief to the firefighters south of me.
This was preventable. Both in an acute and chronic sense; the governor of Oregon had a wildfire management plan proposed in January that was killed by the Republican walkout of our state government.
It would’ve covered 300,000 acres and updated safety measures.
That wouldn’t’ve prevented the catastrophic environmental issue we find ourselves in, though-has anyone checked up on Louisiana, lately? The Midwest at large?
I know the West is on fire. I know that awful people are setting up illegal checkpoints because they cannot tell the difference between the Bureau of Land Management and the Black Lives Matter movement and now think that ‘antifa’ is somehow involved in the fires. (THEY. AREN’T.)
But the two hurricanes that hit our southern family shouldn’t be forgotten, either.
To get ahold of THAT problem, we would’ve had to start 40 years ago. Spilled milk for the death cult.
Speaking of the death cult; that’s why I can’t go to a bar, either. The pandemic has made being inside a bar an unconscionable act for me. THAT didn’t have to be a problem either, except the death cult has decided to ignore the health crisis of the year, and that was OK, and there wasn’t anything YOU were going to do about it, so welcome to being dragged along.
Which was mitigated a little by the notion that I could sit outside. At least during the summer, it was possible to be outside. I could sit in a park and relax, or on my porch. Until now.
Fury doesn’t even begin to describe how angry I am about all of this. Fury is a coin dropped into a well. I’m sad all the time, washed hands resting on my face in disgust, listening to music that sounds more like chainsaws being given a rhythm, while outside has the qualities that I imagine someone’s soul takes on when they are depressed: gray, hazy, everything faded.
It didn’t have to be like this. Bad things were going to happen but it never had to be this bad. Greedy people made choices and we let them get away with it…and it’s literally killing us slowly.
And I am so, so fucking angry. We deserve better.
Today’s second pit goes to a Hurricane Laura relief fund. Come back next week when I’m giving money to causes to help people in Oregon whose homes have been lost because of fire! Going to be a real treat.