I am blogging from an undisclosed secret hidden underground location (Einstein’s Bagels) because I woke up to no power. And if I don’t have my coffee in the morning, I die inside. And I make everyone around me wish they were dead.
Starbucks was closed, which caused me to throw a rock. And I want to apologize to the young couple I hit. You were just in the way.
Brew Ha-Ha, a local Starbucks competitor, was also closed, and so they have lost the favor of my custom for the next six months.
Dunkin Donuts has no place to sit comfortably, considering that I travel with at least $50,000 worth of digital gear in the event the Mayan apocalypse occurs and Mayan hell has spotty Wi-Fi.
New York City got hit wicked bad. Almost FOURTEEN FEET of water in Battery Park City, and lights out south of 39th Street, which comprises my old hood.
But here I am, stuck in this fresh hell called Delaware. A state so insignificant, even Delaware Online, the main news source here, privileged the damage caused to New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and New York, even though the southern part of the state was hit very hard.
I’m about to take off and scope out the rest of the area, looking for looters, burglars, and other political types.
UPDATE: So power has been restored to the Sacramone bunker. Delmarva tried to get away with the ole “Hospitals, nursing homes, elder-care facilities get highest priority” line until I shifted into highest dudgeon: “Do you have any idea who I think I am?” The realization that a person of such insignificance could have such an outsized estimation of his own importance proved so horrifying, even terrifying, that electricity came on almost immediately.
My thanks to all who expressed concern for my well-being. Both of you. To the rest, just be happy I am not Sicilian, or I would be laying a curse on you that would take several generations to undo. And even then, your great-grandchildren would probably still walk funny.