We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
A pleasant ramble through the topic of hurricanes of the past, engineering, beaver dams, and related topics from a guy who enjoys stormy weather: Hurricane Warning; McKibben Alert. A quote:
At age twelve my interest in hurricanes was largely motivated by two things: First, hurricanes made things go crash, smash and boom, and I was the sort of kid who could endure “The Bridge Over The River Kwai,” (including the intermission,) just for the train wreck at the end. (I was not alone. It might not be politically correct, but the entire theater burst into wild cheering and applause, when that train finally, finally wrecked.)
The second reason was that a hurricane might cancel school. I hated school. McKibben apparently loved what I loathed, for he went to Harvard, and there became ignorant where I became wise, for he doesn’t even know what I knew at age twelve: The precedent has already been set. Wicked awesome hurricanes have hit New England in the past.
Always enjoyed hurricanes, growing up a ways inland in Baton Rouge and Lafayette. Then later out in the gulf on the rigs. When i was out there, the custom was to evacuate a stage or two later than now.
Rode a few near-misses out, on the edges, or 'in' the edges. It was always a great thrill to cling to a rail looking down one of the three big legs of a jackup. With the weather creating a sort of tunnel vision you would not see the horizon nor the swells coming and going --what you would see was the water donut right below you, the rig leg in the hole getting shorter or longer FAST as the water donut sizzled down and up and up and down, roar rising at you and and falling back and coming again, cycling in matters of seconds, 6, 8, 10 a minute it seemed like.
When the water is shooting up the leg toward you, you're never really sure it will stop. You just hope the weather guys didn't screw up not getting y'all off when y'all COULD get off.