Beryl is so Medieval
Tropical storm Beryl is headed for the North Carolina coast. With any luck, she will be swept northwards by a strong gale and will strengthen. Heading into the warm waters of Chesapeake Bay, she will double in force and bear down upon Washington with all the fury of a Category 4 hurricane. Most politicians will have long ago evacuated in their helicopters, but some naysayers will be surprised to find their beds floating in the pool of stagnating water that the nation's capital has become. DC will crumble, hundreds of millions will panic. There will be looting, rioting, cannibalism, and a complete return to primitive lifestyles. Drugs and weaponry will be sold out of pickup beds and will proliferate like rabbits, while bread and milk and gasoline skyrocket to twenty bucks a pop. Homes become armed fortresses, pets that are not eaten roam the streets savagely like wild animals, frothing at the mouth, looking for human flesh to tear from limb to limb. The streets, without electricity, become dark foreboding paths that lead to unknown dangers in every direction. Occasionally we will hear a truck full of bloodthirsty redneck boys zoom by, firing guns and shouting obscenities, completely in their element. Yes, with any luck, this is what we will wake up to tomorrow. Fortunately I already have in my possession several shotguns and a small revolver for peacekeeping, along with a savage hunting dog with an insatiable lust for blood, both human and animal, so I will not starve. Today I am going to Wal-Mart to get gasoline, ammunition, tarps, and liquor to last through the first month or so. Those who emerge prepared will be ready to bargain when supplies run thin. Yes, with any luck, I will be among them. With any luck....