August 2022 marks the 30th anniversary of Hurricane Andrew making it's historic impact on the Bahamas, southern Florida, Louisiana, Mississippi, and other parts of the south and east in 1992. It was the first category 5 hurricane to make landfall in the United States since Hurricane Camille in 1969. Since Andrew, only one other category five hurricane has made a US landfall: Hurricane Michael in 2018.
Adjusted for inflation, Hurricane Andrew caused almost $50 billion in damage, leading to the collapse of Florida's homeowner insurance system. In the years since, building codes were vastly improved in south Florida to withstand powerful hurricanes.
65 people died as a result of the storm, with most fatalities occurring during the recovery phase due to accidents and medical emergencies. Given the enormous amount of damage Hurricane Andrew caused, the shockingly low death toll (especially in Florida) has sometimes been partially credited to meteorologist Bryan Norcross and his 23-hour-long broadcast before, during, and after Andrew made its first US landfall. As the hurricane battered the television studio in downtown Miami, Norcross kept up a calm, steady flow of information and encouragement to everyone listening/watching, even as the storm forced him and his fellow anchors into a small concrete "bunker" for safety.
A humanitarian crisis grew in the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew. Neither President George H. W. Bush nor Florida Governor Lawton Chiles wanted to take responsibility for the government's delayed response to Kate Hale (Miami's deputy emergency management coordinator) and her requests for help in south Florida. With few structures remaining operable, people were becoming dehydrated from lack of water, starving from a lack of food, and desperation grew more prevalent among the survivors. Even with private citizens from all over the country attempting to help the people in south Florida, it wasn't enough. Society broke down into lawlessness and fear. Government reinforcements finally arrived almost a week after Andrew ravaged southern Florida and the northern Gulf coast. 1992 was an election year, and many people cited Bush's delayed disaster response as the reason they voted for his rival, Bill Clinton.
Hurricane Andrew had lasting ripple effects on everything from the insurance industry, to the local ecology (displaced pet pythons formed a breeding population in the Everglades, for example), to national politics. Though its legacy has been eclipsed by arguably more catastrophic hurricanes like Katrina, Maria, and Michael, Andrew marked the beginning of a new era of devastating hurricanes to ravage a more connected United States. In 1992, cell phones, live satellite feeds, cable TV, rudimentary internet, and improved computer modeling kept Americans all over the country informed about Hurricane Andrew in a way that didn't happen just a few years earlier with Hurricane Hugo. Hurricane Andrew marks a milestone in modern disaster messaging and communications.
As we progress through yet another hurricane season, let's not forget the lessons that Hurricane Andrew taught us 30 years ago. 1) Be prepared BEFORE disaster strikes. 2) Working together for the greater good can literally save lives. 3) If authorities tell you to evacuate, LEAVE. 4) A battery powered radio is a lifeline when the electricity goes out. 5) Studying history can prepare us for the future.
Thanks for reading, and stay safe.
***
edit: This was in my drafts. I forgot to post it back in August. I didn't want to delete it, so I'll just post it now, a day late and a dollar short. IDK if anyone following me will get anything out of it, but I like writing essays, so...here ya go.
15 notes
·
View notes
at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
18K notes
·
View notes
Thinking about how Diavolo’s feelings transcend time and how in the Nightbringer UR+ card Demon Lord’s Castle Tour this conversation happens.
When asked, “Do you wish to see your father?”
Diavolo responds:
“I suppose I do . . .” isn’t the typical reaction to how a child would feel about wanting to see their parent. Especially when said parent has essentially been in a coma for a year.
Along with how Diavolo describe his father.
It makes more sense why when you learn in Lesson 56 how Diavolo was treated by him growing up.
Diavolo can tell when others are lying but is unable to understand his father’s intentions.
Diavolo mentions that he lived a very sheltered life growing up. That from a young age his father never allowed him a chance to talk to anyone outside the castle.
His childhood friend was Mephistopheles. A demon literally RAISED to be his friend. Putting a barrier between the two because Mephistopheles would put Diavolo on a pedestal.
The isolating childhood he experienced riddled with his strict father constantly scolding him.
Despite everything MC is so important to him he wants to see his father again so we can meet.
5K notes
·
View notes