Just heard on Drudge radio — The beat poetry of Anderson Cooper:
ANDERSON COOPER (voice-over): I’ve been coming to New Orleans since I was a kid. My dad used to live here, and his heart always did. This gritty gumbo city, its hot humid streets, seeing it like this, well, it’s hard to explain. Blink and you’re in Baghdad. Black water, guys with guns, rubble-strewn streets, Black Hawks in the sky.
That sound, that sound, crushing and comforting, the cavalry’s come, help has arrived, urgent seconds ticking by. Street signs are down, new signs are up. Hand-drawn, heartfelt, be thankful God loves you. Looters will be shot. This one’s my favorite. “Don’t try. I’m sleeping inside with a big dog, an ugly woman, two shotguns, and a claw hammer.”
Working here, it’s unlike any story I’ve ever been on. I’ve never been prouder of the people I stand by. You shoot and you edit. You do live shots and shows. You’re always in motion, slamming sodas and candy. It just doesn’t stop.
Last week we were living in trailers packed tight, poorly stocked. No one complained. There was no need to explain. Compared to everyone else, we had it good. The phones didn’t work. We still clinged to our BlackBerries, our heads always down. Now we’ve got an office set up with food and supplies, at night a hotel where we disinfect our feet.
I saw the best anchors of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix.