Hey, lunatic-fringe-self-proclaimed-prophet-of-gloom—can you please stop with the “God struck down New Orleans because of Mardi Gras and Biloxi because of their gambling” blather?
With that line of reasoning, how would you explain the hurricane that leveled Pensacola last year? Pensacola is no South Beach, nor does it have a Bourbon Street. In fact, I don’t think you can find a city in the US that has more churches per capita than Escambia County, and yet they got the blunt end of the pool cue eleven months ago.
Look, I realize that drunken college girls flashing their chests for beads and grannies blowing their social security check playing the slots like a monkey on crack doesn’t fall under the things that God likes, but if I were you . . . I’d be really slow to dole out the, “this is why that happened” diktat.
And why should one harness a condemnatory tongue?
Well, first of all, even the best of us as individuals and greatest of cities do creepy stuff that warrants (if God punishes everyone with natural disasters) either an earthquake, a tidal wave, possibly a meteor shower, multiple lightening strikes, a locust plague, a drought, rivers of blood or another JLo movie.
And for those people and cities that do not do such overtly despicable things as the rest of us who live in the big metro areas, don’t get too proud of your supposed level of sanctity.
“Why not?” you ask?
Because that would be a deadly sin, which would warrant an earthquake, a tidal wave, possibly a meteor shower, multiple lightening strikes, a locust plague, a drought, rivers of blood or another JLo movie.
You and I both know that, if the truth be told, even the best of us do things which, if God were to hold us under the light and give us what we deserved for the way we’ve believed and behaved, would necessitate His scraping all of us off His shoe. At least that’s my opinion.
Therefore, I’m laying low in placing blame and casting stones at those who fell in harm’s way during this cataclysmic disaster, and that for four main reasons:
1. I’m selfish, and I’d like God to be gracious to me.
2. I live in Miami, so you gotta know I’m saying nada. When you live in a house that’s fifty yards from saltwater in a city that is as wild as it is beautiful and in a state that’s sandwiched between two massively hot bodies of water just dangling out there defying nature year after year, you learn to be very merciful and humble when it comes to cities getting slam-dunked.