The parts of Florida inhabited by retired Democrats were likewise treated to little more than a steady breeze. Miami and West Palm were untouched. Daytona survived unscathed, so the next spring break will party as hard as ever. Not a single Life Alert went off in Tampa Bay, the unofficial waiting room of the afterlife.
The Panhandle, though, which voted about 80/20 for Trump, looks today like it was hit by a titanic Leaf Blower from Hell. We Democrats in California, smug in the knowledge that we don’t get hurricanes, can blame Michael on global warming, which we are also going to suffer from less that Florida, because most of our state is many feet above sea level, whereas most of Florida is only the height of a tall bar stool above the ocean, but the deplorables in the panhandle of FL cannot, because they are not allowed to believe in it.
It is one of the inarguable articles of Republican faith that global warming is a myth perpetuated by Democrats and solar-power salesmen, so the thinking here is that perhaps the Trump voters of the Deep South are coming to a faith-based conclusion that God hates them.
Not all of them are, of course. Here’s a link to a claim by a self-described prophet who thinks that the Democrats control the weather and created Michael out of pique at the Kavanaugh confirmation. Only the most gullible of the deplorables would believe that. Even the ones who firmly believe that Hillary operated a basement child sex-slave ring out of a pizza shop with no basement are going to scratch their noggins and think, “Hey, if the Democrats controlled the weather, Mitch McConnell would get hit by lightning about fifteen times a day.”
You bet he would. And we’d also have a storm surge wipe out both Fox News and PornHub, so Trump wouldn’t have anything to watch on TV.
Or maybe you’re hiding behind your local statue of a Confederate hero, clutching your AR-15 and waiting for the antifa to show up, and God spots you and says to himself, “I’ll show that bonehead what he really needs to be afraid of,” and drops an oak tree on your brain case.
Here, we’re just saying it appears that God has taken time off from spinning the galaxies to bring a little retribution on your flat asses, according to your own theology, so maybe you ought to lighten up a little. Put your Nikes back on. Quit chanting “Lock her up!” and “Build the wall!” when you’re buying donuts at the Piggly-Wiggly.
In the meantime, the damage has been done. But don’t worry. Trump will be in your hood soon, tossing paper towels your way, with Melania by his side, wearing her flood flip-flops.
And over here, we’re sending you our thoughts and prayers.