Thanks, Nanny State, for Looking Out for My Ass
I'd like to say a quick thank you to the Nanny State, before the moment passes and I forget all about spending a good deal of Tuesday cowering in a downstairs bathroom preparing to find out what my everlasting reward will be.
Hey, thanks, Nanny State. Couldn't have made it without you, even though that's sort of a dangerous confession to make these days.
Thanks for having a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Association capable of launching satellites that can spot tornadoes as they occur and then warn me to go cower in the bathroom for a while.
Also, thanks for those sirens that went off, city of Dallas. Those were really cool. We heard them. My son and I popped in and out of the bathroom all afternoon according to when the warning sirens went on and off. It worked out great.
And speaking of local government generally, I know that I do bitch and moan at you a lot when I think you haven't done this or that little thing right for me, but yesterday I was quite grateful to see all those cop cars and ambulances out and about.
I do try to be as self-reliant as possible, because I'm getting ready for the inevitable day when Texas will be taken over by the Tealiban. We're almost there already, aren't we? I know that when the mullahs of the Tealiban do come around to check on us, they're going to be pretty tough on people they think are still dependent on you, Nanny State, so I want to be able to show them that I'm doing everything I can for myself.
"I love you, Nanny State!"
What worries me is this. I do not have any satellites. And I don't think, even if my neighbors and I pitched in together on one, that we could swing it. First thing I did the morning after the tornadoes was Google "cost of a weather satellite." Oh, wow.
It's like $290 million for just one measly weather satellite and then between $50 and $400 million just to launch the thing. No way can we do that and still make our car payments.
In fact, I don't think we can even afford a police car. There was an Associated Press story recently that said the average cost of a fully loaded cop car was about $50,000. The same story said we could buy the cheapest, smallest drone aircraft for about the same amount.
I have to admit, a drone would be pretty cool to have. We could put a camera on it and use it to spy on pool parties in nearby hoity-toity Lakewood. Those people are up to no good. But see, now we already have judgment issues on how we spend our money.
Realistically, if and when the Tealiban mullahs do come around with their bamboo batons to beat us senseless for consorting with you, Nanny, I think we've got to tell them that we need you sometimes. We just cannot do some of this stuff on our own.
Just the streets, for example. During the tornado day when the really big rains hit, I really liked the way the water all flowed downhill and then went into the storm drains. I guess we could get out there on the weekends with a plow and some oxen and dig our own streets, but I am quite sure we would never figure out how to get the water to go like that, especially if certain neighbors suggested we all go indoors instead and watch drone video of Lakewood pool parties. Nanny, some of my neighbors are naughty!
I'm just saying. When we have a major emergency like what hit North Texas Tuesday, we should all pause just a moment to reflect on how lucky we are to have a Nanny State looking out for our interests.
Not saying we shouldn't listen, if somebody says they have a Plan B. In fact, I'm all ears. But until I hear it, I've got to stick with Plan A.
Nanny, you were sweet! Thanks again.