New York City Shits a Brick Over Hurricane Irene
Don't flee to the Hamptons. Do stock up on hard liquor and Twinkies.
Thanks to Random Pixels for finding these
Dude, for a city that has weathered so much in the past decade -- from 9/11 to blackouts, serial killers to the Knicks (the Knicks, for God's sake!) -- New York is acting wimpier these days than LeBron James atop a diving platform.
First, there was that itsy, bitsy earthquake Tuesday, equivalent to chugging a Red Bull and downing one too many Taco Bell seven-layer burritos.
Now NYC is shitting a brick over Hurricane Irene. Relax, hipsters, and take a page out of Riptide's hurricane survival book.
Disclaimer: It was Riptide's birthday last night and we're not exactly "sober" yet this morning. Following this advice might very well result in stomachache, blurred vision, and armageddon.
1. Don't Flee to the Hamptons:
We've never been there, but we agree it's tempting. However, with corporate taxes at a 50-year low in this country, all the while everyday Joes don't even have enough money to get sick on Taco Bell and Red Bull, God has got to be a little bit angry with Wall Street.
Our bankers plunged us into a financial crisis that has yet to end, remember? If there is any meteorological justice, Irene will hit East Egg before East Brooklyn.
2. Hoard Those Nuggets:
Forget Whole Foods. That chicken tikka masala and organic baby greens won't last a day when the power goes out and the first floor of your brownstone becomes a briny sea of misery.
You'll need to hoard some good old-fashioned American food, like Twinkies and Jack Daniel's. When it comes to hurricanes, think zombie apocalypse, but moldier. Perishables will get you nowhere. From soccer moms to survivalists, South Floridians have mastered the art of prepping for storms.
3. Hang Ten:
We keep hearing about killer surfing in the Big Apple. An "urban aloha," one op-ed titled it. So prove it. When the 'canes are a-comin', doe-eyed reporters and South Florida surfers alike flock to the beach. Sometime, you get some gnarly storm waves. Other times 60 mph winds bash you against a building.
Here it comes, NYC. Do us proud.
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