My sister buys houses like other people buy shoes. Actually, she owns more houses than I own pairs of shoes. She has about seven scattered across South Alabama, all of which survived the floods with little or no damage. They include-
-a beach house
-a turn of the century home on a river nearby
-a trailer on some property she owns in the country
-her dead mother-in-law’s hermetically sealed 1905 Savannah Whorehouse of a place (her mother in law grew up grindingly poor during the Depression and when she became rich decorated her house in what one of the Joad chirren would picture a rich person living like- if it stayed still it got gilded and ersatz Victorian crap everywhere)
-her dead grandmother-in-law’s Jim Walter home
All of these are in addition to the house that she lives in and the rental condos she owns.
There’s a chronic need of course for refugee housing throughout Alabama. I have donated my one (1) apartment for use by strangers while I’m gone on business next week (their integrity is vouched for by a co-worker). My sister has not pledged one single solitary bedroom to anybody.
I can understand not wanting to put up posters saying “Need a place? Come on over!”, but through her church or the Red Cross or various agencies she could find people in need who are decent but disposessed. It’s not like they’re going to steal her furniture- where the hell would they take it? Their house is gone!- and she’ll have their names/information, etc… It irritates me, but not as much as
MY BROTHER- he has a 4 BR lakehouse in addition to the McMansion he lives in, also in south Alabama. Not only would it never occur to him (an elder in his church) to offer it for the use of people who have NOTHING left, but get this- ooh chile you gone say I know he ain’t- this weekend he’s going to a football game. He has two rooms reserved, one for himself and his wife and the other for their pre-Yuppie turdlet spawn (the oldest is a 16 year old girl who got a SUV for her birthday and complained because she wanted a convertible). Now, the place where they’re going to the game is a city whose hotel and motel rooms are currently booked by, guess who? Katrina evacuees, but, as with most motels and hotels they made the refugees sign a waiver saying they knew they had to leave when the rooms were booked again. The motels/hotels have asked on air that people be understanding and that if they can they cancel their reservations so the evacuees can stay.
MY BROTHER’S NOT EVEN CANCELLING ONE OF HIS ROOMS! NOT ONE OF THEM! AND HIS OWN MOTHER LIVES LESS THAN AN HOUR FROM WHERE THE GAME IS AND HAS INVITED HIM TO STAY WITH HER BUT HIS RESPONSE WAS “THE KIDS WOULD HAVE TO SLEEP ON A COUCH.” BOO-FUCKING HOO YOU AGING YUPPIE SCUM ASSWIPE! YOU’RE THE REASON THAT PEASANTS REVOLT! CHRISTIANS LIKE YOU HAVE STOPPED MORE PEOPLE FROM GOING TO CHURCH THAN MUHAMMAD EVER EVEN TRIED TO DO!
AAAAAAAARRRRRRHH!!! I swear to God it’s like trying to talk compassion into Cartman. “No Starvin’ Marvin, that’s MY lakehouse! Screw poor people!”
I am just seeing purple.
At least I know my sister’s good for a fat donation to relief agencies and of the two she’s the one who might come around and let some souls crash in one of her (15) spare bedrooms. But I just don’t think either one of them grasps the fact that had Katrina turned east, their nouveau riche asses could be among the ones treading water up to their izod symbols. And yes I know, private property, Ayn Rand, “your need does not create a responsibility on my part” yadda yadda, but there’s also such a thing as just simple human compassion.
Oh well.
Rant out (but I am sooooo pissed).