Mail Chimp

Monday, July 30, 2012

When the Levee Breaks



Why did I do it? I had to do something to make you people recognize my genius. I realize you probably lack the cognitive ability necessary to empathize with me, but could you possibly imagine what it would be like to live as a wage slave when you had ideas worth millions bubbling to the surface in your head?

Of course you can't.

But, still. I showed you bastards, didn't I? Worst fucking disaster in the history of the United States. Fuck, maybe the world. This made the Chunnel cave-in look like a leaky pipe, eh?

You know what's the funniest thing about it? You idiots gave me the idea in the first place. Right before you kicked me out of school, no less. In Honors, we were assigned a book about the Mississippi River flood of 1928. Little did I know when I read it that I would be recreating the whole thing in less than two years time.

People write and ask me, reporters ask me, hell, my mom asked me, "What do you have against New Orleans?"

Well, aside from it smelling of piss, being home to a disproportionate number of low-lives, and having the most corrupt police force on Earth, nothing. I don't have anything against the people of New Orleans. They got the treatment for the same reason Hillary climbed Everest: it was there. But it does make a rather dramatic point about the failures of urban planning, does it not?

That's the problem with you people. You fail to recognize and bow to your mental superiors. If I (Or someone like myself. I am far from unique.)  tell you that I can revolutionize television, or plumbing, or whatever the hell it is that needs improvement, you should listen. Otherwise, things continue going along as they are. That is to say, badly. And you gain a disgruntled social architect with a taste for dramatic revenge.

It's really simple, when you consider it. How did we come into a situation where the fucking illiterates have control over the intelligentsia?

In a little over two hundred years time, this country has gone from a burgeoning hotbed of inventive ideas to a lifeless intellectual quagmire. Were the bread and circuses really worth it? Nowadays, it doesn't matter if you did cure cancer. You still have to wait five years for an FDA hearing so they can reject it. Living here is like being in Lilliput, tied down by a thousand ant-like creatures.

It's a wonder more people don't snap. In retrospect, I probably should have done some gene splicing and come up with a virus to kill stupid people.

The other thing everyone seems to be fascinated with is how I did it. It really wasn't that much of a finesse job, but rather a display of brute force coupled with more than a little cunning. Crude, but effective. The average person's tendency to bow to anyone in a uniform, even a fucking oilfield worker's jumpsuit, made it really easy for me.

The hardest thing to do was getting the money together for the drilling equipment. I can't stand working for idiots and assholes. That's ninety-five percent of the business owners in this country. The explosives themselves came from a recipe right off the ole Internet. My enhancements to the formula did increase the yield fourfold, of course. The electronics weren't much more complicated than a child's remote controlled car.

The brilliant part was the detonator.

I burned a CD with an encoding of the signal required to set off the charges interwoven into a four-track recording I made myself. I was surprised at how receptive they were at the radio station. Funny thing is, they liked it so much, they almost broadcast it on the spot when I dropped it off. If I hadn't asked the guy to wait and play it Friday at five P.M., I would have been as screwed as the rest of you people.

I wish I had a video of it. Four miles of Mississippi River levee collapsing to the tune of Led Zeppelin's "When the Levee Breaks".