By Michael Kaufman

Sometimes the headline tells you all you need to know:  HEADLESS BODY IN TOPLESS BAR, for example, or FORD TO CITY: DROP DEAD. Tuesday there was one in the Times Herald-Record but you may have missed it because it was positioned at the bottom of a page in the business section:  “BofA will ax 30,000 jobs to calm investors.” This is the same Bank of America that benefited from the massive Wall Street bailout funded by the tax-paying citizens of this country in 2008.

According to the article, “the nation’s largest bank…is facing huge liabilities over soured mortgage investments and concerns over whether it has enough capital to withstand more financial shocks.”  Couldn’t they have thought of a better way to allay the anxiety of shareholders before firing 10 percent of the workforce?  Not according to the bank:  “The bank said it hopes the cuts and other measures will result in $5 billion in annual savings by 2014. The bank has already cut 6,000 jobs this year. The bank also said it would look for cost savings at its other businesses in a six-month review that will begin next month.”  In other words, people who work at those “other businesses” are also in danger of losing their jobs soon in order to “calm investors.”  

What’s wrong with this picture?

In an email sent last Friday to members of the Orange County Democratic Alliance (DA), Michael Sussman wrote, “This is our time to start reaching out and discussing the inequities of our economic system and who is being injured.” Sussman will be one of the featured speakers Sunday, September 18, at a Rally for Economic Justice in New Canaan, Connecticut. Major organizer of the rally is Bennett Weiss of Newburgh, who mentioned the idea on a frigid Sunday afternoon in January—the day Nan Hayworth celebrated her election to Congress at an inauguration in Middletown.  As Hayworth spoke inside about “reining in government” and repealing health care reform, Sussman, Weiss, and other DA members protested outside.  

Later, within the warm confines of the Colonial Diner, Weiss explained why he chose New Canaan as the site for a projected rally for economic justice. He noted that New Canaan is home to many of the beneficiaries of the recently extended “Bush tax cuts” on the wealthy….you know, the ones who are supposedly creating new jobs thanks to the cuts. The median price of a home listed for sale in New Canaan is over $2 million.

At the time of the last census the racial makeup of the town was 95 percent white, one percent African American, two percent Asian, and less than two percent Hispanic or Latino of any race. Among the notables who live in New Canaan are Glenn Beck, right-wing broadcaster, Jeff Immelt, CEO of General Electric, and David Neeleman, founder of Jet Blue Airways. As of November 4, 2008, there were 12,813 active voters in New Canaan:  6,341 Republicans, 2,732 Democrats, 3,716 unaffiliated voters, and 24 voters registered with other parties.  

Weiss. tongue ensconced firmly in cheek, calls on Orange County residents to “make the hajj (schlep) to the lush leafy hills of that enclave for the complacent rich” on Sunday.  New Canaan, he says, “will be transformed into a Mecca for us, the outraged, unwashed and mansion-less horde… the lower 98 percent if you will.”

Speakers at the rally will “connect the dots between extreme disparity of wealth and our most pressing challenges.” In addition to Sussman, speakers include Richard Duffee and Ralph Maurer of  the Connecticut Green Party,  Chuck Bell of No War Westchester, Trudy Goldberg of the National Jobs for All Coalition, Hector Lopez of the Puerto Rico Independence Committee, Juanita Lewis of Community Voices Heard, and Chris Hutchinson of the American Socialist Party. Interspersed throughout the program will be “some brilliant topical poetry and songs,” says Weiss, who adds that the rally will be followed by a march and a picnic “at beautiful Mead Park.”

“It’s a big trip and great hassle to get there,” admits Weiss, but he is hoping a few “Pilgrims” from Orange County will find the effort worthwhile.  I wish him luck. We need headlines about jobs saved and jobs created, not about jobs lost to “calm investors.”  

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.

By Shawn Dell Joyce

Many scientists agree that we have waited too late to address climate change and are now suffering some consequences. What is debatable is how severe, and long-lasting those consequences might be.

We still have a chance to act now to reduce the impact on our children and grandchildren. It is only a matter of time before a carbon cap is legislated, and we begin to reduce emissions. Atmospheric carbon can have up to a 100-year lifespan, so even if we stop all emissions today, we will still have an impact on climate for the next century.

So how can we adapt to our changing climate and prepare our communities for the weird weather we are enduring? Adaptation at a local government level begins with reducing emissions then preparing for drought, or deluge (depending where you’re located), rising sea levels, changes in agriculture and growing seasons, and the loss of livelihoods. There is an organization that helps local governments learn where they are vulnerable, and to take steps to reduce the catastrophic consequences of climate change.

ICLEI (which doesn’t have an acronym) is an international agency that thinks globally but acts locally to help communities. Annie Strickler, ICLEI communications director, suggests that “you can’t just choose mitigation or adaptation strategies; they go hand-in-hand. While we’re working to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, many if not all communities need to prepare for impacts that are currently happening or will happen in the years and decades to come.”

Strickler also notes that it is much cheaper to adapt now, than try to catch up later or pay to clean up the consequences of not adapting. To help local governments, ICLEI cooperated with the Climate Impacts Group and King County, Wash., to produce a free guidebook.

The guidebook “takes the mystery out of planning for climate impacts by specifying the practical steps and strategies that can be put into place now” to help communities adapt.

One ICLEI success story is Keene, N.H. Keene is in a low area that is experiencing terrible flooding. In 2005, more than a third of the city was submerged, causing massive evacuations.

Scientists are predicting more frequent extreme precipitation for the Northeast, and so, Keene got proactive and worked with ICLEI to assess how to adapt now to avoid catastrophes.

The process engaged all city department heads, medical, social, and emergency personnel in brainstorming and goal-setting. What they discovered is a need for better storm water management, green building codes, and a way to feed the community when all the roads are washed out by flooding.

Some of the adaptation ideas included:

–Providing loans to companies that might be affected by a warming climate, such as the ski industry, snow plowing, and maple sugaring industries.

–Supporting local farmers to increase local food security by 20 percent, so that when droughts and floods disrupt outside food supply lines, local farms will be able to feed the population.

–Building stronger roofs to handle wetter, heavier snow in the warming winter.

–Using porous pavement to prevent stormwater runoff, and improving infrastructure such as storm sewers to handle a higher flow.

Keene has forged a path that other cities – including Fort Collins, Colo., and Fairbanks, Alaska – are following, too. Keene City Planner Mikaela Engert points out that “this is something that can be replicated, whether you’re a community of 1,000 people or 1.5 million, it doesn’t matter. You can do this. Ultimately we’re talking about protecting people property and our community.”

Shawn Dell Joyce is an award-winning columnist and founder of the Wallkill River School in Orange County, N.Y.

The coyote came out of nowhere and disappeared into a corn field.

By Bob Gaydos

I saw a coyote the other day. Not on television, but about 150 feet in front of me. I was sitting in my car, having my morning coffee-and-newspaper fix (old habits) when I caught a glimpse of something moving on the road in front of me. The road is a quiet one that parallels a state highway on one side and a corn field on the other. No houses, businesses or other distractions. A rare hideaway in a suburbanized world.

That’s probably why the coyote sighting surprised me. The animal came out of nowhere — actually, it would have to have been from across the busy highway to my left — and moved purposefully across the road and into the corn field on my right. It took maybe 10 seconds, not long enough for me to realize what I was seeing and grab my camera from the backseat. So you’ll have to take my word for it.

The scraggly looking critter — and they are particularly ugly animals — disappeared into the corn and out of my life. I have since returned to the road for coffee and contemplation. But thus far no coyote. Not that I really expect a revisit. Then again, I never expected the first one.

At the same time, I have been thinking how remarkably unremarkable the brief event was — Hey, everybody’s seen a coyote around here — and yet how unremarkably remarkable it was — Really? Everybody’s seen a coyote around here?

I think it was just plain remarkable, though I haven’t figured out precisely why.

For starters, I guess, it gives me something a little offbeat to throw into conversations when I don’t feel like talking politics.

“Hey, Bob, what did you think of that Republican debate the other night?”

“Yeah, you know what? I saw a coyote the other day — middle of the morning, big as life, right in front of me, ugly as could be. Ran from the highway into the cornfield. Where the heck did he come from? How dangerous do you think he might be? How far do they travel? What are they doing down here anyway? Are they instinctual survivors? Do they eat cows? Can people shoot them legally?”

Good political questions all, turned masterfully into environmental musings.

The coyote sighting, plus my firsthand experience with the earthquake — sitting in my car again, in front of my home, listening to two idiots on a talk radio sports show discuss the Mets for some reason, when the car starts shaking back and forth like it’s in a Category 3 hurricane, then repeating the scenario a few seconds later — are godsends for future social chitchat. No harm, no foul, plenty of aww shucks.

But is that remarkable? Or just luck?

In any event, it got me thinking about the unpredictable encounters we have in our lives every day and how they affect us, or not. For example, I stopped in at QuickChek for my morning coffee recently and was struck by the sound of a loud, female voice engaged in earnest (although clearly not a business) conversation. This was over the sound of the piped in music and usual hum of store business. Scanning quickly, I spotted the culprit, in a far corner, cell phone to ear, oblivious to her decibel level and intrusion into other people’s lives. I later spotted her on line, still talking into her cell phone and cradling two half-gallon-size fountain drinks in her arms. I may have said a prayer of gratitude that I didn’t know her.

On the other hand, a few days before Madame Megaphone and the coyote, I was starting my coffee routine at QuickChek when I noticed a gentleman of a certain age — you know, mature — swaying and bobbing in perfect step to the piped-in music as he added sugar to his coffee. He was smiling too, broadly, and I swear he was humming.

“You’re having a better morning than I am,” I volunteered.

“He woke me up this morning,” came the happy reply.

Say what you want about the value of living life with a positive attitude, people do not often invoke Him in public — certainly not in a convenience store to strangers — in order to explain their joyous attitude. And this gentleman was indeed joyous. I’d said I felt cranky. My bones. He said I could talk to my bones and change that.

Remarkable.

He even let me go before him in line.

Total honesty: I had a much better day after that encounter and, like the coyote, I’ll probably never forget the joyous gentleman, although I do look for him in QuickChek every time I give them some of my money.

And if Madame Megaphone returns, as I fear she will, I will do my best to tune her out and tune in to the piped-in music. Let’s hope it’s upbeat. If you happen to see me there with a cup of coffee, humming with a dumb ass grin on my face, I’m probably having a good, if not joyous, day. I’ll be heading out to my road to catch up on the news and wait for the next coyote.

bob@zestoforange.com

Inlet, Old Lyme

By Carrie Jacobson

I’ve been itching to get to this spot, a place I love to paint, and I finally made it out there yesterday, and did it feel great!

I’ve often painted this place before, and have usually used a panoramic-type of canvas in a one by three ratio – 8×24, 10×30, etc. This time I tried including more sky, and it gives a totally different feel to the scene.

I painted fast, I tried to paint with sure strokes, I tried to make the canvas feel as open and sun-soaked and brilliant as the day. It was what my soul needed.

I have encountered an absolutely great idea, and am about to embark on it, and would love input from you all. I saw a story about a guy who is planning on painting 100 10-inch by 10-inch paintings, and selling them each for $100 – and the notion just captivated me.

I can’t completely explain my fascination with this idea, but the minute I heard about it, I knew I had to do it.

I spoke with a friend who runs a gallery nearby about the idea, and he pushed me to take it a step further. Maybe do 100 paintings as linear pieces, a road, a beach, a journey. Maybe get 100 dog photographs and use a mosaic program to arrange them so that when they are all together, they make an image of a big dog – or a cat. Maybe use one large palette knife only, on all the pieces, or limit myself to one or two colors.

At any rate, I have a lot of ideas going around in my head – and I’d love to hear from any of you, if you all have ideas, about subjects or approaches or limits – or any other part of it. I think this is such a fun project!

Thanks to readers who responded to Zest of Orange’s invitation to submit recollections of Sept. 11, 2001.

Lee Gittler Steup and her future husband had checked into a rented beach house on the Jersey Shore. They suffered no personal casualties in the attack the next day, but almost lost the friend who was to be best man at their wedding. Here’s her story.

In a particularly surreal moment, we watched as a reporter stood in front of a tower, recounting the event. Suddenly another jet liner appeared over his shoulder, low in the background. I expected to see it pass behind the tower, but it never came out the other side.

“Another plane hit the other tower!” I screamed at the television receiver. And the reporter, unaware of what had just happened, went on with his newscast. Later came a report that a plane had hit the Pentagon.

I’m sure all the blood drained from my face. I lunged for the telephone and called both my grown children to tell them. Tell them what? That we weren’t in the Trade Center or the Pentagon? They already knew that. That they should head for shelter? They were already in an area unlikely to be targeted for attack. My mind groped for some words. I hadn’t expected to get through to them, but I called so quickly that the phone lines hadn’t yet jammed. I blurted out something comforting, listened to their voices and then, somewhat comforted, went back to the TV.

In lower Manhattan, Michael’s lifelong friend Jeffrey had gone into a cafe on the ground floor of one of the towers for some coffee. He pondered using the Trade Center restroom, but decided to wait and instead boarded the ferry to his job on Ellis Island. From the boat, he watched the second plane hit the second tower.

The ferry was ordered back to the dock and the passengers started looking for other transportation. Then the towers began to fall and the dust clouds rolled down the streets and avenues like giant bowling balls. Jeffrey ducked into an office a few blocks away and avoided the worst of the contamination. He was one of the people who walked miles to finally find a way home late that night.

Much later, after the towers had tumbled into ruin and thousands of people had vanished in the deadly dust, we went out. Long Beach Island was silent. People with ashen faces walked the streets like the living dead. Up in the sky, a fighter jet circled like a hawk.

We were in a war zone.

We have never returned to Long Beach Island. It had been Michael’s family’s tradition every summer, but in 2001 that tradition ended. We tell people that we can no longer afford to vacation there, but it’s not the real reason. We don’t go back because we have seen how easy it is for tragedy to penetrate even the most enjoyable of places. We have watched the world change, not for the better. And we have learned how powerless we really are to control events in the world and in our lives.

Jean Webster spent many years living in Grahamsville before she and her husband, a native Mainer, moved to Portland, where she continues to write. She received first word of the 9/11 attacks in a phone call from California.

Where was I on 9/11?

I will relive that day, and the days that followed, forever. A New Yorker from birth, I was living in a lovely seaside community on the coast of Maine. Shortly after the first pictures came on television, my cousin from California called and was surprised I hadn’t heard.

I turned on the TV and sat for the rest of the day crying, watching, talking to New York friends and relatives, and of course to my children, who both live far away. That’s the first thing we all think of when tragedy strikes – I have to talk with my children.
My son in Dallas called and we talked, but finally he told me he had to turn off the television and pay attention to his 2-year old daughter who was getting freaked out by what she was seeing. I got through to my sister on Manhattan’s east side later in the day, and she was all right but understandably stricken.

I missed my husband’s presence all day long. He was running errands for our store, and we didn’t get to talk until he got home later in the day.

One of the most shocking revelations was that two of the terrorists, including the ringleader, Mohamed Atta, had gone through the Portland Jetport that morning. We live in Portland in the winter, and when we returned to that house, all I could think was that those two men had gone through our little city to try to destroy America.

The American flag appeared everywhere in Portland; on houses, stores, restaurants, cars, trucks.

I remember having to get away from the television days later, when I could no longer stand seeing those planes hitting the Twin Towers, or watching the smoke, the destruction.

I remember sitting on the front stoop of our house in a city whose skies were eerily quiet, trying to absorb what had happened, and what it would mean to us as Americans.

We knew about people who were lost in the destruction – relatives of friends. The closest was our brother-in-law’s brother from New Jersey, who was helping a co-worker down as the stairs beneath them crumbled.

I will never forget.

Send responses to jeffrey@zestoforange.com

By Jeffrey Page
Where were you?

I was at The Record of Hackensack when one of the other reporters noticed smoke pouring out of the World Trade Center, which was visible from the newsroom. Much of what happened after that has remained crystal clear for the first decade. I believe it will remain so.

For weeks after the attacks, the routine was simple, straight to the point. We arrived on time (unheard of, previously), got our assignments, complained less than usual, went out and interviewed people about their losses, their close calls, their shock, their plans for the future, their concerns about sudden widowhood and about children left fatherless or motherless.

Some of the assignments were gut-wrenching, such as my talking with a woman from Clifton who repeated for me her last phone call with her husband who was 90 stories up at the Trade Center. “Can you get out?” she said. “I don’t know,” he said. He told her he loved her. She told him she loved him.

We made our deadlines. We filed our stories early in the evening and went home to get some rest because tomorrow would be just as busy. The adrenaline flow seemed to slow in the quiet of the car and I had a chance to realize how easily I could have been on assignment in the World Trade Center when the planes hit. I thought about death and about my great fear of falling. I thought about my wife, my daughter, which brought me to tears and I couldn’t stop when I thought about the unspeakable numbers of dead, and about all the wives and daughters.

Chances are you know where you were, what you were doing, on Sept. 11, and that you’ll never forget.

Will you tell Zest of Orange where you were on that late summer morning? Heading to work? At your desk already? Working in your yard? Shopping at the supermarket? Having a cavity filled? Planning a late vacation?

How did you hear about the attack? What were your thoughts as the airplanes crashed, one after the other?

Did you lose anyone on Sept. 11?

Did the attack change you? Has it changed the way you relate to the world?

Send us some of your thoughts and recollections – signed or unsigned, your choice – for a 9/11 file here at Zest of Orange.

Post to jeffrey@zestoforange.com

By Jo Galante
OK, here’s the mass email update.

This is one of the most wicked storms to hit the Catskill Mountain region. Overall, we were extremely lucky even if we whined about the inconveniences which paled in comparison. Phoenicia is a blanket of mud with its major bridges washed away – new bridges just recently reconstructed!

But happy to report, tree cutters are arriving from both ends of our road and we got trees off the power lines – especially the one tree that was hanging over the road.

People who live across creeks accessed by their own private bridges are up the creek without a paddle. (Sorry, need some levity.) Their bridges are a goner.

Prattsville in upper Eastern Catskills is history. Completely wiped out. Windham, the ski resort, also took extreme hits. Many of the roads across the region are washed away including ones by me in Saugerties. Extreme navigation is now a prerequisite for getting to even the most routine local places.

“Bewilderment” is the best word to describe what many are feeling. A hurricane is supposed to be over the ocean. We got heavy rains. Then sunshine and we all sighed. Then the winds came through and we were toast. We had a huge tree just miss our shop; another huge tree was hanging over the pulled lines. One more is ready to fall and the place is just a mess.

Some flooding in the basement. And the creek inched the closest to our house that we’ve seen in 35 years! And please, who doesn’t believe in extreme weather changes!

Oh, earthquakes too, and one or two dams near here are “compromised.”

National Guard is up in the mountains, and communities are pulling together. We’re all neighbors. Maybe we need more catastrophes to straighten out the mess we’re in. (Oh, come on, did you think I wouldn’t make this political?)

Have no idea on the final outcome for the most drastic areas. Money is short is what we’re being told although Guv Cuomo is promising money won’t be an issue.

So I’m at the Saugerties library and not sure when I’ll once again be in touch; probably not until after Labor Day.

We’re safe – and send thanks to good friends and neighbors – and really not much worse for wear and tear. Just a bit tossed about. Now we’re definitely installing a huge generator.

Oh, quick and final great story about a little town, Lexington, that could and did defy government bullshit. They were completely cut off due to washed-out bridge. Neighbors put in a temporary bridge only to have the state Department of Transportation tell them they couldn’t use it. They told the bureaucrats to f**k off. DOT still said can’t use the bridge. The townspeople came out armed – no kidding. (You have to know Lexington, a true Catskill Mountain town!) They joined hands and stood their ground. The bureaucrats backed off after Cuomo sent in the state police to say the locals could use the bridge they built themselves. The bureaucrats left! Here’s one for the little people.

Update:

Most, if not all, of Saugerties finally has power, phone and internet service. I believe most of Woodstock too. Been trying to reach a dear friend in West Shokan and cannot get through. I think they were more impacted by the storm than I was. However, it’s still a challenge to drive along once favored and familiar roads. Some roads are washed out or badly damaged.

We had thunder and of course, I’m sure, that put people on edge. So far just a few drops. Oh, the roadsides and the creeks are overwhelmed with debris such as giant trees that have come down and whatever else got caught up in the flooding. Each time we drive somewhere we see more and more damage and it just keeps astonishing us.

Stoll Road is a small community of fairly tight-knit neighbors including many weekenders. Full-timers look out for their houses when they are away. Email has made it golden to send updates.

We showered at a friend down the road who had a generator and was very generous in inviting some of us over for showers, a little bit of TV and good food. A few of us went out to dinner and to watch the Giants game, which lightened the mood.

Neighbors are everything. And, when the sweet lineman from Kansas gave me a power update, I didn’t think, blue state or red state. At this point, we were all fellow Americans coming together. Tree cutters from Pennsylvania told us how glad they are to have jobs but that it’s tough on their families. They are away most of the time. One young fellow talked proudly of his 5-year old son starting kindergarten.

Thanks, everyone, for your messages of concern.

Over and out for now.

guestwriter@zestoforange.com

By Gretchen Gibbs
To me the question is not why we connect in times of trouble, but why we stop. Why can’t we hold on to the glow?

After Hurricane Irene swept through our area, I began to receive calls and emails from friends and family, asking how I had fared. Personally I was fine, though the tenant in my rental house in downtown Warwick had to be rescued by boat and the amount of damage to her possessions and to the house was severe.

I was touched by people’s concern, and it led me to think about disasters and how we respond to them.

I’ve done some research on disasters, their emotional impact, and how to mitigate it. Trauma often takes a great psychological cost, depending on factors like how much terror and horror was experienced, how great the losses were, and vulnerability to the experience because of past trauma. Even factors like gender, age, and social class may affect the consequences of disaster.

Support from others can play a major part in recovery. And usually others do provide support. I remember after the 2004 tsunami in Indonesia, some reporter called me for a quote, wanting to know why people had donated so much money to the relief efforts. “Why does it need explaining,” I said, “given that this is the most deadly tsunami in history?” It seems a natural response to want to help others in need.

It is now the tenth year anniversary of September 11th. That first week or so afterwards, wasn’t that our finest hour? People from all over the country converged on New York to help, exposing themselves to toxic dust and toxic sights and experiences. Commerce seemed forgotten in the sense of togetherness. Many businesses closed down temporarily. Restaurants and businesses provided free food and services for the workers at Ground Zero. The sky was still and blue without the planes and their vapor trails. I had such hopes for our country. I thought we could build on the connections, see things from outsiders’ points of view, broaden our perspective.

And then in no time at all, we had war and freedom fries. The sense of community gave way to vengeance and isolationism. I don’t know what happened, but I suspect it was fear. Terrorism is well-named; it is hugely frightening, and to protect ourselves we put up barriers and defenses against other people and ideas. Disasters bring out our best, and they can also bring out our worst. Something to reflect on as we mark the anniversary of the events of 9/11.

gretchen@zestoforange.com

Photography by Rich Gigli

New York City - Decade Later

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

Tale of  Two Cities – Charles Dickens

Michele Bachmann and ... God

By Bob Gaydos

Good lord, does Michele Bachmann really believe that God is taking sides in the American presidential campaign? More to the point, does the Republican congresswoman from Minnesota expect us to believe that she knows which side God is on because she can interpret the messages He sends us in the form of catastrophic natural events?

It would appear so. The tea party darling, who has repeatedly demonstrated an appalling lack of knowledge of history or an understanding of science, has now offered American voters a glimpse of her evangelical Christian faith in which, apparently, God controls all natural events and directs them at certain people to deliver a message. Let the bodies fall where they may.

Speaking in Florida a few days ago, Bachmann said: “I don’t know how much God has to do to get the attention of the politicians. We’ve had an earthquake; we’ve had a hurricane. He said, ‘Are you going to start listening to me here?’ Listen to the American people because the American people are roaring right now. They know government is on a morbid obesity diet and we’ve got to rein in the spending.”

So God punished the East Coast, home to those dreaded Democrats and liberals, with a rare earthquake and then a hurricane that killed 45 people and caused billions of dollars in damage because Democrats in Congress and the Democratic president would not go along with her views on how to fix the country’s financial problems?

Really? That’s all God has to worry about these days? Poverty and sickness and hunger and bigotry and religious fanaticism have all been dealt with, so let’s balance America’s budget? This is frightening on so many levels, even for Bachmann and, I might add, an insult to God.

Of course, Bachmann, as is her wont (and her habit) reacted to criticism of her comment by having an aide say it was only a joke. Oh, OK. Hear that Vermont? She was only kidding. You farmers who lost all your crops and you people whose homes were made unlivable, stop griping. Can’t you take a joke?

The thing with Bachmann is that she always has to backtrack on some dumb statement and always excuses it in an offhand manner as a meaningless misstatement or a joke. Which means she’s either dangerously clueless or — the really dangerous option — absolutely convinced that anything she believes is right and true and those who disagree with her are wrong and false. And, one may then assume, deserving of a vengeful God’s wrath until they are converted.

But she’s even got this God thing wrong. Disclaimer: I do not believe, as did the Greeks and Romans, that God, or the gods, are sitting around controlling natural events to reward or punish humans. But if one did believe this, then it would appear that conservative Republicans in the Deep South and Midwest, home of many fundamentalist religious zealots who support Bachmann and Texas Gov. Rick Perry, have not been heeding God’s messages.

The worst natural disaster by far in America this year has been the record-setting drought that has engulfed 13 states, all but one in the South and Midwest. The states of Alabama, Arkansas, Arizona, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, New Mexico, North Carolina, Oklahoma and South Carolina — homes to so many Republicans and true tea party believers — have suffered for months with no relief in sight. Worst of all is Texas, where Gov. Perry has tried to out-God Bachmann in his presidential campaign. The outlying drought state? Alaska. How ya doin’, Sarah?

There’s more. Sixty-two tornadoes devastated Alabama on April 27. From May 22 to May 22, central and Southern states were hit by 180 tornadoes, with 177 killed, 160 in Joplin, Mo. alone. Cost: $4.9 billion. In all this year, Midwest and Southeastern states have been hit by about 750 tornadoes, causing more than 500 deaths and $16 billion in damage. There was also a hail storm that a did a billion dollars in damage in Oklahoma. God must have been really ticked at those Okies over something, no?

So, wasn’t anybody in these states listening to God when he told them to compromise on the debt crisis? Or was He telling them to take global warming seriously? I have to admit that, apparently along with Bachmann, I didn’t catch His meaning in these instances, but I did notice that all those states readily accepted help from the federal government to deal with the destruction of the natural disasters.

Actually, let’s keep this simple. If Michele Bachmann truly believes that God is punishing Democrats with lethal natural disasters for not agreeing with her on the budget, she hasn’t got the brains to be president. If she thinks this is a joking matter, she hasn’t got the heart.

bob@zestoforange.com