full of wind & p*ss
It goes without saying that we all usually have an natural allegiance to both the place in which we grew-up and the place we live. Personally, I won’t hear a bad word said against central Lancashire but, by the same token, I’ve spent twice as long in the beautiful south and have no intention of leaving anytime soon. A couple of years ago me mother’s water supply was cut for several weeks due to water pollution and hence I feel strongly about the imminent introduction of fracking just round her proverbial corner; the Manchester Arena bomb stopped me in my tracks as it could’ve easily have been my fifteen year old niece in the firing-line, were she not a dark & disturbed goth!; and Preston North End’s score is the only one I listen out for come Saturday afternoon’s Sport’s Report.
However, I don’t think the President of the United States feels the same way. When not thrashing about in the Washington swamp, Tiny Hands holes up in palatial extravagance at his $200m twenty acre Florida beach club, Mar-a-Lago. In fact, dubbed the ‘Winter White House’ it has become the de facto Court of the Donald, the place where he mixes business with pleasure in a manner that nurtures obvious serious conflicts of interest. Obvious, that is, to everyone apart from Trump himself and his private-email-server-using top team.
On the 25th August, the approaching gulf storm was upgraded to a category four hurricane, named Harvey, and headed into central Florida on its holidays. Two days later, Harvey had claimed almost eighty lives with much of Houston, Miami and the Florida Keys trashed. Hurricane Irma followed Harvey’s destructive lead just a few days later and a further sixty-nine went to their watery graves. Describing Mar-a-Lago as “as close to paradise as I’m going to get” you’d be forgiven for thinking the decimation of his neighbour’s lives, to the tune of $60bn and rising as quickly as the surge water, would have had some impact on the great man. But you’d be wrong.
As the storms ripped through Florida, Trump tweeted his excitement about their size & scale: “Hurricane Irma is of epic proportion, perhaps bigger than we have ever seen” and later “Hurricane looks like largest ever recorded in the Atlantic”. If this was a missive to his eleven year old son, Barron, whom I guessing reluctantly studies geography, it may be forgivable but he’s the Big Daddy with his finger on the trigger, ferchristsakes. In the eye of the storm, Tempest Trump tweeted a recommendation for a book written by a former campaign supporter. In response, witty Houston resident, John Lopez, retorted “My city is underwater. People losing everything. Unrelenting storm. Medical/1st responders on NO sleep. Thanks for the book recommendation, tho.”
After the storms had receded, Trump was asked if he had reconsidered his position on climate change. The shortest memory known to man could only comment “We’ve had bigger storms than this”. He followed it with a gif showing him hitting a golf ball and knocking over Hilary Clinton. One thing is for certain, we’ve never had a bigger imbecile in such a position of authority.
