Twisted

Do not underestimate the power of The Rack.

Last week I wished that The Stack would disappear far, far, away, but it was certainly not my intent to create this:


On Christmas Day a tornado hit the University of Airplanes. The building you see behind that jumble of wings houses some of my classrooms. No one was hurt, which is a great blessing, but-- living crap.

This is our own fault. We got cocky. There was a great deal of nose-thumbing in the general direction of the Atlantic Ocean after such a lame hurricane season, so God was all, "Oh yeah? Here's an F-2 for you. See how you like it."

The administration sent the faculty an email assuring us that classes will begin as scheduled. (This, contrary to what students might think, made me frowny.) Otherwise, this is a Campus Safety Department dream. The property is completely closed, which means the officers, normally engaged with patrolling the campus swimming pool in little golf carts, got to set up sawhorses and parking blocks and barrels and flares and I don't know what all, and tell all sorts of onlookers to move along and that NOBODY'S ALLOWED IN HERE. They've been waiting their entire lives for this.

I am told that my office building is fine. I hope not entirely. A family of wasps has taken up residence above my window for the past two years, and it is my fondest hope that they got blown to Zimbabwe. Not likely, however; if they haven't been whisked off by now, The Rack must not have disintegrated their will to live yet. Perhaps I missed my aim.

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