Suave mare magno...Watching the devastation of Houston, Texas and environs by Hurricane Harvey on my computer (precious toy):

Never have I seen so many wet, obese, desperate people.  What's funny though--perhaps I should say ironic--is how thoroughly braced they all seem to be by this major disruption and ruination of their lives and property.  Even the kids, who are being lifted in and out of boats, and are being carried and shepherded around, seem perfectly content and unafraid--simply fascinated with the bustling activity involved in having their families' homes and neighborhoods flooded, and having to be rescued from the raging waters.  I am reminded of what my friend and guru Bill Weaver said about the experience of World War II, during which, as a twenty-something young man, he was a reconnaissance scout (mostly serving behind the lines in Germany): how, if you weren't being shot or tortured to death or anything, it was an adrenaline high or rush, with people fucking everywhere (He mentioned specifically, as convenient places of temporary assignation, the compartments [Whaddya call them?] between train cars), as if any time might be their last; which, when you think about it, was perfectly reasonable.  

Not, however of course, that the good, plump people of Houston seem particularly erotized by the disaster that's befallen them; but they do seem busy and alert.