The EYES have it.

I'm a curious mix of my mother and father when it comes to cussing. Dad didn't. The strongest oath I ever heard him utter was "JESUS!" He didn't do it often but it was a clear signal that he'd had it and someone was going to die. Or when he was done telling them off, they wished they had.

Mom, on the other hand, had a mouth that would have embarrassed a longshoreman. Although she didn't cuss when Dad was around, I grew up hearing her cuss dust bunnies she couldn't reach under a bed. It was serious, though, when she ran out of standard words and phrases and started stringing them together in very innovative combinations.

And so it was that Hubby came in from the kitchen the other day because he heard me bellowing colorfully at the television in the living room, "You blankety-blank-bloomin-blankety- blank stupid bitch!"

The woman who'd been interviewed, a U.S. citizen, had been on vacation in Cancun. She'd taken shelter someplace there when Wilma hit. Now that Wilma had passed and her lovely vacation spot in shambles, with lank stringy hair and a couple of kids (hers I assume) as a backdrop, she angrily demanded, "Where's the Mexican Army? Where's FEMA!"

I kid you not. This dumbo is in MEXICO and she can't figure out why FEMA isn't.

Meanwhile, Wilma was now taking aim at South Florida. Officials from counties in its projected path are all over the television saying that they're either getting ready or are. Jeb (a.k.a. "The Hurricane Governor") has stuff ready including emergency supplies pre-positioned in Homestead, Tampa and here in Jacksonville.

Hubby reported that some "contributing" dingbat on CNN pronounced how telling it was that while Dubya didn't care at all about Louisiana or New Orleans, that the military is already positioned and ready to go when it's the state where his brother is governor. Strangely (not really) no mention was made that "the military" is the Florida National Guard.

I got up yesterday morning and flipped on the radio. Top local news was that the first convoy of trucks carrying the pre-positioned supplies was already long gone. The next group was "staging out" now with more to follow. And more after that if it's needed, with FEMA backfilling whatever the state ran short of.

So I turn on the television in the afternoon, and the commentary is about the long lines of people waiting for supplies. Long lines. Horrible lines. I was waiting for someone to start sobbing, "Oh, the humanity!"

MRE's being distributed were gone. All out. No more available until the next group of trucks comes in. No more trucks expected until 3 o'clock!!!

I looked at my clock. It said 2:41, and yes. Same time zone.

Lets think about this, too. Hadn't Wilma hit just the day before? And already people are lining up for emergency supplies?

Look, folks. I'm not talking people who really don't have the ability to lay in 3 to 5 days worth of supplies. I've been there. We've been there. You make due as best you can on the canned goods you've stockpiled by adding a can or two of something-or-other here and there, fill with water empty plastic jugs you've hoarded, scrub and fill the bathtub, dig out the candles . . .

If the oatmeal hits the fan you turn to family, if you have 'em. Or neighbors if they offer. Local government if you have to.

But this was 24 hours after Wilma has passed through, and people were already lining up and griping.

My absolute favorite, bar none, was the woman who poked her head out of the window of her big-assed SUV, to explain why in her opinion FEMA stinks.

If they'd been prepared the way they should have been, she said, she wouldn't have to wait for her free generator. And gasoline.