news junkie

I'm telling you, it was as much as I could do to keep the wheel from turning south as I crossed the Mississippi River. I passed the National Guard convoys headed, belatedly, down to the disaster zone. I was listening, goddess help me, to NPR for perhaps the first time in my life. I was thinking about my cousin Glenn and her family, safe but exiled from their home in Covington, La. I was wondering if my friend Jed, city editor of the Times Picayune, who, when last heard from in Baton Rouge was headed for his home in the French Quarter, had gotten through the cordons and rather hoping he hadn't—unless he had a hard hat and a gun. I was wishing that I had not quit my job at People. The last time I wished that so hard was on 9/11, right after I quit. Big things are happening, and there's nothing I can write about it.
Why I can't stop: I'm sitting on my ass in the Ozarks and, at the moment, I don't give a flying fuck about evolution.