🍝 THE DAILY SITDOWN 🍝

So, listen up, you got this flood thing in Texas, right? Eighty-one dead, minimum. Eighty-one! That’s more bodies than I got at a fuckin’ Lupertazzi family christening. And forty-one still missin’. Forty-one! They’re lookin’ for ‘em like they’re lookin’ for a decent fuckin’ cannoli in Newark. Capisce? It happened in Kerr County mostly – some goddamn riverside Christian girls’ camp, Camp Mystic, got absolutely leveled. Twenty-eight kids dead. Twenty-eight! Jesus Christ. Makes you think twice about sending Meadow to summer camp, you know? Though, that broad probably wouldn't last five minutes in the woods without getting lost. She’s got less survival instinct than a fuckin’ houseplant. They got ten more girls and a counselor still MIA. Another five croaked in Travis County, a few more scattered around… Burnet, Williamson, Kendall, Tom Green… It’s like these counties are competing to see who can pile up the most corpses. The whole thing is a goddamn bloodbath. And they’re sayin’ the numbers are gonna climb. Like a wiseguy’s cholesterol after a plate of gabagool. Eighteen adults and ten more kids found, but they ain’t even ID’d yet. They’re probably gonna need a whole fuckin’ team of forensic anthropologists. And that's before you even factor in the snakes. Venemous snakes, the article says. Adds a little extra spice to the whole recovery operation, doesn't it? This Abbott guy, the governor, says they’ll “stop at nothin’”. Sounds tough, but let’s see him find those missing girls in eight miles of mud and debris and venomous snakes. This ain’t no fuckin’ “find the lost dog” poster, this is a disaster of biblical proportions. It all went down before sunrise. The river – the Guadalupe River, they call it – rose twenty-six feet in forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes! Those poor kids were probably asleep, dreaming about ponies and shit, next thing they know they're fightin' for their lives against the current. The camp director, some guy named Dick Eastland, even he's gone. Guess he didn’t have the kind of connections to get himself outta that mess. Some ex-Navy Seal, a volunteer, is helpin' out. Says he’s findin’ clothing and stuff eight miles downstream. Eight miles! Imagine the fuckin’ current. It's a meat grinder out there. More storms comin', they say. Fuckin’ fantastic. More rain on this… this… *shitstorm*, is what it is. The whole thing is a goddamn tragedy. Makes you think, you know? About how fragile life is, how quickly everything can be swept away. Even a mob boss ain't immune to the unpredictable whims of Mother Nature. Although, I'd like to think my boys would handle a flood a little better than a bunch of giggling girls at summer camp. …But yeah, this Texas flood... it’s a mess. A real fuckin’ mess. You understand?