Some government agencies don’t do so hot in the reputation category. I’m sure the IRS and the DMV immediately stand out in everyone’s mind.

These days it seems like FEMA isn’t too far behind them.

But those other two agencies don’t get accused of not getting anything done. Plus, FEMA doesn’t strike fear into our hearts like a cold government bureaucracy should. Not like the “I–R–S” and “D-M-V” do. They command respect – even if they screw up – through fear. I cried last week at motor vehicles and I didn’t even do anything wrong. “If you had only filled out a form wrong or forgotten a critical document like most people do, I wouldn’t have had to yell at you for something totally un-related, like looking like John Candy when he was in Plains, Trains and Automobiles,” barked the DMV lady. She sounded right even when she was wrong.

FEMA, on the other hand, sounds like a good name for a wholesale foods distributor.

They deal with disasters – and not well, some say. But when things go bad – FEMA. When things get worse – FEMA. When despair breaks the levees – FEMA. Like it or not, they are the tax-payer’s answer to the mini-apocalypses. Let’s give them a name and an attitude that suits the part.

Here’s a suggestion for the Federal Emergency Management Administration’s new name:

S.K.U.L.L.

It doesn’t stand for anything but it sounds nasty and “tuff.”

Read two probable testimonials from disaster victims who dealt with a new-look, more IRS-like, emergency administration:

“Within hours of the disaster, SKULL was promptly there to be surly, cold and apathetic to my situation. The agent I met with misplaced my paperwork, but eventually issued a check to help repair my storefront – not before making me feel really lousy about it. Thanks SKULL.”

“Not only did SKULL deny my requests for federal assistance after floods left me homeless, they said if I kept complaining that they’d come down here and give me something to cry about. I believe it.”

Sounds like they’re taking-care-of-business to me.

If you’ve got a good name you’d like FEMA to consider, feel free to send it in a post-marked envelope to evesun.com blog comments, P.O. Box 8337, Burbank, CA 91502.

This may make me seem extremely oblivious, but for hours on the morning of June 28, 2006, I had no idea that anything out of the ordinary was occurring. The television wasn’t working, because the rain was interfering with the satellite signal, but everything outside my house looked normal, if a little bit soggy.

I waited until the rain let up, and then decided to go for a walk. (Since I wasn’t about to push my stroller and three month old baby through nasty flood waters, we didn’t get too far.)

The first serious sign of flooding I remember seeing was at Weiler Park. Only a block from my house, which stayed completely dry, the park’s baseball field looked like  a swimming hole, with water covering half of the bleachers and a good portion of the back stop. What really made the image memorable however, was the site of several people (adults and children alike) playing in the standing pool of dirty water. Apparently no one told them what kinds of nasty things are usually in flood waters, because people were splashing in it, riding bikes through it, and even in bathing suits swimming in it.

The next morning, again I ventured out (this time avoiding Weiler Park and traveling instead down Rexford Street, toward the Chenango River. By this time I had heard about the significant damages suffered by many city residents, but even if I hadn’t it would have been apparent. People were hard at work, pumping out their basements and lugging destroyed items from their homes and picking up the pieces after the worst flood Norwich has seen in 100 years, and hopefully won’t see for another 100.

Reflecting on the flood of 2006 fortunately does not bring back memories of sadness and remorse like it does for many. I live in the heart of the city of Norwich meaning my family and my home were safe and on dry ground.
Never having experienced an emergency situation like that before I was just curious as to where the damage was, how bad it was and what the flooding could ultimately mean. The only thing I did lose in June flooding was a job which I had been hired for just days prior to the storm.

I was hired in Delhi for a graphic designer position and was scheduled to start the following week. Delhi like many other areas was hit hard in the wake of June flooding and therefore the customer base for the paper I was going to be helping design was no longer serving as many customers and did not need to hire additional staff.
All and all I did not lose anything of utter importance nor did any of my family but in the days that followed the storm the evidence that many people suffered great losses was apparent. I remember looking at pictures and driving though villages and towns and I could not remember a time when I had seen damages like the ones brought on by the water. Recovering from the flood was no easy task for most and some I am sure are still feeling the effects brought on by the raging waters.

First of all, I would just like to point out that I read another CNN horror story today. Apparently a girl got her feet cut off on a Superman ride at Six Flags. Convincing me once again to stay away from all amusement park activities this summer. (As originally stated in  my last blog entry.)

It seems like the news channels have been full of nothing but horror stories for the last few years at least. Today, during one internet  visit to an internet news site, I read about the horror at Six Flags, an alligator attacking a puppy, the hidden dangers of  sand and worst of all, Paris Hilton being released from jail. (Are they trying to give me nightmares or what?)

I guess I just don’t really understand what makes a news story important enough to make the national news. Is it the location where the story takes place? The degree of emotion it may evoke, or is it the fact that nine times out of ten, they are presenting something aimed to scare you into reading every other possible threat they come up with.

It’s not just one news agency that is doing this. They all work on the same principle; people are more likely to read/watch the news if they think their safety is on the line. The sad part is that it seems to be working, which is why Monday I will begin my 1000 part series entitled Hidden Hazards in Your House; Article 1, how static electricity can make you spontaneously combust. Read it…if you want to live!!!

There’s a lot of harmful propaganda floating around out there regarding my performance in the Dairy Day Goat Milking Contest Saturday.

It’s true, contrary to my claims in a previous blog, I did not yield a single drop of milk from my goat (who I found out later is named “Sahara”).

Not because of I am a lousy milksmith. Rather, I failed because I trust people – people I thought were my friends.

How do I know I was betrayed? Because the technique was there. The pick-up lines and soft music were there. The will to win was there. The only thing that wasn’t there was a working tit on the left side of that goat’s udder.

Clearly sabotage.

Oh yeah, “old faithful” gave it up for Mayor Joe Maiurano the turn after mine – once Dairy Day organizer Janet Pfromm made a “special” adjustment for him (she removed, upon further review of surveillance tape from a security camera, what appeared to be a small rubber plug from the goat’s udder).

I was too predictable. They knew I would volunteer to go first to spare everyone else the heartbreak of loss. I never had a chance.

Betrayed, humiliated, angered and frustrated, I said nothing as the boo’s from the crowd of thousands rained down.

“A kindergartner could do better than that you bozo,” one man said. “You’ll never milk in this town again you bum,” said another. “You made my granddaughter cry you worthless hack,” a woman said as she slapped me across the face.

I took it like a man though, because no one wants to hear excuses. And I ain’t giving any. I screwed up. I lost.

All I want is another shot, a fair shot. If I lose, I’ll live in exile and never challenge the goat milking kingdom again. If I win, I will take the throne that is rightfully mine. All conspirators will be forgiven (mercy they most definitely would not show me) and together we will enter the golden age of this empire under my rule.

Before you peasants pick through my blog, note your inequities as you read the work of royalty.

Well, not official royalty. Not yet.

But unless your name happens to be Mike “The Main Squeeze” McGuire, all you really are is a sniveling subject in the world of high-stakes competitive goat milking – a.k.a my new kingdom.

Come witness my coronation as your ruler at 2 p.m. this Saturday at the Dairy Day Celebrity Goat Milking Contest. Be amazed as opponents run away in fear of my “utter” ability. Be dazzled as goats line-up to be gripped by my gentle, yet purposeful hands. Be astonished as I build a wooden Ark to save my people from drowning in the flood of un-pasteurized milk that will undoubtedly flow from the Fairgrounds’ Exhibition Hall. Come. And you will one day be able to tell your grandchildren that you witnessed my two-handed “Canasawacta Clutch” deliver us to freedom.

I was always a nervous kind of kid. Every time we went anywhere or did anything fun, I would imagine all of those crazy, one in a million chance things that just might go wrong.

This was never more true than when my family would make the trip to an amusement park. Even though it was always fun and exciting, every time I would go on a ride, I would imagine the cart suddenly falling off of the track or the safety belt breaking. So when I turned on CNN and saw that a roller coaster at an Arkansas amusement park lost power, leaving riders hanging upside down for half an hour as a result, it seemed like someone was peaking into my childhood nightmares and broadcasting them on television.

It seems like in the last year or so, there have been a lot of scary story about amusement parks and the dangers involved with riding the rides. Several people who were not properly secured in various types of ride have fallen or been thrown from them. Children who did not meet the height requirements have been allowed to ride dangerous rides and recently a woman who was too big for a ride was allowed to occupy two seats and fell from the ride as a result.

I know there are a lot of amusement parks out there and tons and tons of rides. It’s to be expected that accidents and mistakes are going to happen, but since I have heard about so many of them lately, (and because I went from being a nervous child to a nervous adult) I’m pretty sure my summer vacation isn’t going to include a stop at an amusement park.

A couple of weeks ago, the Norwich Common Council discussed the possibility of adding more of those pedestrian crossing signs to Broad Street, in an effort to make drivers stop for people walking in the cross walks. This would be a great idea if the things actually worked, but in my opinion they don’t. Yesterday I was driving through town and I saw that another pedestrian crossing sign has indeed been added, and the jerks who drive through town are ignoring it completely.

In my opinion, there are two types of people who don’t stop for people in the cross walk. The first type are the insensitive and rude jerks who don’t care if your carrying an armful of groceries, trying to control a couple unruly children and still took the time to walk to the cross walk and wait for the go light, they’re still not going to let you pass, because, frankly, they stink. I hate those people, because they’re rude and lack common decency, but the other type might be even worse.

Yesterday I saw a woman with a stroller almost get run down by some moron in a pick-up truck. I guess it’s possible that he didn’t see the sign, or the cross walk, or the woman walking with her baby in stroller since he was talking on his cell phone, smoking a cigarette and driving a stick shift. Who can be bothered by such little details? I know sometimes when I’m painting my toe nails and dying my hair and filing my taxes while driving, I don’t notice the little things either.

I’ll admit that I occasionally answer my phone when I’m in the car. I know I shouldn’t, but once in a while, everyone breaks a rule here or there. The difference is that in these instances I keep my calls to a minimum and try to pay attention to what’s going on around me. I’m not steering with my knees, so I can text message all of my friends about the latest thing to catch my attention and I’m not so oblivious to my surroundings that I’m nearly running people down on the streets.

So my point is, until people become a little more responsible and offer up some common decency, I don’t think a little sign that says yield to pedestrians is going to help.