by Ray Nagin, mayor of New Orleans
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what do we have to do to get some government action around here? We’ve got floods. We’ve got starvation. We’ve got gunfire. We’ve got fire fire. I guess the one thing we’re missing is some anthrax.
If we had anthrax, we’d have 150,000 troops here before I could finish my muffuletta. If we had even some mustard gas—the old WWI stuff, not even the new and improved mustard gas—the freaking Delta Force would swoop in and whisk these asshole looters to Cuba or Egypt or some other place that, before Tuesday, looked like a shithole to me instead of a great place to live. Instead, all we got was a song.
And sarin gas? Don't fucking tease me like that. I can only dream of the government action we’d get down here if we had some nerve agent. We might get a rifle brigade on Canal Street and some airlifted MREs. But without even a drop of blister agent, I don’t have a spiderhole to piss in.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: how would a municipality get its hands on some WMD so it could attract the proper federal emergency response? Well, that’s where we really fucked up. We could have gotten intensive, overwhelming government action without owning the actual weapons! All we’d need is a blurry photo of an ice cream truck and a jittery informant and—BOOM—suddenly we’ve got mobile bioweapon labs and an armored escort to the Astrodome. Maybe they'd even let us eat cake.
It’s my fault, really. I was naïve. I always thought that, in the event of a natural catastrophe, or widespread criminal activity, or famine, or disease outbreaks, or all of the above, we’d get a helping hand from Uncle Sam. But now I know: the only way you can get the attention of Washington is if you pretend you can blow it up.