Hurricane Florence

Hurricane season is a lot like Christmas. I’ve waited all my life to experience the power of Mother Nature’s period and by the looks of Florence’s projected path, there’s a very good chance she’ll blow the Hamptons into the sea and form a new Atlantis.

There has been a lot of public awareness this summer relating to Hurricane preparedness. My important documents are packed neatly away in zip-lock bags in hopes that St. Nick soon will be here.

If a category 3 storm were to perfectly squeeze into that little inlet where the Statue of Liberty stands with her torch, Lower Manhattan will be flooded like the 9th Ward.

Bedford Stuyvesant is on high ground but the new World Trade Center memorial is not.

If that storm surge comes our way I will tune into my Direct TV and watch the greedy swim after their money and Gucci bags.

I know I haven’t been a good little boy in years and perhaps that’s why hurricanes haven’t come down my chimney. I’m making a list and checking it twice as the projected path of Florence is pointing at Donald Trump’s steel structures with glass windows.

Years ago while there was still a World Trade Center, tour guides informed site seers that if a penny were dropped from the 110th floor the copper coin would crack the sidewalk.

What would happen in New York City with all that glass falling alongside the hail of Hurricane Florence?

I will not be around to watch it. I’ll be in Bed-Stuy while they are looting this little town.