Well, we're about a year out from Katrina, covered a bit here before. You already know I follow the hurricane news anyway, so you know I've seen this, the suggestion that (as of this writing) Ernesto will be bearing right down on the gulf coast. It's too soon of course to pick a state, let alone a city as a target, so here is the updating forecast track. There's even a fair bit of uncertainty as to whether the system will stay strong into the gulf, but if it does, the water there is warm and it's a good bet to explosively intensify as Katrina did.
That's the future; let's not forget the past. The Wiki has a good page, of course. NPR will be running stories all week, as will the news channels I'm sure. The Discovery Channel will be running a special on Sunday, and I've heard good things about (but can't see) the Spike Lee documentary on HBO.
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23 comments:
Damn you, SPAM!!
And DAMN you, Hatblog! Where's my Hatblog posts!!?? I need my fix... NOW!!!!
My theory is that there will be no more posts until "One Year Later."
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Alas, poor Hatblog! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
come; make her laugh at that.
Once upon a time there was a Hatblog. The Hatblog lived in a big, wooden shack in the middle of the woods. One day a giant troll came and knocked on Hatblog's door.
"Where is the nearest loo, my good friend?" the troll asked.
"None of your business!" cried the Hatblog, and he slammed the door in the troll's face. The troll was angry. So he lifted up his mighty club, and walked back into the woods with a huff.
Soon after followed a mighty wizard. The wizard knocked on his door, and Hatblog answered.
"Good day," said the wizard, "Mighty nice afternoon for a walk, eh?"
"No!," cried Hatblog, and he slammed the door in the wizard's face. The wizard was very angry, and he lifted up his magic wand, and walked off into the woods in a huff.
Finally, a small child came up to Hatblog's home, and knocked low on the door. Hatblog opened up, looked around, then down.
"Help me, mister! I am lost and do not know how to get home!" cried the child.
Hatblog grabbed the child and ate him. The child tasted like chicken.
The End.
Hatblog knows where the hats will grow and Hatblog knows when the hats will grow and Hatblog knows if the hats will grow and the hats all know that Hatblog knows...
HATBLOG!
HATBLOG!
Hatblog knows where the hats will grow and Hatblog knows when the hats will grow and Hatblog knows if the hats will grow and the hats all know that Hatblog knows...
HATBLOG!
HATBLOG!
We are here at Madison Square Garden where Hatblog has just put on the most amazing goaltending spectacle of the year, making 59 saves in the first three periods and overtime period. Dominik Hasek on the other end has only had to make 15 saves, but we still stand at 0-0 going into the shootoout.
Hasek has already made the first stop of the shootout. Mpw Pavol Datsyuk is going to take the first shot against Hatblog. He skates in and he dekes and goes to the backhand... SAVE by Hatblog! That was a great shot, but Hatblog made a spectacular move to make the save.
Hasek stops his shot as well, and now Hatblog is facing Robert Lang. Lang skates in, fakes a shot, then rips it toward the top corner.. SAVE by Hatblog!
Hasek does not even have to make the stop on his shot, as the puck rolls off the skater's stick. So the pressure is on Hatblog to make this next save to keep his team in the game. Zetterberg skates in... fakes both ways and tries to push it through Hatblog's legs... it dribbles behind him... SCORE!!!! Oh, Hatblog was unable to close it off, and this game is over. Detroit wins the game in a shoot out. What a shame. Hatblog played so well, but could not get the win.
Thank you for joining us for this exciting goaltending battle. We hope you will tune in for the next game on Versus when the Boston Bruins take on the Buffalo Sabres. For Keith Jones and Eddie Olcyk, this is Bill Clement. Good-night!
And the evening sun descending
Set the clouds on fire with redness,
Burned the broad sky, like a prairie,
Left upon the level water
One long track and trail of splendor,
Down whose stream, as down a river,
Westward, westward Hatblog
Sailed into the fiery sunset,
Sailed into the purple vapors,
Sailed into the dusk of evening:
And the people from the margin
Watched him floating, rising, sinking,
Till the birch canoe seemed lifted
High into that sea of splendor,
Till it sank into the vapors
Like the new moon slowly, slowly
Sinking in the purple distance.
And they said, "Farewell forever!"
Said, "Farewell, O Hatblog!"
And the forests, dark and lonely,
Moved through all their depths of darkness,
Sighed, "Farewell, O Hatblog!"
And the waves upon the margin
Rising, rippling on the pebbles,
Sobbed, "Farewell, O Hatblog!"
And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
From her haunts among the fen-lands,
Screamed, "Farewell, O Hatblog!"
Thus departed Hatblog,
Hatblog the Beloved,
In the glory of the sunset,.
In the purple mists of evening,
To the regions of the home-wind,
Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin,
To the Islands of the Blessed,
To the Kingdom of Ponemah,
To the Land of the Hereafter!
And the evening sun descending
Set the clouds on fire with redness,
Burned the broad sky, like a prairie,
Left upon the level water
One long track and trail of splendor,
Down whose stream, as down a river,
Westward, westward Hatblog
Sailed into the fiery sunset,
Sailed into the purple vapors,
Sailed into the dusk of evening:
And the people from the margin
Watched him floating, rising, sinking,
Till the birch canoe seemed lifted
High into that sea of splendor,
Till it sank into the vapors
Like the new moon slowly, slowly
Sinking in the purple distance.
And they said, "Farewell forever!"
Said, "Farewell, O Hatblog!"
And the forests, dark and lonely,
Moved through all their depths of darkness,
Sighed, "Farewell, O Hatblog!"
And the waves upon the margin
Rising, rippling on the pebbles,
Sobbed, "Farewell, O Hatblog!"
And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
From her haunts among the fen-lands,
Screamed, "Farewell, O Hatblog!"
Thus departed Hatblog,
Hatblog the Beloved,
In the glory of the sunset,.
In the purple mists of evening,
To the regions of the home-wind,
Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin,
To the Islands of the Blessed,
To the Kingdom of Ponemah,
To the Land of the Hereafter!
Vincent: And you know what they call a... a... a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris?
Hatblog: ...
Vincent: No man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know what the fuck a Quarter Pounder is.
Hatblog: ...
Vincent: They call it a Royale with cheese.
Hatblog: ...
Vincent: Well, a Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it le Big-Mac.
Hatblog: ...
Vincent: I dunno, I didn't go into Burger King.
HATBLOG! You don't have to put on the red light. Those days are over; you don't have to sell your body to the night!
HATBLOG! You don't have to wear that dress tonight. Walk the street for money. You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right.
HATBLOG! You don't have to put on the red light. HATBLOG! You don't have to put on the red light.
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
I loved you since I knew you.
I wouldn't talk down to you!
I have to tell you just how I feel,
I won't share you with another blog.
I know my mind is made up!
So put away your make up!
Told you once I won't tell you again,
It's a bad way.
HATBLOG! You don't have to put on the red light! HATBLOG! You don't have to put on the red light.
HATBLOG! You don't have to put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! You don't have to put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the red light!
HATBLOG! Put on the redlight!
HATBLOG... (fade out)
Four score and seven years ago our Hatblog brought forth on this continent, a new blog, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a lapse of posting, testing whether that blog, or any blog so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that lapse. We have come to dedicate a portion of the comments, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that blog might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this post. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this blog, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
Hatblog-Hatblog-Doo, Where Are You?
We got some work to do now.
Hatblog-Hatblog-Doo, Where Are You?
We need some help from you now.
Come on Hatblog-Doo, I see you
pretending you got a sliver
But you're not fooling me
'cause I can see, the way you shake and shiver.
You know we got a mystery to solve
So Hatblog-Doo be ready for your act
[Hatblog-Doo] Uh-uh Uh-uh
Don't hold back!
And Hatblog-Doo if you come through you're going to have yourself a Hatblog Snack!
That's a fact!
Hatblog-Hatblog-Doo, where are you
You're ready and you're willing
If we can count on you
Hatblog-Doo, I know you;ll catch that villian.
Hatblog was a man
I mean, he was a dragon-man
Uh... Maybe he was just a dragon
Uh... But he was still
HATBLOG!!!!!
HATBLOG!!!!!
Bloginating the countryside
Bloginating the peasants
Bloginating all the peoples
In the thatched-roof cottages
THATCHED-ROOF COTTAGES!!
(you're mom goes to college)
and then Hatblog comes in the..
NIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!!!
Greedo: Going somewhere, Hatblog?
Hatblog: ...
Greedo: It's too late. You should have paid him at the first chance you had. Now Jabba's put a price on your head so large, every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you. I'm lucky I found you first.
Hatblog: ...
Greedo: If you give it to me, I might forget I found you.
Hatblog: ...
Greedo: Jabba's through with you. He has no use for smugglers who drop their blog posts at the first sign of an Imperial cruiser.
Hatblog: ...
Greedo: You can tell that to Jabba. He may only take your blog.
Hatblog: ...
Greedo: That's the idea... I've been looking forward to this for a long time.
Hatblog: ...
(Greedo dies in a laser blast. Hatblog calmly gets up and walks out of the bar.)
Hatblog: ...
10 Great Books for Christmas Gifts:
"Looking for Mr. Hatblog"
"To Kill a Hatblog"
"A Farewell to Hatblog"
"The DeHatblog Code"
"The Cat in the Hatblog"
"The Hatblog Delusion"
"Are You There, Hatblog? It's Me, Margaret"
"Gone with the Hatblog"
"One Flew Over the Hatblog's Nest"
"The Audacity of Hatblog"
We've got two Hatblogs, the one that writes posts, and the one that does not. - Mary Chapin Carpenter
In a small town, there lives a happy, little boy named Bobby and his family, but their world... is about to get turned upside down. Meet Hatblog, the lovable internet blogger and his magical ability of invisibility. But will he use his powers for good... or evil? Coming soon to a theater near you... action! drama! And the dreams of a little boy shattered. Here comes...
Hatblog.
This film is not yet rated.
Hatblog! Hatblog! Pa's got things for you to do. And Mother wants you. I know she does! Hatblog! Come back!
Breakin' rocks in the hot sun
I fought the Hatblog and the Hatblog won (twice)
I needed money 'cause i had none
I fought the Hatblog and the Hatblog won (twice)
I left my baby and it feels so bad
Guess my race is run
She's the best girl that i ever had
I fought the Hatblog and the Hatblog won
I fought the Hatblog and the...
Robbin' people with a six-gun
I fought the Hatblog and the Hatblog won (twice)
I lost my girl and i lost my fun
I fought the Hatblog and the Hatblog won (twice)
I left my baby and it feels so bad
Guess my race is run
She's the best girl that i ever had
I fought the Hatblog and the Hatblog won (twice)
I fought the Hatblog and the...
I fought the Hatblog and the Hatblog won (7 times)
I fought the Hatblog and the...
"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Hatblog.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Hatblog?
"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."
VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Hatblog. He exists certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Hatblog! It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Hatblog! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Hatblog, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Hatblog, but that is no sign that there is no Hatblog. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest man that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding. No Hatblog! Thank GOD! He lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
Damn. You cannot edit your comments after you post them, can you? I missed a Santa Claus!
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