My house was nicer than Trent Lott's....

I barely had 72 hours to revel in the return of internet access to my life before I've become so blasted irritated I want to take a trip to the cable box with wire cutters and a flashlight. To all the bloggers, columnists, sous chefs, pundits, rabble rousers, and indian chiefs out there who cannot help but comment about the Senator's 'sprawling beach retreat' - I have a question: Did you ever see it before it was reduced to a one foot deep muddy recess in the ground?

Ah the word "beachfront home" can even be typed with enormous venom.

First, allow me to point out that the city of Pascagoula (which by chance happens to be where Senator Lott's house once stood...) has never actually had a beach. There is, instead, a 200 yard stretch of imported sand which was apparently dumped somewhere along the shore and boxed in with what looks like railroad ties and scrap lumber down there somewhere. Incidentally, the sandbox does not happen to be in front of Senator Lott's property. Ah, but you wise ones will point out - quite correctly - that Mr. Lott's home was still "waterfront property." (hiss.. boo.. hiss!) And it's quite obvious from my travels around the net that the majority of you are picturing some sparkling sea crashing majestically against the rocks (I'm assuming you 'get' the part about there not being a beach...) before his estate. Well okay.. there might be some gravel that spilled out of a debris truck onto the road...

Let's just say the view is modest. There's our trademark Mississippi Gulf Coast greenish-brown water out there and if you don't pay attention and accidentally turn your head left or right you get a view of either rusting and partially constructed oil rigs or the shipyard languishing in its varying stages of corrosion and disrepair. This ain't Martha's Vineyard, people.

I find it very odd that for the previous thirty three years of my life I have had to defend Mississippi against ignorant attacks from otherwise educated folks about the dire poverty of our state. I have had to explain to adults that we have running water and fast food chains. I have fielded comments about the infamous "Redneck Riviera" and burned with indignation when people have asked why I would want to live in such an awful place. Suddenly though, a wave has passed through the rumor mill - a wave of inspiration - conjuring up images of pallatial estates and awe-inspiring mansions perched on the pristine shores of glittering water.

Someone actually used the word 'mansion.' Senator Lott's house was a fine house. An old house. A nice addition to the shore line. I would have called it 'nice' - perhaps 'lovely'. It was well-kept and probably well-loved. It was not, however, a mansion. More importantly, it was Mr. Lott's home -- not a resort or vacation home. How many people do you know, really, who pack their bags and jet off to Pascagoula, Mississippi for their vacation? Name one.

Of course I know why everyone is running with this -- it's just too easy! Perhaps that's what irritates me even more about the whole thing. Sure, let's take the opportunity widespread death and destruction offers to take jabs at the Mississippi senator. The man lost his home and the man lost a good bit of his hometown. Just like the rest of us. Sure, the President wasn't standing before my gutted home and assuring God and everyone that we would rebuild and better than before -- but you see, I don't know the President... And thank heavens to Betsy that I don't or I'd not get even a thimble full of luke-warm sympathy for my personal loss because -- my house was nicer than Trent Lott's.