From November 1, 1989. Original title: Ask Jack D.
Watching the World Series when San Francisco’s pretensions were cracked by an earthquake of some serious magnitude. Baseball interruptus, America got to meet Buck Helm. “90 Hours in Freeway Wreckage Created Quake Hero.” But that’s not important. – JDW
In another weekly magazine, there’s a column where a woman with a brain bigger than a small-block Chrysler engine responds to questions sent in by readers. Stumpers like, why don’t fish smile more? Are there parking meters in the hereafter? Does what go round really come around? Well, I get questions, too. Folks ask me stuff all the time.
What Three-Word Phrase Frightens People Most?
I researched this one. Response varied so much. I’m looking for help. If you have a personal favorite, please send your nomination to me c/o This Week magazine. I’ll print the best suggestions and award valuable prizes.
Here are some possibilities.
Let’s get married. The keg’s empty. The rabbit died. It’s your mother. Jack D. Welch. Read my lips.
Honey, I’m home. This was suggested by a middle-aged married man.
Your license, please. Quayle pledges aid. Christmas is coming.
I love you.
What’s The Difference Between A Disaster And A Tragedy?
The San Francisco earthquake was a disaster, the Union Carbide gas leak in Bhopal, which killed 3,200 people, that was a tragedy. Hurricane Hugo was a disaster, the Exxon Valdez oil spill that destroyed so much of Alaska’s shoreline was a tragedy.
To me, a disaster is an act of Him, and a tragedy is an act of us.
Since we’re on the subject… Cancel the World Series, don’t cancel it. Who really cares? I think the media’s coverage of THE KILLER QUAKE! was a bit much. That first night with Al Michaels doing the color commentary and the instant replays and Goodyear Blimp overhead, the best television I can remember since 1963. Late November. And the absence of commercials was the evening’s solitary blessing.
But then it went slowly downhill. ABC continued to cover the quake like it was a sports event. Richter 7.1, Humans 253. Later reduced to seventy. Insurance $8 billion. Why must we always keep score?
And after the first day, I tried to avoid the news. I was beginning to feel like those people who, seeing an accident on the freeway, slow down to get a better look at the bloody victims and the twisted metal. I’m just not sure I feel a need to hear hourly updates about others’ misfortunes.
There is no truth, I pray, to the rumor Valerie Bertinelli has already been cast as Buck Helm’s ex-wife in the Made-For-TV movie.
I’m a little worried Portlanders seemed to know more at first about the disaster than the guy in the Oval Office. Then it turns out he finally started getting info the same way we were, by watching Ted Koppel. In the event of nuclear attack, tune in to “Nightline.”
I could do without draft-dodging Dannie Quayle in his navy blue jumpsuit with the epaulets and gold trim touring the “front.” He’ll probably want a Purple Heart because he was in San Diego when the roads cracked and buildings fell up north.
Experts note this wasn’t The Big One. Which would be thirty (30) times more powerful. They also point out there’s a fifty (50%)-percent chance of just such a mega-quake in the next thirty (30) years. Rebuild now, and maybe you’ll get to pay off the mortgage.
When “a deeply moved” President finally showed up, I was struck by this statement: “I’m going to do what is necessary for the federal government to fulfill its obligations under the law.”
Whoa, Mr. Warmth. Whatever happened to… we’ll do whatever it takes to help these people in their time of need?
Whatever happened to.. we’ll just buy ten fewer Stealth bombers and make this place as good as new?
So, anyway, the next day California asks Congress for $3.84 billion and gets $2.85, about a billion dollars less than requested.
White House aides say they’ll follow Congress’ lead. Thanks, Poppy.
And I’m wondering, if we had a national levy to pay for rebuilding San Francisco, would it pass? How would you vote?
Still can’t believe there was no significant looting. No phones, no lights, no way to get hold of your dealer except to hit the streets.
Fires. Traffic at a standstill. Police occupied. You’d expect criminal chaos. Yet, the streets were safe. It’s enough to give one hope.
Norma Louise was hoping the focus on the Bay’s catastrophe might lead us to reassess our values.
Because she honestly believes The End may be near. There’s been so much in the last few years she’s nearly numb.
Terrorists, cocaine, street gangs, baby seals and spotted owls and old growth and elephant ivory and dolphins, Chernobyl, South Africa, Noriega, AIDS, the stock market, PACs, the deficit, illiteracy, etc. and so forth. On and on. Designer clothes. Cellulite. Greenhouse effect. Acid rain. Drift nets.
And nobody with enough guts to stand up and say, if we don’t turn this baby around, it’s gonna turn on us.
Norma Louise was hoping maybe the quake might get our attention. That maybe we’d start putting truth ahead of politics, justice ahead of expediency, honesty ahead of greed, the important ahead of the titillating.
After a week of quake headlines, what do we get? “Jim Bakker Draws 45 Years.”
Me, I’m thinking about the homeless (tragedy) as well as the displaced (disaster). Protecting the former from the latter, National Guard troops stood watch at the Red Cross shelter – which had to be relocated to make way for a plastic surgeons’ convention.
Why does a person who loses his home deserve more assistance than a person who doesn’t have a home? Buck Helm, when he’s not in intensive care, usually sleeps on the docks, in an old Chevy panel truck.
How Come The Japanese Paid Ronald Reagan $2 Million For An Eight-Day Visit?
You mean, when he worked for us for eight years for less than $4,000 a week?
In two words… cranial liposuction. Apparently, the operation to drain excess fluid from the ex-president’s brain was more successful than we realize.
http://articles.latimes.com/1989-11-20/news/mn-65_1_respiratory-failure
If you got this far,
you earned a treat.
Open your mind
listen to this.
And thank you.
Mean it.
– JDW